Authors: AlexJ69 (Genesis) Whiskey (Sephiroth)

Disclaimer: Nope, not ours.

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

Warnings: Violence, abuse, hurt/comfort, angst, sadism, eventual make-up sex

Summary: Genesis pays for his betrayal of Shinra in blood.

A/N: This story was originally going to be just a one shot; however, we didn't want to drop a 10 thousand word fic on you guys, so we split it in half. There will be hardcore, graphic smut in the next installment of this story.

The cool, predawn breeze was gradually being defeated by morning heat, the precursor to yet another scorching day that would confiscate breath and cause discomfort for the citizens of Midgar. Already the general of the mightiest army on the globe could feel prickles of perspiration bead around his collar; they were ignored as he watched the battle in the sky above him. The sun, giver of all life on the planet, clashed and maneuvered against the inky, black clouds of pollution that hung overhead, choking the metropolis in a grimy darkness that refused to abate. Every morning, for as long as the silver haired warrior had been alive, the bright, orange ball of gas at the center of the galaxy lost its struggle.

Sephiroth had been a statue atop the roof of the Shinra tower since sometime before pitch black rolled into light gray, his only company the backdrop of glowing green Mako, jetting forth into the firmament, belched out of the mouths of reactors. Contemplation of the day's later events caused his stomach to tighten, a feeling the general had to gain the upper hand against, or else he could fail in the task before him. In many ways, he had been waiting weeks for this day, yet at the same time, dreading it to the core of his being.

Finally breaking his gaze from the scenery and sighing a wind of regret, the silver general exited the rooftop and started for his destination. The time was at hand. Time for vindication, time for the absolution of Genesis' crimes against Shinra, against humanity, but most importantly, against Sephiroth himself.

Genesis didn't grasp how big of an impact his desertion of Shinra had made on the entirety of SOLDIER. Though prideful, the redheaded general, second in command to Sephiroth himself, didn't know how adored – almost worshiped – he was by his subordinates and peers. He didn't comprehend how his leaving had affected the company or the population that idolized him. He didn't bother to take me into consideration, Sephiroth thought, footfalls heavier than he intended as he marched down the stairs of the mega-complex. What good is such pride when one can't see the effects it has on the world around?

The director of the program and illegitimate son of President Shinra, Lazard Deusericus, had been beside himself with anxiety over the future of the program. His own position in Shinra was now shaky, his job and livelihood possibly threatened. And he was just one of the people Genesis' transgressions influenced.

Angeal, Genesis' best friend and childhood companion, had thrown himself headlong into his work, much like Sephiroth had, accepting any and all missions he could get his hands on, especially the ones to Wutai. When he wasn't away from headquarters working (and looking for Genesis, Sephiroth knew only too well), he was spending his free time with his 'puppy', and though SOLDIER Second Class Zackary Fair was no Genesis, the boy seemed a suitable replacement, at least in Sephiroth's eyes. The training of the kid took Angeal's mind off his missing best friend, for a while anyway.

However, the person who felt Genesis' absence the most, the one becoming cold and distant, reverting back to a time before he had friends or a lover, was the general. For his entire life he had been alone, existing in his solitude, wearing his silence as protective armor, refusing to reveal his humanity to any of his peers. That is, until the day a redhead had forced his way into the silver warrior's life. Genesis would not stand for Sephiroth's silence, would not allow his hero to close him out or push him away. He took every opportunity he could to claw beneath Sephiroth's skin, making his presence known and felt, and finally, he wormed his way into the silver general's heart and bed.

Sephiroth's rage grew as he watched Angeal, Lazard and the others suffer. His own heartache over the loss of his lover had become unbearable, though it never once touched his face. Once more he was obfuscating himself in stoic quiet, trusting the only council he had left to keep: his own.

Walls around his emotions were being rebuilt, allowing the emptiness that he was raised with to seep back into the spot once occupied by Genesis. It had gotten to the point where he merely went through the motions of his day to day routine, speaking only when an order needed to be issued or someone engaged him in conversation first, but even then, he kept the conversation minimal, clipped and short.

