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It started with lust.
Although Sephiroth thought the word itself was far too simplistic to truly encompass this peculiar, inexplicable feeling burning within his body, it was the most fitting description for this unquenchable craving of his. There was something uniquely gratifying about seeing short, blonde tufts of hair poking out unevenly between his gloved fingers as he toyed with his most formidable opponent, satisfaction blooming in his chest as he forced his puppet’s head down his girth until he was left gagging involuntarily.
His bones ached with the need to leave a deep, permanent mark on Cloud both physically and psychologically—to serve as a constant reminder of his existence and what it meant for him as the only other supreme being to grace the cosmos. In some way, he had already blessed the blonde with a precious gift, one he was sure he would appreciate in due time.
He smiled to himself sadistically as he pressed a possessive hand against his beloved’s round stomach while the other had his leg raised up, carefully observing the way his cock was being squeezed tightly by those pink, glistening lips he had tasted a million times before. Every purposeful slam of his hips was followed by an obscene noise as the head of his cock rammed against Cloud’s cervix, squelches echoing within the stone walls of the church, pounding into him like a man gone mad.
This would usually be around the time he would feel that familiar coil within his abdomen tighten uncomfortably, a telling sign that his seed was ready to be spilled, to paint every crevice of his dear puppet’s walls until he was left bloated and overflowing from his semen. However, as Sephiroth continued to push against Cloud’s irresistible wetness, he momentarily paused, noticing the blonde had been holding back any and all sounds from leaving his mouth.
It wouldn’t be the first time the pregnant man refused to give him the pleasure of hearing his shameful cries, as he blatantly despised showing him anything that would bring him delight—especially if that something could easily be interpreted as a weakness. Sephiroth understood this mindset of his perfectly, but he was beginning to grow tired of his beloved’s relentless stubbornness.
It was partially the reason why he often complied with positions where Cloud didn’t have to directly look at him, as he had shown to be more loose and vocal during those sessions. Sephiroth had noticed this pattern relatively early, but still chose to test the blonde man whenever he saw an opportunity to break another one of his walls in the hopes of developing their relationship further.
Today had been no different.
The taller man thought that by having Cloud on his side as he plunged into that delicious warmth of his, it would allow him to slip-up accidentally, but this task was proving to be a harder challenge than he had originally surmised. This was a position they hadn’t tried before, but it was a position that should’ve allowed him to see at least half of Cloud’s face as he penetrated him.
Despite the consideration that went into this decision, his fated lover continued to make things difficult for him, as he was hiding his face with his own forearm, prohibiting Sephiroth from getting a good look at him. The silver haired man was becoming increasingly frustrated by this behavior, so he took matters into his own hands.
If Cloud refused to give him what he wanted, he would make him want it.
The grin he once wore slowly dropped, and he quickened his pace, ramming into the tight heat below him with a ferocious need. He watched the blonde shudder in response, breath hitching subtly when he realized Sephiroth’s attitude had changed from his actions alone.
Even so, he refused to let out those sweet sounds the larger man wanted to hear, so Sephiroth kept plunging into his hole greedily, every thrust more forceful than the one before. When the silver haired man realized he wasn’t getting anywhere by doing this, the palms pressed against Cloud’s newly formed love handles began to dig into his skin in irritation, painful as he brought their bodies closer together.
“Why deny me?” Sephiroth asked bitterly, the corner of his lip lowering in a miniature scowl before he fixed his expression, the forced smile he wore not meeting his cold gaze, “Why pretend to be displeased?”
The blonde man didn’t reply, nor did he remove his arm from his face. He continued to ignore his words, hiding his expression against the white and yellow flowers beneath them as if to distance himself even more.
An unruly rage washed over Sephiroth when he recognized what Cloud was doing, the festering sensation in his veins almost unrecognizable from how long it had been since he felt anything like it. His brows lowered and his pupils turned sharper than usual, his pleasure wavering and turning acidic with every passing second, driving himself in and out of Cloud with a brutal might. After a few more strokes in a failed attempt to break through him, Sephiroth snapped.
He halted his movements, choosing instead to yank away the blonde man’s arm forcibly by the wrist, glaring into his now exposed face. His eye gave a slight twitch when he saw tears streaming down Cloud’s flushed cheeks, which only added fuel to the fire burning inside of him.
Something horrifically primal took over the larger man at the oddly endearing sight, so he leaned down to lick at the salty droplets with the intention of reminding the pregnant man who he belonged to. Unsurprisingly, this incited a negative reaction from the blonde, as he instinctively flinched at the feeling of the silver haired man’s tongue on his skin.
In some twisted way, the reaction both thrilled and annoyed Sephiroth, so he continued to lap up his tears until he was sated. Still, Cloud refused to give in, keeping his eyes firmly shut in retaliation the whole time despite everything Sephiroth had done for him.
His patience was wearing thin.
“You will look at me.”
It wasn’t a question; it was a command.
