It takes a little longer than it really should to get those pauldrons off, partially because Cloud's eyes are closed and partially because Sephiroth keeps finding ways to make that kiss more distracting somehow. Still, he's accustomed to armor and knows what he's doing, so the task is still done in fairly short order.

He lifts his arms when Sephiroth tells him to, heedless of what's happening with his hair until those long, elegant fingers call his attention to it - and then he looks Sephiroth in the eye and says, completely deadpan, "Wow, never heard that one before. So original." Somewhere, hidden deep under the influence of the rain and pollen and the demands of his body that Sephiroth has steadily awakened, there's a part of Cloud that's wincing at his own sarcasm, expecting retaliation for sassing the cold and haughty figure from his broken memories. But it's well-buried, and it doesn't stop him from pulling off his gloves and running his palms over Sephiroth's broad chest, now that the straps are out of the way.

He isn't thinking, in the moment, about the thin but deep and slightly jagged scar just below his sternum; the one that has a twin in the same place on his back, where Masamune impaled him clean through and lifted him off the floor.