Author's Note: I swear, I feel like this is a Persona game; Cloud has just unlocked the Emperor tarot card. Also, in my head, 'Rainbow Magic Orchestra' plays whenever Stabby makes his appearance.
CHAPTER 18: The Black-Veiled Man
The Host's slender shape towered over Cloud while the smell of vanilla dominated the air in his wake. His entire body was concealed in black, from hands to feet. This man… All this time Cloud considered the shadowed figure in his mind a mere product of wild fantasies. But here the man stood, shrouded in all of his black splendor and mystery. Cloud knew in this instant they were already acquainted. Black. Black was the missing piece of memory he had lost. Now that piece settled back into Cloud's collective conscious. He felt whole again.
The air somehow became hotter when Cloud recalled a great many other details of his first meeting with Black. Multiple men engaged in crude acts. The restroom stall. The sight of a wonderfully sized cock. Their dance. As those mental pictures emerged from Cloud's freshly awakened memories, he had trouble keeping his face at eye-level.
"Act One, LOVELESS," Black said, interrupting his raw thoughts.
"Excuse me?" Cloud finally breathed again.
"That is what the symbols on that stone translate to." When Cloud reactively glanced at the tablet in the water again, Black supplied more information. "Those symbols originate from Ancient Gaia text. Only a handful of scholars in the world can decipher it today."
"You must be a big fan of LOVELESS," the boy commented.
A low chuckle came from the dark-cloaked creature. "Hardly. LOVELESS was beaten into my head enough times by the man who deciphered those symbols. I have as much knowledge of LOVELESS' acts and its various interpretations as he does now."
Cloud looked away from the tablet. When he studied Black again, his fingers clenched onto the ledge he sat on. A question teetered at the tip of his tongue; a question he desperately wanted an answer to ever since their first meeting. "Who are you? What is your name?"
"You know the answer to that question, boy." It was the same response given to him before.
Cloud finally got to his feet. He shook his head. "Actually, I don't. I remember meeting you. We talked. We…" Cloud hesitated when the image of the man's cock mentally projected in his mind again. Rather than mention that detail, he said instead, "…danced. But you never told me your name."
The Host did not move from his spot. His abrupt stillness reminded Cloud of the indifferent statue behind him. Black and the Goddess. Whereas one radiated with a blue glow, the other was void of color and light. Cloud stood between them and waited for fate to decide on the next course of action.
Black moved again. He took several steps forward until they were face-to-face, inches from each other. Cloud could practically feel the heat emanate from the other man. He waited an eternity for the veiled creature to speak. When he did, his words took Cloud by surprise.
"You reek."
The blond-haired boy frowned. Then he slightly flinched back when a gloved hand reached out to his face. Black gently traced the shape of Cloud's lips with a thumb.
In an even-toned voice, Black elaborated, "Aside from the fecal odor associated with residing below, I detect the acidic stench of processed food in your mouth." Sounding amused, the Host added, "And yes, I can also smell the dried juices of a lover you finger-fucked an hour ago. You're a very dirty boy, Cloud."
Black's words snapped Cloud out of his daze. He couldn't believe the insane level of accuracy Black hit him with. Cloud took two steps back and created space between them. Glancing down at his hands, he couldn't detect any strong odors on him. Did he smell that bad? Or were Black's senses as ridiculously well-refined as a guard hound's? Cloud did not know. He would've been embarrassed by the Host's knowledge of his past actions had the man not spoken those last words the way he did. Black's velvet voice and choice of words – dirty boy –caused a tension to develop throughout Cloud's body.
"Come; follow me to my floor." Black left no room for debate and simply headed off, his long black veil trailing behind him.
There wasn't time to weigh his options. Cloud set himself on auto-pilot mode and complied.
The club's music pounded in his ears as they ventured toward the elevator he had spotted earlier. When several clients noticed Black, they looked away and retreated to another area. Cloud found it funny how paths opened for them no matter where they went. The foreboding presence that stalked the Blue Floor effectively brought a new intense energy in the air. When they finally made it to the elevator, Cloud saw Black pull out a white key card from his veil and slide it into the reader. The glassed doors parted and both of them stepped inside.
As the glass elevator ascended, Cloud maintained his distance. The aura of Black reminded him of the child. Sephiroth. The boy was likely looking for him in the Blue Floor. Cloud regretted not staying. He didn't want to piss Zack off. In the presence of the mystifying beast, though, it was hard to think straight. His curiosity got the best of him. Now, all Cloud wanted was to know the face behind the veil.
The floors changed colors as they passed each one, from purple to green to yellow to red. There were long hallways and glassed rooms. Cloud caught glimpses of starry blue-eyed Hosts interact with their clients. They served drinks, gave massages, danced, and spoke to their guests as lovers would. The world of LOVELESS was different from anything Cloud experienced before. The Hosts perceived love in multiple colors. He wondered if black was the representation of love for the veiled man beside him.
On the seventh floor, the elevator finally stopped. They reached Black's level. Cloud expected something dark and suffocating; black on black, much like the entrance of LOVELESS. Much like him. When the doors parted, though, he froze. Cloud's entire body was bathed in white light.
They had arrived at the White Floor.
White dominated the entire hallway, from the white tiled flooring to its white walls. Several white-framed paintings hung but revealed only blank white canvases. Eager to explore this area in person, Cloud took one step forward. Black immediately issued a request before he went any further.
