Author note: Special next day update, Happy Mothers Day! Rated mature in this chapter, so if you like go towards the end of the fic to skip. Our boy Sephiroth is already eighteen after all. And of course, Clouds end of what happened. Figured that would be more exciting than Sophie traipsing along and bitching about the cold.


Chapter start

"You convinced him to what?" Despite the incredulity of the tone, Angeal was far from upset. Or even necessarily against the words his proud peacock of a friend spouted. More like… partial terror and heavy disbelief.

Genesis couldn't have looked less like a proud cat if he'd tried. "You heard me, my friend. Our little jaunt is plus one tonight. Perhaps forever."

"You believe he'll like it so much he'll come back for more?" His brow arched, arms crossing as he leaned against the wall.

Tonight, was a night of relaxation and sating of darker needs. Thus, Angeal wasn't wearing his buster sword, or any weapon beyond his fists. Rare indeed for anyone to have the misplaced guts or insanity to attack one with mako doused eyes. Let alone a first. Especially when it was all three firsts in a line. He chuckled deep in his barrel chest, wishing he could watch the great Sephiroth at work.

That would, most likely, be far too much for the silver haired general. Where he and Genesis were eternally entwined, exploring both sides of life for the thrills, Sephiroth hadn't been with them for long. War made quick friends, but one had to work to maintain those bonds. Very different than childhood companions, seeing each other awkwardly reach out to others, blundering kisses that were far too much teeth, and quick trysts in shadows that could have been longer.

No, he doubted very much Sephiroth would be amenable to being in the same room as them when he began his first treks into this activity. Honestly, Angeal had half believed if it ever happened, Sophie would have aged enough to guide him slowly. And that was a heavy if, more believing the man simply wasn't inclined that way, was content to remain like a breathing work of art, untouchable by base instincts.

"I do," Genesis said smugly. "If I'm wrong though, it's little consequence. With how pent up he was during our little sparring match, I thought perhaps it was time he learned ways to handle it beyond blatant ignorance and cold showers. Or his own hand."

Genesis was cooing by the end, and Angeal smirked. Unlike him, Genesis tended to lean towards the more flirtatious, uncaring for social conventions that would dictate some things remain behind private rooms.

"Ah! And here he is. Just the man we were waiting for." His lips quirked in a pout, arm draping around Sephiroth, who gave him a look of mild interest. Genesis steered him over, and then his voice calmed. "You are still open to this, yes?"

"If you feel it will help." Sephiroth was blunt, and Angeal again wondered if his blood could be stirred enough to feel a woman or man.

"Oh, I do. Indeed, what use is there in being alive if one doesn't experience all that you can?"

"Hojo never educated this as necessary for living."

Neither could hold their grimaces. Genesis huffed an annoyed breath, beginning to lead Sephiroth down the forking streets. True, Hollander had an unusual amount of interest and control over Genesis and Angeal, but Hojo took it to a whole new level. It was fairly obvious he regarded Sephiroth as a tool, an experiment, his prized possession. Something to be studied and admired, but never released too far without a collar. And Sephiroth allowed this, somehow flourishing in some ways in spite of it. Probably Sophie.

Still, Hojo was known to despise anyone Sephiroth came into contact with, to the point of demanding he cease the association, or threatening them with saccharine words dipped in poison. Angeal and Genesis merely scoffed. They had no idea how Sophie coped. Or if the scientist had the balls to direct his ire at the spoiled teenager. Sephiroth would probably dig his heels in even sharper, if her presence was threatened.

"The scientist is a fool," Genesis muttered.

They declined to say more, for experience told them the end of the conversation before it could begin. They would cajole, Genesis would rage impotently, Angeal would soothe and appeal to reason. Sephiroth would eventually depart their presence, so well trained to his life as not more than a weapon that he couldn't see much beyond that.

Familiar as Honey Bee inn was, and as used to seeing them as the workers were, it still wouldn't be prudent to be seen going in the front when playing was their goal. The three snuck over the railings, alighting on an already opened pair of glass doors.

