Sephiroth gazed down at huge blue eyes in a China-doll's face so smooth and perfect it could only belong to an angel, a perfect pair of rosebud lips parting, wet little tongue snaking out in uncertainty that was as charming as it was arousing.
Once again, Cloud surprised him—instead of last second balking, the boy lifted those large, liquid blue eyes and softly asked in his sweet, husky voice, "Like this?"
That soft little mouth hesitantly enveloped him, stretching wide, the tiniest touch of the tip of that tongue darting out in a little kitten lick as wet heat wrapped around him.
His breath came out in a hiss and he gently encouraged, "Yes, like this, Cloud…"
Tiny, pale hands moved to hold him, one wrapping carefully above the other down the length of his swollen cock, the touch so light and cautious that Sephiroth's blood boiled for harder stimulus. But this, too, was sweet torture, and he wove his fingers in Cloud's wild, soft hair, his left hand stroking Cloud's round little cheek as the boy intently suckled just his head.
Cloud's blue eyes narrowed in concentration, focusing on the thick, heavy meat in his mouth, lapping at the salty-bitter fluid that wept from the little slit he teased with his tongue. Sephiroth urged his hands to stroke and he gently did so, twisting them slightly with each downward movement to rub against the heavy vein along the underside. The General started breathing heavy, the hand in Cloud's hair gripping tighter, the other falling to cup his throat and grip the underneath of his jaw, forcing his mouth wider with a firm, hard squeeze.
Cloud choked a little as more of that hot flesh forced its way into his mouth, bumping the back of his throat. He mewled, suddenly frightened, but Sephiroth merely continued. The man's low, whispering moans of pleasure sent shockwaves through Cloud's system, and he struggled valiantly to swallow with every plunge of Sephiroth's cock. He managed it, and the General gasped, gripping Cloud's head hard, no pretense of caution now—his long, sculpted face was tight with pleasure, his jade eyes burning down and locked on Cloud's own face, a rosy tinge on his high cheekbones.
Cloud tried his best to match the rhythm of those thrusting hips, swallowing frantically, his own muted, muffled cries music to the General's ears. Tears welled from his eyes and stained his cheeks from the gag-reflex, only adding to the man's pleasure.
Seeing Cloud so vulnerable, his innocence hopelessly marred, his beautiful China-doll face marked with tears and that desperate desire to please, those huge eyes round and sad and needy—it all combined and triggered an explosive climax.
He shoved himself into the boy's mouth, ignoring his frantic, desperate wriggles, and groaned lowly as he came in that soft, sweet mouth, holding Cloud's head tightly to keep him from escaping. He emptied himself, thrusting slowly, shuddering as it faded.
Cloud sniffled and blinked, eyes red, but kept sucking and swallowing like a good little boy until Sephiroth grew flaccid and soft in his mouth.
The man withdrew, sighing a little and stroking his hand through Cloud's abused hair.
The boy gazed up at him with soft, yielding eyes, utterly entrancing with his huge, tear-reddened eyes and his flushed cheeks, his swollen rosebud mouth wet and marred with bruises.
Sephiroth was finished playing honorable knight—Angeal could keep it. Cloud was like a mouth-watering candy unwrapped and ready, requiring only a mouth to appreciate it. So Sephiroth would devour him, every bit. That Cloud was clearly a creature made for love was apparent from the daintiness of his frame to the delicacy of his features—had he grown up in a city like Midgar then he most certainly would never have made it all the way to fourteen without being touched. Sephiroth was perversely glad that Cloud had been raised in the country somewhere, it had kept him innocent in so many ways…
"Hush," he said, moving his hand from the boy's jaw to his cheek, smoothing away the last traces of tears. "I scare you?"
"Yes, sir," was the husky reply.
"Does that make it better, Cloud?" he asked, his voice low and purring. "Does that make…this even better?"
"I don't know, sir," Cloud said, looking up at him in confusion and the beginnings of fear, always nervous that he would give the wrong answer, always so desperate to please. "I don't know anything about it…"
Sephiroth smiled at him, that cold and rather cruel smile Cloud had gotten to know well over the weeks. It was a smile that made Cloud squirm a little, desperately thinking he'd somehow crossed the large General. It was a smile that was predatory and cunning and no little amused.
It was the most beautiful thing Cloud had ever seen in his short life, and he trembled at its meaning.
"Such a pretty boy," the man sighed, and gave him a lingering caress that sent shivers down his bowed spine and lifted goosebumps on his skin. "Get some sleep, private Strife."
Cloud swallowed hard, that salty thickness still clinging to the inside of his mouth, his huge eyes following Sephiroth's naked body and swaying hair as he slipped into his own sleeping bag and closed it up, closed Cloud out. Whimpering a little at the subtle rejection, the boy curled into a ball in his own sleeping bag, shivering and wondering just what exactly he'd done. It had felt amazing, all of it—better than anything he'd ever felt in his young life.
Cloud had so recently been just a child tucked away in the country, climbing trees and doing chores and hiring out to farms to earn spending money, playing with hounds and fishing, leading a somewhat solitary existence. He'd never had an opportunity to really think about intimacy beyond what farm life had shown him—the most basic of urges to create a life. He had a crush on Tifa and always had since he was old enough to meet her, but there was something so vibrantly outgoing about her that it made Cloud shy and unsure, certain that he could never live up to what she would require. He'd never considered her in a sexual light, and now he wondered why. He'd certainly responded to Sephiroth's abrupt advances, and he couldn't blame it all on idol-worship—Cloud had wanted what happened, too, if only to be closer to the man he so adored. Despite what had happened between them, the General was an enigmatic stranger still, and Cloud doubted that he would ever be allowed closer than he already was.
But did he want to be? He'd never thought of himself as liking men, and he'd been attracted to his fair share of lovely women since he'd been in Midgar, though his shyness had prevented him from acting on his impulses.
Cloud shuddered again, slowly warming up the inside of the sleeping bag. His softened member throbbed a little still, irritated by the abuse. Cloud hadn't dreamed that such a thing existed, that such powerful sensation could be had from denial. Thinking of it made him twitch and he whimpered lowly, aggravated by his easily aroused body and the hormones that were battering him daily.
He tried to think of what he'd heard of Sephiroth's lovers, but it was a confusing mish-mash of stories. The General clearly slept with people, rumors abounded about that—but the vast majority of his lovers never came forward for fear of losing him or the possibility of his return. A few women and a few men had claimed to be his lovers, but mostly they were ignored as opportunists who were lying and the scientist Hojo was always the first to step forward and discredit them, claiming to have had Sephiroth in isolation and tests at the purported time. Still, it was a good indication that Sephiroth spread his affection equally among the sexes.
'Am I like that?' Cloud wondered, trying to ignore his demanding erection. 'Will I like men and women both?'
He shivered, confused by it all, and tried vainly to go to sleep with that hot, pulsing piece of flesh pressing insistently at his belly.