"Remove your shoes."
Understandably, the Host did not want grimy shoes soiling the sterile white image of this floor. Cloud unlaced his boots. He made a face at the holes on his gray socks. His fat toe stuck out from one of them. Cloud regretted not clipping his nails before this outing – fucking embarrassing. With boots in hand, he held onto them until Black pointed at a spot ahead.
"Now offer them to Stabby."
Cloud hesitated. "…Stabby?"
It took him a second to realize they weren't alone. Blending in the white background, a small white-robed figure actually stood in the middle of the long white hallway. The hooded form was no more than three feet tall; short and squatty. Its head was bowed down until it looked up. Yellow beady eyes stared at Cloud. His blood turned cold. He recognized those yellow eyes and the murky green flesh.
A Tonberry.
Stabby's tail slowly wagged left to right as it stalked forward, heading straight for Cloud. Cloud knew all about these predatory yet intelligent creatures from his mother. The Tonberry was a notorious, lethal species. Possessing a high tolerance to pain, they couldn't be killed easily. They also carried cleavers and pulverized anyone without remorse. Cloud expected to be stabbed to death when Stabby stopped in front of him. The dreadful thing brought up a bizarre-shaped green hand. Thankfully, it held no knife.
"You'd best give Stabby your shoes, boy," advised Black, "Stabby can get impatient very fast. No one wants to see Stabby get impatient."
Cloud didn't need any more convincing. He quickly handed over his shoes to Stabby. How Black managed to domesticate a Tonberry was beyond his comprehension. The Host, meanwhile, calmly unzipped and slipped off his knee-high black boots. He handed them over to his small servant.
As Black stood bare footed, Cloud observed his smooth cream-colored skin. His silver-polished nails were perfectly trimmed on long slender toes. There was no unwanted hair or budging veins. Despite being stuck in leather boots all day, Black's feet also did not give out any odors.
Perfect hands and now perfect feet… Some part of Cloud actually hoped Kyle was right. He hoped underneath Black's veil was the vilest face on the planet. It would even things out, at least.
Black was the first to step out of the elevator and enter this heavenly white abyss. His tall, lean silhouette appeared sharply against the illuminating background. The black body-sized veil swayed left to right. Cloud had never encountered anything so abstract, terrifying, and beautiful in his life until now.
Together, the three headed for a white door laced with silver at the end of the hallway. It was guarded by a white marble statue. Cloud made sure to put as much distance between him and Stabby as possible. As they walked to the end of the hallway, a series of glassed rooms flanked both their sides.
Cloud suspected these rooms housed the Host's personal guests. None of them were occupied but each showcased a bed, couch, table, and other basic essentials. For Cloud, the seventh floor seemed frozen in time and space. Large holographic images projected across their glassed walls. Blossomed white lotuses. Close-up shots of body parts. A distant ocean. The opened remains of a white dove.
Once they reached the door, Cloud got a closer look at the white statue there. He realized it wasn't like the others. It didn't depict the Goddess but, instead, a seven-winged angel with no clear gender. Cloud's hand reached out to touch its beautiful marble features. He stopped when Stabby finally opened the door and Black looked to his direction.
"My personal chambers," the Host stated. "Come."
Glancing at the seven-winged angel one last time, Cloud stepped away from it. He entered the door along with Black and Stabby and was treated to another bare-white room.
The Host's personal chambers proved more extravagant than the hallway. Thousands of stringed white lights dangled from above like teardrops. White gothic-styled windows and white curve-shaped furniture decorated the vast space while ornate white trimmings framed white doors and panels. A white grandfather clock ticked nearby as Cloud descended a small set of stairs and dived deeper into the Host's den.
The energy here felt raw. He eyed the white abstract sculptures with a spare glance. They implied erotic shapes, some more vulgar than others. On a few white paneled walls, he saw out-of-focused sex scenes play on loop without sound. One showed the back of a woman's head repeatedly bob between the legs of a man wearing a terrifying Behemoth mask.
Ultimately, it was the presence of white mannequins in the room that attracted Cloud's attention the most. They appeared at random locations, placed in disjointing positions. Some of their heads or limbs were removed, leaving only their chests or legs. Their plastic nude bodies gave Cloud the creeps.
While Stabby temporarily disappeared in another room with their boots, Black walked toward a white record player across the room. He selected a white album from a white bin and set the white needle to its position. Cloud expected to hear the harmonious sounds of violins and some diva singer play. Instead, he heard the rough noise of finger-flicking surf guitars and drum beats. The vintage, psycho-hillbilly tune completely obliterated the silence in the room. Black stayed in front of the record player; his gloved hands placed on its sides. He looked up at the ceiling of teardrops and swayed his veiled face left to right, savoring every second of the music.
"There was a time when I preferred the silence. Anything else gave me headaches," the man admitted. "Now I dread the void. I want nothing more than to bash my ears with the sounds of chaos."
Cloud didn't mind the silence himself but understood his point. Having grown up in the quiet countryside, surrounded only by the hushed noises of nature, the complete absence of sound usually meant death was nearby. He suddenly thought of Mt. Nibel. Aside from its heavy winds, that entire location was void of sound. Not even the birds chirped there.
"Cloud…" Black directly addressed, surprisingly using his first name. He turned his veiled face at Cloud's direction. "I have a request to make of you."
Cloud advanced one step. "Yeah?"
