The Madness We Choose

by JustAGirlWhoWritesSmut

Sephiroth encounters Aerith in her church, but rather than leaving a threat he leaves an impression.

2. The Madness

Chapter Summary: Sephiroth too falls victim to Aerith's influence.

A/N:

Welcome back, as you can see I have no shame when it comes to this pairing.. Honestly, there shouldn't have been a second chapter, and yet here it is. in Sephiroth's pov this time. I've seriously been writing this for days, and its got me blushing. So fair warning now, which I'm sure you don't need if your a fan of smut, but this is probably the most filthiest smut I've ever wrote.

This takes place during the same time as chapter one, so again still Chapter 14 spoilers.

Truly I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it and as always happy reading!!

...

Sephiroth scorns the vile of his weak heart upon covering the Cetra in the duvets of her warm comforts. He should leave. he tells himself, having gone bewitched to the relaxed expression that crosses her face in a gesture unfamiliar. He never should've come-there nor inside her. Further wounding the nature of himself, he noticed the disgust of his lingering presence. Aerith had long passed out from exhaustion, and he had yet to move away from her slumbering person. If this were any other lay, he'd do so immediately, making sure to laugh and insult their fragility to dare try match his wits in stamina, but this case wasn't so simple. The Cetra, opposed to them, wasn't prepared, she hadn't been used and broke in to expect the rigorous harsh treatment he'd given to her.

His frown deepened, deduced the mushy filth that was the seeping coffin of his heart that softens for her. What makes him care so much to acknowledge it? She had asked him there, she had taunted him with cries of euphoric bliss that he admits brought him to the strips of his control faster than he would've liked. It was solely Aerith that enforced his hand in giving her what she wanted, and yet she hadn't thought about the effects of it? He finds that unlikely, despite everything that occured in a mindset of betrayal, Aerith's current sleep of respite was genuine. She knew what she wanted, sought it herself, yet Sephiroth couldn't have been any more clueless in wondering why she'd ask him of all people for this pleasure?

Salt to the wound he recalls far too vividly the grip of her unclaimed pussy around his cock, a blessing in disguise of her purity laid out for his taking. Other unsavory thoughts surface behind, cries the sweet sin of ecstasy aimed at the pillar of his weakness. The scents of her unforgiving birthright; fresh beautiful green lands bathed in erect flowers of earth's continuous fight. The luscious broken screams of his name as he brought her farther and farther to the doors of his self-proclaimed despair. How could she come to bind him in the sweet sorrow of her heaven?

No, he corrected, his green gaze upon Aerith narrowing, why had he awoke the desire to grant it? It couldn't have mattered if he heard her from deep within the plantet's soul-intentionally or not-he allowed the privilege of seeking her out willingly in spite of himself. Why?

This was the second time he found himself at the disposal of her lingering influence, first her church and now. He wasn't delirious enough not to recognize the signs of her wandering misguidance, the horrid pull of her injustice of lips that were itching for his own then, The rise of a flush on her face when he'd moved closer than advisable given their respective avatars. He had long felt such a rush of indifference, years spent chasing the demons of the light he lacked possibly the very key to their newest dilemma of his. He's come to agree that baiting her over it probably wasn't in his best interest, let alone hers.

He's more than eager to blame it on the power she harnessed, the reason he fell to his knees in submission for her, but Sephiroth knows better than to grant her such credit. It wasn't inhumane-the feeling he witnessed-it's actually described normally. And that couldn't ever come to be. Such fickle feeling he felt over the woman was the very absence of his reasonings for eradicating the world; weak, unwanted, purposeless. Sephiroth, after hardening his soul to the shrivel of nothingness, should not be able to feel such petty things, certainly not for the likes of her.

He despises the mere regulation of such an accusation of his internal thought. How could she alone bring forth the scraps of his desolate humanity-the ones he himself desecrated-with just one subtle look of interest? He had no means to rekindle that part of himself, neither did he warrant the shelter of it. Nothing about that part of his journey was worth the misery. He had been delicate, blindly driven by the acts of humanity he had no rights to home.

In time Sephiroth found the truths to such ignorance and he couldn't have been any more clear on the purpose of his origin. He hastily shattered the chains of his control, severing the invisible hand that guided him like the dog he'd become. He'd never felt so alive then as he had just recently with the Cetra enveloped in his arms.

Obviously its beyond his knowledge if this was Aerith's entire gain, if she really thought her risque surrender would sway him back into the graces of their ridiculous plights of goodness, but if so then she clearly was wrong. Sephiroth remains ever unchanged, nothing, not even she could force that hell back into his life. Perhaps it may seem uncomly to those fools, but he had a purpose, a reason for the strength he ungratefully obtained without consent. Finally after years of searching, he can put the dormant part of his origin to use, wasn't that why he was created?

Mustering up the will to finally leave, Sephiroth does so without hesitation. He'd been through enough humiliation for one day, he didn't need her waking and deepening the disgust of it any further. He makes sure to leave her the reminder of himself-a mock provoke on his part, label it a means to make him feel better at least-a lone feather as black as his very soul she still couldn't reach.

...

it went without question that Sephiroth was still to kill Aerith, better yet in front of the puppet. His very plot of deception was the crumbling glass of Cloud's manipulation. Whether Aerith cared to admit it or not, but not even the sacrifice of her willingness could warrant his hesitation. This instance was always meant to happen. Her death was forever his to claim, he held all the rights to the last breath she ever releases-the end of his most opposing threat; her Cetra heritage. it worried him naught if her companions learn to accept that. it wasn't like he didn't leave the crumbs of his plans in advance, he wanted them to know, to try and stop him only to realize they couldn't. Either way, if they knew or not, he gets to bask in the anguish of her demise, the thrill of his birthright that much closer.

However, its not nearly as satisfyingly victorious as he remembered it to be. He was well aware of the alternatives of himself that had done it with ease, blatantly relished in superiority upon the aftermath. In this case, Sephiroth, though took pride being the one that ended her, accumulated the feeling akin to strange overwhelm him after. He couldn't describe it other than a realization of a mistake he couldn't grasp. Its an understatement to say it irked him.

In order to push the foreign entity it bore within him down, he wilfully baited the puppet, watching in joyful disgust as Cloud held Aerith close, his tears hollow and fake that held no sympathy over her death. Sephiroth may have seen through the facade of his front, but Cloud remains ever blind to the truth of his purpose; being the lover of Aerith was certainly not it.