As the days wore on, work and training became his first priority. He kept himself busy so he could no longer wonder why his beautiful redhead had abandoned him. He had only wanted to forget and move on.

However, today, out in the sizzling heat, under an unforgiving sun, all the pain and heartbreak was ending. All the worries about the future and questions as to why could be put to rest. Today was the day of Rhapsodos' punishment, the day he would bleed for his sins, the day Sephiroth would take revenge. Not just for Angeal and all other First, Second and Third classes who sought to be like Genesis, but for himself.

The steps he took between the Shinra building and the small patch of forest outside the city gave Sephiroth even more time than he already had to contemplate what was about to transpire. Suspended by wrists, rope biting into his soft pale skin, Genesis would be waiting. He would be dangling from a rough, possibly Mako-infused elm, in no way anxious to see Sephiroth and his whip, Sephiroth and his Masamune, his leather, his armor, and his anguish.

The meeting had been agreed upon by all parties; Shinra would have one of their Firsts back, the media's questions as to where the third of the trio had disappeared to would cease, Sephiroth would be given his lover, best friend and revenge, and Genesis would retain his rank, title and most importantly, his life. There was only one catch; Genesis would be punished for going AWOL. His discipline was to be a quiet affair, one which only a few people knew about, but it had to be harsh enough so that the redhead would never err again. When the suggestion of twenty-one lashes with a whip was brought to the table, there were no objections; not even the auburn angel voiced a negative opinion.

Moving into the tangle of green vegetation, Sephiroth could feel a pit where his emotions had melted into liquid rage, cooled over a period of months, and congealed back into the wound that became a void. All would be well come sundown; all would be forgiven. But until then, blood would spill and tears would fall.

"Is he ready?" Sephiroth asked the infantryman who had been standing guard of the area and was now walking at his side. The shorter, helmeted-man nodded, pointing with his rifle at a partially nude man who was barely visible from outside the forest. Thick trees and wide, brownish thorn bushes hid all but crimson locks. "Hm," Sephiroth snorted, and advanced on the prisoner, slashing underbrush and brambles with Masamune in order to hasten his progress.

"Genesis." The name was a hiss on Sephiroth's lips as he stopped right behind the shirtless SOLDIER, who was clad only in his leather pants and knee-high boots. The auburn angel's red-leather jacket had been stripped from him, and was hanging on branch, alongside the rest of his clothes, leaving the redhead's lightly bronzed skin to shine in the morning sun.

Heavy silence was rent asunder by the sounds of nature while elongated, wordless moments passed between the two legendary fighters. The silver warrior granted himself permission to swallow down a sight which had been absent for far too long. Jade eyes roamed over taut, well sculpted, muscular arms, straining against their bindings, only to move to the flesh of Genesis' freckled back, sweat-soaked from cruel yellow rays. Cinnamon and rust hued silken hair, now peppered with alabaster, lay plastered against the SOLDIER's head; Sephiroth longed to run his fingers through it, but for this task, kept his desire in check. Then moving with the grace and swiftness only one of his caliber could achieve, he stood in front of the captive.

Genesis, whose patience could rival that of a five-year-old screaming at his mother for candy, was already bored with waiting. He was tugging at his binds, not trying to escape, but to keep himself occupied. He wished Sephiroth would hurry up. But leave it to his lover to add to his misery by taking his sweet time arriving.

The redhead had accepted this form of punishment for desertion, it being the easiest and quickest way, save death, to be reprimanded while SOLDIER saved face. However, as the minutes slowly trickled by, his nerves caused the knots in his abdomen to painfully clench.

Genesis hadn't resisted the trio of Thirds when they had shown up earlier this morning to retrieve him. He had been given a choice by Sephiroth, by Shinra; either die of the degradation, or return to Shinra, take his licks, keep his rank and be healed. Genesis didn't hesitate when the offer was made. He didn't want to die; he loved being him too much to die.

