Final Fantasy Seven: Sephiroth/Cloud
Title: Event Horizon
Author: forgottenlover
Rating: R
Warnings: Implications of rough sex, mindgames.
Word count: 905
Summary: They both knew it was more real than Cloud pretended it was.
There were times when he truly considered the idea of finishing things. He had the ability, the touch on that place that he never did truly let go of, to do as he pleased. Yet he refrained. He watched, he lingered.
He did not make the man aware. Time passed in silence and he watched the man grow, become more a man than yesteryear ever allowed him. He watched him become more whole, yet still, still things were missing. He presented a front that did not exist, and none knew it but the two of them, and of the two of them, only he was willing to see it for what it was.
Denial.
The other liked to think he was finally happy, but the discontent lingered under the surface, the unhappiness and feeling of constriction never faded. The man went on trips, he left his new home constantly, and yet he still called himself content?
Had he been, he would not have wanted to leave, would have been happy, he knew that much well.
He knew Cloud well, for Cloud was a small piece of him in the world.
Reaching out, fingers brushing the still pool of the man’s memories, his dreams, he let himself through. He slipped into that place where dream and reality were no longer distinct, and he made a niche. Or, rather, he re-established the niche.
There was no fight there. There had never been a fight for there, and it was terribly easy to slip to a place within the man, still a boy in many ways, and face him in a manner that would be recognized as existing. Between awake and sleep, a dream but not a dream.
The man was there already, of course. He was willingly in that place, waiting for him without admitting he was waiting for him, and he turned his back as soon as he saw him, as though unwilling to admit he was truly there.
“Such games. Why do you always turn from me when you see me Cloud? I could not be here if you didn’t want to be in my presence.”
He ghosted forward, ran fingers down the man’s back, and the rigid tension in the slender frame just coiled, blue eyes shooting him that glare that only he seemed to ever earn. “You aren’t real. You’re just something I need to get over. A memory.”
The blond didn’t move away, never moved away, and he chuckled softly, lowly as he leaned in to press a kiss to a shoulder, smirking. “A memory? Cloud, were you thinking you just dreamed me up? I’m not. I’m as real as you.” When the blond stilled entirely, he tisked, pressing a kiss to the side of the man’s neck, fingers coming to rest on his forearms. “Or, perhaps, is that the problem?”
The stillness persisted for another beat, then the man twisted, pulled from his grip with a viciousness that he well knew how to appreciate, and answered. “Don’t touch me.”
“So it is. All this time and you still don’t know you’re real, do you Cloud? You still don’t know that you’ve landed far from the memories of others. Do you?” The blond snarled, as he’d expected he would, but he didn’t back away, merely looking up at him as he slipped close again, rested his hands back on his arms. “Do you want me to reassure you Cloud? Is that what you’re waiting for?”
“I’m not waiting for anything Sephiroth.” Such a fierce fierce glare... and it was so very obvious that it was nothing but a habit, the feelings behind it worn back to sharpness that had since lost their original meanings.
“No?”
“No. Let go of me.”
The words were not followed by actions, the demand lacking a consistency of insistence that would make it believable. Chiding him without words, shaking his head, he leaned in to kiss, finding nothing but teeth and snarls. He not however, find resistance, hands that should have been pushing him away clutching tight in his hair.
The blond may tell him to let him go, but truly, he could have a very long time ago... Had he not been held tightly in turn, his presence needed to make this shell of a creature feel he was worth anything.
It was a position he did not mind being in, so he kissed, bit, growled in turn. He let the intimacy be a fight, let the man bruise and be bruised in this space, knowing the marks would appear and linger in the realm of the physical.
He let the man pretend it wasn’t real while knowing it was, and he let the man be who he was. It was the only place where Cloud could ever be who he was and they both knew that.
Subservient, weak, lost, broken. He knew how to appreciate those attributes, how to use them, and he did. He gave the man exactly what he wanted by taking everything.
So long as he never crossed the line from here to there, the blond would always crave this. When this was no longer enough, then, and only then, would he cross back into the physical realm.
At that time, he knew, he would be greeted, finally, with open arms.
In the meantime, however, he had this, possessed the man’s soul.
