Chapter Text
Somewhere in the space between the flowers and the sun's illuminating light, a man sat on the church's wooden floor. Only Gaia could know just how many times Cloud Strife had come back to this ruined place — perhaps enough to call it his home. A destroyed building that held warmth in a different lifetime… Now only inhabited by grief. A trap of memories that held him so tight while digging its needles where it hurt the most.
No matter how much it hurt, Cloud always came back to the church of the Sector 5 Slums.
Because where would he go?
The thought remained unanswered. He sat on the wooden floor between ruins and overgrowing nature, staring towards a pool of water, its clear surface glittering in the sun.
…It was funny really. He was too scared to look much around.
He was scared that She’s standing somewhere in the corner of his eye, watching.
He was scared that if he turned his head to the side, She would sit there.
He was scared to look behind, to stare at the empty open doors where She would be waiting. Or ― in the other way ― he would see the emptiness yet again with his childish hopes dying with that fact. He wasn’t sure anymore what he was scared of. Of ghost or of nothingness. Or perhaps both.
His face crumbled as the tears began to swell up. Hand brushed through the face as Cloud inhaled, trying to not cry in front of no one. It was a sign to stop this chain of thoughts.
He rarely thought about it these days… Or tried to do so.
If something Cloud wished for somebody to come and save him from himself.
And with that specific thought,
the tears fell either way.
„Cloud.”
The soft voice called out from behind.
Cloud inhaled. He did not turn around.
Step after step, footsteps gently echoed through the church. Getting closer and closer as the wood creaked under its weight. Unhurried steps getting louder and louder the closer they got.
Mako eyes got stuck staring at glittering sun in the water, shining just like the tears dripping down across his cheeks. Cloud tried to swallow. He couldn't.
„Why do you have to always butt into my shit?”
The hand entangled itself between the golden spikes, caressing each of them with a peculiar care. A hand that could as well as simply crush the very head it was touching right now. The owner of the hand huffed in soundless amusement.
„And why do you always sit here staring at a pool of water and crying?”
The hand pushed and Cloud could feel its cold embrace, his cheek leaning against the black leather. His eyes stared forward unseeing. Despite burning shame, he didn’t pull away.
„There it is, Cloud. Here.” His ears pressed into that soothing accent of the voice.
The tears stopped flowing.
“You sit here hours upon hours… Grieving somebody who left you just like that. Don’t you find it cruel?” A question fell.
Streaks of wet have dried over Clouds cheeks, pinching a bit on the skin.
„Fuck off. She’s dead because you killed her and I killed her.” There was no heat in that sentence.
„Really now?” The caress over his golden spikes had slown down.
„Cloud, you know she’s not dead. You saw her with your own eyes not so long ago. She has the very means to come back and yet she doesn’t.”
Advent Day. Cloud standing in this very place. Hearing her voice. He turns to look behind, far past all the people gathered in the church. She’s standing there, watching. She smiles. And then leaves.
Just like that.
Rejoined with Gaia.
Never to comeback again.
Cloud exhaled wetly and what hurt him was the fact he wasn’t able to disagree. A few tears threatened to go down. They fell. His face deformed to a grimace again. A sob escaped.
Among grief and sorrow, question remained to torment him to the end of eternity.
Why?
Why?
Why did you leave again?
What the fuck do I do now?
How do I fix all of my shit?
Why can’t I just move on?
Please tell me what to do.
He doesn’t fucking know.
He doesn’t fucking know.
He wanted to scream and cry and scream and crush his head against the wall until he wouldn’t be able to think again. Grief. Constant remembering remembering remembering remembering how he fucked up everything in his life. Failure—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-
The hand yanked him by the hair to look up. It hurt like hell and yet it didn’t matter.
And there he was, standing and hovering as he always did.
Sephiroth.
„Don’t worry Cloud. You’re not alone.” Soft voice of his Nightmare whispered. “You’ll never be alone with me.”