Mako-enhanced hearing informed the auburn angel when Sephiroth had arrived; his stomach rolled. He sucked down a few deep breaths to remain calm. This was the part he dreaded, the part he prayed Sephiroth wouldn't go through with. He knew better, though. Sephiroth had been given an objective to fulfill, and that was exactly what his silver lover would do.

It took a will of iron to keep his features neutral and deny the elation that eased the tension inside him when he came face to face with his lover. True, he had seen his silver general on numerous occasions since deserting his position, but it had been different then. They had been enemies, though never once had Sephiroth raised a weapon to him. And he alone, knowing his lover as he did, could see the questions in those cat-slitted emerald eyes, could see the pain of being discarded, when no other could look past the frigid, stoic countenance. Now, they were allies again, and Genesis wanted this nasty business concluded so he could once again be held in his lover's strong arms.

"Sephiroth." Genesis greeted in return, tone washed with melody, yet the icy glare he received from his commanding officer caused him to recoil. The fury radiating from Sephiroth was close enough to the surface that he could see the red aura if he looked hard enough, could smell the electric anger shooting off in palpable waves. The crimson fighter's thought, as he was the first to break eye contact, I'm sorry I screwed up so badly.

There was no room in pride, Genesis' weakness and downfall, to make allotments for the begging of forgiveness, even if it meant staying the silver general's hand from carrying out the lashing. True forgiveness would be granted by Sephiroth only once it was earned.

Sephiroth noted how dull the sapphire eyes that pulled away from him were. It was another sign of the degradation, and added another layer on top of his already enraged heart. Blame was not placed on Genesis for this sickness, but as Sephiroth could not untangle his emotions, placing where each one belonged, the auburn angel would pay for that too.

"You have no right to say my name," Sephiroth suddenly snapped. "I am your General. Until this is concluded, I accept no emotional appeals, no names without titles. You will refer to me as General or Sir, you disgraceful monster." The rage was pouring out now, a steady flow of energy that pushed him forward, gave him the power to begin. The words were designed to hurt as badly as the whip.

An audible groan issued from Genesis when Sephiroth referred to him as a monster. Did he not understand that that was the reason he left in the first place? His first impulse was to scream at his lover, to thrash and kick; anything to make Sephiroth see that he was not a monster. "Oh, that's a good one, Seph. And here I thought you'd come up with something more original. Allow me to describe how monstrous I truly am. In Banora, I killed my father first, stabbed Rapier right through his breaking heart. I left my sword in his chest until finally the last bits of blood stopped spraying my face. My mother was on her knees the whole time, weeping, clinging to my shins, pleading with me to cease my madness. With her, I was much more gentle. I plunged Rapier into her as I had done my father, but her I held against me until she breathed her last breath." Even bound, Genesis could still pull off his flair for dramatics; his hands moved against the ropes, emphasizing his speech, head moving animatedly. "So, Sephiroth... call me a monster if you will, but be sure you are judging me by my deeds and not by the dead cells eating away at my body."

Sephiroth backhanded Genesis, not for what he'd done to his parents, but because Genesis had already broken one of his rules by using his given name. The shocking blow snapped the redhead's face to the side, as emotions he usually had a tight rein on, now spilled over. He left an angry, red blotch, and a few streaks of blood flowed down already ruby lips; then Sephiroth went around and stood by his right side. Flashing Masamune at his former lover, to show that at this moment they were still enemies, to let sink in the fact that the circle of trust had been broken, to send fear shivering through bronzed skin, Sephiroth turned his attention to the infantryman and growled. "Leave. I will call if you are to return."

The terrified man ran off, not bothering to look back. Sephiroth, now barren of feelings, raised the whip. The evil device was only three feet long, but made of braided leather. Without warning, he brought it down across the center of Genesis' back. A crack and a yelp were given in response. "Genesis… soon, you will be begging for forgiveness."

The yelp brought out by the whip was one more of surprise than pain. There was a part of Genesis, the more romantic side of his nature, that had honestly believed that Sephiroth wouldn't follow the orders to deliver the lashes.

"Beg?" Genesis' teeth were clinched together. "Oh, you are mistaken, General." The red angel winced, fingers clinging to the ropes binding him, as his superior lashed him again. He would not give the war god the pleasure of hearing him beg. "The days... of my... begging..." he panted through the pain, "are... over."

