[Sephiroth is keenly aware of the way Angeal's looking at him, and he's a little surprised that he doesn't melt right there under the weight of those intense eyes, drinking in the sight of him.
He even starts to indulge it a little, letting his head tilt back as Angeal diligently works his hand up his leg. Angeal takes such great care not to rush-- to press his fingers into every inch of muscle and let the warmth of his palm press in. Sephiroth even lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment--
And then suddenly, Angeal's pushing up between his legs, sliding his hips in closer and--
It's like a reflex, the way Sephiroth's back snaps into a straight line and he meets the slide of Angeal's hips with a jolt of his own. His breathing quickens, and his lips part, but... no sound comes quite yet outside of an initial breath that shudders wildly from his throat. It certainly catches him off guard to suddenly feel like control over his own body has been soundly snatched from him-- to feel like some starved beast seeking satiation through friction and the press of Angeal's fingertips against his thigh.
And Angeal must certainly feel it-- the way Sephiroth's leg muscles pull taut with tension and delight both.
One of Sephiroth's hands had been resting peacefully against Angeal's chest before all of this, but it's now wound up tight in his shirt. Once he finds the wherewithal to be aware of it, he slowly pries his fingers free. For what purpose, he can't decide at first. He hasn't felt this disoriented in a long time, and never under such pleasant circumstances. Eventually his fingers find Angeal's pauldrons, and... he decides they're in the way. He unhooks the straps so that he can peel them off and toss them somewhere - anywhere - else, and he's satisfied with how much easier he can sink against Angeal - and Angeal against the couch - with them gone.
Eventually, his head dips down until his forehead is just resting against Angeal's. He lets the other man's hand explore its way up to his hip before he sinks his fingertips in, pressing Angeal's palm down firmly against the curve of it and holding it there. Sephiroth wants him to feel it twofold when he rolls his hips forward, seeking friction until he feels a sharp tug deep in his belly.
It's then that Sephiroth finally makes a sound, his mouth breathlessly forming around Angeal's name.]
no subject
He even starts to indulge it a little, letting his head tilt back as Angeal diligently works his hand up his leg. Angeal takes such great care not to rush-- to press his fingers into every inch of muscle and let the warmth of his palm press in. Sephiroth even lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment--
And then suddenly, Angeal's pushing up between his legs, sliding his hips in closer and--
It's like a reflex, the way Sephiroth's back snaps into a straight line and he meets the slide of Angeal's hips with a jolt of his own. His breathing quickens, and his lips part, but... no sound comes quite yet outside of an initial breath that shudders wildly from his throat. It certainly catches him off guard to suddenly feel like control over his own body has been soundly snatched from him-- to feel like some starved beast seeking satiation through friction and the press of Angeal's fingertips against his thigh.
And Angeal must certainly feel it-- the way Sephiroth's leg muscles pull taut with tension and delight both.
One of Sephiroth's hands had been resting peacefully against Angeal's chest before all of this, but it's now wound up tight in his shirt. Once he finds the wherewithal to be aware of it, he slowly pries his fingers free. For what purpose, he can't decide at first. He hasn't felt this disoriented in a long time, and never under such pleasant circumstances. Eventually his fingers find Angeal's pauldrons, and... he decides they're in the way. He unhooks the straps so that he can peel them off and toss them somewhere - anywhere - else, and he's satisfied with how much easier he can sink against Angeal - and Angeal against the couch - with them gone.
Eventually, his head dips down until his forehead is just resting against Angeal's. He lets the other man's hand explore its way up to his hip before he sinks his fingertips in, pressing Angeal's palm down firmly against the curve of it and holding it there. Sephiroth wants him to feel it twofold when he rolls his hips forward, seeking friction until he feels a sharp tug deep in his belly.
It's then that Sephiroth finally makes a sound, his mouth breathlessly forming around Angeal's name.]