Having no encouragement to validate Aerith's death, he focuses on his other welcoming feats of pleasure; the defeat of their losses. Even now they still aim to fight him, and that persistent anomaly too joins the frey sheltered deep snug. Sephiroth aimed to bury the feeling down, but its not so easily distinguished.

In the end he has the puppet reclaim the wandering attention of his unclear mindset, flawlessly evading his own faulty one. Cloud's torment shows pathetically behind the attack, carelessly triggered by the rage of grief. Due time he'll come to embrace the path already chosen for him and when he does will he see the faults of his actions here.

Sephiroth is cockily confident in his ultimate victory still, gifting them a range of obstacles to occupy them as he sets his motives in play. Naturally, they're resilient, easily breeching his doing so and he's forced to try his hand in retaining their distraction. That too is pointless, Sephiroth deduced, but he remains diligent in the malicious intents of his schemes nonetheless.

Seeing Aerith emerge from the alternative world he allowed Cloud to create was gratifying to say the least. Just the thrill of her consistently to fight was moving. He remembers telling her he underestimated her and he still retains that praised statement. He couldn't discern the overwhelming bliss of knowing, that despite their night shared, she still means to defy him.

Aerith's green eyes were hard when they meet his, her soft features revealing nothing that's playing in her mind, simply radiating the silent glaive of her devotion to the planet-his demise. In yet another act of cowardice his musing thoughts come to bear the weight of how beautiful she looked-her hate for him igniting the flames of his driven passions. They engulf him in the inferno of his earlier declaration and that was dangerously astonishing; she truly was the one to match him in strength.

As they declare this folly of battle, she aims to persuade him, to speak to the heart he stupidly gave her glimpses of. It pisses Sephiroth off, blankets him in a veil of empty words of denial. He neglected the world as easily as he will her. but even that lie is tragically weak.

She's so close, the rising of battle around them, as she once more beckons him and in doing so, he realizes this was entirely his fault. Aerith's faithful spurs of fight only proving so. He felt as stupid as he did five years ago before his awakening and he scowls deeply, lips thin and tight with uncertain rage. He shouldn't have been gentle with her, he should've treated her like any other fuck, but no...he found himself remorseful, ashamed, disgusted with himself for letting the flare of lust overwhelm him to such atrocious measures of pain.

Sephiroth is once more bested by Aerith and Cloud as prophesied, Aerith yet again proving her worth and forcing himself to question the limits of her strength. Even with her death as his trophy, he knew her influence would remain, her legacy would never be fulfilled until he was once more one with the lifestream; when his death slips through the very depths of her soothing fingertips.

Without question, Aerith would linger in the between, watching him and his methods of harm while also providing support to Cloud. She is after all the one able to reach the fool of his influence the easiest, but for how long? Sephiroth has broken his mind to mere fragments, it'll take great strain for her to tether herself and he knew this. It's easily why he remains victorious. Whether or not she stays, he could move around more freely; independently, while she could not.

Moreover, he also isn't stupid enough to know if he were to fail like all the other times, she'll be the one to welcome him with arms open, to try and cleanse his corrupt ugly soul of Jenova...and perhaps just this once he'll let her.

...

Sephiroth shamefully thinks of Aerith amidst the solitudes he elects himself when not provoking Cloud.

In this dire absence, he ponders her plans and how she hopes to execute them upon him. He's already conscience to Cloud harboring her Materia-fragile thing as it is-Sephiroth understands its hidden purpose thanks to bleeding into the woven streams of his past and future. Even so he makes no judgements to retrieve it, least the one the puppet holds. That in question welcomes little to no threat to him due to the weight of the whispers frequent oncoming's. The other, however, was a different story...but not for now.

They're days his thoughts of Aerith are innocent, idle fuel for the standings of succession, others, alas, were not so generous. Sephiroth could easily pinpoint them from the disturbance of his heart that weeps on betraying loyalty.

It is always small at first, images of their secret night spent together, the bliss of her lack of control his most faithful to reminisce upon. He favors when she shows him no reluctance, when she allows herself the privilege of his touch, to hold her, kiss her. fuck her. Slowly, painfully, passionately. He prides himself the thought that its he who can get her writhing in pleasure with just the precise glides of his cock. It only natural afterall, that Sephiroth is fluent with his body as he is his sword.

These strokes of his mind's greatest shame are the very peak of his defiling fantasy, He relives them over and over like the breaths he selfishly requires to live. He fumes in the recesses of his mind on how much he enjoyed the act with her, every second of bliss was akin to the high of mako, intoxicating and deliciously wealthy.

This particular memory clings to him like the clothes on his back, taunting, and addictive. His very existence flaunts the disturbance of desire unwelcome and rather than shed the reminder, he embraces it. She's a stain on his guilty conscience. a addiction worth remission he has no will to tame. He builds around the blissful structure that is Aerith's control over him and he hates every disgusting second of it to no anvil.

He hates her...

Aerith, since their unfortunate act of dishonor, bleeds streams of life into his empty soul, his polluted mind the product of sin not welcome in a body less human by the day, and yet he finds himself unable to resist the urges her shadow elects-the power he allows her over him. Sephiroth thirsts for the very something of her presence, chases a vision worthy of every disgraceful feeling imaginable. He's beyond repair of the wandering lewd thoughts, aware that he of all beings should not harbor such folly things entirely human. but the trill of danger only heightens his predatory hunger to the point of starvation.

Like so many other times, Sephiroth seeks the vision of his ungrateful mindset, creating a void of himself that breathes for release unachievable due to his actions. Evidently, he doesn't come to regret it even now, if anything its the opposite; he's overwhelmed in the rapture of having killed her. His blood boils in his veins, thrives to to do it again; kill her...and fuck her. Each and every birth of the universes beside them, does he desires this outcome, chasing her down. electing the fear, the shame, the desire until he's pleasantly sated with contempt.

.

Something within him laughs for thinking such a feat could ever be reached. Aerith wouldn't be such an easy capture-whether it for his attention or the killing swipe of Masamune-he knew this. In all neighboring universes he'd have to work for the submission of his greatest prey.

Except this time, it's her that's captured him.