He merely had to wait for his heart to follow.
Author: forgottenlover
Rating: R
Warnings: Implications of rough sex, mindgames.
Word count: 905
Summary: They both knew it was more real than Cloud pretended it was.
There were times when he truly considered the idea of finishing things. He had the ability, the touch on that place that he never did truly let go of, to do as he pleased. Yet he refrained. He watched, he lingered.
He did not make the man aware. Time passed in silence and he watched the man grow, become more a man than yesteryear ever allowed him. He watched him become more whole, yet still, still things were missing. He presented a front that did not exist, and none knew it but the two of them, and of the two of them, only he was willing to see it for what it was.
Denial.
The other liked to think he was finally happy, but the discontent lingered under the surface, the unhappiness and feeling of constriction never faded. The man went on trips, he left his new home constantly, and yet he still called himself content?
Had he been, he would not have wanted to leave, would have been happy, he knew that much well.
He knew Cloud well, for Cloud was a small piece of him in the world.
Reaching out, fingers brushing the still pool of the man’s memories, his dreams, he let himself through. He slipped into that place where dream and reality were no longer distinct, and he made a niche. Or, rather, he re-established the niche.
There was no fight there. There had never been a fight for there, and it was terribly easy to slip to a place within the man, still a boy in many ways, and face him in a manner that would be recognized as existing. Between awake and sleep, a dream but not a dream.
The man was there already, of course. He was willingly in that place, waiting for him without admitting he was waiting for him, and he turned his back as soon as he saw him, as though unwilling to admit he was truly there.
“Such games. Why do you always turn from me when you see me Cloud? I could not be here if you didn’t want to be in my presence.”
He ghosted forward, ran fingers down the man’s back, and the rigid tension in the slender frame just coiled, blue eyes shooting him that glare that only he seemed to ever earn. “You aren’t real. You’re just something I need to get over. A memory.”
The blond didn’t move away, never moved away, and he chuckled softly, lowly as he leaned in to press a kiss to a shoulder, smirking. “A memory? Cloud, were you thinking you just dreamed me up? I’m not. I’m as real as you.” When the blond stilled entirely, he tisked, pressing a kiss to the side of the man’s neck, fingers coming to rest on his forearms. “Or, perhaps, is that the problem?”
The stillness persisted for another beat, then the man twisted, pulled from his grip with a viciousness that he well knew how to appreciate, and answered. “Don’t touch me.”
“So it is. All this time and you still don’t know you’re real, do you Cloud? You still don’t know that you’ve landed far from the memories of others. Do you?” The blond snarled, as he’d expected he would, but he didn’t back away, merely looking up at him as he slipped close again, rested his hands back on his arms. “Do you want me to reassure you Cloud? Is that what you’re waiting for?”
“I’m not waiting for anything Sephiroth.” Such a fierce fierce glare... and it was so very obvious that it was nothing but a habit, the feelings behind it worn back to sharpness that had since lost their original meanings.
“No?”
“No. Let go of me.”
The words were not followed by actions, the demand lacking a consistency of insistence that would make it believable. Chiding him without words, shaking his head, he leaned in to kiss, finding nothing but teeth and snarls. He not however, find resistance, hands that should have been pushing him away clutching tight in his hair.
The blond may tell him to let him go, but truly, he could have a very long time ago... Had he not been held tightly in turn, his presence needed to make this shell of a creature feel he was worth anything.
It was a position he did not mind being in, so he kissed, bit, growled in turn. He let the intimacy be a fight, let the man bruise and be bruised in this space, knowing the marks would appear and linger in the realm of the physical.
He let the man pretend it wasn’t real while knowing it was, and he let the man be who he was. It was the only place where Cloud could ever be who he was and they both knew that.
Subservient, weak, lost, broken. He knew how to appreciate those attributes, how to use them, and he did. He gave the man exactly what he wanted by taking everything.
So long as he never crossed the line from here to there, the blond would always crave this. When this was no longer enough, then, and only then, would he cross back into the physical realm.
At that time, he knew, he would be greeted, finally, with open arms.
In the meantime, however, he had this, possessed the man’s soul.
He merely had to wait for his heart to follow.