House of Love – Takehito Koyasu (Aya)

For the moment, Cloud was standing outside the inn he and the rest of AVALANCHE (or whatever they were calling themselves at the moment), just staring up at he night sky, letting his thoughts scatter with the wind. Right now, he can forget the debacle of Sephiroth, the problems of the planet, Shinra, Tifa, Yuffie, Aerith’s pitying looks… Everything. Cloud didn’t even notice himself falling asleep outside, until he heard a familiar spine-tingling, chuckle that instantly brought him out of the grasps of his dreams.

“My, my little Cloud, it is just you and me.”

Instantly, Cloud turned to the newcomer and went for his buster sword, only to come up empty when the weapon wasn’t there. Cloud snarled, a glare marring his features. “Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth chucked again, a tiny flit of his lips making him smirk. “And yet, your glares still look like pouts, even after all this time.”

“What do you want?” Cloud whispered. He could try to call for help, but it would be a moot point – Sephiroth had him. 

The Silver General stepped closer to Cloud, placing his leather clad hand under the blonde’s chin. “You’ve grown so much, yet still… The same person, despite that.” A thumb ghosted over Cloud’s lips and a sound, not unlike a disappointed sigh, escaped from Sephiroth. “I do miss that piercing, though. You should have kept it.”

Cloud tried to get away, but was unable to move due to Sephiroth’s grip on his face. “What piercing?” he snarled. What was he talking about, so nostalgically?

Sephiroth’s eyes widened fractionally in surprise, before they became nothing but slits, showing the barest hint of his green, cat-like eyes. “You… don’t remember… Do you, Cloud?”

“Remember what?” Cloud scoffed. “I remember you destroying Nibelhelm! I remember you trying to kill everyone! I remember – ”

Cloud’s rant was cut off by a soft pair of lips. Cloud wanted nothing more but to scream out, kick and curse the man in front of him but, instead, he groaned, melting into the embrace and arching into Sephiroth’s body. The kiss was chaste for the most part, Cloud unconsciously responding to Sephiroth’s advances. After a little eternity, Sephiroth withdrew, a thin line of saliva still connecting them. He licked his lips as Cloud reopened his mako blue eyes that he closed when the kiss overwhelmed him. Cloud panted as the beginnings of a true smile flirted on Sephiroth’s lips.

“It seems like the rumors about Mako fuckin’ wit’ your head was true but,” a glove-clad hand ran up the inside of his SOLDIER-issued shirt and Cloud gasped, bucking up into the touch, “it seems like your body remembers my touch perfectly, even though  your mind has forgotten my most valued person.”

Those last four words resonated within Cloud, but the blond couldn’t figure out why – why his heart suddenly cried when those words were “valued” and not “loved,” why his body reacted to Sephiroth’s touches, why –

When Sephiroth began attacking his neck with little nips and slow, sensuous kisses, Cloud’s brain short-circuited and all higher-order thinking skills were utterly demolished. Cloud gasped and could do nothing more than feel and react.

It is because of this that Cloud didn’t notice the soft, loving smirk Sephiroth held as he looked upon Cloud’s form.

It is because of this that Cloud didn’t notice Vincent coming down to check on him, nor did he notice the long, nearly familial look held between Vincent and Sephiroth, before the Chaos Project clicked the safety back on his gun. Cloud did not notice how Vincent helped Sephiroth escape with him in his arms, still attacking his body with a touch that lit the fire of passion within him.

Cloud did not notice any of this.

Cloud only noticed the pure love that flowed between himself and Sephiroth.

And, for that one, isolated night, perhaps that love could be remembered for eternity.

( Nee amai toiki mado wo kumorasu ametsubu no yoh
Nee anata rashiku midareta kao de soto wo  mitsumete)

Hey, kissing their lives goodbye, an’ watching the red rain fall, the wind itself seems to cry…
Hey, why must it be this way? If feelings are ‘verbrechen,’ then lovers were meant to die…