"I want you to take off your clothes."
The Host had spoken those words with the same calm tone he used when he'd requested for him to remove his shoes. Cloud blankly stared at Black. The guitars continued to blare while the blood rushed to his head, warming his cheeks. He quickly uttered, "…W-what?"
The veiled man did not offer him an explanation. Rather, Black abandoned his spot by the record player and opened another door. Feeling numb, Cloud went through the motions and followed him anyway.
They entered a large round-shaped bathroom with white cushioned walls and drapes. A spotless vanity mirror appeared next to the toilet and sink. Various items had been neatly arranged. Great care had also been taken toward the eighty bottles in a tall glass cabinet close by. Each bottle faced the same direction, all equally spaced out from each other. The question on whether Black suffered from an obsessive-compulsive disorder crossed Cloud's mind. He kept that question to himself though as he explored the rest of the bathroom. Above, the mirror ceiling acted as its own upside-down universe, reflecting back this strange reality. Cloud frowned when he found more mannequins here.
Scattered, the white lifeless dolls nearly vanished into the white setting but their blood-red lips visibly stood out. Bodies angled awkwardly, the mannequins wore long white veils and faced the center of the bathroom. Cloud felt their empty eyes on him. He quickly redirected his attention back to Black.
By now, the Host walked to the center of the bathroom where a small round table and porcelain-white tub awaited use. On the table, there were lit candles of various sizes and several bottles similar to the ones in the glass cabinet. Cloud recognized the vintage white tub. It was the same one in the artsy video he saw yesterday – the one with the multi-eyed woman with silver hair.
Black's small servant soon reappeared. Stabby carried a small silver platter with a sealed white envelope, a white pen, and white towel on it. The Tonberry stood by the bathroom's entry but did not move from its spot. Meanwhile, Black turned the knob of the tub. It began to fill with hot water. As the steam rose, the Host grabbed a bottle and spilled some of its contents into the tub. Soapy bubbles formed and a rosy fragrance filled the air. Black directed his words at Cloud again.
"I'll not have the essence of another lover on you, boy," he remarked evenly. "The odor of the Slums also offends me. Remove your personal articles so that I may cleanse you of your filth."
While the reason behind the man's absurd request finally came to light, it didn't make Cloud feel any better. He stood paralyzed to the point of being unable to move or speak. Black wanted to bathe him? Gaia. As if being locked inside a coffin earlier wasn't traumatizing enough, he had to deal with this.
"Shall I motivate you?" the dark figure politely pressed when Cloud still did not move from his spot.
Fearing the worse, Cloud glanced at the small creature by the bathroom's entry. He wondered if the Host intended to have the Tonberry rip off his clothes for him and dump him in the tub. But Black issued no such order. Instead, he turned off the faucet once the hot water reached a good level; the layer of soapy bubbles had fully blossomed. The Host removed his leather gloves one finger at a time.
"Very well, I will provide you some motivation," he asserted. "Perhaps then you'll commit to action."
The Host set his gloves on the round table. A glimpse of skin and long silver-painted nails reminded Cloud of the night they met; of the time he observed those glorious hands steady a cock during a piss. Chewing the insides of his lower lip, he realized how right Black was about him: he was a dirty boy. That crude thought came to a halt when he watched the Host's current actions. Bare hands now worked to undo the buttons of his black blouse. Cloud finally understood what he meant by motivation.
Guitars and a male vocalist drifted in and out from the other room while the Host unbuttoned the rest of his top. Cloud's breath hitched when Black slipped it off. His view was obscured by the dark veil but he caught peeks of white skin through the meshed pattern. Black neatly folded his blouse and placed it on the table. His hands now settled on the button of his black leather pants. It didn't take more than a few seconds to remove the expensive fabric from his long legs.
Cloud's eyes followed the Host as he climbed into the tub. The veil concealed Black's body from him. However, against the stark white of the bathroom, Cloud could faintly see the silhouette of his milk-white naked form. Black's appearance became more vulgar in this way. His veil teased at things he was forbidden to see. For the first time in his life, Cloud wanted to take something by force. He wanted to rip the veil apart and violate Black's modesty much like a groom violated his bride on their wedding night.
As Black descended into the water, the bottom of his elegant veil spilled outward. It eventually settled and sank into the water. He leaned back. Resting his arms on the tub's ledges, the Host gazed at Cloud.
"I've done my part," Black stated, "Now undress for me, boy."
Cloud had trouble controlling his breath. A piece of him refused to go along with Black's plan. Not only was he perfectly capable of bathing himself, but he did not want to expose his flawed scarred skin to an immaculate creature that paid super attention to everything, including the direction his shampoo bottles faced. Black would no doubt find a hundred details wrong with his body.
Overwhelmed by self-doubts and shortcomings, Cloud was tempted to leave. He would've too had the Tonberry not stood by the exit, intently staring at him with its beady yellow eyes. Somewhere inside that flimsy white cloak was a butcher knife. One command from Black and he was a dead man.
Cloud visibly took a dry swallow. His eyes found Black again. The sight of him made it difficult to think straight. Black lay naked underneath that long black veil; his slender shape relaxed in the tub. The Host's allure clashed with the potential danger Cloud found himself in. At any given moment he could be torn apart for upsetting this enchanting dark beast. His sense of self-preservation demanded he escape. It wanted him to go and never come back. But while Cloud mentally scolded himself for coming here in the first place, he also made no effort to leave either. Something else kept him in Black's personal chambers.
