[It's quite gratifying to be able to pull a noise like that out of Angeal-- stoic and calm Angeal who never so much as nearly-whimpers at anything.
He lets Angeal slide the jacket off his shoulders, then obligingly peels it off the rest of the way until it lands behind him on the floor in a muted thump. Admittedly, it does feel much better now that it's gone-- especially when they're pressed close like this. The air hitting his flushed skin is enough to send prickles up his back, but he doesn't shiver. Of course not.]
We'll find you better clothes. [Less complicated. Again, ironic coming from him, but.] You can borrow mine in the meantime.
[Which-- is another one of those things Sephiroth never really let himself humor until now, but... now that he has, he's a bit enamored with it. They're close to the same size, with Angeal being slightly taller and more barrel-chested next to Sephiroth's more lean stature. But... he'll probably fit just fine into most of Sephiroth's casual shirts and pants. He'll revisit that thought later, when Angeal isn't looking beautifully dazed beneath him, his voice nearly cracking from the pleasure.
Angeal's hand is wandering now-- his trembling fingers taking in the curve of his chin first. When they meet his throat, Sephiroth indulges them-- tipping his head back to allow further access, then leans into them as they trail down his chest. He's never quite cared for being revered, but it's so much different when it's Angeal looking at him this way, taking the time to intimately admire his body. His lashes flutter when Angeal's strong hand eventually slides down to his groin, a pleasant and maddeningly tempting pressure that reflexively bucks his hips forward a little. The sensation coaxes a soft groan out of him, followed by another stuttered breath as he tries to measure his breathing. His fingers twitch, his slow strokes along Angeal's cock jarring to a stop for a moment-- but he's very, very careful not to squeeze Angeal too hard in the process.
But what about you?
...There's a deep-rooted part of him that can't help but think he needs to stay in control-- the product of all those years of grueling training and exercises that have been etched into the fiber of his being. Even in a situation like this, he finds it impossible to completely let go. But-- none of this is about control, is it? It's about trusting another person enough to be vulnerable, to express every need and want that's gone buried all this time.
And he trusts Angeal.]
I had something of a plan... [He's mostly been going with the flow, figuring things out as he goes... but he did have a little idea of his own. Undoing his pants had been part of that plan, but Angeal seems eager to do it himself, so... by all means.] