[ ... talking about interesting noises Angeal is making, he makes one that is just this side of a whimper when Sephiroth's hand stills his motions, eyes opening wide and mind blanking out for a moment. He really hasn't thought so far as to Sephiroth specific attention there, fingers gentle and yet more used to holding a sword than, well, this. Just a little harder than he has done himself, and so, so good. A single question floats up in his mind. Is this how Sephiroth has touched himself?
... If Sephiroth's hand is still there, he can feel Angeal's erection practically jumping as a result of that thought, getting even harder.
It does help him focus somewhat, at least. ]
Of course.
[ Whatever Sephiroth wishes. And, as he starts with his own gloves, Angeal forces himself to concentrate enough to start working on the buckles of Sephiroth's coat, too. That can't be comfortable, in the way they are. So when the question comes, his first reaction is a rumbling snort, because that question coming from Sephiroth himself is, well. Rich.
But then it turns into a thoughtful hum, as he finally manages to push dark leather back from broad shoulders, letting Sephiroth get rid of it the rest of the way when he wishes. ]
Now that you mention it, I suppose I don't have to. Not anymore.
[ He is not SOLDIER, anymore, and he never will be, again. He doesn't have to - he shouldn't - be wearing the standard issue clothing--
And then his thoughts get again blanked out when Sephiroth just goes for the prize his cock and that alone, and this is one more time today that Sephiroth, one or another, has managed to totally short out his mind.
After a long moment, he laboriously swallows, makes his eyes focus on the beautiful, smug face above him, also far, far more relaxed than he has ever seen it, and so breathtaking like that, and his lips twitch slightly. ]
For me, much. [ His voice almost breaks at the end, this is so much sensation and emotion all at once, but he presses on, reaching one hand (it shakes slightly, he notices) to run the pad of a finger from the exquisite tip of Sephiroth's chin, down the pale column of his throat, and then down his chest, and further. Until he can cup Sephiroth, in turn, letting the heel of his palm slide, pressing ever so slightly, along the length. ] But what about you? Is this how you want to... go on?
[ It's very, very challenging to even think like this. But he both doesn't want Sephiroth to lack attention... and wants to touch, himself.
Still... it is Sephiroth's choice.
(This time. He has many, many ideas about other times.) ]
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... If Sephiroth's hand is still there, he can feel Angeal's erection practically jumping as a result of that thought, getting even harder.
It does help him focus somewhat, at least. ]
Of course.
[ Whatever Sephiroth wishes. And, as he starts with his own gloves, Angeal forces himself to concentrate enough to start working on the buckles of Sephiroth's coat, too. That can't be comfortable, in the way they are. So when the question comes, his first reaction is a rumbling snort, because that question coming from Sephiroth himself is, well. Rich.
But then it turns into a thoughtful hum, as he finally manages to push dark leather back from broad shoulders, letting Sephiroth get rid of it the rest of the way when he wishes. ]
Now that you mention it, I suppose I don't have to. Not anymore.
[ He is not SOLDIER, anymore, and he never will be, again. He doesn't have to - he shouldn't - be wearing the standard issue clothing--
And then his thoughts get again blanked out when Sephiroth just goes for
the prizehis cock and that alone, and this is one more time today that Sephiroth, one or another, has managed to totally short out his mind.After a long moment, he laboriously swallows, makes his eyes focus on the beautiful, smug face above him, also far, far more relaxed than he has ever seen it, and so breathtaking like that, and his lips twitch slightly. ]
For me, much. [ His voice almost breaks at the end, this is so much sensation and emotion all at once, but he presses on, reaching one hand (it shakes slightly, he notices) to run the pad of a finger from the exquisite tip of Sephiroth's chin, down the pale column of his throat, and then down his chest, and further. Until he can cup Sephiroth, in turn, letting the heel of his palm slide, pressing ever so slightly, along the length. ] But what about you? Is this how you want to... go on?
[ It's very, very challenging to even think like this. But he both doesn't want Sephiroth to lack attention... and wants to touch, himself.
Still... it is Sephiroth's choice.
(This time. He has many, many ideas about other times.) ]