Sephiroth finds himself returned to that spot of deceitful bliss of torture, laid comfortably in a similar position he found Aerith days prior. Except he wastes no second with foreplay, he's too much of a greedy bastard to find himself in such a vulnerable state of delirium again.

He's relentless. telling himself in a wave of denial that he needs just this quick release to cheapen the thoughts of her. Her body, her smell, her blood on the tip of Masamune's blade is simply too fresh in his mind. Over time he will return to the task on hand, his body cold and lacking the tethers of her warmth. He vows as the numb of the words surface that he will forget about her!

Nestled deep in the demented state of mind, Sephiroth replays the reel of his pleasures. He can visibly see her as wondrously as he had the first, the thrums of her quivering body stimulating more than expected as she chases release; fingers dug deep past the succulent folds of her sheltered pussy. This fever dream of Aerith alone has him alert, his dick hardening beneath the material of his trousers with frightening ease. It's fucking pathetic, Sephiroth thought sourly, how quickly his body responds to a lustful image of the devil's forbidden fruit. And yet he couldn't get out of his clothes fast enough, hot and wild for the grips of his conscience.

Fingers fumbling with anticipated vigor, he unbuckled the belt snug around his waist, the heaviness greatly discomforting. it dips open with far too much resistance, but it does so eventually to his relief.

Sephiroth is practically a mess of high transparent desire when he gets his cock free from the unbearable confinement of his trousers, hissing sharply into the cool air of the room, the moan that follows is deep, astonished at the sensitivity of his body that aches for the scent of a memory.

With a frantic push, Sephiroth digs out the grueling tightness of his balls, his cock beaded beyond compare and painfully erect. The weight of it pulses against his clothed abdomen, creating a rather unexpected picture of how shameful his need for her was.

As he curls his hand around the base of his flushed length, drawing a string of pre-cum in his wake, does he realize there was no amount of coming to understand why he was so disoriented by her. It couldn't have mattered any less to him in this moment than the ruling of the world.

Sephiroth groans into the slowly rising temperatures of the room, cold leather of his gloves a disaster of sensations as he applies delicious pressure, teasing the very waters of his self-control. With an determined twist of his hand, Sephiroth guided the first stroke, pre-cum, thick and extensive following along, coating his length as well as his fingers.

His breath hitches sharply behind the dip of his sunken eyelids, Aerith's praised gaze beckoning him like the warming leather of his shifting palm, her smoldering green eyes wide and entranced as she first saw him chasing his own demise. He wouldn't deny it, he exploded with egotistical pride upon noticing her value his size, petite mouth parted and salivating on justifiable hunger. He wants more than anything to have her watch him now, driven by filth as he too fucks himself raw amongst the thought of her.

Sephiroth leans his head back, setting his selfish tempo slow and agonizing, gripping the base with harsh strength to ensure he doesn't come to enjoy this.

Except he does, oh, so very much...

There's absolutely nothing deserving of this pleasure, his every cry for more validates unfairly in spite for chasing the horrid pureness that was the Cetra; his enemy. Yet he savors the haunting of her, he aches in the knowing she'll drown him in the risque positions of her body. She is dead and Sephiroth couldn't care less about respecting her memory. He wants to feast hungrily on the light of her she planted into the roots of his soul. It's goddamn sick; he's sick.

Like a slave to her, Sephiroth gasps in time to his own downfall, thrusting into cascading warmth unkind to hers. He hates the thought that his hand will never replicate the squeeze of her liquid heat, walls so unbearably silky, embracing his cock like the security blanket of smother. He tightens his hold, even if its only to implicate the feeling to his weak mind.

To add further despair to his already fragile state, he invokes her touch in replace of his own, dressing her in all the elements he himself is not; gentle, beautiful, royalty...

Aerith manifest like a drug in his veins, the very pillar of a goddess, one he has no rights to claim other than what she offered him and that is to be expected. He scolds his existence for ever agreeing, if he hadn't he certainly wouldn't be here, hand on his suffering cock, pumping what little pathetic excuse of his humanity he had left.

Sephiroth's breathing had gone erratic as his senses, his lips parting and willful to the taste of Aerith's sugared nectar, drawing him to the nearing close of this fucked up version of events. His state of insanity clings to her, the hot caress of her lips on his neck infuriating because its not real, its the figment of his imagination that does little justice. His hips seek refuge in the slide of her tongue, stripes of tension gliding up the racing of his pulse. She'd moan at his taste so gluttonous. "Fuck..." He curses into nothing.

Its useless, Sephiroth can't contain the will of her passing fantasy. He craves her too much to forget, her more that he wants freedom. Its unbecoming, its wrong...he knew he fucked up the moment he gave her the benefit of the doubt on his nature.

In this very dangerous moment he could care less about anything, but her. Sephiroth wants her everywhere, to kiss and taste more than he'd ever allow another. He blindly cherishes the thought of her on every inch of his body, claiming him as hers, fucking him senseless with the voluptuous sin of her being.

In par with the fragrant reel of his savage euphoria, Sephiroth glides a leather-clad thumb over the seeping head of his cock, gathering pre-cum as he feverishly strokes himself to sheer desperation. The obscene noises of his own frantic making erupts the vision of fucking Aerith, her sopping tight cunt blessing his cock in the sweet essence of her desire for him. He'd grip her hips hard, slamming into her with just as much force, as she rode him in kind screams to pure oblivion.

Sephiroth's elated noises increase, breaking past the barriers of his denial. He speaks out the very onslaught of his mistake as he comes with a broken cry. "Aerith..." Head thrown back, white floods behind his tightly grasped eyes, the hot spurts of cum coating black leather in a release greatly overworked. He pants heavily, voice hoarse as he rewards himself the stimulated last tugs of his spent cock, cum sticky and immense blanketing his middle in gloating reminder of his weakness.

He lays there limp and sweaty, an act that should've been exhausting was anything but for Sephiroth. Taming his erratic breaths, he realized the self act was pointless as it was unsatisfying. It hadn't mattered in the least against his blazing desires for the Cetra, no ease was given for the troubled wanders of his mind either. Granted his body was high on release, but still hungers on the ravishing thought of something more. Something no longer in that world.

