Disclaimer: Characters and setting are property of Square Enix

Rating: NC-17

Paring: Sephiroth/Genesis

Warning: mild language, implied masturbation, and needless to say, boy on boy love

A/N1: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. The comments always mean a lot to me. You guys are so awesome. Also, thanks to everyone who favored this story and/or put it on alert.

A special 'Thank You' to my wonderful beta Nephilim Rising. Also it was her story "Pride of a General" was the inspiration for child Seph in this chapter.

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When gods clash, the earth trembles. Gaia shuddered a crippling breath, and the sky was split asunder! Twin clouds, one on each side of the great rift created by The Sundering, thundered high above, heavy, pregnant with the blood of the innocent. The multiheaded dragon, scales burning liquid flame, opened it maw and screamed; the sound scorched with fire and ice, and devoured all in its path. Slivers of midnight, velvet, deadly, black, rained down, gutting the fleshy sacks of the vein-lined clouds, spilling the contents, soaking the ground in blue-black ichor.

The planet whimpered and tried to heal her wounds, but the onslaught of destruction was coming to fast. Her life-force was being consumed. She assembled her champions, warriors of ages past, and sent them to protect her most precious commodity: human life. But the beast was to strong, for it had been sent forth to conquer and the champions fell, scorched. Nations crumbled in its many jaws, the hearts of heroes were punctured by midnight, and the souls of the innocent were drowned in blood.

The nightmare had returned.

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Sephiroth opened his eyes, dispelling his fantasy. There was much to do before the dragon, who's name was War, would be unleashed on such a wide scale. And even then the beast wouldn't bring the world to ruin. Sephiroth wasn't here for total destruction; that would render him useless. He had returned to subjugate, not annihilate. The defeat of mankind, over and over again, (he would lead them to war, decimate their numbers, then help rebuild their strength, only to tear them apart again) was to be the price paid for what they, as a whole, either through willfulness or ignorance, had done to Mother and himself.

He now knew what Mother was, and the true origins of his conception. He knew he was not human, though it was a human who birthed him. Mother's cells, taking precedence over human cells, transformed him into something wholly different, almost unique; still, there were only two other beings like him in the entire universe.

The fault for what he was lay at the feet of humanity. It was them who had taken Mother apart, stole pieces of her to create him and his brothers – to create the entire SOLDIER department, then demanded bloodshed in return. It was a human woman who had injected an innocent fetus, one who would have been born normal, and possibly even loved, with the cells of an alien. It was a mortal that sanctioned and funded his upbringing and it was a human that taught him to kill and to make war.

Through it all he had tried to be human, longed for normality. There was a time when he had been herald as a hero, crowed a champion, beloved by many, feared by all, and he felt somewhat like he belonged among them. Yet, he couldn't help remaining distant from mankind, knowing he was different, being told he was special, better.

And then the one time he reacted as any human would if they found out they wasn't really an orphan, as they had been raised to believe, and their Mother had been dissected and used as an experiment, he was called insane.

He had lashed out in anger, wanting to hurt everyone in his path, to make them suffer for the lies he'd been told. They had all used him, worshiping him from afar when his hands were soiled with blood for their whims, yet turning their backs on him when he was in pain.

While in the Lifestream, Sephiroth had heard thoughts about him, knew how humanity saw him. They all thought him cold and emotionless, but they were wrong. He felt as deeply as anyone else; the way he expressed it was merely different. He loved. True, there were only three beings on all of Gaia he could ever claim having emotions for, but the feeling was still there. Genesis, the one he loved the most, had abandoned him; Angeal, the friend that tried to keep him human, hadn't been strong enough to continue searching for a cure for his disease; and Mother, the one who gave him his destiny.

The thought's he'd heard the loudest from the Lifestream was that of Cloud Strife. The blond pitied him, blamed Jenova for taking control of Sephiroth's mind. He believed Mother maddened her son, and used him to burn Nibelheim. That had never been the case. Mother's will wasn't strong enough to dominate the Shinra general. Nibelheim had happened because Sephiroth had been acting on the purely human emotion of rage. It was a crime of passion.