Their eyes met, snake gaze against mako dullness. The comfortable uncomfortable silence between the two people that grew to feel like second home.
Cloud inhaled.
“Fuck you.”
Broken wood felt quite uncomfortable under his knees. Cloud kneeled in the centre of the church. His eyes went up to see Sephiroth standing with grace, expecting for something they both evidently waited for. He smiled, he always smiled when they did that. The utter humiliation of seeing Champion of Gaia on his knees. What a beautiful view it was for somebody like his enemy.
And maybe even worse, said Champion was far too excited to fall on his knees.
Just at the verge of his open mouth and sticking out tongue, a tip of long, hard member dripped with salt and hunger. Cloud held it in his hand as he watched Sephiroth above him. A quiet moment of stillness before they would start.
With one, embarrassingly smooth motion forward, he took it whole into his mouth letting that sweet taste overwhelm his senses. Sephiroth inhaled. Cloud sighed around his length.
It was already hard to think.
Move forward then back. His head began bopping with a far too familiar rhythm than he would admit.
„That’s it. You’re doing so good, Cloud.”
Yes. He is doing exactly good. His own pants felt awfully tight. A shaky exhale escaped through his nose.
„Such a good boy.”
Cloud shuddered. Yes, say more Sephiroth. Please tell me I’m good. He let go of Sephiroth cock with a pop as he inhaled. His hand continued to stroke it to keep friction.
Sephiroth smiled wider for some reason, lips parted and cheeks pink. As always, barely emotional, barely any reaction visible. And yet when Cloud learned to notice them, those microreactions were so so fucking hot.
And seeing this fucker tremble is the most beautiful view ever. Under the sword or not.
Cloud opened his mouth. A subtle shake sent the shaft nodding forward, its head tapping against the tongue sticking out forward. Tap. Tap. Tap. A little trick he saw while watching porn weeks ago.
Sephiroths smile faltered. A shaky exhale, a rougher grip on golden spikes. „Haah…”
And the tongue went swirling around the base before consuming it whole and sucking on it. Please tell me I’m…
“Good job Cloud, keep going.” The grip at the base of his hair was painful but it didn’t matter. Sephiroth grunted quietly, one time after another. "You're so beautiful in this position."
The tension. The snake eyes over his form. The painful ache in his own pants. The tension that grew to be far too slow than he would like.
Cloud couldn’t do it anymore.
It hurt. He wanted to be fucked. He wants to fuck. He wants to fuck and be fucked. He wants to be a fucking whore.
His enemy sighed sharply not expecting Clouds to quicken his movements so suddenly.
Moan after another pathetic moan. That’s it.
Clouds other hand trembled as it tried to unzip his own pants. It was taking so painfully long. Faster. Yes, finally. Pull it out. Stroke it. Stroke it. He couldn’t stop whimpering like a bitch. Mouth full of cock and hopefully his ass will be filled too. As a reward for sucking him off so good. He wants to fuck so fucking badly. He wants to be fucked.
Somewhere, his attention dissolved. His partner's unsteady breath. Angels silent sigh. Pulsing in his head. Pulsing in his lower body. Salt.
Heat.
Nothing but heat.
„Haah————————!!„
Suddenly, Cloud let go of Sephiroths cock. A grunt. A sharp inhale. White shot forward, decorating his cheek and the wooden floor.
Suddenly, Cloud was back in the church again.
Heavily breathing, he turned to watch a trail of cum on the wood. His hand slowed down stroking his own still hard member.
He turned again to raise his gaze.
Illuminated, an Angel observed the futile mortal, eyes and pupils wide, lips parted, cheeks deeply pink and expression broken from its usual facade. And this image of a face surrounded by a silver curtain of hair, almost pure white in the light of the morning sun... This very image... No matter how many times they do it, this view of broken God is what Cloud never gets bored of.
He continued to look and so he looked over this image that slowly replaced another one from a lifetime ago.
Angel stood, come and undone.
Staining every memory and aspect of his life.
Cloud moved away from that thought.
He wanted to have sex.