There were certain disadvantages to an immunity to aphrodisiacs—namely, being unable to ignore the world when someone lovely and deadly, and not immune, writhed beneath his fingers. Too consumed to stop heat curling through his veins, as he worked them through it, but too present to just let go.
Cloud felt Sephiroth tug on his shoulder, and let himself be guided up, until they lay side by side on stiff sheets. Sephiroth's breaths were slowing, the sweat cooling on his skin, but more than anything, he seemed truly relaxed at last. Reclined on his back, even languid, after his hours of discomfort alone.
He'd never enjoyed watching others suffer, whatever Sephiroth was to him. But he hadn't known how much he would enjoy making that suffering stop.
"Thanks," said Sephiroth eventually, from somewhere to his left.
Cloud shrugged. He pulled the blankets up for Sephiroth, but couldn't look into his face. Heat and want still pulsed through him, aching.
"Do you think you can sleep now?" he asked, to distract himself.
"Yes. But as you said, there's no relief to be found alone."
"I don't know what you mean," Cloud murmured, which had been the wrong thing to say.
Belying the laziness of his expression, Sephiroth was still the fastest predator on the planet. The world tilted. Cloud was on his back, and arms of steel pinning down his shoulders, long legs tangling with his. Even with the layers of cloth providing separation, the hot skin of Sephiroth's belly was pure torture against Cloud's erection.
"Hey," he protested. Cloud tried to push Sephiroth off him, but those long fingers wrapped around both his wrists, slamming them above Cloud's head. He bucked against the iron grip, but it was unyielding. Tightened, if anything, which only made Cloud grow harder. Fuck, all those years in the lab with restraints in his nightmares, and he was getting off on this.
The fall of silvery hair blocked out the rest of the world. Sephiroth's pupils were huge, surrounded by a thin rim of green. He looked just as good above Cloud as he had under him. Maybe better. Cloud's writhing had made him press closer, and his gasp warmed Cloud's lips. He couldn't tell if he was fighting to get away, or closer.
Their foreheads touched. The urge to fight twisted into pure hunger, trapped and laid out helpless against that unyielding grip.
Sephiroth's hand left a molten trail down Cloud's chest, then belly.
"As I said, Cloud," Sephiroth fucking purred, hand paused just inches from where Cloud wanted him, "I can do this all night."
The smug smirk was too much. Cloud surged up, biting Sephiroth's lower lip hard enough to taste copper, and wring a low moan of approval. Sephiroth kissed back, just as hungry, just as demanding. The hand around his wrists traced circles on his bare skin, in surprisingly gentle contrast. Cloud could yank his hands away. Instead, he gripped Sephiroth back.
Sephiroth's palm was just a bit too dry, too rough, around Cloud. Cloud arched into the friction, a whimper escaping. The next stroke, he managed to gather the moisture beading at the tip, and then it was perfect—hot, at tight, and slick.
"I don't, um," said Cloud, trying to think through the heat swallowing every thought, "I don't need—the drug didn't—work on me."
"Oh?" Sephiroth twisted his wrist, leaving Cloud to choke and gasp, then leaned close to his ear. "Good."