Disclaimer: See first part.

Rating: M

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

Warnings: Mild Language, Violence, Adult themes, Erotica, Character Death

AN- Belated birthday fic for the awesome Nephilim Rising. Much love and hugs to you sweetie

AN2- Thank you for all the wonderful reviews for the first part.

Betaed by Nephilim Rising. Thank you so much sweetie.

&%$ POW $%&

A month had passed and the only real change was that Lieutenant General Zachery Fair had seen to the capture and occupation of Easter. Then the war had come grinding to a halt. An executive order, issued from President Shin-Ra himself, caused all military actions to go idle. Sephiroth's original strategy to conquer the capital, Mideel City, was wasted; a month was more than enough time for the capital to reinforce its fortifications, and his first plan required Fair's troops to invade right after the capture of Easter. Now he had to wait on orders to either resume the attack and formulate a new siege tactic, or come up with an exit strategy.

On a more positive note, Shin-Ra's silver general grew very attached to Mideel's red. As days turned into weeks, and when he wasn't on a minor mission or working, the two spent hours upon hours a day in each others company. They talked about everything under the sun. Sephiroth had slowly let his guard down, and eventually welcomed Genesis in to his personal life.

Trust was not something he gave freely, but when it came to the redhead, there was a feeling of attachment that was almost mystical. He felt it on a cellular level. He had already witnessed Genesis' physical prowess; it was on par with his own. So too were his mental capabilities. The more time they spent together, the more Sephiroth realized that Genesis complimented him in almost every way – they were two sides of the same coin. Genesis was fire to his ice.

So he let down his walls, and opened up. He talked about his life as an orphan, briefly touching on how he became that way – his mother died during his birth, and his father was unknown. He spoke of living in the Shin-Ra labs, where a scientist named Hojo had taken an interest in him ( interest, not pity, Hojo didn't know the meaning of the word pity) and basically raised him. The scientists there were never cruel to him, they were just detached. Even Hojo, who sometimes ran painful tests, was not mean, he was just indifferent. He also told Genesis about his raise in the SOLDIER program and his progression to become General of the Army.

Then, like Genesis had before, he talked of his favorite things. Reading, when not in battle, was his main source of entertainment – strategy and history books were at the top of his list, followed by war novels, real or fiction, and finally philosophy books. He admitted to being very fond of sweets, especially chocolate, though most of the time he maintained a healthy diet. He loved classical music, but not the 'light, airy' stuff, he preferred it to be intense; he loved when it sent shivers down his spine. And no, he wasn't a big fan of television or cinema, but there were a few things aired that held his interest. When it came to T.V., documentaries were the only things he could stomach, but when it came to movies, believe it or not, Sephiroth was a fan of cheesy, B-rated horror flicks. He found supernatural or demonic type slashers amusing, sometimes wondering the outcome of such an event if he were ever put in a similar situation as the protagonist. He sure in Ifrit's Hell wouldn't be as stupid as most of the heroines.

"Can you imagine it, Genesis, me running through the woods screaming like a girl, while an undead, masked monstrosity chased me with a chainsaw?"

The mental image caused Genesis to laugh for ten minutes straight. His laughter was contagious, and Sephiroth quickly became infected.

It became apparent to him that Genesis was the only person on all of Gaia that he allowed to view his private world, the only one with whom he shared what little imagination he possessed, and the only one he could safely laugh around. He sometimes wondered what the MP's stationed outside the red general's door thought, but then realized he didn't care. The new onslaught of feelings he was experiencing was ready to consume him whole, and he willingly allowed himself to plunge further down the spiral. So no, he didn't care at all what the MP's thought.

It was almost comical that a short time ago he had only respected the redhead for his fighting abilities. He had gone so far as to assure the man that when the time was right, he was going to kill him. Yet, now when he thought about it, Sephiroth couldn't imagine being the one to snuff the glow from those brilliant, blue sapphires.