Somehow, the danger heightened Cloud's senses. His entire body pulsed with energy. The blood flowed faster. His heart pounded in both ears, keeping up with the music's beats. Cloud began to understand why a male mantis would stupidly give itself up to the female predator. Even when the fool knew it would die, that sense of doom made the moment too visceral and intoxicating to resist. The male mantis would experience the greatest fuck in its life. Even if it was its last.
Cloud reached a conclusion. At some point, every creature in the planet wanted to be devoured by a higher power. An insect. A god. A purpose. A dream. A lover. A black-veiled man.
A slow exhale and Cloud's hands worked to undo his current clothing. Zippers, buttons, and clasps… they were all at the mercy of his fingers. First the jacket came off, then the shirt. The socks slipped off next, followed by the jeans. As Cloud stood in his gray briefs, his eyes wandered to the long scar across his stomach. He doubted its existence appealed to Black, likewise the faint spots of freckles here and there. The urge to hide his body from Black reemerged again. Before he could act on that paranoia, however, the Host's voice reached his ears again.
"Where did you get that lovely scar?"
Lovely scar? Cloud almost growled. He doubted Black's compliment held any truth. It was not lovely at all. Looking away from it, Cloud did not go into the specifics and merely mumbled, "It was an accident."
"An accident, you say?" Black tilted his head to one side. "Your scar stretches throughout your entire abdominal area, as if you'd been ripped apart. Hm, a most peculiar accident…"
Offering no response to the man's observations, Cloud stayed at his spot and didn't speak a word.
"I, myself, am very fond of scars," confessed Black. "They're exquisite pieces of art created on flesh."
Cloud winced. "Why do you think that?"
"Scars visually remind immortal gods they are mortal creatures." Black leaned further back into the tub. Raising one long and pale leg, he placed it over the ledge. "A shame many would prefer to forget the pain and pretend their scars did not exist."
Cloud's eyes stared at the open display in front of him. Even when concealed by water and veil alike, Black's immodest open-legged position inspired many perverse ideas in Cloud's head. He attempted to distant himself from them by asking, "If you enjoy scars, does that mean you also enjoy pain?"
"Very much."
The reply surprised the boy. Curious, he wondered aloud, "Then you're sadist?"
"No."
Cloud's face contorted into a confused expression. "But… you enjoy pain."
"A sadist derives pleasure from having power over a person or situation," Black explained, "At the core of the sadist is a man who stands at the mercy of other powerful forces – an abusive parent, a tyrant boss, a dull existence. Etcetera. The sadist thus chases power; it is what he's known all his life. He desires to become his own god and, thus, inflicts pain on others to exert control. It serves as a means to an end." Idly, Black ran a finger along the tub's ledge. He soon clarified, "I do not require power over others to gain pleasure. Controlling a man with no will to fight me back would also bore me to death."
The way Black analyzed personalities in great detail both intrigued and terrified Cloud. He eventually concluded, "Then you're a masochist."
Black laughed; his brilliant sound echoed across the bath chambers. The Host quickly teased, "You observe the world in black and white, do you, boy?"
Cloud's mouth opened but nothing came out.
"No," Black rejected again, "A masochist derives pleasure from pain. For those who've become numb to everything else, it is their salvation. Pain reminds them of their existence. Thus, the masochist experiences the world on a physical level. In leaving the burden of control and accountability on someone else, they also reap the rewards of painful sexual conduct without guilt or consequences." Black slowly shook his head. "I do not require pain to experience this world, boy. Nor do I want to give up my power to someone else."
Stumped, Cloud felt like he was going in circles trying to figure out this man. "I don't get it. You enjoy pain but you aren't a masochist or a sadist. What the hell are you then?"
Black thought for a moment. He looked up at the mirror ceiling. Finally, he answered, "I am a humanist."
Cloud scoffed. Now he was positive Black was fucking with his head. "A humanist? What's that supposed to mean? How does enjoying pain make you a humanist?"
"I will happily explain that to you during your bath, boy. Now come. My nose cannot tolerate your dreadful smells any longer."
Cloud wasn't sure if Black said that as an excuse to avoid his question or express an honest gripe. He considered his options anyway. Standing in only his cotton briefs, Cloud felt both naked and stupid. Having a bubble bath with another man mortified him. Again, that tiny voice in his head urged him to pick up his clothes and take his chances with Stabby. The thought was a very short-lived one though. Even if he could leave, did he really want to? Cloud admittedly found himself invested in his current talk with Black.
A humanist…
When Cloud approached and stood beside the tub, the Host quietly chuckled. Black waited for him to remove the last article on his person. Cloud quickly diverted his eyes to the spotless white floor. He sensed Black's unrelenting stare and wanted to disappear. Somehow, the sterile whiteness of the seventh floor left him even more exposed. He couldn't back down now though. Cloud refused to let second-guesses and fear dictate his actions. His fingers reluctantly slipped underneath the elastic waistband of his briefs. He took a deep breath and finally dropped them.
A half-awake want flopped out, slightly bouncing. The tip was already moist. Cloud grew tempted to cover himself before Black noticed it. He decided to retreat in the tub instead. Sinking into the water with a small splash, Cloud hissed from the heat. The rosy scent of soap hit his nostrils and nearly made him sneeze. Bringing his knees up, he sat covered in bubbles to his waist; positioned across Black at the other end of the tub. Cloud tried to keep as much distance between them as possible.