Andrea was reclined along a burgundy settee, a woman languidly across his chest, idly blowing smoke from her cigarette. Long fingers caressed her exposed back, gave the stinger of her costume a jaunty prod to send it dancing. Low music played through every corner, pulsating in the air with its delicately exotic melody.

Sephiroth eyed the scene with some judgmental disgust. He was used to sterile environments, of no corners so filled he couldn't discern what belonged and what did not at any given time. Even with his three companions decorating his space, prodding him into collecting things he was certain weren't useful, his room inside Shinra tower remained minimal with clutter.

This was well lived in, ash trays strategically placed to accommodate the owner. Glasses in random corners, from different guests, not yet cleaned up, smoke clogging the nostrils and eyes. Comfortable furniture, gossamer curtains… this place wasn't anywhere he'd usually find himself.

"Infinite in mystery, indeed!" Genesis strode in like he belonged, already relieving himself of his heavy red duster. "Begun without us, hmm?"

Angeal clapped an affable hand to Sephiroth's shoulder, leaning in close while Genesis engaged the rooms occupants. "You've nothing to prove. This should be fun, not a mission."

The silver haired general nodded, allowing his features to relax, long body subtly easing of tension. He was out of his depth, knowing the mechanics of what he'd set out to accomplish, but was lost on the deeper subtleties. Naturally he would need to defer to his friends, more likely Angeal. Genesis seemed the sort to hurl someone into the flames, rather than coax.

Hence why, though he knew he could have easily taken either into his bed, he declined the urge. Traveled this road rather than the one his friends might have made easier to traverse. After all, Genesis would burn, and burning wasn't his goal just yet. Whereas Angeal would be a decent and amiable teacher, all things Angeal were eventually shared with Genesis. Sephiroth had watched far too many eager troopers, men and women, fall sway to one or both, perhaps dreaming of claiming one. Only to be bogged down with disappointment when the only one the other truly saw for long were each other.

Andrea finally rose, after playful banter, crossing to Sephiroth with languid yet long strides. Angeal separated from him, going to greet the woman, who practically purred when he descended over her. Genesis had her pressed to him, so she wasn't able to shift much.

"Mister Sephiroth," Andrea purred his name. "Such an exquisite man in my home."

Sephiroth let him press to his front, feeling the muscles rather than just seeing them, the chest before him incredibly sculpted. Heat and curiosity stirred within him, as long arms draped over his shoulders, caging him. The man's breath, smoky yet minty as well, warmed the shell of his ear.

"Such a tall one too. Conquering your mountain would be a reward in and of itself."

Andrea didn't bother with waiting for a response, which probably wouldn't have come, instead pressing delicate butterfly kisses along the jawline before him. He was rewarded with a tiny shudder through the silver general, a stiffening of his body. He wasn't deterred, pressing more kisses until he reached the corner of the lips.

Sephiroth felt a growing urge to sink forward, but also to retreat. It resulted in an overall stiffening of his body, as he tried to force himself to remain still. His body had been trained by years of experiments to freeze when he needed it to. If he couldn't use it for this, then what good was he?

Andrea however was dominant, something in direct conflict with Sephiroth's own drive and need to remain in control when possible. The Honey Bee inn owner knew it, as well as he knew his own body. No matter how the general wanted it, he would give no favor to the man or woman who actually pressed him. Still…

Hot and wet was the cavern before him, tongue quickly taking advantage of the way Sephiroth kissed, somehow not clumsy. Inexperienced he might have been, but Andrea doubted it extended to kissing. He allowed Sephiroth to control it, the pace deliciously languid as the general gripped him tight enough to move his arms from around his shoulders. He let them settle on his arms, felt the strands of hair that tickled his face as Sephiroth leaned over his frame. Rare indeed was it that someone was taller than Andrea, rarer still that he didn't press for submission.

Even then, he knew if he wanted Sephiroth to feel completely sated, he wasn't the one. Not for a first time. Perhaps one day, when the playing field was more equal, they would duel it out with their flesh for control. Another time.