Sephiroth tsks such pathetic thinking, his hazy sight staring up at the unpleasing ceiling. He's stupid, thinking this quick fuck could welcome some type of relief, its as tactless as he remembered, he got nothing out of it but a mess to clean.

Suddenly the bed he lay dips to the weight of something and Sephiroth immediately shifts his attention to the unknown visitor. His green eyes widen, greeted to those of similar comparison opposed to the shade of mako.

"How selfish of you, Sephiroth..." She says with a purse of her full pink lips, ones he can always taste on his own. She smiles brightly, an array of light bathing her image in a trinity of otherworldly holiness. It abruptly dawns on him that such light was due to the remnants of her misguided entrance.

"What are you...?" Sephiroth begins distant, exasperated, the heat of his body not registering his current predicament. Aerith shushes him, quickly leaning forward to hover a slender finger to his lips. They immediately electrify with remembrance.

"It's my turn, is it not?" Nothing of what she was saying was coherent to Sephiroth, he simply remains ridiculously frozen, bottling through the possibilities of her being there with him.

No, he rephrased, he gets how, just not why.

Sephiroth itches to bring his thoughts afront, but the movements of Aerith above him prevent the words from passing his dumbstruck lips.

She beams innocently, gently, dropping her hand to rest it flat across his chest. His betraying heart soars to life beneath it. her lips following, igniting sinful embers in her wake. "If you had sought me..." She murmurs sultry across his sternum and he sighs unpredictably shallow. "I would've gladly joined..."

He nearly choked on his pathetic gasp, once again melting like the idiot he was in her presence, forcing the cowardice of his voice forward after much fight. "Are you real?"

Aerith doesn't raise her head from her smother of kisses. He, however, does notice the suggestive curve of her lips. "Does it matter?"

Sephiroth peered down at her, and she follows in perfect sync. Something pulls him to cup her face in his right, hypnotized by the heavy weight of her green gaze.

"No..." He replied curtly, truthfully. And is didn't, this illusion will dissolve with the regret he'll feel when he's no longer incapacitated with impure thoughts.

"..." Aerith hums acknowledged, lips curved silently, deadly of response. She merely continues her impactful action of agony, lips teasingly hovering across skin begging for her naughty caress.

With a subtle glide of her hands, she pushes the leather aside, spreading her fingers across his shoulders. She's harmonious in the delicacies of her influence, showering each and every blemish that dotted his chest with her luscious kiss of death. She captures a nipple hotly between her sullen lips, dancing the tip of her tongue around the peaked bud like she was born to tease him to madness; showing the same favor to the other.

Sephiroth compliments her every motion with a raptured sound he can't remember owning, head leaning heavily back into the pillows the more she unraveled his hard shell of evil. "I like you like this, Sephiroth...beautiful and willing to my every mercy."

He doesn't, he burned to say in tandem to her assumption of this tragic fragile state of mind he'd transcended into, but the words don't form correctly. He just focuses on everything except that foundation, anything he can locate he does so eagerly. Whether from his noises to hers.

The growl of distaste was odd, however, and he realized with a tilt of his head that Aerith had reached the limits of his armour. it quickly hadn't come to bother her any more than him as she effortlessly carries on her descent, the heat of her succulent mouth traveling farther than he'd image she'd want too. He doesn't try to stop her despite knowing her purpose, however. After all he was the disgusting beast of a man that frankly couldn't even if he willed himself too.

Upon reaching the valley of his open trousers, Sephiroth regrettably finds his curiosity spiked. There was no ounce of shame in his disheveled spent state; leather soiled-with-cum that laid utterly comfortable around the softening of his dick. "You're a mess." She pointed out obvious, voice lusty.

Aerith unabashedly reaches for such hand, carding their fingers together in a very similar scenario as he done her.

"What..." He doesn't even get the chance to mutter that question for Aerith brings their union to her lips. She watches him intently, flirty and seductive, as she licks her tongue over the streams of cum from his fingers. "Fuck... " He chokes out in honest surprise, wide mako-kissed eyes transfixed on Aerith that swirls her tongue around the soiled digits, enveloping them completely within the moist hot cavern of her mouth soon thereafter.

Sephiroth's body eagerly responds from it's recovery, not nearly able to remain slumbering with Aerith's gutteral action of tease. He couldn't speak, couldn't think as he watches helplessly to the working motions of her distracting tongue, each stroke a brutal stab to that neglected fire that seeks this goddess before him.

He'll be curt, throughout his days, Sephiroth can't recall the last time he encountered someone this beautifully vile, someone who unabashedly enjoys the disgusting evidence of his monsters being.

Or rather: he hadn't met anyone like Aerith.

This further binds him in the fear of his already piling transgressions.

Aerith's moans bleed into his thoughts, savoring every second of him and after she'd done so with her own taste he could believe it. Her emerald gaze grows heavy, clouded with lustful desire. He too trails behind, his body greatly improving from its climactic departure.

Jaw slackened, Aerith's cheeks flush. She slowly glides his hand away; fingers from her mouth, an attractive string of saliva keeping them connection and his cock jerks painfully aware; the stroke of his slicked digits not lost on him as they desperately cling in distress of her retreat.

"I tried to stay away," She confessed hotly, deliriously intoxicated. "I almost did, but as you can see, I just couldn't..."

Sephiroth's silver brows crease with the weight of his next words. "Why, I killed you?"

Aerith smiles shortly, shaking her head like it doesn't matter, yet her face tells a different story of decline and rather than share such an intriguing development she keeps quiet.

Sephiroth shouldn't allow her to think she could get away with such cowardice, but she suddenly moves, straddling his hips and all afront thoughts escape him beneath the moan of his enjoyment. He scolds that fucking part of his himself that blatantly lowers its guard around her just to fuck with him mentally.

Evidently he'll probably never learn.

Hurriedly Aerith leans over him and presses her irresistible lips to his. He groans noisily, welcoming her almost too easily, holding her in place as he curls deeper into this wonton hell of shame. Sephiroth breathes his very darkness into her mouth, driving his tongue past her sensual lips. He tastes the harsh unpleasantness of himself lingering, but he doesn't let it falter him, not when Aerith expertly distracts his mind elsewhere.

Aerith sighs heavenly into their lip-lock, her back arching to the skim of his fingers down her spine, lips the first to slip away to reclaim her stolen breaths.

They both find themselves panting, gazes deeply into each other's lidded gaze. Her voice is labored and shallow. "You did...but I asked for it..." Sephiroth easily remembers, he just hadn't thought she was being literal. A splash of realization suddenly overwhelms him.

With parted lips, Sephiroth carefully chose his words. "You shouldn't be here," he admitted, voice raspy, thicker by the second. She just chuckles gently, gorgeously.

"You're right, I shouldn't. What can I say...I'm weaker than I thought." Sephiroth is greatly triggered by that, embracing her tightly, seeking her betraying lips that speak such torment. Much like the first she finds the rash behavior welcoming, melting into that familiar puddle above him, expressing her compliments in the throes of her breathless whimpers.

Its filthy, the hunger of their passion for one another,. The press of their lips, sloppy and tactless for dominance as they wantonly chase each other in equal measure. Her lips always the first to pull away, unchallenged to the pressure of lost oxygen. He hadn't minded one bit for she chased the heaven of her mouth down his jaw, electing his cries of euphoric pleasure in tow beneath the race of her open-mouthed kisses.

Aerith's breath is uneven in his ear. "I feel it now...The pull, the need; for you..." He inhales sharply, digging comfortable fingers deeper into the soft delicacies of her flesh, craining his neck further to the purpose of her advances. He's at a loss of words, his strangled mind foggy and drunk to produce a coherent response.

Aerith is the opposite of him, she knew what she wanted, clear-minded and eager. So he does what any worthless fool would; surrenders himself to her every whim. He was in no rush to chase the dominance of her like he had before. For all he knew this could be his last blessing, he'd rather regret the submission of his weakening shell than rush in a rabbid frantic and return to a reality without her.

Just this once, he's pulling a page out of her book and providing an selfless act; sacrificing more than he'd ever warrant himself because this torture of the mind is the justified punishment for killing her, and still would aim to do so in every instance of life that she gulps breaths upon. He hates her, that hadn't changed, the sickness of her influence would never cease. She's dead, her blood stains his hands-the very ones he finds sliding under her frilly dress to squeeze her thighs and ass-and he couldn't care less about leaving the bloody impressions.

Aerith may not know the power she truly had over him, yet or ever, but Sephiroth would and that was enough to secure his plans closely. Nothing could jeopardize his future of eternal lonely dominance, only one time he's allowing escape from it all, to give the glimpse of human emotion rein; even if its in the private recesses of betrayal.

Aerith is quick to take heed to Sephiroth's defeat of wills, generously exploring what he gifts her with interest. She kisses and tastes his body, offering just as much care as he hers in their other twisted fantasy, enriching the once simmering embers of desire to unbearable raging infernos.

With each gentle press of her praising lips, from the sultry glide of her approving tongue, elects delicious stimulation to his cock. Aerith whines upon the notice, and her lips part beautifully, chestnut brows furrowed. He generously shivers behind, anxious with greedy pride.

She continued adventurous, tracing that mouth exactly where his cock beckoned her and despite also chasing such elated rapture his voice wavers with uncertainty. "You don't have to, Aerith."

Said woman simply grins mischievously, sliding her hand up his chest, held pressed over the harsh thumpings of his heart. "I want too..." She kisses his hardening cock in emphasis, finishing. "This is the orgasm you deserve, Sephiroth, not your hand. "

He blinked puzzled, he honestly doesn't know what to say to that, frankly he hadn't even known she was there. At least during Aerith's undoing he had the courtesy to present himself to her. Perhaps that's on him for not seeking her until after. Of course there was also no way for him to know of the alternatives they unconsciously created.

Gathering the silence of his unspoken voice, Aerith takes it as his compliance; a sign of permission and in all truths, it might as well have been, Sephiroth couldn't stop her otherwise. This was her choice, he's in it simply for the grievance of her from his mind once and for all.

A timid light grasp of his dick, Aerith dejects tender kisses down the stiffening length, her lips just as velvety-if not more-than the flushing skin of her undivided attention. Sephiroth exhales shakily, relaxing into the exploratory moment. It's different, this touch, far from his own hand and the faceless endeavors of passionless courtship, yet its nice; more so considering the lips behind it.

Sephiroth allows her slow start, watching in favor as she familiarized herself with his body language and sounds, gradually finding a method that suits her, He blankets her in voiceless encouragement, her tongue slipping past parted lips to draw flat and tipped strokes up and down the underside. His hips jerk on their own accord into the peaking boldness, anticipated.

Aerith hums oddly gratified, pulling her head back enough to guide him with daft fingers completely into her mouth. going only so far as the tip. Sephiroth finds it blissfully teasing, his body erupting in the cravings for more, his vulgar blood pumping right to his cock.

As though Aerith was in sync with his mental fixation, she gives him such needy attention, bobbing her head in a rather agonizing slow pace. He gasps, fucking basking in the sexual tension like the freak he was. Or maybe its not that at all, but Aerith. Just it being her giving him head was enough for Sephiroth to willing enthrall his boundaries past what he originally thought he could've wanted in a blow job.

Aerith wasn't anything like those other anonymous fucks, she was shy, granted she puts on a composed confident front, one eager and selfless, but deep down though she was genuine she was also fearful of mistakes; the experience of displeasing him. She, like most, must've realized he wasn't a fool in the comings of the bedroom-and though they are right-woman often describe him as high maintenance, so its only natural Aerith would worry he found her mouth average at best.

She'd be surprised to come to find he'd disagree.

The fact that Aerith is taking her time, neglecting her own desire to willing reward him his own out of the sheer selflessness of her heart was enough to mark her one of the best. She shows care and enjoyment, swirling her tongue around the length of him, hollowing her cheeks as she ever slowly bobs her head, growing more and more comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion. Those others showed no acknowledgement if it was good for him, they blew as averagely and emotionlessly as their very character. He got off, and in the end he neither praised or criticize them, it didn't matter for them as it could've for him, he wouldn't remember their faces any more than he could the act itself once finishing. It was the stale currency of having a human host that requires the tools of life's cycles to live comfortably.

Sephiroth abruptly discarded such fruitless musing, returning his mind to the only person that's gained the credit of his attention; Aerith. That blistering warmth in his chest rushes ten fold and much like the first its a infuriating nuisance, It had no right to seek refuge in such a sacred temple of sin and yet it does so with determinating persistence.