Fearing he had forgotten the justifications for joining with his past, less experienced self, the silver warlord smirked when the reasons were recalled. Yes, humanity would pay, but it would take years for that to come to pass. He first needed to subtly build up his power-base. In the meantime he had other things to be concerned about, like adjusting to the body he was in.

Becoming manifest, when he had been weightless for so long, was a strange sensation. He felt heavy and cumbersome. Taking step by slow, shaky step, Sephiroth moved away from the broken window, towards his bed; his motions awkward, each action forward causing him to stumble.

Stopping to regain his composure, hoping to maintain some semblance of grace, he waited until he settled into his new/old self. Looking at his surrounding to fill the time, a flood of memories emerged. He knew this room, every square inch of it. It was home, given to him by the president after his eighth birthday, after he'd made his first kill.

Shin-Ra Electric Company hadn't yet dominated the world as the one, true government, and the independent cities skirmished and fought each other for supremacy. Kalm, being an independent city, had organized an attack on Fort Condor; Shin-Ra's only other military stronghold, aside from Junon at the time.

Eight-year-old Sephiroth had been in the middle of lunch – Spaghetti O's, broccoli and apple wedges, washed down with a tall glass of milk – when Professor Hojo came into the lab and handed him a manilla folder. Reading it carefully, the young boy tasted a meatball rot in his mouth when he got to his mission objective. He looked to Hojo questioningly.

"Study the target well, Sephiroth," Hojo's cackled, "you leave in an hour."

Sephiroth would never forget that lunch.

The 'target' had been a deserter from Shin-Ra's growing army, and was leading a group of untrained peasants, hoping that if they could take Fort Condor, they could arm themselves well enough to move on to Midgar. It had been easy to gain access to the leader, though Sephiroth couldn't remember how he'd done it. What was clear, was the kill. The man, Kenji Morioka, a fresh faced, dark-haired guy in his early twenties, had laughed when Sephiroth drew his standard-issued short sword. He had still been laughing when Sephiroth plunged the cold, gleaming metal through his throat. Drenched with blood, the silver-haired child watched as the light in the man's eyes flickered out, and he felt powerful.

Shin-Ra's army had seized control of Kalm the very next day, and it had officially become part of the 'empire.'

Sephiroth had been given his room after returning from his mission. President Shin-Ra and Professor Hojo, who Sephiroth now knew was his father, had quarreled about it. Hojo hadn't wanted the boy to leave the labs, but the president argued that if Sephiroth was to become part of the military, then must live amongst the men. The scientist had continued to protest vehemently and didn't acquiesce until the fat, balding man had threatened to cut his funding.

The child had been led by the hand and brought to this room. He hadn't minded the size because it wasn't the labs and it was his, and he had privacy. From that day forward, Sephiroth had been part of the army, starting out as a cadet, and moving up the ranks when the SOLDIER program had been introduced.

So many memories were threatening to overtake him, that if he didn't ground himself in the here and now, he would drown. Eyes darting around the darkened, Mako-illuminated room, he caught the glitter of the mirror above his dresser. He recoiled when he came face to face with his younger visage. General Sephiroth, the silver general, Demon of Wutai – tall, handsome, tone, evenly proportioned – had been replaced. In his stead stood a not-so-tall, lanky, fifteen year old, who had yet to fill out, with mid-back-length silver hair, overly-large green eyes, and sickly, alabaster skin. He shifted his eyes from the mirror, instant self-loathing clinching his gut. He was shocked to remember a time when he did hate himself. The other men in the army would make fun of him, calling him albino, freak, alien or mutant, and despite Hojo telling him of his special destiny, all he had wanted was to be accepted.