Sephiroth glared hotly at Genesis, but knew it would take much more than just two cracks of leather to break him. Raising the whip again, he let it crack down on each of Genesis' shoulders in turn, then his lower back, then the spot where he knew Genesis' huge black wing extended from. For a minute he wished the man's wing would come out, as he knew well that that was one of the most sensitive places on the redhead's body. He imagined himself tearing the feathers from the bloody white skin, ugly where it connected to the bone, ugly without the lovely black plumage. Ugly because they were monstrous. Experiments. Because somewhere inside him, he and Genesis were one and the same.

After a few more strikes to those lovely shoulder blades, Genesis' back was red, swollen and bleeding, and Sephiroth went to stand before him, to see his reaction. "You are buying your life from me with your blood, Genesis." When in the mood, Sephiroth could be just as dramatic as the auburn angel; it was a skill he'd learned from the man. "Tell me," the general murmured as he latched onto his lover's slumped head and wrenched it up so he could look down into the man's tear-reddened eyes, "How much more do you require, to feel the pain I feel… Genesis?"

Genesis' muscles were twitching under his skin, glistening with sweat; his entire back stung and burned where flesh had been split. His chin was resting on his chest now that Sephiroth had released his hair, his rusty cinnamon locks plastered to his forehead and cheeks.

Every time the whip had come down to leave another mark on his usually flawless skin, he would do no more than grunt. No, Sephiroth would not have the satisfaction of a scream, though he had almost gotten one when the silver general sliced the area of his wing. No, no scream, not when Genesis had been correct to leave Shinra.

He forced his frosty, blue gaze to look at his lover; his eyes were shot through with red, the skin around them puffy, and his bottom lip was bleeding from biting to struggle against a sound. He shivered and swallowed hard. There was a certain amount of fear etched in his features; Genesis would never lie about being somewhat fearful of Sephiroth. Yet, there was something else Sephiroth didn't understand. He didn't realize how intimate the very act he was performing was. It has often been said that there is a fine line between pleasure and pain, and right now, SOLDIER First Class Genesis was coming to realize just where that boundary lay. The act in and of itself, with the panting, the moaning, the giving and taking, the release of body fluids, was almost... sexual, and Genesis could not stop himself from being aroused, at least mentally.

"Oh, Healer of Worlds," the tied beauty whispered, "you haven't the faintest clue on Gaia as to the pain I've suffered." He straightened his back and held his head high. His pride was something not even the mighty Sephiroth could steal, and now that he'd given himself a few moments to give into his weakness, his agony, and his fears, he was about to stand tall again. "Yet you wish for me to take your pain and anger as well." Genesis had to inhale deeply to stop his body from shaking. "Very well, friend. I accept your torment." The infamous smirk came to curl Genesis' bloody red lips, glowing blue eyes issuing a challenge. "Hurt me, Sephiroth." He used the general's name, this time just to piss him off.

"Insolent traitor!" Sephiroth barked, and with a force no human could muster, cracked the whip down on Genesis' left shoulder. He had seen the tight-lipped expression the SOLDIER had given off when his wing joint had been rent open, and now Sephiroth would hear that very scream he wanted to hear, anguish that Genesis alone would suffer for rending his soul.

"Not enough? Hurt you?" Sephiroth's tone had transformed from white-hot fury, to cold, quiet, darkly fatal rage. Emerald eyes flashed and the general repositioned Masamune, pricking Genesis' skin with the tip and dragging the steel blade down the back of the angel's left shoulder. He ended the incision at the waistline of his lover's pants, leaving a bloody exclamation point in its place. "I will have you weeping when I am through, or you will rot, from the very inside out," Sephiroth spat. "Is that clear? Say, 'Yes, my General,' or you'll have another." He flashed the bloody tip of his sword at Genesis, a clear mockery of the man's own sword.