The intimacy between them also grew stronger with each passing day. Sephiroth became comfortable with Genesis laying his head on him, whether it was on his lap, shoulder or chest when he would recline on the redhead's bed. Genesis was also fond of brushing Sephiroth's hair with his fingers – he would sometimes spend an hour or more combing through it, which of course, Sephiroth allowed and sometimes even encouraged. And on more than one occasion, when the touches that were meant to only give a sense of companionship became impassioned and spoken words meant only for conversation became intense, they had almost kissed. Their foreheads would press together, eyes would close, arms would entwine, and sentences would be whispered just centimeters away from awaiting lips so their breathing would become as one. But always one of them would pull away. They both knew there was a line, and both were afraid to cross it. If they did, they would loose themselves to emotions far too extreme to be rationally comprehended, and would plunge headlong into a chaotic storm of the unknown.

Another thing Sephiroth deeply admired about Genesis was his strength of will. Never once did he ask Sephiroth to free him, nor did he complain about his imprisonment. He did talk about his home a lot, and said how much he missed his mother, but that was the extent of it. He knew Genesis thought about trying to fight his way past him and escaping – he could see it in the red general's eyes every time he opened the cell door – but he never attempted.

The month dragged by with no word from President Shin-Ra and no new developments in Mideel. It grated rather heavy on Sephiroth's nerves. On one particular day it was really eating at him. The silver general was a man of action, and though he had Genesis to occupy a good deal of his time, he wanted to be out; out on the battle field, out on an extended mission, out of the Shin-Ra building. On the day his nerves became frayed and cabin fever had taken its toll, he had become short with the crimson warrior, inadvertently laying the blame on him for the army's inactivity.

He didn't get around to visiting Genesis until later in the evening, and by then, Sephiroth was teetering on a breaking point. He was cooped up, as much of a prisoner to the tower as Genesis was to this room. He had believed that a long exercise session in the training room would take the edge of the feeling of inertia. It hadn't worked.

Pacing the floor, he was still too restless to sit either in the hard, steel chair, or on the bed beside Genesis. The redhead was reciting a poem, but Sephiroth only heard the first stanza before his mind was racing again.

"SAY that the men of the old black tower,

Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds,

Their money spent, their wine gone sour,

Lack nothing that a soldier needs,

That all are oath-bound men:

Those banners come not in."

Genesis' words, lovely as his pitch was, held no meaning except to fill the void of silence.

Sephiroth cut him off. "If your mother would just make up her goddamned mind, then we could get back to the business of war. And you could leave this room one way or another."

A very uncommon occurrence, Sephiroth had let his mouth move before his brain. He usually thought very carefully before he spoke, but in this instance, the frustration of feeling useless had gotten hold of the better of his mind, and his tongue just sort of rattled off. It wasn't until he noticed the crystalline tears glistening down Genesis cheeks did he realize the gravity of his words.

"I-I didn't mean it," he stammered before hastily exiting the room, head down so the length of his bangs could hide the shame etched into his features, shoulders slumping. He had basically just told the man he was falling in love with, (and yes, by now there was no other term to describe the emotion) that he hoped President Ashcroft would choose to defend her country rather than see her son released. He had said, in not so many words, the he wanted Shin-Ra to execute the red general. However he had no way of taking back what he said, or proving to Genesis that he hadn't meant it, so he continued to visit the redhead as if nothing happened.

Genesis too, must have realized Sephiroth had just been in a foul mood and truly was sorry, because he let it slide without ever bringing back up the subject.

There were small graces to this downtime. One being that Genesis wasn't tortured under interrogation, though the Turks still visited him frequently. The other was that Sephiroth was never questioned about spending so much time with the prisoner. He knew the reason. The President figured if anyone could get Genesis to divulge his secrets, it would be him. And to an extent, the President was right. Sephiroth had been able to pry some of the redhead's secrets from him, but he highly doubted President Shin-Ra cared that Genesis' favorite ice cream was butter pecan or that he could recite Loveless entirely by heart. They both had been careful not to discuss their own personal military strategies for one reason: 'plausible deniability'.

&%$ POW $%&

It was a Wednesday when Sephiroth took the handcuffed Genesis to the holographic training room on level 49. The redhead had been confined to his cell for five weeks now, and the silver general thought it best if Genesis was allowed out of that dull, gray room, least he go mad. The president had been reluctant at first, but after Sephiroth promised to take full responsibility for the red warrior's actions, Shin-Ra warily consented.

Auburn brows arched, eye-lids widened, and cherry-kissed lips formed a perfect circle of surprise when Sephiroth undid Genesis' handcuffs and tossed him his crimson blade and red-leather duster; a Shin-Ra issued 3rd class SOLDIER uniform was thrown in for good measure – Genesis needed something other than the loose shirt and drawstring pants to fight in.

Genesis caught his weapon, flipping it around once with a grace he had yet, if ever, to lose. Like Sephiroth's own Masamune, Rapier (as the silver general was to later learn the sword's name) might as well have been an extension of the redhead's arm; a part of his body that he was born with. Watching Genesis reacquaint himself with the weapon sent an electric tremor racing down Sephiroth's spine. It had been too long since he faced a worthy opponent, and getting to do battle with the red general once more was exciting.

Genesis sneered at the uniform and then arrogantly tossed it away. He did, however, adorn his coat. The smell of fresh leather tickled his nostrils, and he grinned. "You had it cleaned and repaired. Why?"

Sephiroth shrugged. "I've had a lot of time on my hands recently, and it was too nice a coat to leave in its soiled condition. I did the restoration myself." He added the last bit with a touch of pride. He wasn't looking for praise, but he was quite pleased with his handiwork.

The redhead's smile turned a little softer, and he gazed directly into Sephiroth's emerald, cat-slitted eyes. "Thank you. It looks and smells brand new. You did a fantastic job."

Merely nodding an acknowledgment, Sephiroth motioned to the uniform, "I will turn around to give you time to change." His dry, flat tone gave nothing away, but inside he was...happy. It was nice to have a skill, other than fighting, be recognized and even called fantastic.

" Though I appreciate you bringing me here, Sephiroth, I would rather die than dress myself in the uniform of the enemy." Genesis' complexion was regaining some of its natural hue even as he spoke, and Sephiroth was reminded of a man returning to health after a Drain spell had been cast. Maybe that's what the redhead's cell was to him; one small room with Drain cast over it.

"I can make that happen you know." Sephiroth summoned Masamune to hand, noticing the red general had a twinkle in his eyes, a twinkle he hadn't seen in over a year.

"You lost that chance the moment you put Rapier in my hand. You had five weeks to extract your revenge, but instead, you wanted to talk – not that I blame you, I am a lovely person to talk to." There was laughter in Genesis' voice, indicating he was only teasing.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes, swung Masamune to allow its subtle vibration to tingle up his arm, and pushed a single stray strand of his silver hair behind his shoulder. "Does your arrogance know no bounds?"

Genesis smirked, his aura shimmered with delight, "Does your pride?"

Those words signaled the beginning of battle. The red warrior charged Sephiroth. Banora Whites became a blur, a streak of white embroidered with lavender, as his bare feet hardly made contact with the dirt path they were on. He had been given the option to choose the setting, so he picked one that allowed him to see home once again. He leapt.

Sephiroth, bracing for impact, rose his sword horizontally and blocked Genesis' attack. The force of the colliding swords rang like thunder, carrying only the faintest metallic zing, and the violence behind the clash had caused the ground around Sephiroth to spliter and crack. The redhead was left suspended mid-air for a few seconds.

No sooner than Genesis flipped backwards out of the weapons-lock and landed, Sephiroth went into a flurry of cross-slashes, sword singing prettily as the air around them was cut. Genesis was quick to defend against every one – Masamune meeting Rapier, sparks flying in every direction – but Sephiroth had driven him back, his domineering strikes knocking the redhead a little off balance. And the SOLDIER didn't ease up. Each of his attacks contained the full force of his strength. Genesis was strained to hold his position each time their swords clapped.

"Genesis, I've been meaning to ask you, how did you get the scar on your back?" Sephiroth spoke so his voice could be heard over grinding metal. He slashed upward, Genesis jumped away. He followed through with a downward diagonal hack.

After Sephiroth's initial series of attacks, the red general's body discarded the rust that had settled in by a month of disuse, and was now able to match the silver general, blow for blow. He was no longer being forced away, but alternating turns with the silver-haired man on offense.

Their battle had become a dangerous, exotic dance to a song where steel pounding on steel was the beat, and harsh breathing was the lyrics. Neither man missed a step or moved out of time. Their actions fell in sync, choreographed to fit anticipation and expectation.

"You really want to know?" Genesis huffed, Rapier flowing upward with a underhanded swing was blocked by Sephiroth's downward arch. Metal screeched again.

"Would I have asked otherwise?" The SOLDIER snarled. The heat of a good fight always broke through his calm demeanor, though often times his enemy couldn't tell, today being an exception. He let himself be carried on the white-hot spikes of battle lust and he relished it.

The pose of clashing blades was willingly broken by Genesis as he moved a good distance from Sephiroth's range of attack. Taking a defensive stance, and halting his aggressive movements, he called out, "General, I do believe you are the only person who wants to hold lengthy discourse while in the middle of battle."

With the corners of his lips upturned, he replied, "Only if my enemy is someone I really like, or really hate."

"And which emotion do you feel for me? Love or hate?"

Love was not a topic that was touched on during their long discussions and though Sephiroth had come to terms with his feelings on a personal level, hearing it poised as a question, asked so openly, demanding an answer, catapulted him into new and frightening territory. He was speechless for a moment, knowing full well that Genesis would interpret his silence the wrong way, but unable to help that. Finally he gave the safest answer he could, without having to come right out and say it, "If you do not know by now, then you are blind."

That caused Genesis to blush, his face turned the color of his hair, and his gaze fell to the ground. "I know...me too."

It was the silver general's turn to smile softly. "I know." Sephiroth found it endearing that though the words were not said, the implication was there, and it was so much better that it was yelled across the battle field. It meant more to him this way; this was true romance, for people like him and Genesis anyway. At heart, they were both warriors, and what better place and better time to express their feelings than when in the mists of battle.

"Alright," Genesis returned his eyes to meet Sephiroth's, "I will show you why I have the scar." It was almost as if he needed time to decide whether or not to let Sephiroth know.

Not letting his guard down, preparing for an all-out assault, (what else could have caused the red mark down redhead's back) and remembering the last time Genesis attacked at a distance – the Flare had hurt and given the redhead enough time to rush in and stab him – Sephiroth was ready for almost anything. Anything except what Genesis did. Instead of an attack, the red general put his left hand to his forehead, then in a dramatic gesture, threw it out to his side. Sephiroth became stunned and enthralled by what he was seeing.

First came the tearing sound, it was the ripping of leather, and the shredding of skin. Sickening. Then a black formless shape protruded from Genesis' back, dripping in a black, visceral fluid that Sephiroth had come to recognize as fresh blood. Red would come after a few seconds, once the air had time to hit it. The pungent, coppery scent tweaked his nose even from where he stood, and he checked Genesis' face to see if he was alright. The redhead exhibited only mild discomfort, so Sephiroth continued to merely watch, fascinated.

The bloody mass took form. It unfurled to become a terrible, beautiful wing. Horrific to behold in its birth; mesmerizing, captivating, glorious and monstrous. It was splendid and magnificent. Divine and demonic. Every paradox Sephiroth could conceive came as unbridled thoughts in his mind. Witnessing that onyx-feathered appendage unfold was like watching madness come into existence, for it seemed too outrageous to conform to reality.

The wing, when fully stretched, as it was now, was double in length, Genesis' height, which only made since if it were to carry him. The plumage, now wet and covered in blood, was blacker than midnight, and looked soft to the touch, and Sephiroth did want to touch it.

"Well, you asked. So, what do you think?" The red warrior cocked his head, searching Sephiroth's reaction carefully.

Sephiroth, who had been holding his breath, exhaled and blinked, his pupils constricting to the point where they were almost non-existent, his face blank. 'What do I think?' He didn't know what to think. Only in unique situations such as this, did he lose the ability to reason. At last a thought did come, it had no reason to stand at the forefront of all his sudden other thoughts, it was guilty of racing ahead to be the first thing that popped into his mind, rearing its head from the depths of his aesthetic senses. 'It's beautiful in the way that he's beautiful. It suits him as if it belongs there. I don't think I can ever again picture him without it.' Other thoughts rushed it to take that one's place, but it lingered around.

"I guess you think I'm a freak now," Genesis almost whispered, taking Sephiroth's quiet for a judgment or condemnation. "A monster? Something (not someone) you should be trying harder to kill?"

The world came crashing back in when Genesis spoke, and Sephiroth shook his head. "No!" He snapped, not meaning to sound so brutal. "No," he stated more gently the second time around, "I find it intriguing. How long have you had it?" He lowered Masamune, but not his guard.

Genesis dropped his head back and he chuckled. The sound fluttered upward, disappearing into a star-dusted velvet sky. It drew an inquisitorial glare from the silver general. "You are unbelievable, Sephiroth. I thought you would think me an abomination, and here you find it interesting. And as far as I know, I was born with it, though it didn't develop until I was...eighteen, I believe."

"I see," the shock was dissolving from the SOLDIERs features, being replaced by his cold continence. Sephiroth always reverted back to the block of ice he was carved from when confusion had its claws in his brain. "Can you fly?" It should have been the first logical question.

Unable to bite back the sarcasm, the auburn warrior grit his teeth, "It's a wing, Sephiroth. I don't just have it for show."

He caught the patronization in Genesis' voice and was puzzled. "You wanted me to be upset?"

"Yes...no...I don't know. I guess I wanted some sort of reaction, good or bad; not your usual indifference."

Sephiroth rolled his eyes, and poised Masamune for the next attack. He was in the mood for this fight; it had been delayed longer than he cared to admit. He was not going to let Genesis' little surprise be a deterrent. "If you must know, Genesis, I am still shocked. But I have already deduced that you had the thing before being captured, and I do not see how it changes anything, other than you having the advantage of flight during our battle."

A host of emotions played on Genesis' face before settling on satisfaction. Sephiroth wished he could read the redhead's thoughts right then. Maybe he realized it would take more than sprouting a wing for Sephiroth to view him as a monster. Or maybe he was just happy that Sephiroth still accepted him.

The silver general held Masamune's hilt up beside his head with both hands, its long curve pointing to the ground. The red general dropped into a stance so that his sword was held at chest level, pointing straight ahead, also held with both hands. The two general's rushed. Genesis' wing flapping once, propelling him forward, his feet no longer touching the earth. The impact of the weapons connecting made a sound like lighting striking the ground, the flash was just as bright.

Stressing their muscles, they tried to push the other back, and in doing so, their blades glided off one another, and while Genesis continued his forward motion, wing folding inward to catch his balance, Sephiroth was forced to do the same by side-stepping.

The SOLDIER pivoted first, now standing behind the red general. His sword came down swiftly, singing as it sliced air, threatening to cleave Genesis in half vertically. To counteract this deadly move, Genesis lifted Rapier, over his head, ceasing the silver weapon mid-motion. Sephiroth moved into the attack, attempting to drive Genesis down.

Senses heightened with adrenaline and charged with Mako, Sephiroth became acutely aware of Genesis physical proximity. His sword slid forward against the other, and then he was pressed to Genesis' back. A sharp intake of breath was heard and he wasn't sure if he or the redhead was the source.

Now, right now was the time. If he wanted to extract the vengeance he had bottled up for over a year, this was the perfect opportunity. He had told Genesis on the first night of his capture that revenge would be dealt on his terms and all the conditions were meeting his terms. They were engaged in the heat of battle, both using their signature weapon, and the crimson warrior was back to full health. Now all Sephiroth needed to do was release the downward pressure he was applying, shove Genesis forward a few feet, and thrust once with his shinning blade. Hot blood would spill, spraying his face and coating his mouth. A lick of his lips would give him the taste of Genesis' life essence. The spiritual liquid which gave Genesis life would tingle on his tongue, the consumption imparting a piece of his soul to Sephiroth forever.

A flash of memory – him dying to be embraced by the wings (wing?) of a redheaded angle – played before his vision. Was it a memory or a fantasy brought about by suddenly conflict between want vs. want. He wanted justice, sure, but he also wanted...what? Genesis.

The inner struggle began. Life vs. death. Hot vs. cold. Genesis blood was hot, and Sephiroth could almost feel his lips becoming cold. It wasn't hard to make his decision. Memory won out in the end.

He quickly pulled his weapon out of the lock and with his right hand, his gloved fingers briefly making contact with that strange wing – it was as soft as it looked – Sephiroth pushed Genesis about five feet away from him. He drew his sword arm and thrust forward.

Leather was pierced, cloth cut and bare skin kissed. The tip of Masamune had stopped before entering Genesis' body, but not before letting the redhead know that he had lost. In the end, memory had won, recent memory. All the shared touches, the smiles, the conversations that held more weight in his heart than a distant day past that had faded to black and white. The warmth that was engraved in the core of his being had defeated the sensation that would be caused by hot blood trickling down his face. Life had been victorious over death, and Sephiroth deemed the thought of Genesis' lips ever turning cold as blasphemy.

"Disarm." Sephiroth demanded of his opponent.

"Goddess dammit," Genesis hissed, the curse rolled freely.

A smug satisfaction stole over his features when the redhead reluctantly complied and Rapier smacked the ground with a thud.

"Slowly turn around, General Rhapsodos." His voice, so monotone, didn't dare hint at the pleasure he was taking. Shin-Ra's general wanted to see the look of a wounded ego burning behind the red general's eyes.

He was appeased when Genesis finally turned around, Masamune now pointed at his chest. The arrogance had somewhat diminished, though his pride was left fully intact. Genesis held his head high, and his features still spoke of challenge. Sephiroth didn't think there was anything on Gaia which could damage the pride of either of them.

Genesis glanced down at the weapon poised at his heart, then back up. "Will you kill me now, General Sephiroth?"

"Why? Are you afraid of dying?"

Swallowing, the red warrior nodded his head. "I am. I always have been."

"Do you not believe that the goddess you have so much faith in, the goddess of Loveless, will take your soul to an eternal paradise, where you will be free from the suffering and tragedies of this world?" From the time Sephiroth was old enough to understand faith and religion, he had been intrigued how people's faith worked when the hour of the death was upon them. Of course he had no intentions of killing Genesis now, but he didn't let him know that. Not yet.

"Sephiroth, the blood on my hands is as thick as yours. A spiritual justice will be levied against me for the sins of daring to rid this world of the innocent. It will be their souls that cry out for vindication. And it will be granted."

Sheathing Masamune, Sephiroth moved until he was almost chest to chest with the redhead. He studied Genesis, the way his eyes became as hard as the gems he used to describe them, the set-straight line his mouth had become, and his posture had become painfully rigid. Genesis wore his conviction like a second layer of clothes, and Sephiroth couldn't help but be impressed. Not many held such a strict code of faith, and actually believed it.

Stretching out his arm, ignoring the way Genesis flinched, he guided his fingertips over the curved part of the man's wing. The down of the outer contour was fluffy and smooth, creating a tickling sensation against his bare digits, a sensation he could easily grow accustomed to.

Genesis had been eying him suspiciously as he approached and was cautious as he went to touch the wing. However, upon initial contact, his head unwittingly tipped back at a gentle angle, his eyes fluttered closed and a sigh of pleasure passed his lips. A wave of warm delight traveled through him, one he was powerless against. If asked, Genesis would say there was only one area more sensitive than his wing.

The reaction came as a pleasant surprise, one that Sephiroth now fully intended to exploit.

Sephiroth started to lovingly caress the onyx appendage, and Genesis fell forward into him. Sephiroth caught him, and wrapped his other arm around the red general's waist. Genesis began to whimper and the sound flooded Sephiroth's body with a burning radiance.

With the battle being over, him as the victor, he was free to indulge in an activity that was just as appealing, one both men had been abstaining from.

"Seph," Genesis moaned. It was the first time he'd even shortened the SOLDIER's name, and the intimacy of it caused Sephiroth's fingers to clench.

Clearing his head, adding another element to the actions neither of them had the willpower to stop, the silver general bent forward and captured Genesis' trembling lips with his own. This moment would be etched forever in his heart. So often before had he wanted his mouth against the redhead's, and it turned out to be everything he thought it would be, and more. The faint taste of apples was seemingly imbued in those lips. Expending the portion of himself that was still in control, Sephiroth made his tone frigid. "Tell me, General Rhapsodos, does not the soul of a human weapon, one who demanded destiny be forged by his own hand, weight as much as five souls who pitifully succumbed to fate? Do you feel you have sinned against the weak? Are you seeking absolution, Genesis?"

Their mouths were moving as one, each word spoken transcended itself and became the breath of life. Genesis entwined his arms around Sephiroth's neck, clinging to him, needy and giving in to his most primal of passions. "Are you, General Sephiroth," his entire frame was shaking against the silver warrior, and Sephiroth could feel where he had solidified against him, "powerful enough to grant absolution?"

One tongue became greedy, seeking and wanton. The other responded in kind. The kiss, demanding and all encompassing had Sephiroth's heart thundering in his chest, his pulse had quickened and blood rushed to his most sensitive area. His body's reaction to Genesis' was driving him across the line of insanity. Continuing his tender assault on the redhead's wing, his other hand left Genesis' waist to slip down the front of the drawstring pants. He griped the smooth, hardened flesh, and slowly built up a tentative rhythm.

Earlier battle-lust had transformed into something more carnal, the white hot lust of passion that threatened to melt away his layers of ice, and he willingly let it burn.

When the red general moaned into his mouth, he swallowed it down, moaned his own response, and thrust his hips against flesh that was already being stroked.

For a short while, Sephiroth withheld his tongue, "Genesis, is this the absolution you seek? Will giving yourself to me, and allowing me to possess you, give you redemption?"

"Sephiroth, are my sins not so great that it will require you to seize me completely, to grant me your absolution?" His hips kept time with Sephiroth's ministrations. He let his silver-haired lover dominate him wholly.

By the time they shed their encumbering clothes, and Sephiroth was entrenched deep inside Genesis' core, he was already close to spilling over the edge of climax. He held out, his want to enjoy his lover being his only objective. They were against a Banora white, and he holding Genesis up, keeping him pinned between himself and the tree. The sounds his lover was making alternated between screams of ecstasy and moans of wanton desire. They worked in unison, feeding and fueling each others fervor until both cried out their rapture, sharing and expending their essence.

"Genesis," Sephiroth said, breathlessly, before he removed himself from the redhead's body, "I grant you absolution."

"Seph," Genesis had his lips to Sephiroth's again, waiting for the rush to subside.

"Gen," Sephiroth whispered his lover's name into his mouth.

And for them, that was the only 'I love you' they needed.

&%$ POW $%&

"General Sephiroth, Sir." Private Strife's voice cut through the cool Banorian night like a scalpel. The image of Banora disappeared, leaving Sephiroth and Genesis laying on the training room floor, naked, entwined in each others arms. The private had one of the phones that would end the hologram.

Sephiroth was the first to stand, his cold glare froze the boy in place. He then helped Genesis to his feet, and they dressed. Occasionally, Shin-Ra's general would glace to his subordinate, daring him to move.

It was only after Sephiroth had both boots buckled and was sure Genesis was fully dressed that he walked over to Private Strife. "Speak," he commanded harshly.

"Sir," the blond boy started, his face pale as if he were ill, "word just came down." He swallowed. "President Ashcroft had declined President Shin-Ra's terms for surrender. The campaign resumes tomorrow."

From the corner of his eyes, he looked at Genesis. The red warrior's color was draining fast, and he wobbled; if it weren't for his superb balance, he would have fallen.

The silver general clasped his hands behind his back and he nodded. He kept his hands behind him to hide the fact they were suddenly trembling with rage.

"I see." He touched the hilt of his Masamune and tightened one of his shaking hands around it. "When did this happen?"

"About twenty minutes ago, Sir." Sephiroth had to give credit where credit was due, at least the kid wasn't stuttering this time.

"I see," he said again. "And how long have you been standing there, Private?"

Sephiroth watched Cloud flush, then the blond muttered, "About ten minutes, Sir."

"I see," Sephiroth repeated for a third time. His calm tone did nothing to attest to the fury pumping through his veins.

Turning to face Genesis, he could see the redhead had thrown on a mask of courage though tears were glistening in the corners of his bright, glowing-sapphire eyes. 'It was blasphemy to ever think of those lips going cold.' Not even an hour ago, that doctrine imbedded itself in his heart and mind.

"You do realize that following this announcement, there will be an order to execute you, correct General Rhapsodos."

Staving off the tears for now, Genesis answered in the most steady way he could, "I do, General Sephiroth."

The SOLDIER's fury was mainly aimed at Genesis' mother. Part of him couldn't conceive of how she could do this to her own son. The other part, the part of him that was a leader, understood fully. However, at the present, his conflicting emotions would have to wait.

Again Sephiroth nodded. He was very loyal to Shin-Ra, but Genesis was his other half, the half he hadn't known he'd been missing until a bond had formed. He moved to stand before the red general, took his face in his hands, and kissed him gently, tasting apples. He didn't care that Private Strife was in the room, it would be a while before he saw Genesis again.

"And knowing this, " his mouth worked against Genesis', "you killed a Shin-Ra trooper, stabbed General Sephiroth, took the stairwell at the end of the hall to the roof, because you knew there would be no camera's, and flew away." Sephiroth smirked and formed another full kiss against Genesis lips. He knew Cloud couldn't hear them, and if he could, he was probably too stunned by the fact that they were kissing, to pay attention.

"Why are you doing this?" Genesis returned the butterfly kisses.

"Because I...I...you know why." Sephiroth didn't want to let him go so soon.

"Yeah, I do...and you know I do too."

Their last kiss was longer and deeper, both wishing to hold each other as long as possible.

"General Sephiroth, Sir?" Cloud cleared his throat.

The silver and red generals finally broke apart. Sephiroth kept his eyes locked on Genesis. "General Rhapsodos, I will meet you again in Mideel City, when we've come to conquer it."

Auburn hair was flipped back with arrogance, his retort cocky, "You may try."

Cloud Strife didn't understand their banter at all, and his confusion was written all over his face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wisely stayed silent. Little did he know that him remaining quite had no affect on the decision or the outcome.

Taking a step toward the blond, Genesis pointed his sword at the boy's chest. But he didn't have time to act. Sephiroth became a blur. Masamune was out before the boy had time to look to his commanding officer for help. Sephiroth flicked his wrist, the legendary weapon sung. Cloud Strife's mouth was frozen in a soft O shape, his blue eyes wide with questions, yellow brows arched, seeking understanding. Then his head, completely detached from its body, fell to the ground. A jet of crimson fluid spayed upwards, splattering both general's with gore. The private's body then collapsed beside the severed head.

"Why did you do it?" Genesis was wiping at his blood splattered cheek.

"A number of reasons. First, there are no camera's in here, so no one will ever know you didn't do it. Second," He put an arm around Genesis waist and pulled him close. He slid his finger down a trace of blood along his chin, "You have enough blood on your hands. Oh, there will be more, but later. Third, he saw us together. I can't chance my superiors knowing that I am sleeping with the enemy. And lastly, I really didn't like him."

They embraced until the boy's leg stopped twitching.

"Seph," Genesis drew back Rapier.

Sephiroth released him, and took a step back.

Genesis thrust forward, plunging the scarlet blade into Sephiroth's side, making sure to miss all the vital organs. As Sephiroth fell forward, Genesis caught him before he hit the ground. He kissed his lover's lips in farewell, eased him to the floor, and ran out the training room doors.

The last thing Sephiroth's heard before surrendering to blackness, was the stairwell door slamming shut.

"I will see you again, Genesis. In Mideel City." Sephiroth whispered to no one, and let his eyes close.