Sephiroth grabbed Cloud’s face with one gloved hand, adding pressure against his cheekbones with the tips of his fingers, involuntarily making him turn his head towards him. With his hand like this, the taller man was covering his lips, preventing him from replying back.
But even in this predicament, Cloud fought back. He kept his eyes closed, and gritting his teeth, he somehow barked back a muffled, “No.”
Something inside the older man had officially cracked, fracturing until he felt nothing.
Sephiroth abandoned everything he was doing in an instant, limbs turning to stone as an unsettling shadow crossed his face behind the long, silver locks enveloping their bodies. At the abrupt pause, Cloud decided to open his eyes slowly when he felt the fingers wrapped around his face let go, concern prickling under his skin when he realized he couldn’t hear his fated enemy anymore.
Before his vision could properly adjust to the figure in front of him, he sensed strong hands circling around his neck, causing a shock to run down his spine until it reached the soles of his feet, alarms instantly blaring in his head. His breath caught in his throat, and just as he registered what was happening, he felt his oxygen supply running out.
Sephiroth didn’t know what exactly had come over him, but in his outrage, he began to strangle the pregnant man beneath him. Something akin to bloodlust surged through him as the urge to put Cloud in his place—to remind him that he had no control over his own person—reverberated within his chest.
The taller man would show him once again why he was nothing more than a puppet to aid him in his grand plan, something without a purpose but to stay by his side, to keep his memory alive and birth a successor from both of them. His grip tightened, veins popping out under the leather of his uniform as the smaller man thrashed below him, pulling and clawing at his forearms desperately.
Still, something else stirred inside of Sephiroth at the sight. Where there should have been ecstasy in seeing Cloud struggle against his strength, another emotion welled up inside him instead. It took him a moment to recognize the feeling as repugnance, something he didn’t realize he could experience after having burned his world to the ground all those years ago without an ounce of regret.
So why now?
Sephiroth refused to acknowledge the dread crawling up his arms as he watched Cloud’s lively eyes stare into his in sheer horror, each pointless kick he received from the blonde weaker than the last as he tried to break free. He ignored the uncomfortable lump forming in his throat as he continued to choke the pregnant man, eyebrows furrowed downwards threateningly to ease his own frustration as best he could.
He had planned on relaxing his muscles enough to let go of Cloud before he could completely lose consciousness, but he had overestimated the blonde man’s strength given his current physical state. Only a few moments after he had begun strangling him, he noticed Cloud’s eyes, now dim, rolling back, the fingers clutched around his wrists loosening in his final attempts to liberate himself. His legs stilled, and the tears that had been overflowing down his cheeks came to a stop, leaving dry marks behind on his blemished face as proof of his fear.
That was when the taller man heard it—the ghostly whisper of a name.
“Se…phi…”
The smaller man could barely finish pronouncing it, mouthing the rest of the syllables brokenly. In an instant, the hands pressed against his neck were nowhere to be found, allowing him room to finally hack and gasp for air like a fish freshly out of water.
Stunned by the sound of his name being voiced through a weak wheeze, Sephiroth almost wondered if this had been a purposeful last resort for mercy, or an accidental, subconscious decision of Cloud’s to call for him out of emotional distress. Regardless of the reason, what stood out the most was his own hesitation upon hearing his voice.
Why had he stopped?
The question chilled him to the bone, but left as soon as it came. He watched Cloud writhe and cough under him, struggling to breathe even after he’d been released. As if he hadn’t been the one to inflict this pain on him, Sephiroth reached out, trying to place a hand on his belly to check for any signs of permanent damage to the baby inside.
Before he could even make contact, his hand was smacked away by the blonde man, his striking, mako-infused eyes glowering at him in aggravation, chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale. Sephiroth couldn’t say he was surprised by the reaction, yet the feeling of rejection still stung somewhere deep in his core.
Despite all the thrashing from their scuffle, the silver haired man had somehow managed to stay inside of him, shockingly nauseated when he eventually noticed. He slipped out of him languidly with a minor grimace, cringing at the sensation of his infuriatingly limp cock between his legs. Every ounce of pleasure he had experienced that day was stripped away by the newly formed memory of him nearly killing his other half in a juvenile outburst.
Nevertheless, Sephiroth refused pay any heed to his complicated emotions and thoughts, so he forced himself to stand up, putting this event behind him just like he had many times before.
This will be a worthy lesson he will come to appreciate one day.
The empty words echoed in his mind as he pinned Cloud down against his will once more, cleaning him thoroughly in silence while the smaller man weeped quietly, his trembling hands protecting his neck where bruises were beginning to appear, facing away from him.
He will birth our child and remember this moment. He will thank me when all is said and done, for this gift is something only I can provide him.
This was the truth. His truth.
This is how he would justify his actions—by forcing himself to be content with the events of today, so he wouldn’t spare an ounce of regret for what was to come tomorrow. If he started regretting, he would start to become human again. And, unfortunately for Cloud, his pride as the conqueror of the stars was far too grand to allow such a trivial thing to take a toll on his spirit.
He would proceed with his cosmic plans and his puppet would learn to love it, one way or another.