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Whistlestop

When madness enveloped them both, it left them together, alone, standing in a never-ending field of flowers.

"What now?" Cloud asked, wondering not what to do next but if there was anything that could be done. Everything was over. The world was over. Now there were only flowers reaching from the scrap metal that had been their final battlefield to the horizon and likely onward.

Sephiroth frowned, dragging his blade along the tops of some nearby blooms, effortlessly slicing them away to leave only stems and leaves beneath.

And then he shrugged, which was the single most 'human' thing Cloud had seen him do in the last few months of absolute insanity that had culminated in the glorious slaughter of the last remnants of the army who stood again them.

Sephiroth shrugged. Cloud started laughing the cold, clear laughter that's left when everything else has ended.

A breeze blew from somewhere, making the flowers bob and sway and ripple as one in the never-ending field. If Cloud had been looking, it might have made him motion sick just for the teensiest of moments, but he had his eyes closed.

Raising his sword, Sephiroth swung, missing (or perhaps simply avoiding) Cloud by mere millimeters to lop off a single red bloom which stayed on the tip of his weapon and was subsequently lifted up to be caught in one gloved hand. Sephiroth sheathed his sword and crushed the red blossom, letting petals drift downward on the strange bobbing breeze.

Cloud stopped laughing. He wanted Sephiroth to say something. Was this the Promised Land? Was it just a fucking field of fucking flowers and were they supposed to spend eternity tiptoeing through the tulips and dashing through daisies and perusing the pansies?

He flopped backwards, feeling the flowers bend and snap beneath him. That was when Sephiroth finally said something. But it was not what Cloud was expecting (not that Cloud had any idea what he'd been expecting). Before Cloud had quite comprehended Sephiroth's words, Sephiroth was on him, unbuttoning the stubborn buttons of his uniform jacket so roughly that one popped off and went flying. Cloud simply thought of those cut blossoms and finally he realized what Sephiroth had said.

"Yes," he murmured, looking up at the undersides of flowers and the odd-colored sky that made him think that eventually it would rain. He felt leather against his skin and arched so that his pants could be pulled down. "Yes..."

Cloud wanted to laugh, but it wasn't the time for that - not as he felt Sephiroth's hand on his cock roughly stroking it to arousal.

This was what they'd do next, in their never ending field of flowers.

They would do this.