Black reached for the table again. This time he grabbed a fresh bar of soap wrapped in plastic. It shared the same rosy scent as the bath water. Unwrapping it, he instructed, "Sit closer so that I may wash you."
"Why can't I wash myself?" Cloud began to argue.
"Hm, sensitive, are we?"
"No, I… I just want to know why I can't do it myself."
"What's the matter, boy?" Black discarded the plastic wrapping paper on the table and shot back, "Afraid my personal administrations may prove too much for you?"
The man's taunts made Cloud's face flush furiously. Aside from being annoyed by Black's retorts, his stubborn nature didn't enjoy backing down from a challenge. He wasn't afraid of anything, least of all, a damn bubble bath. As if to prove his point, Cloud scooted closer with his knees still drawn to the chin. He maintained his distance but was no longer pressed against the back end of the tub. To him, it was a victory. But at the opposite end Black merely laughed. He did not sound impressed.
The leg on the ledge settled back into the water and the Host swiftly sat up. His haunting veiled figure crawled toward him like an apparition from hell. The boy reactively retreated. He moved back until he could go no further. Wide-eyed, Cloud stared at the mass of black that towered over him. The Host dominated his personal space. Cloud didn't realize he stopped breathing until his body demanded air.
"Gaia…" Cloud's murmur sounded dangerously close to a whimper.
Black settled in to his new spot directly in front of Cloud, his veil spilling over them. He hiked it up enough to expose their intertwined, knee-bent legs.
Cloud had trouble keeping still, feeling at odds with the contact their legs made. Black's skin felt warm and smooth. Both the heat of the tub and his escalating body temperature caused his cheeks to glow bright with color. When a hand grabbed his left foot, he automatically flinched back. Black propped it against his own chest. Cloud wanted to pull away but the Host kept his leg in place with a firm hand grip – fuck, this man was strong.
With the bar of soap, Black gently scrubbed at the soiled flesh that hadn't been washed all day. He took his time. As if collecting information, his lubricated fingers traveled along the curves of Cloud's leg. It wasn't as smooth as Black's. The fair blond unshaven hairs on it created a soft texture. Black's meticulous nature became more apparent as Cloud watched him clean between his toes one at a time. It took the boy an eternity to find his voice again.
"S-so about what you said earlier…"
"About being a humanist?" Black finished for him.
Cloud nodded. "How does enjoying pain make you a humanist?"
"Pain reminds us of humankind's fragile condition," Black answered without hesitation. He currently cleaned the pinky toe and didn't appear offended by the grown nail there. "Our sense of mortality is never clearer than when we are suffering. It is a time when we learn a hard truth about ourselves."
"Truth? What truth?"
"Whereas some individuals go stronger from their pain, others go weaker."
The tension on Cloud's shoulders gradually relaxed. The foot massage Black gave him felt surprisingly good – wonderful, in fact. It made it difficult to focus on their conversation. He managed to ask, "What about love? Doesn't love teach us to grow stronger? Isn't that a part of our human condition too?"
Black's hands paused on his ankle. He didn't meet Cloud's query with an answer right away. Instead, his thumb rubbed the ankle in small circles.
"Love is a placebo pill," he finally murmured back. The Host set Cloud's left foot down and picked up the right one next. He repeated his cleaning methods and declared shortly after, "Love offers no treatment to the pain but gives the impression that it does. If it is bliss-induced neurotransmitters you require, boy, you are better off eating vast quantities of chocolate than indulging in love."
Cloud sat with a frown on his face, not satisfied by Black's response. "So that's it? Love is a fantasy?"
"Love is our fantasy and pain is our reality."
Those words prompted Cloud to shake his head. "I don't believe that. Even if you think love is an illusion, it still inspires us. There's the love of our friends, our partners, our fathers, our…"
"Mothers?"
The way Black spoke that word, hushed and evenly, Cloud sensed something meaningful and deeper there. He waited for Black to talk again. However, the Host kept silent and resumed washing his foot.
"It has to mean more than that…" Cloud persisted later, unable to accept Black's previous words. "You're a Host. Isn't it your job to make people embrace love?"
"My job is to instill the illusion of love. I am to treat the side-effects of pain; not the infection itself – as if anyone cares to know the difference these days. Business continues to boom, both beautifully and tragically." Black chuckled. "For the right price, you can obtain temporary bliss. This is why our clients keep coming back to us. The loveless find love. Even you will come back to me after this night is done."
Cloud stared. Quietly, he asked, "You are… going to make me fall in love with you too?"
A finger delicately traced one vein on his foot. "Perhaps, boy. We shall see soon enough. Won't we?"
The boy couldn't interpret that as a question or a challenge. He ignored the tension that built in his stomach and expressed, "I still don't get how enjoying pain makes you a humanist."
"Humankind has always harbored misery and chaos within itself. Our initiation into this species begins with agony. As we breathe air into our lungs for the first time, we scream out in pain."
Black's fingers faintly ran along the side of Cloud's leg. It caused the boy to sit still. Hands clenched into fists underwater; Cloud's member slightly stirred below.
