A/N: typing in class on my phone again... As usual.

I have a request if anyone wants to, I need a co-author to help with Gift from me to You, because Lyra has basically stopped helping me move the plot and I have no clue where I'm going in the meantime with that story- I have the ending planned, there are just parts that I feel lazy about.

Disclaimer: everyone knows final fantasy belongs to square

And random pov changes because cloud is still unconscious and/or asleep XD

Staring down at the blonde was a conflicting act. He wanted to do far too many different things- lock him away so no one could steal the shorter male from him again, find a way to mark him that was less volatile than a disease, train him to use all the wasted potential, as well as other things that the silver haired entity was entirely uncertain of. If he could describe the particular emotions he felt, the only words suitable were mine and want. Such ambiguous words, such vague syllables, so undefined- and even worse they weren't technically types of emotions. Those words were normally symptoms of other emotions: attachments, bonds. He didn't want to admit that he was just as obsessed, just as tied to the blonde as Cloud was to himself. He smirked silently at the thought.

"We really are more alike than you're aware of." He whispered tenderly to the unconscious man that lay before him. He gently stroked his lithe fingers through the various spikes of blonde hair, tugging on them like tiny little strings that turned the still youthful face in any direction he desired. And what a thrill it gave him, that complete and total control. Having the other, entirely his own, entirely at his mercy, dancing to his very whims. Of course, the lack of defiance or reaction felt less thrilling. Knowing that the blonde could do nothing, yet still thought he could fight against the darkest desires of his soul, the consuming call to obey- knowing that the blonde was partially against it, that a part of him despised it- that masochistic self hate, that undirected rage- those all made the experience even more enjoyable. Every possible reaction the blonde would and could have was something focused on him, as he felt it should be. That was really all that mattered- that he himself was the one thing the other could never truly ignore, never forget, never be free of. The younger male stirred.

"So, you're finally awake." He trailed his fingers down to the other's gold hued cheeks, lightly tracing the delicate skin as the blonde gasped for breath, trying to make sense of the sudden change of location, of the actually solid touches. He watched realization sink in. Watched the blonde's eyes light up defiantly.

"Y-you...!" Cloud choked on his words, his own emotions clogging his functionality.

"Don't worry, your little demon turk will live." He chuckled. "For now." He was still... Angered? Jealous, of the raven haired Chaos wielder- perhaps? However, he had the object of jealousy far out of the former Turk's reach. All to himself...

"I hate you." Oh? He actually said it? "I hate you. I really, truly hate you." Though, the blonde truly didn't sound very convinced.

"Dishonesty is quite the harmful vice. You may want to stop while you're ahead." He placed his hand over the other's throat. A warning in the form of an empty threat. Truthfully he was more amused than angry with the blonde's response- it was that nagging fear in the back of his mind that increased his anger at the turk, and that made him act so callous to the room's other occupant. The blonde didn't respond. "Silent treatment?" He shook his head, willing the individual strands of his pale hair to splay along the blonde's arm, leaning closer so their noses were nearly touching. "Still such a child."

"At least I don't still play games with toys." The blonde replied, attempting to turn away. He clutched Cloud's face, preventing the other from moving. A deep chuckle resounded through the room.

"Only because you are the toy." He purred, jerking the younger's face forward to pull him closer. "My toy, specifically." He chuckled as he felt the blonde in his grasp shudder. He yanked the smaller male to him, positioning his lips over the other's ear. "And you know that better than anyone, don't you?" He could hear gasps coming from the face beside his own. "That no one else is allowed to steal you from me." He tightened his grip. "That absolutely no single other person will ever be able to claim you the same way." On a whim, he brushed his lips along the blonde's ear, causing Cloud to shudder.

"Stop it." The blonde was shaking, absolutely trembling. "Just stop it."

"Hmm?" He moved his lips lower. "Are you still hung up on guilt? Is that why?" He parted his lips, closing them around the flesh of the blonde's neck. "You should be, using a so called friend that way. As a distraction, a mere replacement. A way to try to force yourself to forget." He bit down, reveling in the tremors that wracked the frame of the body so close against his own. "But you can't forget. Those simple kisses were more of a shock than something you enjoyed."

"Shut up!" The blonde's voice wavered. He snatched the other's face again, pulling away from his ear, lingering just over those pale lips.

"But you shouldn't feel bad. You can't enjoy being claimed by anyone else when you belong so completely to me." Slightly closer. Their lips just barely beginning to touch, so featherlight it was almost intangible. He felt the blonde's lips part instinctively. He flicked out his tongue, a pale reflection of a caress over those barely parted lips. The blonde was nearly convulsing now, eyes glazed over with wanting, and guilt and self hate for being so weak. He pulled away, leaving the blonde dazed as he exited the room. He navigated a winding corridor, finding the exact thing he sought with little effort. He then returned and, leaving the door purposely open so the blonde could realize exactly where they were, he put a plate down on the twenty-three year old's lap.

"Eat." He motioned to the bowl of slightly steaming soup, and small loaf of warm bread that the plate held.

"No." The blonde challenged with a glare.

"Eat it or I will force you. I'm not having you starve to death." He watched the blonde stare the food down, examining it. When Cloud picked up the spoon, he finally sat. The bed they were on was mostly cleared of dust. But a small puff of smoky dust notes rose as his weight displaced the sheets.

"I..." The blonde struggled to find words. "... Um..." He scratched his head.

"You're welcome." The taller man replied to the unspoken words. Gesturing to the food he spoke. "I made it myself, but I wasn't sure how to... I don't exactly eat any more."

"It's... Surprisingly... Not really that bad." The blonde admitted grudgingly.

"I do recall specific meals that I had to make before, as neither you or Zack were... Capable of using a stove." He replied, smug. The blonde was turning a very decidedly bright shade of pink. The next few minutes passed silently as the blonde ate, the only sounds the creak of the bed, the clanking of the spoon, faint chewing noises and the sounds of their breathing. He busied himself with the blonde's spiked tufts, gently playing with the clusters of pointed hairs to see if he could rearrange or smooth out the edges. It was proving quite difficult. He felt the blonde shift, placing the now empty plate and bowl on the floor.

"Why am I even here?" The leader of avalanche finally asked. "Wasn't your favorite game always waiting till I came to you?"

"It is ...entertaining, watching you struggle with yourself when I do... This was just easier. I'm getting a little bit impatient, I suspect, after having my plans stalled for a few years." He impulsively stroked his fingers along the blonde's arm.

"Stop that." Cloud said, tensing to get up and away from that hand. That was unacceptable to the former war hero. With a whiplash motion his arm snapped out, fingers snatching the blonde's arm and squeezing in a vice.

"Need I remind you of who it is giving the orders here?" He said, voice deathly low.

"Let go!" The mercenary struggled to loosen his grasp, as a response he dug his gloved fingers into the blonde's flesh with a good portion of his considerable strength and watched as Cloud's face contorted in obvious pain. He wrenched his arm back, grip maintained, and, using the momentum threw the blonde on the bed and effectively pinned him down with his body.

"If you want up, you have to beg. Otherwise I won't loosen my grip until I decide I want to." He felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth as he swooped down and finally claimed the blonde's lips in the kiss he'd put off earlier. The effect of that single, simple kiss on the blonde was amusing. He felt the body below him go lax, lips parting submissively on instinct, arms tentatively wrapping around him. This was it. His chance. As the kiss slowly escalated to more, the blonde easily pliant and frequently moaning as he growled and marked and fucked him with a very possessive and dark demeanor. Purplish blush and blue dots and yellowish discoloration formed bruises along the blondes arms and sides. Blackish red and crusty mahogany scabs from his fingernails covered the blonde's back in winglike patterns. Then his neck and chest and groin were spotted with angry red indentations and sores from his teeth tugging and teasing the flesh in those areas, the blonde himself was strapped, tied to the bed. Hands cuffed. Mouth gagged. Gently, he undid the binding. The blonde was panting, wet substance coating his abdomen. Marking, claiming, consuming. He brushed their lips together again.

"Mine."

It was approximately three hours later when Cloud awoke in that same bed. The door was still open, and he finally dared to look out. His sapphire blues widened in shock- the man had brought him here? He saw it, that trap door in the fireplace that he knew led to a place revisited frequently in his nightmares. A note, innocent and entirely unexpected, stood out on the stone of the false panel.

I'm going away for a while. The doors are unlocked within the mansion, but the exits have magic sealing them to insure you don't run off while I'm away. There's a new installment downstairs in case you get hungry

It read. Naturally, Cloud being the skeptical and suspicious way he was, attempted to leave through the exit (despite the fact that he was still nude and covered in evidence of the events of earlier) only to find that the note had been true. It had some sort of magic (that felt nothing like anything he'd cast from materia) blocking it shut. Not even the materia and his Fusion sword (which Sephiroth had been "kind enough" to leave with him) could penetrate it.

So instead, while heading downstairs into the horrifying secret lab underneath the main floor, he decided to see what this "new installment" entailed. A sardonic smile crossed his face as he saw a refrigerator (full of precooked meals) and a microwave where the incubation tubes once stood. He figured that his captor (insane as he was) didn't want anything that was frequently a thing of horror to either of them in the place where they currently dwelt. Or, at least, things pertaining to a certain scientist they both despised. He wasn't hungry at the moment so he paced, not finding any monsters (they were there but would never attack him for a reason he suspected had to do with the silver haired demon's interference) and eventually he grew particularly bored. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bookshelves (he wondered who it was that had rearranged them, his hazy memories of the last time he was held in captivity in this hell house, assured him that Hojo hadn't) but he guessed it didn't matter. Still, there was the curiosity. A nagging feeling, a slight desire to know what it was that drove the former hero to finally go over the edge and fall into the chaotic madness he foretold now. What was in in these books that had been that final shove that drove Sephiroth into the blaze of insanity? He told himself it didn't matter and kept pacing. Step .. Step... clunk he stopped pacing and stared again, torn. Finally, his feet moved. Inching forward on their own, his fingers slowly went to skim the books. Cloud flinched back, shaking his head frantically to clear his thoughts. He shouldn't. He couldn't. But he wanted to know. Absently he read titles to figure out which the other man might have started with. He found something interesting, it was a description of Lucrecia's affair with Vincent. Notes of how she was injected, of how the fetus had Vincent's DNA. More details, of Lucrecia abandoning the newborn Sephiroth, shortly after Vincent was shot, and of all the various occurrences over the course of his childhood. Cloud couldn't put it down. It was a grotesque, morbid desire that kept him reading, feeling morose as he skimmed the pages in utter horror. The level of detail (both of experimentation and of all the people who'd left and for what reasons)- it was no wonder the man had gone on a murderous rampage with all the blazing burning madness and smoke and fire. Then Cloud came to a realization. Everyone described (who the younger version of the man he'd once idolized hadn't hated) had left. Abandoned the boy who would kill entire armies unrelentingly at age twelve. A fragment of the memories he had from Zack came to surface, two close friends the renowned man had lost. Two more who had abandoned him- Cloud felt his heart constrict in a sudden understanding of the obsession over himself- with Zack dead, that made him (the blonde realized) the only person that Sephiroth had left. So many flooding thoughts, memories, voices played through his head (they're trying to take you away again.) flashes of events, meetings, simple nightmares where the man said anything even remotely possessive... And scared? This whole time, he'd been so focused (and how he despises himself for it) on the other man, and had never realized, never thought... He rolled it through his head. (Mine. They can't have you) Sephiroth has abandonment issues. Sephiroth, the famous war hero and would be destroyer, of the planet, Sephiroth who'd thought he was meant to be god, had fucking abandonment issues. It struck him, not with shock, but with a sudden heaviness. Self doubt and guilt set in. Was he the reason the man only got more and more insane? If he'd simply stayed there and not fought all those times, would Aerith be alive? And Zack? Would the world not be nearly overtaken with a hallucinogenic disease that bred new forms of hatred? It was a terrifying thought, thinking that maybe his problems came about because he hadn't paid enough attention to the believed cause- that if he'd ...if he'd...

His head felt like it was splitting in two. Cloud fell to the ground, agony coursing through his frame. A female voice, oddly low and resonating spoke.

"There's really no way to know if it was your fault or not, dwelling on the 'could be's isn't going to solve the problem- but you know what will don't you?" A purr, just like the male voice always associated with her.

"But I can't." He really didn't want to be talking to her right now.

"Who's to say that?" A chuckle. "He's still in a good mood from earlier. Imagine how happy he'd be if it was a frequent thing... If you were entirely his for all eternity? Don't you want that? You do, and I know it. I want it too." Her voice took on a tone of fondness, and Cloud noted that she clearly did care about her self proclaimed son, perhaps she had issues with loneliness after thousands of years of solitude. It seemed plausible.

"I..." Honestly, he did. It was a strange longing, half formed of obsession and half of admiration. The only issue was that it was wrong. He should hate the other man for killing his mom, killing Aerith(and he hadn't even told her he loved her yet) using him(which he knew wasn't likely to stop) but he couldn't. He wanted and yearned and needed something that was more harmful than helpful.

"Shh. It's alright, none of that matters now." She was positively crooning, a mockery of comforting (and it took more effort than necessary to be even that comforting for her)

"I guess it doesn't." He felt himself say, almost subconsciously. He felt tired, mentally strained as she attempted comfort a final time before floating back to nonexistence. Tired and hungry. He heated up a plate of pasta in the microwave, planning on taking a nap and awaiting the source of his eternal conflict.

Vincent was currently at a standstill. There were plenty of places he felt the monster who had been the cause of his almost death had taken his friend. He'd believed the most likely to be Nibelheim, but upon arrival, he noticed the mansion had disappeared... Or not really. There were ashes, lots of ashes. He distantly decided that this wasn't where the nightmare had hidden its prey. He turned to Reno.

"Get the helicopter. I'll call Rufus."

Cloud woke up again, this time to fingers caressing his face.

"Ah, you're finally up." Came the low purr.

"You weren't back, so I slept." He sat up, melting into the gentle touches along his cheeks and forehead. "It was boring by myself."

"I'm here now." Was that a gloating tone? Cloud determined that being reliant and depending on the other's presence made the older man feel calmer, happier even. "And I have something for you." Their lips came together as a result of the man leaning and Cloud simply parting his lips and sitting still farther up.

"Hmm?" He hummed curiously once the kiss finally broke, clinging to the taller male's arm, the way a child does to a parent when strangers try to talk to them, and pressed his face into the other's shoulder (being mindful not to lay on the pauldrons, as that wouldn't be comfortable.) Almost inquisitively, a small chirp resounded through the room. A wark, actually.

"You got me a chocobo?" Why did he feel like this was another jab at his hair.

"It made me think of you." Came the response, amusement dripping from each word, voice entirely saturated with barely suppressed laughter.

"Of course it did." He could feel the heat of blush crawling across his face. It was something he'd heard many times. (Hey chocohead!) He watched as the bird, still a baby and no bigger than his palm, poked it's head out of a bag he hadn't noticed the taller entity carrying in. It's eyes stared out at him, wide blown irises and ... That wasn't normal. Chocobos had black eyes that were deep and soulful. This bird had brilliant blue eyes, almost glowing- no actually glowing, and the pupils were cat slits. It's feathers were darker yellow, indicating it to be gold, but there were undertones of something lighter. "It looks like we had a kid who became a chocobo."

"It was actually buried right outside the door. I suspect it was accidentally included in what went on here seven years ago, which would explain the obvious mako enhancing. It apparently does not age either, much like the both of us and your stupid turk." He spat out that last part, eyes ablaze. They softened, however, as Cloud scooped up the tiny bird.

"So, you got me a mutant alien chocobo." Another sigh. "He's not going to tentacle rape me in my sleep, or whisper creepy things in my head like everyone one else with fucking mutated DNA does is he?" Something in his voice caught the other man's attention.

"Everyone else? There're only two, four if you count yourself and the bird. And as I recall, I've yet to do anything sexual to you that involves a tentacle, Cloud." Sephiroth sounded particularly smug.

"But you have done things..." The blonde trailed off.