Forced away once more, Sephiroth lifts his hand to cup the nape of Aerith's neck. He assures himself its to give him something to occupy his mind upon, but her mouth already has that covered, Not like it did any good, the mushy sap of his soul laughs at him in the mocking snarl of defeat as that fleeting emotion lingers like the stain of this illusion.

With an audible pop, Aerith sucks in breaths greedily. He made the horrible choice of looking, his breath immediately hitching, possibly to smite him further than he had already. Not even he could deny how beautiful she was, green eyes glazed with desire, cheeks flushed pink, her once full lips, parted slightly and swollen with the shiny reminders of their shared liquids. "God, you're beautiful..." He suddenly blurted out, the flattered declaration supposed to be internal yet not even his mind could restrain from keeping the silence.

She laughs nervously, unprepared, but its not without gratification, her cheeks growing sightly darker, lip immediately catching between her teeth in what could only be expressed in fluster. The words she no doubt has to release are undelivered. She simply returns to the task at hand; him. Not that he minded he wasn't in no hurry to make a further ass of himself over something he had no explanation for saying.

Aerith is quick to make him forget all about it, quickly falling into the same euphoric dance with her, tossing his head back as Aerith's risque movements increase in kind, a fire to please that had suddenly grown ablaze from it once simmer fueling her.

With a deep rash glide Aerith takes his cock farther down, tongue flat across the underside, tracing the stiff muscle as she descends closer and closer to the base. Its received wonderfully well on his end, Aerith humming to the strengthening of his fingers he conquered to prevent them trembling. providing substantial joy over the lewd praises he truly wishes to give. He moans upon the silky vibrations, the tip just barely reaching her throat and his hips jump forward on their own accord in chase of it.

Aerith gasps surprised, quickly falling back to recover, She meets his eyes and he quite honestly expected disappointment to manifest across her face for taking control of something not his, but instead he gets no such emotion, rather its the opposite. She liked it. Tremendously. Sephiroth finds himself groaning gruffly, the overwhelming greed of knowing she craves his rough treatment turning him on more that he could've thought imaginable. His cock bobs heavily at the sight, seeking such blatant need that was the woman before it.

Aerith too notices the waiting of her return, and she curls her hand around him, following with a couple slow salacious glides, watching with hungry glee to the slick skin that reveals the nakedness of his cock's beading head. its angry and red and spilling volumes of pre-cum with the misconduct that was Aerith's purposeful tease.

There was no way he could wipe this image from his mind, Aerith looking at him like the god he self-proclaims, stroking his cock that by all reasons of doubt fits perfectly contrast-like her small hands were always meant to meld with the largeness of his frame-using her slender fingers as she pumped him in ways he didn't know a woman could, She plays him like the goddamn fiddle that he was, leaving him a puddle of vulnerabilities and wild with questioning sanity,

Just something about Aerith provides him with pleasure he's never experienced in his twenty-eight years of life. its wrong...so very wrong.

"You should see yourself, Sephiroth, so...ethereal." Aerith gives him no chance to find words suitable to reflect such crude compliments for she enveloped his cock back into the tight moist cavern of her mouth once more. Sephiroth cries out brokenly, exasperated with immense sensations of, warmth, tongue, wet moans of enjoyment. Fuck it was too much, too fast, his enhanced senses were rapidly climbing past the point of no recollection.

He's honestly so fucking glad he can't see himself, there's only so much humiliation his pride can take, and he has no doubt that the image she sees is unsightly and weak. A tragic frail of a man that cheapens to the gal of Aerith's obstacles of defiling pleasure.

And she's once more executing them on him, taking his length farther and farther down her mouth with each passing glide, removing her hand from the base for more added leverage. Sephiroth feels each wet glide, her hollowing only driving him nuts past the points of no return.

Course that was before Aerith jerks her head powerfully down on him, and he fucking chokes on the scream of surprise, With his cock sheathed entirely, her throat tightly swallows the tip like some undisclosed pro. He instinctively holds the back of her neck, his body igniting the ripples of mind-blowing ecstasy. He wants so badly to fuck her tight little throat like he had her pussy. It'll be so easy, he's far more powerful than her, he could turn the tables... Unfortunately, before he could will the disgust of his true nature away, his hips lift to create the realism.

Aerith immediately gags, recoiling back and off. Sephiroth gasps, instantly scolding himself for succumbing to the blind emotions of lust, How could he allow himself to loose control? He's a fucking idiot that's why. Aerith wasn't a slut. let alone a cockslut, she didn't know harsh fucks of the mouth any more than she had for sex. and yet his mind wanted to risk it all and do so anyway.

Once more that awful wave of shame bathes him and he peered down at the source of it apologetic, not being mindful to her limits. Again... Aerith was petite, she needs time to accommodate his size, he can only imagine the pain she's enduring thanks to him.

However, the meeting of their eyes tells him pain was the last thing she's experiencing.

A bit breathless, Aerith met his eyes with pure infatuated need for more. There was no hint of malice over his unconscious action, if anything she...relished it again! He thinks he must've died in that battle because there was no way this woman was real. She wore the face of Aerith, but there was no way it was her, The Cetra was a lot of things but a glorified fiend in the bedroom couldn't be one of them. Or was it she was just observant to what he enjoys, in turn finding she too favors it?

He found himself unable to answer such questions, drawn to the unquenchable hunger that was purely Aerith as she recovers beautifully, moving in to scatter hot open-mouthed kisses down the flush of his cock, nibbling and sucking like a woman mad. And perhaps she was; for him.

Aerith eagerly gives his balls equal attention along her trek, licking and gently taking each into her mouth one by one, tending to their neglect with the swirl of her starving tongue, ever mindful to their sensitivity of stalled release despite her disheveled state. He throws his head back, long silver bangs sticking to his forehead the more the room festers in blistering heat; their heat.

Releasing the smooth mounds from her mindful mouth, Aerith travels back up with a trail of sultry kisses in her wake, plunging her mouth back around his his cock once reaching her destination. She mewled at the build-up of pre-cum upon her salacious ball sac sucking, lapping the slickness up with the tip of her tongue.