"Ah, my darling. We could be in love," he joked breathlessly, when the general pulled away from him. Even then, he didn't allow Andrea to do more than press their chests together. "But not tonight, no? We'll have a much slower dance."

Sephiroth released his grip on him when he stepped away, safe from unwanted touches that locked him in.

Andrea smirked, coy tilt to his head, clapping his hands once. They'd been observed in their kissing, Angeal feeling heated by the sight, yet surprised Sephiroth had it in him to do anything in front of anyone. Genesis stood up, regretfully realizing the show was over. A different one would begin, but not with the three onlookers in the room.

"I'll leave you to my friend here. She will be much better suited to your needs," Andrea murmured. He dared to take a gloved hand, pressing a kiss on the leather. "Ah, if only. Fare thee well, general to the darkest parts of my soul."

How corny. Sephiroth didn't blink, gaze heated, clouded with lust and the usual indifference. Andrea collected the other two SOLDIERS, Genesis already pouting about the line Andrea delivered, Angeal smiling encouragingly before he left. The woman stood up languidly, beginning to come to him before Sephiroth shook his head.

She paused, sultry smile upon her lips. Wutai, by looks of her features, long hair draping down her back in an inky curtain. Thin body like a reed, slender and curved. One of his companions had already undressed her, the ridiculous line of the bee costume discarded to the floor. His eyes roved over the exposed flesh, being not all together startled to find she had been bare beneath it, left now only in the diamond stockings that clung to her muscled legs, ending at the swell of her thighs.

"Your name?" He asked more for proprietary expectation than curiosity.

"Lyon. And what am I to call you?"

"One usually refers to another by their name," he returned blandly.

"Mm. In this line of work, you'd be surprised what some want to be called."

"I am not so base." He dismissed the implications, knowing full well some men preferred their bed fellows to call them degrading names, or sometimes the other end of the spectrum. Lyon laughed, throat arching back. It was light and tinkling.

"No, no you are not," she agreed, daring to come closer to him and also to the bed. "I don't bite unless offered. Shall we begin?"

She fell against the silken sheets before he reached them. He stared down at her, even as he settled on the edge of the bed, heat from her thigh searing into his leg where they brushed together. He removed his boots, undid his pants. Hesitated from removing them. Didn't make a motion to pull off his leather duster.

Lyon knew things, her business second nature to her. She drew herself up, reaching out for his hands. With impish grace, she bit at the gloved fingers teasing first one than the other off. She settled one hand against her breasts, directing his fingers into a cup, nipple dead center of his palm.

"You needn't worry yourself. Only, you'll enjoy it more, as will I, if you can really feel the warmth."

His fingers flexed, his eye catching the way the muscles in her soft belly twitched. Soft, softer than anything he'd felt, silken skin stretched around his fingers. Different then the skin that stretched across his bones, any part of his body. Her breasts were like warm satin in his hand, her encouraging sighs as he squeezed and explored them musical.

Eventually she dared to draw closer, raising her body slightly over his, bringing her breasts to his eye level. "You can taste as well, Sephiroth."

Something in him was dark, he realized. For rather than settle her into his lap, as he'd seen others do, as he wanted, he slung her down. One hand lightning quick going to the hollow of her throat, the others still clinging to her breast like an eager babe. She allowed it, arching for him, and he knew by the scent she emitted the action pleased her.

His head dipped, lips curiously opening to allow his tongue to peek through, running along the pink skin of her nipple, before curiously suckling. Genesis had sat him down enough times to see some new "artistic erotica", as he put it, to follow some guidelines. Her sudden moan, the heating of her skin, guided him further.

While he teased there, he felt her hands ghost his sides, comb his long silver hair back, and grip along his arms, staying away from his neck and back. Truly, well versed indeed to what he would need. What he would accept. There wasn't any way she knew of the times he'd been restrained, cuffed in, for some painful experiment that he handled silently. But the cues of his body told her all she needed, letting him set the pace, only shifting him into new paths, the goal to be reached whenever they reached it.

"Please" she murmured it out harshly, head rolling back as he bit at her neck next, mixing kisses and bruising bites to study her reactions.