He tried to swallow the emotion of inadequacy, but those green, listless eyes that were too big for his face, continued to glance at him through the mirror, and the feelings he'd had as a teenager refused to leave. Frustration was building. Sephiroth was the most powerful man on Gaia, a man who had lead armies to victory, a man who conquered a nation, a man who had resisted the magical calling of the Lifestream, yet here he stood, an insecure teen who wanted to smash his mirror just so he wouldn't have to look at himself.

Willing himself to move again, the silver-haired boy, crept on unsteady legs to his bed. Ungainly, he let himself flop down, face first, and tried to reconcile his two halves. His older, wiser self was the one in control of his mind; his younger, inexperienced self was in control of his emotions. 'This is not what I had anticipated,' he thought. 'How am I supposed to dominate the world, when I can't even reign in these raging, teenage hormones that impair my judgment?' It required focus, discipline and and a measure of emotional balance to wield the powers he was capable of using. 'Those powers are off limits to me until...I grow up.' With a vexed sigh, he punched his mattress. He suddenly felt afraid.

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The rumbling of the sky and the shaking of the tower snapped Genesis from his slumber. A cold sweat covered his body, making his white tee-shirt and black jeans cling to him like a second skin. Dreams of Mako, sickness, fire, steel, and his – mother? – had the redhead anxious and ill at ease. He tried to clear his head from the fog of sleep, but some parts of the vivid imagery from his subconscious hung just beyond his power to banish them.

In the part of the dream that he remembered, he was at home in Banora and he was sick. He had been calling out to his mother, but she wouldn't come. Outside he could hear the sounds of battle and his dream-self knew a Shin-Ra renegade had led troops here, and they were cutting down innocent civilians. He had called for his mother a second time, and she finally appeared in his doorway. She didn't look like his mother, but he knew it was her. She had blond hair, the most beautiful baby blue eyes, a glowing complexion, and she wore antiquated battle-armor. He hadn't thought anything of her unusual appearance, as dream-selves are wont to do, and pleaded with her,

"Mother, I'm sick! My hair has turned white."

His mother glared at him before her features fell in a look of pity. She turned her face from him. Upon her disappearance, a faceless scientist came into his room and started his Mako treatments. Genesis hadn't objected that the needle being used was in the form of a multiheaded, red dragon; he only cared that the Mako was stopping his hair from becoming whiter.

At one point in the dream, the scientist had vanished and SOLDIERs had entered his home. He had been terrified. He was ready to leave his sickbed and fight them, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. It was Mother again, but she looked different. This time she had one glowing red eye and silver hair like Sephiroth's. He knew this time, she had come to heal him.

The dream ended with the sound of cannon fire and thunder blending.

Laying completely still for a moment, breathing becoming regular, ears trained on the angry storm just outside his window, the small SOLDIER tried to dispel the nauseous feeling left over from his dream. However, dread crept into his bones, every muscle of his frame tensed, adding to the wave of sickness, and warning him of danger.

Cautiously, as if waiting for something terrible to spring on him from the darkness, Genesis sat up. His Mako enhanced vision allowed for him to see perfectly in his room, but everything seemed distorted. The shape of the dresser he and Angeal shared had elongated was leaning at an odd angle, the bathroom door seemed to be bulging inward, the closet doors were too tall and they seemed to slant to the right. He looked down from the top bunk, ready to hop off; when had his bed gotten so high off the ground?

Disregarding distance, Genesis jumped to the floor, hoping that being in a fully vertical position would render his sight normal, and help the queasiness of his stomach pass. While he had been correct that standing did ease the need to vomit, it also served to make him light headed. Putting a hand against the wall to steady himself, he noticed the plaster was hot to the touch, and was softening. He jerked his hand away when the material started oozing around his wrist, but froze instantly when a heavy breathing sounded directly behind him, so close it could have grazed his skin.