"Humankind cannot be content with love," Black claimed, "not when evolution has granted it teeth, nails, and the mental capacity to conjure up the vilest methods of self-destruction. Given the perfect opportunity and motivations, anyone can tear this world apart. Even you. Ironically enough, love offers the worst pain a man can experience and endure. It is often the source of his madness."
A thumb tenderly stroked Cloud's calf. The boy sucked in air and countered, "Then why not fight against it? Why embrace the pain at all?"
Carefully, the Host set the foot down and moved forward. He slowly climbed on top of Cloud. His veiled body slid up, pushing against the boy's chest first until the upper part of Black's torso rose from the water. Black looked down at the smaller male while one pale hand drew up. Long silvery nails glint against the light as Black caressed Cloud's cheek, tenderly stroking it as a loving mother would.
"Boy," he began softly, "the greatest sin any man can commit is to deny the pain that resides within himself; to deny that aspect of his humanity; worse, to ignore its existence by enslaving himself with illusions of love, treasures, and power – all of which is intended to make him forget his pain."
Their bodies pressed together with Black on top, Cloud immediately forgot how to breathe. He tried to lick his dried lips but found his tongue lacking saliva. The sheer weight of the other man shot his nerves on fire. His cock, helplessly pushed against Black's thigh, stretched to full attention. The overly sensitive muscle now twitched at the slightest of movements. At this close proximity, Cloud could see green eyes burn into him through the meshed veil. They stayed on him as he lay underneath; trapped by a mass of black. Cloud couldn't control his body's reactions when the hand that caressed his cheek now drifted down. Trembling, he felt Black's fingers graze his stomach until reaching the beveled line of his scar.
"That is why we require reminders," Black murmured to him. A fingernail traced the fleshy seam. "As this species numbs the pain away with substances, food, talk shows, online chatting, fucking… it loses more and more of its humanity. You observe this every day from below, do you not?"
Still trying to breathe, Cloud had trouble focusing on his words. He numbly stared.
"Your presence, your pain, is hidden away by a thick layer of constructed metal," the Host bitterly reminded him. "In turning a blind eye to your suffering, the people of the Plate can freely love and laugh. These dullards do not want to be reminded of the dark core that exists within every man, woman, and child. They would prefer to live in ignorance, even at the cost of losing their humanity."
When Black surprisingly pulled away, he placed both his hands on Cloud's waist and brought the youth up to his knees. Water dripped and an erection came into full view. Cloud felt light-headed. Not only was he exposed but also very aroused. As Black looked up at him from his low seated position, his veiled face lingered dangerously close to the throbbing want. A small sound left Cloud's lips when Black leaned forward. He expected to feel his mouth on him; to experience that wonderful warm and slick sensation. However, through his veil, Black gave him a series of soft kisses along his abdominal scar instead.
"Consider yourself lucky for having this," Black told Cloud, still kissing the remnants of a fatal wound. "Let this scar be a reminder of your pain; of your sense of mortality. It shall keep you from becoming yet another disillusioned inhumane fool. That is why I chose you, boy. Your despair speaks to me."
Closing his eyes, Cloud had heard similar words spoken to him before. He struggled to stay on his knees without falling backward from vertigo. His curiosity reaching its peak, he demanded, "Who are you? Tell me your name. I need to know. I have to know."
"You already know my name, Cloud," came the same reply.
The longer Cloud's eyes remained closed, the more Black's presence summoned the image of the silver-haired boy again. He shared the dominating aura as him. He possessed the same range of impressionable words that unraveled his very being. As a prickly sensation ran across Cloud's skin, a name came out of his mouth "…Sephiroth."
The Host stopped kissing his scar. Cloud heard Black quietly laugh below. "…That took you long enough."
His words caused Cloud to open his eyes. Gazing down, he studied the veiled-man seated below. "Wait. Your name is… Sephiroth?" Baffled by this news, Cloud shook his head. "But I thought that was the child's name?"
"That is a topic for another time, boy," Sephiroth replied.
It was at this point, Stabby approached. Carrying the silver platter in its small reptilian-like hands, it offered its contents to its master. Sephiroth took the small towel first to dry his hands. Then he grabbed the envelope. With a silver nail, he cleanly sliced it open. Cloud sank back into the water and stayed there, waiting for Sephiroth to speak again.
"I had Zack transfer your contract to Stabby." Sephiroth pulled out the sheet and showed it to Cloud. "We are to sign it together."
The mention of his contract made Cloud remember his financial situation. With a sigh, he confessed, "I… don't think I can afford you, Sephiroth."
Under his veil, the man laughed. "Of course you cannot. You are here to negotiate with me."
While Black spoke the truth, Cloud didn't appreciate the laugh. He replied in a bitter voice, "Negotiate? I doubt you'll take five-Gil installment payments."
"That was not what I had in mind. I have another proposal."
Cloud waited for him to continue.
"Instead of an exchange of Gil for my services, you are to grant me a wish." Sephiroth must've noticed the stumped look on Cloud's face because he soon elaborated, "During each meeting, I will make a demand. You are to meet that demand with no questions or rejections. Failure to comply will result in the termination of our contract. You will not show your face here again. On the other hand, so long as you play by the rules you are free to call on me whenever you so choose. Does that seem fair?"
"What kinda demands are we talking about?" the boy slowly asked.
"Whatever I desire. It is not for you to ask, boy."
Cloud's jaw danced. Zack previously mentioned that negotiations with Sephiroth could entail anything. But this was not what he expected. Clueless over the type of demands Sephiroth would make, Cloud remained hesitant – what if some demands were impossible to meet?