Genesis hadn't meant to push Sephiroth to this extreme. Damn his mouth and damn his pride, especially when staring down the enraged Demon of Wutai. He should have known the general would take it to the next level with him. He briefly wondered if he would still love the man after this.

Molten lava fried his nerve endings when the tip of that wicked, hard length of metal sliced open his flesh. Refraining from screaming was no longer an option; not when the sharp point of Masamune slid over the spot where his wing protruded from. His head fell back and a sound that could shatter glass tore from his throat. All sounds of wildlife halted when that noise reverberated though the small forest patch. The auburn angel arched his back, trying his best to escape the source of his torment.

By the time Sephiroth stepped back to admire his handiwork, Genesis' frame was trembling, and a soft whimper was spilling from his lips. His shoulders were slumped, and his chest was heaving. "Y-yes... my general," Genesis finally whispered when he had drawn down enough air to push out words.

There were only two thoughts dominating Genesis' mind at this point. One: he wanted to be released from his bonds, and taken out of these damned woods, and two: most importantly, he wanted Sephiroth to cradle his hurt body and kiss away all the pain. He wanted Sephiroth to tell him it was over now and that everything was going to be all right.

However, the ending was nowhere near, and he knew it as soon as a different kind of pain racked his body, the one he should have been expecting. It was at the moment he had given in to Sephiroth's demands, that his goddess damned wing decided to make itself present. It always came out in moments of intense physical stimulation. Fuck!

A dark grin broke out across Sephiroth's features. "That's right. I am your general, aren't I?" The silver warrior's own ego poked through his cold demeanor momentarily. He sheathed Masamune, satisfied with the display it had caused. He patted the handle affectionately. "But we are not finished yet, Genesis," he murmured silkily, circling around to touch the large, feathery wing. Even through his glove he could feel the soft smoothness of the ebony down. The world at large never knew their silver hero's propensity for cruelty; he would claim it wasn't cruelty but callousness – Genesis would disagree.

Displaying no mercy, he grabbed a fistful of feathers in his left hand and ripped them out, tossing them in the air, allowing them to flutter down in front of Genesis' face, bloody quills the most brutal of taunts. He repeated this three more times, until there seemed to be a pattern of abuse on Genesis' wing, in precisely the right places to prohibit flight until they grew back. They would put him off balance just enough that if he tried to escape when Sephiroth released him, he would crash to the ground. He then came around to face the redhead again, walking slowly, tossing back a waterfall of silver hair, tickling Genesis' bloody cheek with it. "Ready to beg yet, my beautiful traitor?"

Oh, Gaia! No, Seph... please no. You have no idea how much this fucking wing hurts. Genesis' mind shrieked thoughts into words, but a long, piercing vowel was the only noise his mouth accomplished.

Sephiroth did know how much pain his actions caused his lover, which was exactly why he did them. The auburn angel screamed repeatedly for Sephiroth every time the silver warrior yanked out his plumage. Tears mingling with sweat poured from the corner of Rhapsodos' eyes and his frame began to quake.

Sephiroth's torture on the feathered appendage finally ran its course, but by the time it was over, Genesis lacked the strength to keep his legs from caving under his weight, arms suspended by rope the only object keeping him upright.

A feeble motion of the head, and a pitiful, "P-please... G-g-general... stop," sucked away the last of Genesis' reserves.

Sephiroth accepted the plea and nodded, a quiet snort emitting from his nose. "Hm." With one quick stroke of Masamune, he slashed the ropes holding the auburn angel to the tree, and the SOLDIER collapsed to the earthen ground, curling up instinctively in agony.

Sephiroth felt all his rage drain from him, the red of his vision replaced by the true colors of the forest, as he saw Genesis weeping, pride shattered, wing drooping pathetically, a shadow of his earlier self.

Taking Genesis' clothes from the tree in one hand, he grabbed the redhead's elbow and, hefting him up, he swung Genesis' arm over his shoulders, and put his own arm around Genesis' hips, somehow managing to avoid the bloody gashes.

It was time to bring his lover home. Penance had been paid, sins forgiven with blood, and now it was time to come back to Shinra, back to Sephiroth, to be returned to life.