Her thighs spread, Sephiroth allowing it, allowing her to settle him in the cradle of her hips. Her long fingers coaxed his pants down enough to release him, one hand gripping him with enough firm intention he groaned, head dropping against her shoulder.

Lust wasn't unfamiliar to him, something he either dealt with, or more often ignored. It didn't have a purpose to his life, always confused when others were addicted to letting their lust have sway. He would admit this was nice, almost too much, a small flickering flame he knew becoming larger and gripping, too large of a burn to be ignored. Her rolling grip on his cock addictive, pressure changing, fingers one moment flexing and then the next stroking along. So different than his own hand, usually gloved. Yet still enough, somehow, pulling him deeper into the flames, allowing her some measure to move, to help sooth him.

Her other hand reached around pushing his duster off first one side, than the other, until it caught at his elbows. Growling, he rose up to discard it to the carpeted floor, before he descended down again, caging her with his body, fingers gripping along the swell of shapely hips, pulling them further apart. Her hand left him then, settling along his chest, tweaking his pale nipples. It didn't do much for him, a mere tease he accepted, sinking into her warmth finally, watching her breasts jiggle as she whined, needy.

She offered nothing except her groans and moans, the smell of her overpowering his senses as she undulated her hips to match his pacing, losing it a few times, tensing up, breath strangling, and then relaxing again. He felt the sliver of pride, knowing she was coming from his thrusts, that she was becoming oversensitive as time passed. Vindictive joy, swelling and growing as she lost herself more and more.

So many Wutains had been thrown under him, ended by his sword and trampled below his feet, but he could honestly say she was the first to enjoy it. Of course, he wasn't attempting to slaughter her, merely exhaust her. Her fingers would ghost his back before seeming to recall, even sensing the way he drew back, instead twining in the sheets below her, hoarse moans coming out louder and louder.

When finally, the flames overtook him, skin slick with both his sweat and hers, he made certain to settle away from her. His hands gripped her under the arms, depositing her form so her head settled on the pillows they'd neglected to use. He himself settled enough away their skin no longer touched after, content and yet tense. Wondering. Watching.

Her lips quirked slightly, breath still heaving. "Ah, a gentleman."

He had pumped her deeply of his seed, he realized, seeing it seep from between her legs along with her own arousal. Unsanitary, perhaps, despite how natural it was. Was he fertile, he wondered. Hojo had never informed him. Perhaps the Scientist had removed the ability for him to impregnate women. Just in case…

She saw his focus, fingers sliding down to feel between her legs. So sensitive that she twitched, muscles in her thigh jumping. "Don't worry, gentleman. My body isn't built for kids anymore."

He glanced up from the idle way her fingers moved, covered in their mixture now, stroking along her belly. She saw it and indulged him more.

"An accident. I haven't been afraid of pregnancy since I was in my teens." She laughed, and if it was a little bitter, they both ignored it.

"You've done admirably," he murmured, somewhat charmed to see a grin stretch her lips.

"Yes, I have. Now SOLDIER boy, give me a few minutes and I'll take you to the moon."

Cloud Strife knew he wasn't nearly strong enough to hold and protect everything he wanted to. Still, when he'd seen Tifa go up the mountain, eyes red, hair limp and greasy from where she hadn't been caring for herself, thick quilt wrapped around her rather than a proper coat, he'd been galvanized. The three useless kids that usually flanked her waddling up after her like ducklings. He'd cast a look to his impromptu trainer, Reno, who shrugged lightly when he met his eyes. It had been all Cloud needed, feet trudging through the heavy snow to follow her.

He liked Reno, liked all the Turks and Sophie Shinra. But Reno held more attention, merely because the redhead had claimed him somehow, the first person ever to look at Cloud and say, "You're worth something."

True, Sophie had seen it about his mother. But Reno has noticed him, before his mother. Sophie rarely left the manor, too weak to the cold. Tseng often stayed near her, and Vergil flickered between the mansion and the town. Reno stayed with him. Trained him. Had the others join on occasion, to see how awesome Cloud was, he'd said with a proud smile.

He'd also been the one who defended the Strife family. They'd been purchasing some supplies Claudia needed, the shop owner making snide, under the breath remarks about how filthy the Strife's were, and how silly the Shinra daughter.

Reno had slammed his palm on the counter with enough force it splintered, making him yelp. The lazy, indolent look had faded, replaced with pure taunting madness, grin sharp. "Oops. Dunno my own strength, yo."

He'd tossed the gil to the broke counter, ignoring the way everyone stared, mothers clutching their children, men nervously backing down. Knowing they had no chance.

He'd paused, glancing back after he'd settled the supplies in his arms. "Friendly bit of advice. Worry about what your wife is doing with the butcher, before you even think a word about our business. Awful lot of pawing going down in the alleyways, if ya know what I mean."

The woman had flushed Scarlet, words croaking to an end when Reno casually ripped the scarf from around her neck. "Oh, yeah. I know what that's from," he chortled merrily. "Is it yours Mister shopkeeper? Somehow, I doubt it, my man."

They'd left the store to a genuine showdown, the affair that the whole town knew of except the husband exposed. Casually, and at the whim of a stranger, and the message was loud and clear. Stop fucking with the Strife's, and Shinra.

His loyalty had been fixed since then. So now, after a little over a week of that tutelage, he confidently followed up the mountain, mag rod hooked to his belt to deal with the wolves or monsters that infested the way.

He caught up with them at the bridge, one he knew from his mother was older than the others, and rickety. She often took him further down to a newer bridge less traveled, saving it wear and tear she said.

"Tifa!" He had to say her name multiple times before she turned, cheeks reddened by the cold. "What do you think you're doing up here?"

Her gaze hardened, while her friends hesitated to follow her out onto the bridge. The winds were strong this high up, tossing her about as she clutched the rope rail.

"I'm going to go find her. Mom is just on the other side of this mountain."

A childish tale parents told their kids to explain death. Cloud couldn't help his scoff, as he brushed past the others, ignoring their scorn.

"Tifa, you know that isn't how it works. Don't be ridiculous."

"What do you know, Cloud?! All you do is think you're better than the rest of us! Don't act like you care now."

"We might not be close," he said softly, pausing before her. He was tugging off his gloves, tugging her hands forward one by one to put them on. He ignored the bite of the frigid wind, stomach clenching at how red and raw her fingers looked. "It doesn't mean I don't care.

She was quiet for a moment, hands feebly gripping her quilt. Shoulders shaking from grief and cold, a potent mixture that Cloud only somewhat knew how to fix. Cold, sure. Sorrow, not so much. He'd been young when his father left or died. Too young to remember.

Tifa guided him. She fell into his chest, gut wrenching sobs pouring from her. He felt the way the tears immediately cooled and froze to the skin of his neck, her arms shaking as they clung to him. The quilt slipped, Cloud reacting and grasping it, holding her now to keep the quilt around her trembling form.

"I miss her so much," she cried out, and his heart beat quicker and then slower, pity cresting over his natural affection for the girl.

"I get it." He tightened his grip, felt the mag rod dog into his thigh from where her leg pressed it. "Let's go back to the manor. Sophie will have some weird game to play."

It made a wet laugh bubble out. "She is weird. But… also a good person." Her hands tightened. "You too, Cloud."

"Thank me by getting warm," he said. "Your hands are freezing even with the gloves."

He didn't move away though, his snark covering the fact his cheeks were flushed, and not from cold or tears. Tifa laughed a bit more, sniffling.

"Deal."

She pulled away, but kept a grip on one of his hands. It happened then so suddenly. A particularly hard gust brushed them, ripping a corner of the quilt away from Tifa. She cried out, grabbing it back around her body, while Cloud braced himself for the way her body fell into his.

Then, he heard it. The way the old wood creaked and groaned behind them. It protested the buffering from the wind, and then, with a loud noise that echoed through the ravine below, it splintered, rope unraveling as bits of wood careened down, down, down.

