A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers! Your continued interest inspires me to keep writing! I only hope that I don't disappoint in the end, because we all know that this is no happily-ever-after, don't we?

He should have struggled, he should have fought, he should have gotten angry.

Instead, he went limp against that warm, lithe body with a soft whimper, his little hands held awkwardly to his chest, fingers curled into loose fists. He'd not forgotten what touching had earned him the last time and wasn't looking to repeat his mistake. For the moment he was too caught up in the shock and aching relief of that kiss, his head tilting instinctively to offer more, his wet mouth open wide for the General's hot tongue. The man held him in a cruel, desperate grip, his hands cupping the delicate shell of Cloud's skull so hard it almost hurt him, his forearms pressing into Cloud's back to draw him closer, tighter, nearer.

It was almost as if Sephiroth sought to erase with force what such an embrace might mean, holding Cloud so tightly that the child could barely breathe. But who needed to breathe when there was this instead—this warm heat and heady, delicious pleasure?

Sephiroth released the grip he had on Cloud's head and yanked at the towel, letting it drop from Cloud's creamy shoulders to pool between them. He wore his gloves still, and impatiently broke the kiss to pull them off, scowling, Cloud trembling with sudden nervousness.

"Sir…" he softly began, trying to gather his thoughts. He'd never longed for ease of speech more in his life than he did at that moment—to be able to simply and easily tell Sephiroth all of the things clamoring in his head, all of the things terrifying him. He knew with sudden and doubtless clarity that Sephiroth did, indeed, want him. But for what reason, Cloud was still unclear. He was torn between allowing it for his own selfish reasons and stopping it because he knew with that same certainty that Sephiroth would turn him away yet again.

"Be still," Sephiroth bid him, and with this final of continuous hushings, Cloud fell quiet.

It would be worth the pain in the end just to be with his idol once more.

The General had freed his hands from the tight black leather and sank his fingers greedily into the small of Cloud's back, yanking the child tightly to him to reclaim his mouth in another hot kiss.

"Were you so eager with her, I wonder?" Sephiroth asked, his voice muffled by Cloud's mouth. "Did she find that darkness within you, Cloud?"

"No," the boy moaned, desperate to touch him, but too frightened to do so. "No and no again…Only you…only you…"

The man clutched him tighter in helpless response, making a low, deep sound of pleasure. His mouth moved to the delicate skin of Cloud's throat, teeth nipping, tongue laving, one hand wedging down below the lip of the trapped towel to cup Cloud's rounded cheek, fingers curling hard into the muscled heat of him.

Cloud whimpered, arching against him, bent nearly backwards in Sephiroth's tight embrace. He didn't clutch the man's shoulders, didn't attempt to keep his balance—where Sephiroth was concerned, there was no use trying to save himself. He had to give himself wholly over to the strong arms that held him, to the questionable mercy of the jade-eyed General.

"Do you understand, Cloud?" Sephiroth moaned, biting him hard enough to leave a bruise, deep and bright with blood.

'Don't think I won't hurt you…'

'You can't afford to think that I can feel anything for you…'

'You're nothing but a body…'

Oh yes.

Cloud understood.

"Yes, Sir," he breathed, closing his eyes as he felt that familiar hunger take hold, his body swaying gracefully with the General's movements. "I understand."

Sephiroth cursed softly and turned, flinging Cloud onto the bed, rolling him out of the towel to sprawl on his back. He was ten times more beautiful now than he'd been in Wutai, all that white skin displayed on those black and silver bedclothes, his light blond hair falling in locks over his vivid, glowing eyes, that rosebud mouth parted softly and a faint flush on his round cheeks. Even though he'd been flung like a ragdoll he sprawled in such a graceful, unconsciously sensual way that Sephiroth was momentarily struck by it.

He'd seen felines with less grace, courtesans with less sex appeal, and all of it due to Cloud's simple and strange ignorance of his own beauty.

Sephiroth stripped his pauldrons and coat off, discarding them carelessly on the floor with his gloves. He cursed the fact that he was dressed at all, cursed the stupid meeting that had required it, cursed the buckles on his boots and the laces on his pants. But, finally, once the cursing was done, he crawled onto the bed to cover Cloud's gently trembling body, nude as the day he was born.

Cloud's body was hot to the touch, his skin dewy soft and silky beneath the hard press of his hands. He half laid atop him, dwarfing that small body in the heat of his own, as close as skin would allow. Cloud hesitantly kissed him, whimpering when Sephiroth took control of it and plunged his tongue down Cloud's throat. He was already hard, the hot thrust of him pressing to Cloud's flank. When he groped his hand down Cloud's slim belly, he found the boy stiff and swollen, flesh pulsing wildly at his touch.

Cloud wailed against his mouth at the touch, hips lifting, little heels digging into the bed as his toes curled. Sephiroth wrapped his hand firmly around Cloud's strutted little sex and cruelly stroked him, reveling in Cloud's cries and the shivers the boy couldn't seem to control.

"What do you want, Cloud?" he asked, fist tightening, head bending low so he could suck on Cloud's pert, pink little nipples. "What do you want? Tell me!"

"You," the boy moaned, hands fisted in the covers. His strong back arched and his hips jerked, his body tightening towards and orgasm that Sephiroth had no intentions of him reaching just yet. "You, Sir—I want you."

"Even if there's pain, Cloud?" he questioned, his voice harsh—but, then, so too would be their time together. "Even if I hurt you so badly you weep?"

"Yes, god, yes!" Cloud wailed, sobbing frustration when Sephiroth pinched the tip of his hard little cock, stopping the threatening flood. The boy writhed, flushed and hungry and decadent. "Yes, Sir—even if you hurt me, I want you. I have wept over lesser things…"

There was such a sad, resigned undertone to his answer that Sephiroth very nearly found himself pulling away again, confused by the anger he felt whenever Cloud's emotions affected him.

Instead, he pressed his lips to Cloud's in another scorching kiss and rocked his hips, teasing himself against Cloud's silky hide. He wrenched Cloud's small hand away from the cover and pried open his tiny fingers with one hand before wrapping that little hand around his pulsing flesh. Cloud's guarding hadn't escaped him, and he knew the cause of it—he'd wounded Cloud that day in a way that would, perhaps, never heal. Still, he could and would make the boy touch him, and Cloud would never resist.

Those warm fingers touched him with awkward hesitance, lightly and gently skimming over his flesh so that he moaned into Cloud's mouth. It was good, this teasing. Because in short order he would be buried up to his balls inside Cloud's delicate, beautiful body and the closer he was to the cusp, the easier it would be on his delicious little private. Sephiroth was not accustomed to taking things slowly, but he wanted to take the full measure of Cloud Strife, and was content to take his time.

One-handed, Cloud trailed his fingers over Sephiroth's flesh, teasing and testing, learning. His exploratory touches broke over Sephiroth time and time again until he lifted his mouth from Cloud's to clench his teeth, burying his face in the pillow and trying not to writhe against Cloud's roughly calloused, firm little hand.

When that hand trailed gently to the base and twirled up to lightly tickle over his balls, Sephiroth called it done.

He was near enough and he needed the child with painful intensity.

Tears and all.