"Yes, I have. That, however, seemed entirely consensual and, thereby, I have no clue what your implying." A purr, less condescending and more... Cloud shuddered.

"I don't know either." A pause. "I... Read one of those books down there while you were away." It felt awkward yet relieving to say it out loud.

"Hmmmmmmm." A slow hum. "Which book specifically?

"One about Lucrecia." He said it quietly.

"... Oh." He seemed... Disappointed? No, upset? Dejected almost. "I-" he was cut off by the chocobo (which both of them had forgotten about) letting out a high pitched crying wail of hunger. The taller man's mood shifted instantly. "Feed it."

"Why me?" The blonde questioned.

"It's yours. Besides, I thought you had a side job raising and racing these things." He responded distantly. Distracted. Like he was talking to someone... Something was going on. Cloud was determined to get to the bottom of it- once he fed the damn pigmy chocobo that seemed to be part banshee.

"Yes I know. Rufus, it's ash, there is no building. It is suspicious, but I doubt it's anything.." Vincent pinched his nose, the tattered crimson tendrils of his cloak flowing in a nonexistent breeze as he stepped forward, the phone he'd borrowed slipped into his belt.

"Valentine. Over here." Tseng's voice, slightly strained, as the man himself appeared. The bandages around his head and waist an the drained look in his eyes foretold what he'd been through. Vincent stepped forward to meet him. "Touch the air here-" he pointed to the area above the ashes. "It's solid."

"Hiding the mansion with an illusion...I should have remembered that was a possibility." His voice sounded even more gravelly than usual as Vincent verbally berated himself. "Have you found the door?"

"That's what your touching." Tseng pulled out a small phone. "I'll call for back up. If he's really in their, there's no telling what could happen- especially with Cloud as a loose variable."

"I know." So they waited.

"Yo, bossman!" Reno's boisterous tones filled the helicopter as he answered the phone.

"Did they find anything?" Rufus was almost scared to ask. He was more than aware of what a threat Sephiroth posed, especially given that Cloud may or may not be entirely himself. If they ever teamed up, he knew more than anything, no one would ever stand in their way- nothing could. They outmatched anyone- except maybe Vincent, however two on one could overwhelm even the chaos wielder. He'd seen that. Not to mention that he doubted Vincent would have the heart to do anything to harm the blonde.

He doubted he would either, in the gun man's shoes.

"Do you sense it?" He felt her voice gentle and cautious.

"Yes. And by the expression Cloud has, I believe he has too. Or sensed something, at the very least." He replied internally.

"What are you going to do?" Curious, yet calm.

"I don't know. But I won't let them take him away." That was something he would never allow to happen again, if he could help it.

"I don't think they will. I spoke to him while you were taking care of things. He seems to have reached an epiphany of sorts, and I'm honestly very intrigued by how it will play out." She said mischievously.

"An epiphany?" He felt like this was something he deserved to know. "Tell me."

"I'd rather you heard it directly from him, but if you insist... He realized why you are the way you are. He blames himself, unsurprisingly." She then faded out.

Curiosity stoked, Sephiroth headed down to the basement with a flourish of his coat, intending to look into the matter. He stalked in to find Cloud had taken greens and chopped them up so they were small enough for the micro-sized bird. He smirked at the sight.

"I see you like playing mama chocobo."

"Shut up." Cloud's face was bright red.

"There's a search party after you." He told the blonde, intent on gauging his reaction. The blonde merely hummed noncommittaly, continuing to feed the baby chocobo. Delving deeper, he skimmed the blondes thoughts.

(Can't let it happen. I can't. My fault- what if I- no that won't work... I'll stay. I have to stay.) The blonde's thoughts were even more chaotic than usual, he seemed unsure of everything and intent on self blame- but to a much worse degree. But the blonde intended to stay, that was good enough for now- even if it was guilt over a non existent slighting. He favored the blonde for not leaving, so why did Cloud assume it was anything to do with him not being there enough? Honestly, complicating things and making the conflicts worse on himself- the boy should know better by now. However, this was also a good thing. If the blonde refused to leave, that would make it so much easier to... He couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face as he traced his fingers just under the high collar of the vest that the blonde had put back on at some point between him leaving and returning. The markings there pleased him- palpable signs of ownership, harder to hide than what few there were to begin with. He chuckled as the blonde stiffened- the latter having noticed that the other must have seen his thoughts.