He didn't think much. He launched at Tifa, gathering her tightly to his chest with one arm, while his other desperately scrambled to grip the rope, feeling gravity take them as the bridge fell. Tifa shrieked once, shrill in his ear. The free fall didn't last long, the rope he gripped jarring along his arm as he reached the end, ripping a groan from him. The harsh slam into the Cliffside did more damage, piercing his side, and he was pretty sure blood dripped down Tifa's suddenly pale face.

He glanced around. The other kids had all ran, he could hear their cries through the wind. Some help they'd be. Probably off to find adults, adults who wouldn't make it in time to help them get up. The nearest bridge was three hours from here, and he knew he couldn't hold them both.

Still, he was stronger than he had been, and he hoped a little braver. What would Reno do? Certainly wouldn't be bemoaning his fate dangling from a mountains Cliffside. Or, wait… no the Turk would be bitching up a storm, only not stationary. Never still. He would be complaining about the weight of Tifa, about how his suit was definitely ruined, how Tseng would lecture him for needing another one. He would be pulling himself, and Tifa, up. Never letting anyone see it, if he was worried or hurt.

Cloud took deep breaths through the pain in his side. "Tifa, hey. Tifa!"

The girl groaned a little bit, eyes hazy. He'd been right, her right side bloody, eye already swollen. She had cracked her skull while he cracked his side. What a pair.

"C-Cloud…" Her eyes glanced down, sleepily, and then she woke up fully. Her grip tightened, arms grabbing him, anchoring herself to him. Thank the Gods.

"Just… wrap your legs around my waist, and hold tight."

"Sorry," she yelped when she did as she was told, causing him to bend his legs up in pain, drawing to his chest, groaning again. "You're hurt!"

"It's fine." He muttered it out, feeling sweat bead his forehead despite the cold. "Keep holding on. Try not to let the quilt go, we'll need it."

Inch my inch he climbed, using the rope and also the boards still attached. He ignored the twinging ache from his side, the way each shift upwards jolted his left shoulder and burned his arm. Tifa clung to him, before she tucked the blanket around between them, leaving it caught between their stomachs and her arms free.

She held more of her weight, helping to climb, lessening his load. When they reached the top, he pushed her up first, slipping with a tired curse.

"Cloud!" Her hands grabbed him, feet scrabbling as she braced herself against the pole that had tied the bridge off. Grip solid.

He used it, pushing off with the last of his strength to settle beside her in the snow, sweaty and bloody, ignoring the way the cold seeped around him. He'd… done it.

Tifa was beside him now, prodding his side, ignoring his hiss to knock it off. "This is bad Cloud."

He pushed himself up, glancing down to his side, coat shredded open to expose the skin. Blood pooled sluggishly. With a sigh, Cloud picked up the clean snow, packing it against the gaping wound, wincing from the pain and the cold. Numbness eventually spread out, brief relief, and the cold made the blood come out slower. Trickle rather than a waterfall.

"What are you doing," she asked, leaning away, when he brushed the hair from her face, wincing.

"My mother taught me this," he said tightly. Breathing wasn't easy. "Snow can seem like an enemy, but it can also be a friend. Hold still."

He packed her wound, tracing the cut that ran down her forehead and into her hairline with his eyes. Tifa let him; eyes focused on him, breathing a bit easier when he finished. The numbness going through her as well.

He looked around, gaging where they were. The position of the sun. "We can't stay here."

"But the villagers…"

"Won't be able to help us from that side. They'll have to go to the next bridge. I know that's what my mom will do."

"More things she taught you?"

"Yeah."

"Then… okay." She stood with him.

After a moment, she stood in front of him, blushing so deeply he cocked a brow. Then she came forward, wrapping the quilted blanket around his shoulders as well.

"So, we don't get cold," she murmured.

"If a monster comes, I need to be able to deal with it," he told her.

Tifa shook her head, clinging to him. "We'll deal with it together. Please, Cloud."

"Alright." He conceded, feeling the growing warmth generated by both their bodies pressed together. She'd made sure to be on his right side, rather than the left. Together they shuffled off, slowly but surely.