There was no other alternative in hiring the Host. He didn't have the Gil to meet his painfully high rates. Even if he was probably better off forgetting the entire arrangement, Cloud couldn't just walk away from this either. He'd gotten a taste of Sephiroth's world tonight. It was different; exciting. Exhilarating. He actually wanted more.
Cloud felt the heat rise on his cheeks again. Admittedly, he couldn't think with a clear head when his second head below still flared with a needy demand. His previous attempt at gratification had been woefully interrupted by the constant buzzing sounds of missed calls. Cloud now sat with the person responsible for that disappointing event. It didn't help Sephiroth evoked a serious hard-on in the aftermath. At this point, Cloud didn't care which gender got him off anymore, so long as he encountered bright shooting stars.
Cloud finally agreed with the Host's proposal. He accepted the pen and contract given to him. Teenage hormones be damned; he halfway hoped the Host's first demand was sex.
"Excellent," commended Sephiroth after Cloud signed his name. He committed the same action and later placed the items on Stabby's silver platter. The Host turned to Cloud. "Now that we've signed the contract, we are bound to each other; you to me and I to you. Never forget that."
The boy nodded.
As the Tonberry wandered away with their contract, Sephiroth drew closer to Cloud. He cocked his head to one side and said, "As discussed, you are to grant me a wish during each of our meetings. Tonight, my demand is a simple one: I want you to look upon my face."
Cloud didn't know how to react to this request. Ever since he met Sephiroth, his mind conjured up multiple facial possibilities based on the rumors he'd heard. A heavily scarred man with burnt marks. A hideously deformed monster with razor sharp teeth. A hollowed man in constant mourning over a loved one. Some part of Cloud regretted signing his name away so fast; fearing any of those rumors would prove true. He put those concerns aside, however, as he sat in front of Sephiroth. Few knew why the Host wore a veil over his face. Now, in this moment, he would learn that answer.
At the other room, the white record player chose a new song. It was yet another strange guitar-addicted tune. Cloud vaguely paid attention to the song's words as he reached out to touch Sephiroth's black veil. The material was long. His hands had to reach into the water to locate its hemline below. Once his fingers grasped it, Cloud slowly lifted it in the air. Water dripped from the meshed fabric as it rose higher and higher. Again, he felt like a groom on his wedding night; his Bride of Death waited to consummate their bonds with this final act.
Cloud sucked on his lower lip when he pulled the black veil up and saw a hairless chiseled chest with impressively toned muscles. No burnt marks. No deformities. The skin appeared as milky and smooth as the statue that guarded Sephiroth's personal chambers. A perfect torso to match perfect hands and perfect feet. Cloud resumed pulling the cloak up. His heart picked up a beat faster when he came across a well-defined collarbone and bare neck. A prominent jawline appeared next. It was at this point Cloud unveiled the rest of this dark creature with one strong swoop. Hands dropped to his sides.
"This… is you?" Cloud whispered under his breath.
With pale skin that illuminated against the white light, Sephiroth possessed an unsettlingly, unworldly beauty. The hair that flowed from his head shined with long strands of silver that reached to his back, spilling down like a waterfall. Silver – just like the child.
As if sculpted by the hands of a master artist, Sephiroth displayed perfectly proportioned features: a long narrow nose, high cheek bones, thick lashes, and sharply defined brows. A hint of a smile teetered at the edges of the mouth. His moist blush-red lips appeared prominently against the cream color of his skin. Unlike the other Hosts, Sephiroth did not harbor the iconic bright-blue eyes. Like the child's, his burned with emerald fire. Their slit-shaped pupils reminded Cloud of a snake. A predator's eyes.
Sitting face-to-face in the tub, it was as if Cloud caught a glimpse of nirvana. It took the shape of a silver-haired man with starry green eyes. A face like Sephiroth's could drive any decent man or woman into insanity; driven by perversions, greed, and primal motivations. Cloud suddenly thought about his frightful encounter with the sick orange-haired woman earlier in the week.
He finally remembered her. She was the high-ranked officer Sephiroth had accompanied during his birthday party. Her crazed eyes… Last he saw of her, she'd gone to hunt down a woman from the Slums. Cloud realized why the officer couldn't keep her shit together. Aside from some disease eating at her, she had been overcome with fear. She had touched the Divine and now feared losing it to someone else.
Cloud understood why the Host had to hide his face from the world; why people went coo-coo over him. It all made fucking sense now. The world couldn't handle the likes of a living god. Could he?
"You finally see me," Sephiroth said. It sounded more than a simple statement.
The boy's mouth stayed pursed. Cloud made no protest when the beautiful man grabbed his arm and gently pulled him to sit on his lap. They rested against the tub together; Cloud lying on his back on top of Sephiroth. As the chaotic sounds of blown-out guitars and organic melodies wailed in the background, the steam of the bath water continued to rise. It created a foggy white dream laced with the scent of vanilla and rose. Cloud arched his back against Sephiroth and softly groaned when he felt the man's length press against his lower back. His clear-blue eyes stared up at the ceiling mirror high above. He saw their reflections; their shapes infused as one. They made an interesting pair. Silver and gold.
With the bar of soap in his hand again, Sephiroth resumed washing Cloud, scrubbing the filth off his arms. "Prior to our sessions, I will wash you," he quietly decided. "You may be a diamond in the rough, boy, but that does not mean you have to be covered in dirt and excrement like one."