"Shhh." He pressed his lips to the shorter male's forehead, just over his eyebrow, and wrapped his arms ever so gently around the blonde's slim yet defined frame. "Don't think about it."

"A-alright." The blonde said, with much difficulty. His thoughts however seemed to grow even more erratic as he tried to calm them.

"Do you want to leave?" He purred, low and demanding. "I feel we've overstayed our welcome." It was a test. One he knew the blonde would ultimately pass.

"Yes. I don't want to face them right now." Uncertainty was replaced with determination. How wonderful it felt to know he himself was the reason for the other male's sudden shift in attitude. He heard the door finally bust open upstairs, and, in a quick motion covered up the fridge with the illusion of the tubes that had been present, proceeding to phase himself and the blonde (who still held his new charge tenderly in his palm) through the walls, to fly off to a new location.

"We should return once they leave... Or not. Which would you prefer?"

"I don't care either way." The blonde said, curling up against him as he mused to himself about where to head, his wing already finding the correct air currents.

"Hmm."

The ground was still spinning. Not as bad as it would have been years ago, but his eyes were seeing double, and the ground was noticeably spinning. Cloud choked down the result of his nausea. The cold air certainly helped his pounding headache, as well as help him gather his senses back. At first, the flight hadn't been any different than his daily trips out on Fenrir, albeit a bit farther from the ground. But, naturally- Sephiroth being the way he was decided to make things difficult for the blonde solely for amusement, and spun and dropped with an over powering velocity the entire trip. Thus, the finished result was Cloud curling up on the snow, trying not to puke.

"You're a jerk." He said, once his entrails stopped dancing. "I mean it."

"And you're hopelessly entertaining." The response came with another signature chuckle, accompanied by a slow half smirk. "You have no idea what kind of image you make lying on the ground that way."

"I think I do." The blonde tried to ignore the awkwardness of what was implied as he hid his blush against the cold snow. "If this turns into tentacle rape, I swear I'll-"

"Hmmmm... That is an intriguing thought as well. Thanks for the idea, Cloud." Cloud whipped his head around in panic at those words, and noticed the feral gleam in the other's eyes to be more sadistic than sexual. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse. "But there are plenty of other things I could try." The silver haired man purred as he moved in a graceful whip lash of motion and knelt above the blonde before Cloud had a chance to gather his thoughts. He felt his sapphire eyes widen as he sat mesmerized by something. On inspection he realized he was hearing (subconsciously as it was the most silent voice he'd her Mars from the other man) faintly whispered commands echoing gently against his skull. Fingers ghosted a trail across his face, the closeness setting him on edge with foreign desires. The voices came back, growing progressively louder and louder like they always did. Pain exploded through his skull for the second time that day, as he forced himself to not fight back, forced himself to remember what he'd learned and why he wanted to stay- and with the insistence of the voices it wasn't hard to keep that mentality. (This is all you can do.) He let down every single wall, allowing the other complete access to everything on an entirely new extent. (It's what you wanted, right?)

"Such a good boy." The voice against his ear whispered. And for once, there was no voice disagreeing with the others. No voice saying that this was wrong, just the wantlongingneed for the praise and approval taller male. Just the joy of feeling the mania overtake his senses. Just the compulsive desire to obey, to belong. It felt right. It felt good. It felt amazing and liberating and entirely consuming and he just wanted it to last forever. Lips claimed his own painfully, biting and claiming, and he earnestly did his best to make certain he was responding in a satisfactory manner, so as not to displease the other. That was all there was to do.

Vincent slumped in defeat, the mansion seemed nothing more than a red herring, a distraction, a simple detour meant to confuse them. There was nothing anywhere left to signal that anyone had been there at all. No rumpled sheets or warm chairs, not even food crumbs. This seemed to be a wild goose chase, and that realization did not sit well with the former turk, as he already felt something was seriously wrong.