Clenching his fingers into fists, the SOLDIER 3rd class prepared himself for a fight. He had known something was in the room with him even though he couldn't see it. Spinning around, arm tensed to swing, he was relieved to find the heavy breathing was coming from Angeal, who was deep asleep on the bottom bunk.

How long had he slept for? If his best friend was here and already asleep, it meant that Genesis had slumbered throughout the entire day and well into the night. It had to be way past curfew. Doing a quick check of the little alarm clock sitting on the dresser, he could make out the glowing red numbers, but for the life of him, he didn't know what time it read.

Feeling safer seeing Geal in the room, the redhead began to peel the sweat clothes from his body. First the shirt, then his pants followed, leaving him to cool down in his boxers. He wasn't sure why his vision was out of sync, or why he was feeling so bad, but he knew he had to get out of those wet cloths. It was only after he was partially nude did he realize that the wall gum was starting to harden around his wrist. It should be burning his skin, but instead, it felt ice cold.

Slowly, his gaze traveled to the wall he had leaned on earlier. The structure was shift and flowing slowly in a way that reminded him of lava, green paint swirling with white plaster, pooling on the floor.

'Magic!' was the SOLDIER's first thought, and he leaned over Angeal and tried to shake his stronger friend awake.

"Geal," Genesis kept his voice as low as possible, while still being able to be heard, "we're under attack. Something's trying to get in." He was on the verge of panic.

The dark-haired teen rolled away from his touch, and grumbled, "Gen, go back to sleep. It's late."

Genesis didn't waste anymore time with his best friend. He knew Angeal could handle himself. He ran out of their room to go find help, and there was only one person he knew that could save them from the attack: Sephiroth.

The hallway that lead to the 2nd Class SOLDIERs room was full of SOLDIERs, all of higher rank than him, and the emergency lights had kicked on. But they were not the normal yellow color; they were blue, bathing the usually white, sterile corridor in a somber, melancholy that left the red-headed teen feeling surreal. The SOLDIERs were all leaning against this wall or that, talking amongst themselves, yet Genesis couldn't hear what they were saying. It never crossed his mind to tell one of the SOLDIERs that the wall in his room was melting, nor did the other men seem to notice him as he rushed down the hallway in his boxers.

He pulled up short in front of Seph's door, the feeling of dread in his stomach intensified, and he felt nauseous again. The the beast, the dragon, was beyond this door, and if he went in, it would swallow him whole.

Getting a grip on his fear, unable to stand the thought of the creature devouring the man he loved – yes, in this instance, when faced with possibly losing him, Genesis admitted to being in love with Sephiroth – the teen took his key-card, which he was thankful he remembered, and slid it through the lock. The door open and he rushed in, ready to fight the dragon.

"SEPHIROTH!" he screamed.

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Sephiroth, having drifted off to thoughts of when he was or will be General, and still trying to get used to the weight of his body, hadn't been expecting the keypad lock on his door to suddenly explode, fried from the outside. Nor was he expecting the one person in this world he should have expected, to dart into the room, screaming his name.

He should have known that if anyone was going to be affected so soon after him tearing a dimensional rift, it would be the one he loved more than anything on this goddess-forsaken planet, the one who could use magic without materia, even in his sleep.

With his own disorientation forgotten, the silver warlord-turned-teen was off his bed the second the fiery redhead stepped into his room. Even before his arms slipped around his former lovers waist to pull him close, Sephiroth could tell the boy was in the throes of a nightmare, though Genesis' eyes were open.

Quickly looking down the hallway before his door slid shut, making sure everything out there was alright, instinctively Sephiroth pulled the mostly nude, sweat-covered, fever-ridden teen to his chest.

Dear Mother, how long it had been since the last time he held this slight, trembling frame in his arms. Too much time had escaped since he gotten to feel Genesis pressed against him, needing him, quaking against him. How could he not have thought of Genesis when he pierced time and came back? How could he not have considered what detrimental effects him being here, with Mother inside him, would cause to his young love?