Sephiroth realizes in his intoxicated mindset that each sensual bob of her head, or every exploding kiss to his pelvic bone, to the delicious cry of her desire for more that he was branded. He'll never be able to think of another, taste another's sinful nectar that isn't hers. And maybe. he wouldn't have, given the diversity of himself outside this fantasy. He most certainly shouldn't have to begin with with Aerith. but what's one more awful action he'd done to the already piling misdeeds. He's a monster, long gone from redemption, he don't want it anyway. All he can come to want is this; her.

Aerith's muffled moans tear into his distraught thoughts and he quickly focuses to the unmistakable quest of her outspoken pleas, the grind of her thighs but one of her awaiting flames of need that begged more than the attention she was providing.

Twirling her braid in his hand, Sephiroth eagerly relinquish one of such desires, swiftly rutting his hips in time with her scandalous down strokes, guiding their connection upon her lewd mouth, aimed deeper and faster than she could ever deem to do so herself.

"Ahh... fuck..." Sephiroth pants, purring like a maniac as Aerith's nails dig crescents into his skin, her cries so disgustingly sexy muffled around his cock.

Its almost too much, her mouth, so tight and wet, her throat taking his cock with fluent grace, its forbidden, this pleasure, and this was why. They were far too perfect for one another, a thought neither should home given the circumstances and yet Sephiroth can't find the will to hate it. She is the light that contrasts with his dark, she is the angel that fells the demon of his pillar. her power that rivals his own, her salvation of the world is the downfall of his destruction, they are two sides of the same coin and that scares him more than he could ever come to admit.

it dawns on him now, that he needs to end this. These invasive forthcoming thoughts were not brought on by a mind clear. he's high, drunk, incapable of making such accusation with a head driven solely by lust. When he ends this, he'll come to realize the stupidity of them.

Aerith whines as pathetically delirious as Sephiroth had when he yanks her from his cock by her braid. God even her displeased pout was rewardingly sexy. "I can't..." he begins distraught, but he honestly couldn't remember what he even meant to say, not when she looks at him with so much relatable debauchery. "Fuck it..."

With a release of her hair, Sephiroth pulls himself up, egging Aerith to follow behind with a determinated grab of her body. She gasped in surprise, quickly relaxing into his enveloping arms.

He stares at her in awe, lifting a hand to cup her jaw, he swipes his thumb across her swollen lips. Tracing them with both his finger and eyes. "You shouldn't have come, Aerith...I can't...keep myself from wanting you."

Aerith blinked dumbfounded, softening instantly. With a curl of her arms around his shoulders, she forces him into her advancing lips, biting and nipping, kissing and tasting. Just as his head fogs with the entirety of her, she separates. To his defense, though it was quicker than he would've liked, it wasn't any less erotic.

She meets his eyes, pushing his stray silver hair from his face before delivering the blunt brutality of her words.

"Then don't."

Sephiroth's green eyes widened, and he growls deeply, crushing his mouth back to hers, Her breath skips, fumbling to capture his hot tongue that starves for her own. Aerith's arms tighten, intent on keeping him there in place against her.

"Tell me you hate me, Sephiroth..." Aerith demands against him. Lips saturated with his kiss. He pants harshly between their willing proximity, taking immediate notice to her hand that was racing down their crushed heaving chests. His eyes dipping closed momentarily when she cups his cock in her hand, Aerith whines in tow, basking in the invigorating touch of him once more.

She twists her hand, the heat of her gaze magnetized to his. From this look alone, Sephiroth could make out her voiceless plea, further finding himself bewitched in this spell of hers.

Lids heavy, the green pools of her eyes scream at him in shrouded darkness, dilated and aching for the only thing left he hasn't rewarded her; unity.

With a quick lift of her body from the small of her back, Sephiroth tears the pathetic excuse of her panties off, the material giving way to his strength without discomfort. Aerith shivers against him, widely impressed.

The scraps of protection gone between them, he holds her steadily above by the bareness of her backside; willfully allowing her the initiative to claim him.

Only when she's ready will he take her.

So as he waits in agonizing patience, Sephiroth leans into Aerith's outstretched neck, biting into her erratic pulse. His words honestly free. "I hate you so fucking much, Aerith..." She cries out loudly, her grip tightening. He licks at the angry blemish, the wrath of his teeth falling upon her collarbones next. She screams his name in protest to the livid of his marking. "Again..." He demands rough, "I want to hear your very descent into this pool of madness we've built for one another."

"Oh god..." She trembles. Sephiroth's breathing picking up to her continuous strokes of her hand.

"There is no such thing for you here, Aerith, don't you remember? I've always been the divine being you sought. So embrace me already..."

As though she understood anything of his words she nods, assisting her hand to the part of her body he needed more than life.

It takes all his control not to thrust up into her as she aligns the head of his cock past the blistering warmth of her slicked petaled lips. She's doing it on purpose, guiding him with shallow intent and he writhes in the cruelty of it to no belief.

Unlike their first time, Sephiroth eases her down on him with a gentler pace, her inner walls coating his cock in the liquid embrace that was her heavenly walls of rapture. Aerith's body shows no reluctance, his ascent into her sanctuary elated with want. His body ignites in the thrill of this dangerous taste again.

"Hmmm...so..." She hums incoherent amongst sitting flush against him. His lips curve cockily knowing the words she was searching for were the moans of praise over the fullness of him inside her.

Adjusting, she tugs him with the slick squeeze of her inner curtain of velvet and Sephiroth is greatly overturned with the white caress of cloud nine. Aerith provides their first decent into the well of their greatest sin, lifting her hips only to gracefully glide back down, they both moaning in their body's union.

There was no way of knowing if the universe this Aerith came from was experiencing this coupling for the first time, or if she has had sex with another. Frankly, Sephiroth didn't want to know, all he cared about was that even if she had, her cunt was still claimed by him and only him in the end. They don't dare compare to his build, Aerith's pussy still so utterly tight around him like before; pure, unbroken.

She repeats their electric dance, fluently creating a foundation of what works between them. Even though her movements were brought on with the right amount of stimulation, her uncertainty bore visibly behind. Something about that flares a possessiveness within Sephiroth and he holds her impossibly tighter, flush chest to chest. She was so close he could feel the heavy thumps of her racing heart atop his own.

Fingers curled at the nape of her neck, Sephiroth kneaded her back in time for the thrust of his lips that slide up the column of her throat, his defined tongue licking a ascending stripe across the valley of her jaw. Aerith's nipples harden instantly across his chest, her heavy breaths coming out in rigid shutters of distressed surrender.

