He wasn't sure when the obsession had begun.
No, that was a lie. He knew precisely when the obsession had started - the first assembly of the new batch of cadets, when he'd first seen the child hidden amongst the ranks. It was the hair and the eyes that had first caught his attention, of course - those ridiculous blond spikes, and those big blue eyes, eyes that seemed to glow without mako being involved. Then he'd noticed the other things - the slender form, the graceful musculature, the cheekbones, those beautiful lips. The boy was an avatar of masculine purity and beauty. What was such a creature doing here in Shinra, standing in the ranks of army cadets?
Curious, he'd dug out the information from the files. Cloud Strife, home town Nibelheim on the Western continent, age fifteen - just old enough to begin training toward the SOLDIER program. According to all the records, the boy had never left his home town before now, never travelled, never been exposed to the debauchery and degradation of life in the city. Never known the horrors of the labs, the horrors of war. Pure and innocent and beautiful.
The first time had been pure madness. He didn't know what had come over him. He'd sent a message to the boy's commanding officer, requesting the cadet's presence. He wasn't sure what he'd actually been planning - all he knew was when he was faced with the physical presence of the angel of his obsession before him, all the plans went screaming out the fifty-fourth floor window. Because the boy had looked shyly up at him with those beautiful, trusting blue eyes, spoken with a voice which still bore the inflections of his mountain home town, and all at once, Sephiroth had realised he could no more despoil such purity than he could fly. He could barely bring himself to touch the child.
Thanks be to all the gods for the drawing lessons someone had given him (a way to figure out the full scope of his enhanced cognitive abilities). They at least offered an excuse for being close to such beauty on a regular basis. Before he'd known what he was doing, he heard himself asking Strife to act as a model for a series of life drawings, explaining what such a thing would involve. Strife had agreed.
Now, for one hour each Wednesday afternoon, he was able to view the beauty and purity that was Cloud Strife up close and personal. The cadet would arrive, strip himself bare, and arrange himself in whichever position Sephiroth wanted to see for an hour each week. Their arrangement involved minimal touching on Sephiroth's part - enough to arrange the pose, nothing more. And at first, that had been enough. Just to see the boy, just to view that beautiful skin, the coltish body, the beautiful lines and planes, the way his eyes caught the light, the play of light and shadow on that wonderful face. The way the boy blushed as he stripped, all utilitarian movement, but still with that glorious modesty and innocence.
After the first session, Sephiroth had locked his office door and masturbated to climax, looking not at the image he'd drawn (a barely acceptable facsimile, in his opinion) but rather at the image of the cadet writ large in his mind. By the third session, he'd worked out that so long as the boy couldn't see him (if, for example, Strife was required to keep his eyes closed, or wear a blindfold, or to face away from Sephiroth) it was possible to masturbate with the boy actually there in the room. To dream of touching that beautiful body, the soft skin, to feel the changing musculature beneath his hands (not that he'd ever actually despoil such purity), to stroke Strife's face, his neck...
Even thinking such things was an assault on the purity of his angel, his shining star. But lately, he'd been wanting even more. Wanting to touch, wanting to hold, wanting to see those eyes watching at him as he sucked that beautiful cock, wanting to see the boy writhe beneath him in the throes of passion. Wanting to sully that innocence, despoil that purity, and yet afraid to make the attempt. Scared of seeing fear in those beautiful eyes; scared of hearing that soft voice offer a refusal.
Shinra's strongest and greatest General was afraid to speak up to a sixteen-year-old cadet.
Somewhere the gods were laughing. And still the obsession grew.