Final Fantasy VII belongs to Square Enix.
Sephiroth's Picnic Basket
...
Cloud was elated – albeit, if he were perfectly honest, a bit unnerved – when Sephiroth approached him with a gracious invitation to dine.
"I thought perhaps, something informal," the silver-haired, silver tongued quintessence of perfection murmured, bending over Cloud to offer the words most intimately in his tender ear. Sephiroth's luminous eyes gazed into his for an extended moment, and Cloud leaned into his magnetism, even as he struggled for some ghost of calm self-possession to deliver him. The captivating predator's eyes, fuming with breathtaking promise, burned away any hopeful illusions of composure.
"That sounds wonderful…" Cloud heard himself gasp, a bit too much desperate emphasis, he was appalled to realize, even as Sephiroth pivoted gracefully to walk away.
Cloud made a tiny sound – one of pure despair at his departure – and then raised his eyebrows expectantly, when the glowing man turned easily to glance back as he walked.
"Don't dress up," he added.
A perfectly innocent thing to say, Cloud mused, though the glowing eyes did twinkle with something very like merry malice, as the soft lips tilted slightly in a winning, 'trust me' smile. "… and please, don't be late."
…
Cloud was not late; indeed, he was early. Or perhaps Sephiroth was late. The young blond man was much too flustered, too giddy with excitement, to be absolutely certain if a time had even been suggested.
When the black and silver wraith arrived, Cloud noted he was carrying a picnic basket.
It was very nice, this basket – with a hinged lid and a deep, softly rounded bowl. Within, Cloud soon discovered, rested a fluffy, fine blanket whereupon they might lounge – in the obviously predetermined and secluded spot of Sephiroth's choice.
Very secluded, Cloud noted all aquiver, as he was – with the gentlest form of coercion imaginable – guided into this hidden bower. Instinct struggled to inform the young man that this setting was more reflective of an assassin's mentality than that of an innocent invitation to lunch. This thought fluttered around the periphery of his ordinary keen perceptions, but Cloud was much too distracted to give it extended thought; for the General had paused to set aside the basket, and then to shed his coat. It was a fluid gesture – indeed, it was grace personified – this slipping easily free of the caressing confines of fine leather; and Cloud had his first close look at the tall, willowy, powerful body that was the very embodiment of SOLDIER.
Taking out the blanket, and with a skill clearly born of much experience, the General adeptly unfurled it upon the mossy ground. It floated to rest, a cool and lovely azure; Cloud could scarcely imagine Sephiroth owning anything of such an innocent hue.
"It reminds me of you," was the huskily whispered explanation.
Pale blue peered warily into peridot green as Cloud gazed with lofted brows and a mesmerized heart into the hooded, smoldering eyes that watched him so… oh what was the expression shaping those exquisitely-chiseled features?
Cloud gasped softly, breathless, as recognition moved to inform him.
It was hunger.
"Let's eat," the General suggested with a sharp white smile.
It was then revealed that within the basket, beneath the now invitingly-spread blanket, was only one other item. Cloud tilted his head, mystified by this object. Whatever could it be? he wondered, lifting questioning eyes to Sephiroth. No help there from the looks of that still-lingering smile.
"It's wild cherry," the General murmured; his liquid voice seemed to possess its own breeze to carry it to any eagerly awaiting ear. "Rather like you, I imagine..."
Cloud looked at him again, hopeful for clarity, and Sephiroth, laughing softly at his bemusement, reached out to brush his fingertips across Cloud's soft cheek, now lightly tinged with pink. Long, curling lashes batted slowly, wicked jewel-like eyes gleamed, and the gentle curve of faintly smiling lips deepened as one long, gloved finger reached to lift the esoteric object for the final revelation Cloud craved. He gasped, eyes widening.
"Just for you," Sephiroth purred; and with a flick of his limber wrist, the edible underwear lofted onto Cloud's head, clinging possessively to his soft, pale hair. One wide, bright eye – indeed as blue and soft as the blanket whereon he was momentarily tumbled – peeped out through an insubstantial leg hole of the flimsy consumable, quite stunned, to Sephiroth's delight and he smiled again, so pleased. "Do put it on," the beguiling voice suggested, "I must confess, I'm positively ravenous."
...