Its not enough to distract her from pleasuring them with her delicious grinds. Nestled to the hilt, he chases his other hands down the shape of her body, fingers digging comfortably into the sharpness of her hip bones to assist her if needed.

Aerith gifts him her lips in silent gratitude, dressing him in her frigid kisses, tongue and teeth harboring no rhythm other than just being there to taste him.

Its becoming too much, however, she straining herself im this position and that's the last thing Sephiroth wants. Lips curving against hers he releases Aerith and lays back onto the bed.

She eyed him with a heavy quizzed brow, but he rewards her no words to reason behind his move, simply cascading his hands down her front, abruptly tearing the flimsy dress of its buttons that held it together.

Aerith's green eyes widened, her voice the start of a scolding cry that quickly morphs to a blissful one. He smirked, kneading her petite breast further, gently pinching and swiping his thumbs across her peaking nipples. Aerith arches beautifully into his touch and he savors the sight.

Having understood what he wants from her. Aerith placed her small hands atop his chest, once more falling into that pace of elated reaction. Though he could easily take dominance, he felt tonight wasn't the type of pleasure he chased. He wanted Aerith in all her glory, to take rein over him as she'd done prior to his thoughts. He simply wanted her, all of her.

Aerith tunes their bodies to her every command like she was born too, rocking her hips slow and tight pushing them both past the boundaries of their blatant need.

He sighs thickly, eyes transfixed on her above him, drawn to the sheer roar of pleasure that washes heavily across over her face, whether it from the erotic bounce of her breasts, to the slimness of hips that spread snug on either side of his, or to the split of her stretched pussy as his cock slides in and out of her, glistening and poised, unable to fully rest until she's satisfied to the same brink of exhaustion.

All these sights were what Sephiroth truly wanted to bleed into his memory, for if this is his last it'll be strictly one composed of just Aerith and her greatest pleasure. its honestly only a bonus that its he that could give her such a monument of delight.

Hands to her hips, Sephiroth helps lift her, easing some of the strain, thrusting up into her the same moment she bounces down. Its a match made in hell, their bodies in sync with one another, their moans even more so.

She'll gradually switch, rocking her hips quickly, stimulationg her clit against the bone of his pelvis, while he'd pounds into her with no force behind but the lift of her in his arms. It's a rather astounding combination and yet their compatibility makes it so easy to do so. Her body understanding what he needs as does his hers.

This only proves it as she cries out in what only his body could provide her. "Ahh, yes...hm more!" Aerith gasps, and Sephiroth wasn't a man to deny such a breathtaking scream of needy slur. With a grunt, he jerks into her deeply, powerfully.

To his pleasure this makes her keen in ecstasy, high off the rise that was her nearing peak.

With heavy lidded eyes, Sephiroth, finds her clit with his thumb, lips parting to the invigorating sight of her damp chestnut curls that mingle with his silver. This very contrast of her was utterly beautiful in comparison to his. Whether it be the color of their hair or the color of their clothes, they were always bathed in the shades of light and dark.

Unfortunately, he doesn't get to appreciate the thought as Aerith's legs suddenly begin to tremble on either side of him, the eclipse of her edging orgasm unbearably present.

"So good... Don't stop.. please." Aerith begs, and Sephiroth knew she wouldn't last much longer. He neither. They're both chasing their release, but only he wished to watch her come undone. It it's anything like the first it'll most certainly be the end of him.

Applying pressure, Sephiroth builds up the pace of his hips, following in just to Aerith's frantic bounces. He can tell by the faltering strength that she's growing tired, the sheen of sweat on her, muscles exhausted from a activity not mastered. She's never without concern for him, however, despite this, ensuring to provide the subtle glides of her hips against his, pleasuring his cock, milking him of the building orgasm tightly held vacant.

Sephiroth growls at the bliss of knowing how deeply she acknowledged him in their act of dishonor, pistoning his cock into her with unimaginable force from beneath, Aerith's screams of pleasure are as lewd as her wet pussy that soaked his length in their mingled essence of desire for one another, the sleek shine so vast it well reached his balls that slap sharply against her ass in frigid aim.

It's upon perceiving the hoarseness of her voice and the tight swallow of her inner walls does he know she's there. He grabs her effortlessly and changes the position. Hunched over him now, he bends his knees, pounding into her much easier; faster. His voice is a fumbled disgrace of noises, forehead.rested against her shoulder. "...Please Sephiroth... so close.."

He squeezed his eyes closed, his hips growing sloppy upon the foreshadow of his end but even so he focuses only on her pleasure, aiming his cock to that sweet spot within her, both chasing the rupture of this desirable dream, more so him than her. "Again...tell me again."

Sephiroth knew why she was forcing this on him, its not even that difficult to realize. Him telling her was her way of keeping him on track, their sex awakens something forbidden, something life altering in the many neighboring universes around their own and not even she wanted to bear the weight of how much they're defying the natural laws more than he had already.

A couple powerful thrust more of her soft spot has Aerith coming with a beaten moan, the slur of his name so fucking beautiful in his ear. He fucks her through the intensity of orgasmic waves, his balls tightening unbearably with each slow thrust he made into walls of spasming caress.

Its sadly all it takes for him to join her; her shattered moans, her pulsating walls, the scent of her body, the gentle stroke of her fingers in his hair. Just these alone were enough for him to come along behind her, and as he does he rewards her the neglect of his answer. "I hate you."

...

When Sephiroth wakes from his unintentional slumber, he's alone. There's no traces of Aerith, nor of her having been there at all. The only reminders are the ones that lay dormant upon his conscience. However, he knew better to fall for that trick. It hadn't been a dream, it was much too real for it to be simply that. Which led to the obvious; Aerith manipulated his mind as he had her.

However, even though she had, he felt no different, distraught over emotions not welcome, yet no desire to embrace them.

He scoffs, a cold grin rising upon his lips. "I guess this means... I won."

...

A/N:

Sorry for the possible shit ending, I honestly used all my resources and energy on the smut.

Hope you all enjoyed regardless and apologies again for any OOC. If you have any thoughts to share, please don't hesitate, I love each and every one of the, good or bad. Love you all, until next time!