Cloud scoffed. Mandatory baths wasn't a part of their deal but he made no mention of that. Instead, he watched Sephiroth intertwine his long pale fingers with his. The silver-haired man washed his hands thoroughly, persistently cleaning under each nail and swiping at the wedges between all of his fingers. Sephiroth scrubbed the hands a second time for good measure. By the time he was done, he removed all traces of the woman Cloud had earlier.
Cloud looked up when Sephiroth's hands finally wandered over to his chest, rubbing and cleaning every inch of it. The collarbone. The muscles. The nipples. The belly point. The horrific scar. His skin glossed with water and soap. Sephiroth carefully cleaned the belly point. The warm wet sensation of his lubed fingers caused Cloud's erection to jerk underwater. It was the one area the Host had not touched yet. As Sephiroth continuously washed his belly in small circles, Cloud halfway closed his eyes. He gripped the ledge of the tub with a hand; a silent plea for absolution.
"This is me in my most humanist moment," the Host commented a short while later, speaking those words directly into Cloud's right ear.
Sephiroth slid the bar of soap down Cloud's chest. It moved beyond the belly point and disappeared in the bubbled water. With the same amount of attention he'd given to the other skin parts, the Host carefully grazed this sensitive section of Cloud's body in an unhurried pace. He repeatedly rubbed the soap against the sacs, slipping it in and out between them. Sephiroth cupped the tender balls afterward with his hands. He gently pulled and squeezed at the rough skin in circular motions, making sure no spot went unclean.
"Sephiroth…" was all Cloud could say. Somehow, the bizarre name slid so perfectly from his mouth.
Above, the mirror reflected a boy with dazed blue eyes, slack mouth, and flushed face. Cloud gripped the tub's ledge tighter. The knuckles turned white. He breathed out through his mouth and stretched his body; the toes pointed out. An electrifying tingle built at the stem of his cock. He felt Sephiroth wash his balls in the same clinical, steady fashion. Cleaning every vein, dip, and bump his fingers came across, either that damn OCD kicked in or the man relished in this moment.
Cloud quietly hissed. The tension grew. Unable to sustain this delicious but agonizing pain any longer, he demanded a release soon. Sephiroth focused only on certain parts of him though. Even as he reached the stem of the cock, he only lightly grazed it. The bar of soap barely made contact when he glided it up and down the bulky length. Cloud's body shuddered. With toes clenched, he envisioned those beautiful hands wrap around his hard flesh and finish him off. He found some relief when Sephiroth's thumb brushed the fatty surface of his tip. A swipe here. A swipe there. Then the hand moved away.
Cloud growled. Suffering in a never-ending spiral of raw unrequited sensations, his body trembled nonstop. Nerves singed with fire. His balls swelled with hot blood, blood that continued to rush to a central conjunction point. Driven out of control and having not an ounce of modesty left in him, Cloud decided to take matters into his own hands. Literally. He slid a hand below. Sephiroth immediately caught his wrist midway; his action instantaneous.
"Naughty boy," the Host reprimanded.
From behind, Sephiroth gripped both of Cloud's hands. He wrapped their arms around the boy's slim waist and kept him between his long spread legs. The moment Cloud budged from his spot, the Host held him tighter. Sephiroth chuckled. He sounded amused by his resistance. Cloud grunted and sighed. His strength leaving him, he couldn't break free from the man's iron-strong embrace.
Holding him closer, Sephiroth tenderly rubbed his cheek against Cloud's. "Shhh…"
As Sephiroth cradled him in his arms from behind, Cloud could feel his length slide against his backside. It took on a stronger shape than before. Sephiroth made no move to touch it though. Rather, he lay with Cloud in the tub and silently observed their intertwined reflections high above. A small smile shaped his full lips. Apparently, Sephiroth found something intriguing from their mirrored reflection. Cloud could not figure out what it was, but enjoyed the handsome smile anyway. Even the glint in his green eyes made the strange pupils less terrifying. Eventually, he settled against Sephiroth's chest and attempted to ignore his unattended member that still ached with heat.
Viewing the beautiful man's mirrored reflection, Cloud observed that gorgeous silvery hair. It carelessly spread across the tub and water. Long limbs wrapped all around him. They sheltered and trapped him in place. As Sephiroth's chest steadily rose and dipped with each breath he took, it created a soothing rhythm that made Cloud drowsy. Their faces remained pressed together; cheek to cheek. In a way, it reminded Cloud of the times his mother used to stay in bed with him whenever he got sick or couldn't sleep. Her physical presence comforted him. Cloud's body finally relaxed on top of Sephiroth.
As they lay together, consumed by the agony of their flushed and anxious bodies, he wondered if all of this was designed to cater to his personal needs; a customized private session to guarantee a return to LOVELESS. Was this temporary bliss? Was this silver-coated placebo pill intended to numb his pain? Cloud continued staring at the parallel universe high above. That tender and beautiful smile on Sephiroth's face had likely been seen by a hundred clients before him.
His eyes growing heavy, Cloud tried not to think about it anymore. Perhaps when the euphoric effects wore off, he'd contemplate deeper into this. For tonight, however, he simply wanted to have a majestic angel by his side. He wanted to pretend love wasn't just an illusion but the product of two souls coming together as one.