But of course, he hadn't been thinking of Genesis at all. Thinking of Genesis, when in the Lifestream was painful and he found the memories of all their times together were more vivid, closer to the surface, so he had ceased thinking about him entirely. After he was defeated when trying to call down the Meteor, the auburn boy was the memory he held the closet, while his rage for Cloud Strife continued to pummel always at the fringes of his mind. As Genesis, who was in his own torpor at the time, seemed to forget about Sephiroth, Sephiroth had no choice but to push Genesis and all the memories they'd made together, no matter how agonizing it was, to the furthest recesses of his soul, and focus entirely on his anger for Cloud.

If there was anything he could honestly say he regretted, it would be that the last thing he said to his auburn angel; he had told him to rot. At the time the Silver general had meant those words, but he was angry. Angry at what he was, angry at the way Gen had told him his origins and the way he asked for the cells, and angry that the only two people who mattered to him, had abandoned him. However, his anger at his lover dissolved when it dawned on him that Genesis had been the only one who ever bothered telling him the truth, even if he had been an ass about it.

"Genesis," the burnt-to-memory name rolled off Sephiroth's tongue with practiced ease, his fingertips gliding up and down the dreaming teen's drenched back. Even with the redhead at this young age, Sephiroth knew every contour of Gen's body, and his own shivered once. Plans of war could wait, he had years, right now, after seeing the redhead for the first time in almost a decade, all he wanted to do was touch the boy.

Lifting his love bridal style, Sephiroth carried him to the bed, and gently, so as not to wake him, laid him down. The second class crawled on the bed beside him and began to recommit Genesis physic to his memory.

He had forgotten how devastating the youth's nightmares could be, and how many times, when they were young, he had woken to find Gen had crawled in bed with him, seeking protection from the visions only he could see. Almost chuckling, Sephiroth reminded himself that they were young now, so that was something he would look forward to. He refused to disturb his lover's dreams, unperturbed by the way Genesis called out his name as if they were making love. Some might find it cruel of Sephiroth not to wake the boy, but Gen was usually so haughty, arrogant, willful and demanding, that the silver youth occasionally wanted him malleable and yielding.

Starting with Genesis' face, pushing wet, rusty silk from his eyes, Sephiroth's hands began their downward exploration. His hands ran down the graceful neck, over slim shoulders, rubbed down tone but not fully developed arms, and lightly tickled Gen's palms. There was a slight reaction, but nothing more than a mummer. His fingers glided across his lover's chest, softly tweaking the small, pink nipples, before moving on. His digits danced over the redhead's washboard stomach, one of Sephiroth's favorite features, and though longing to kiss the glistening skin, he withheld; he wanted Genesis awake for that.

He was about to rid the third class SOLDIER of his boxers, when he suddenly pulled away, flushed and embarrassed. 'Genesis will be upset if he wakes up and finds me taking advantage of him,' the warlord's teenage mind intervened. His adult self fired back, 'He's my lover, I'm allowed to touch him.' Sephiroth felt his cheeks reddening, and averted his gaze from the body beside him, heat causing his groin to ache, 'He's not my lover yet, but...he's beautiful and I want to keep touching him. But what if he doesn't like me like I like him? What if he rejects me?' Still ungraceful and awkward, he threw his hand over his face. 'He's not going to reject me. He likes me...hell, he loves me. We've been together for years.' Sephiroth groaned, he was starting to hate the fact his young mind and his adult mind weren't reconciled. 'This time it's different. Things have changed just because I'm here. And this time he might not like me.'

The older part of Sephiroth gave up. His teenage body and mind were producing feelings of insecurity and overwhelming bashfulness that he just couldn't fight. He wanted to be with Genesis, wanted to hold him, kiss him, touch him, and caress him, but right now, he was feeling ashamed of what he'd done, and that was overriding the desire that made his cock hard and fueled the need to possess.

"Seph?" The voice was weak, but sounded alert. "How did I get here?"

Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, and thankful he had stopped himself when he did, the Second replied, "I am assuming you walked down the hall, then cast a fireball at my lock." His voice, which hadn't actually been tried out yet, sounded strange and foreign to him.

"Seph," Genesis sat up and blushed, his flesh becoming the same shade as his hair. He felt stupid. He was sitting in his hero's bed, in only his boxers, shaking like a little girl. He wanted to flee and crawl under a rock and die. He would also settle for the ground opening up and swallowing him whole. He said the only thing that came to mind, "my wall is melting."

Sephiroth couldn't look at Genesis. His older self had retreaded, leaving him alone to turn crimson because he didn't want his friend to see how tight his pants had become. He turned flipped on his side, giving his back to the redhead.

"You were having a nightmare, Gen. I highly doubt your wall is melting. If it were, every alarm in the tower would be shrieking."

Being in this close of proximity, Genesis experienced the heat radiating of the silver warrior's body and he wanted to be enveloped by it, not to mention he was still frightened by the dream he'd had. Forcing down his pride, hoping not come across as timid, the redhead steadied his voice and asked, "Seph, can I stay here with you tonight?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Genesis." The second class SOLDIER wanted to say yes, he wanted his former lover to stay right where he was, but he knew if the teen stayed, he would loose the battle within himself . He would claim Gen whether Gen wanted it or not.

"Oh. Um...alright then...I-I should go."

The auburn-haired third class stood, and feeling completely dejected, eyes starting to mist with tears, Genesis shuffled to the door. "Sorry about your lock," he said before leaving.

"Goodnight, Genesis."

Sephiroth kept himself rooted to the bed, resisting the urge to call the boy back. He would take Genesis when the time was right, and now was not that time. He had to be more in control of himself.

Waiting until he was positive Genesis wouldn't return, Sephiroth slid his hand down his pants and quickly, with thoughts of the redhead writhing beneath him, relieved himself of the ache that had built.

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The following morning, having fit more fully into his teenage body, and trying his best to dismiss the images of a fevered Genesis in his arms, Sephiroth rigidly marched in to Director Lazard's office. The blond behind the desk, dressed immaculately in a soft-pink jacket, matching cravat and pristine white slacks, was sorting through papers littering his desktop.

"Sir!" Standing at attention, the silver warrior announced his presence.

Lazard peered over the rims of his silver-framed spectacles, his blue eyes widening at bit at seeing Sephiroth in his office so early.

"At ease, SOLDIER Second Class Sephiroth." When the SOLDIER's stance relaxed ever so slightly, the director continued, "What can I do for you this morning?"

In no mood to play games, ready to assert his own authority, Sephiroth leaned forward menacingly, his emerald, cat-slitted eyes constricting. His thin lips formed a snarl that had the blond pushing himself deeper into his chair, as if that offered any sort of defense against the threat looming just across the desk. With a voice that was a low and deadly as the rest of him, somehow sounding older today than any time previously, the Second Class hissed, "Genesis, he is to receive his first mission within the week, and it WILL be just as important and dangerous as the ones any other SOLDIER would get. Do I make myself clear?"

Lazard broke away from the glare and shifted uneasily in his chair. He had never seen Sephiroth like this and he was mortified. He had to pull it together. He couldn't let any of the SOLDIERs see him as weak and easily cowered.

Adjusting his cravat, and positioning himself so he was back to sitting up straight, he locked eyes with the young man once again.

"Sephiroth, I will gladly give Genesis a mission as soon as his Wilderness Survival instructor, Sargent Blakemore signs off on his mission sheet. Until then, my hands are tied. You don't like the rules, either go speak with the Sargent or the President."

The silver Second eased off. He had always admired the nerve of the director, even if he was an embezzling scumbag who had used blackmail to get his position.

"Very well, Director, I shall. Good day."

Sephiroth exited the office in the same stiff manor he'd entered. He was going to pay this Sargent Blakemore a visit.

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TBC