Author's Note: Sephiroth for animenadie. Early birthday present. Second attempt at writing Sephiroth. Set before Nibelheim; the General "relaxes" after a long day. Possible chapters added later, at the muse's whim.
Rated Mature for content.
Disclaimer: I don't own it, but I have no problem with "borrowing".
A General's Satisfaction
By: Sibilant Macabre
It had been such a long day. The General sighed as he entered his quarters, the automatic door sliding shut behind him. Shrugging off the ankle-length coat, he began to toss it atop the elegant leather couch, but refrained and moved to his bedroom, correctly hanging up the tailor-made garment in his spacious closet. The massive blade riding his spine he removed reverently, murmuring soothing words to the sword in an ancient tongue before placing it in its custom-made harness. Sitting down atop the immaculately made bed, the silver-haired man proceeded to divest himself of boots and chest harness. Once more, he put them away meticulously and exited the bedroom for the kitchen.
Sephiroth sighed again as he poured himself a generous glass of brandy. Normally he cared naught for alcohol, it really did nothing for his constitution anyway, but the day had been a bit stressing and he supposed he might pretend to be "normal" for a change and indulge in the bitter liquid. Clad in the lower part of his leather uniform, he padded barefoot to the living area and sat down comfortably in his large chair. As most things in his living quarters, his chair was custom made for his specific comfort, befitting his status as Shin-Ra's General of the Elite SOLDIER unit. He had few personal belongings; however, his job was his primary consideration.
As today. First, overseeing the training of the potential SOLDIERS from the ranks of Shin-Ra's military, then spending the rest of the morning, lunch and most of the afternoon in his office, buried in the never-ceasing paperwork that threatened to consume and devour. Then, the meeting with the heads of Shin-Ra; President Shin-Ra, Rufus, Scarlet and Heldegger. Boring inane prattle that turned out to be. Extraordinary eyes narrowed in irritation. The General knocked back the rest of the brandy in one smooth gulp and stared at the empty glass in his large hand. Damn, now he'd have to get up and get more.
Not deigning to do so just now, Sephiroth closed his eyes, eyes that bore the telltale marks of Mako, that brilliant green shine that rivaled the purest-bred feline on the Planet, and leaned back his head against the cushion. He felt the recycled air hiss as the cooling unit kicked on and welcomed it against his inherently warm skin. He rested there, a silver-haired Adonis basking in respite. But after a moment, the demanding of his tired muscles prodded him to rise and, after returning the glass to the kitchen, washed and put away appropriately, Sephiroth indulged in a steaming, muscle relaxing shower.
Military training served him well, for ten minutes later, the General was clean and his bathroom once more returned to its pristine condition. Not bothering to dress, Sephiroth merely slung a haphazard towel about his lean waist and sauntered into the bedroom, stretching atop the sheets in the blessedly cool darkness. The dark Wutian silk felt heavenly against damp skin and Sephiroth gradually felt his body unwind, one muscle at a time. Yet, another need was stirring, somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind.
It had been plaguing him for a few days now, this dark whisper. It was a damning emotion, one he loathed; to his thinking it exhibited weakness, weakness he despised. He knew it was "normal", that it was a healthy function of his male body, but his mind, so powerful and his will, so strong and indomitable, were revolted yet exhilarated at the nuance that it made him disgusted. It was the control he needed. And when he fell into that pit, control, the control of his own flesh was denied him.
And then there were they. The tantalizing erotic female essences that plagued his mind as his body screamed for satiation. Two were they, sensuous sirens that came to him when he'd given into the loss of control, of will. Sometimes one would appear in his mind, sometimes both at once. The last time he'd given in, the dark haired beauty had come to him and he could practically feel the heat of her lips and tongue scarring his sensitized flesh. He'd woken drained, beaten, used, more exhausted than before he'd slept. And in the back of his mind, where slumbered that primal animal that underlay his civility, his military discipline, he reveled in it.
The faint brush of cool air wafted across hot skin and Sephiroth closed his eyes, feeling the first damning plaguings begin. A soft moan escaped his lips, sounding alien to his ears. Behind closed lids, the velvet darkness shifted and he heard a sultry whisper, groaning silently as his traitorous body responded. Rock-hard muscles twitched, honed to definition from a lifetime of hard military training.
"No," he grated, but he felt his hands rise from their clenched grip on the sheets and his palms flattened over already-hard nipples, hating himself but knowing she made his limbs move. Her throaty whisper echoed in the deep recesses of his mind. I have come, prince. At your need. They always called him prince. Or General. Never used his name.
I did not summon you, he replied silently, inwardly cursing as his palms rubbed and fingers tweaked flat male nipples, the flesh burning under his own touch. But you did, prince, she replied, and Sephiroth felt smooth warm lips press against his in the 'scape and a lusty groan slithered from his mouth to hers as their tongues mingled and caressed. Tresses of dark crimson met his eyes and he knew his visitor. You are the other, he said and she murmured her assent. Aye, she replied, manipulating his hands further down his lean, long body. I will one day be your queen, prince. But she stilled his further protests and questions, hot wanting mouth traveling down his body, causing shivers to ripple across his flesh. But let me sate you, dear General. Let me sate you.
She wasted little time. A primal groan ripped from Sephiroth's throat as he felt a hot wetness envelop the turgid flesh between his thighs and his back involuntarily arched, unaware that his own hand gripped and fondled. For in the dark red recesses of his mind, her mouth sucked and teased, drawing his aching member deep between her lips, tongue and teeth swirling in devilish wantonness. She knew just how to please him, she loved him hard, making him gasp and buck against her wicked lips. Sephiroth panted; sweat sheened his large frame as long calloused fingers gripped and manipulated, driving him against his own hand in the throes of passion.
Teeth scraped his manhood, he cried out with the intensity she was instilling in his blood. But she held him fast, pinned him to the mattress as surely as Masamune would a butterfly to a wall. Her lips and tongue sucked at him, drawing away completely before taking him fully into her mouth, over and over, nearly enough to drive him mad with lust and desire. He was drenched in sin and sex, but was unable to care. A deep pain pierced his brain; her fingernails had gripped his upper thighs so tightly that blood welled in the marks and he screamed, back bowing off the bed as he exploded within her mouth. His orgasm went on and on; she held him through it, he felt her tongue lapping at him, carefully licking and caressing.
Sephiroth fell back, replete. Liquid gold still raced through his blood but it cooled, though where she touched still glittered. He felt her move back up his body and take his mouth again, her taste sinfully sweet and mingled with his own. Hating himself for it, he longed to rest then bury himself in her, but she soothed him gently, whispering into his mind. Take ease, prince. Rest. When you have need, we will come for you. The General demurred tiredly. No, leave me and never come again. Her soft laugh whispered over his body, making him twitch. You cannot refuse us, prince. We will come to you when needed. Sleep now.
His eyelids were so heavy, he couldn't resist her quiet command. He felt the chaos in his mind recess and with its departure, she faded away. But just before he drifted off to sleep, a sharp stinging made his brow furrow and he rose slightly, flicking on the beside lamp. A chill raced down his spine to see blood staining the marbled skin of his upper thighs, seeped from perfect half-moon indentions embedded in his skin…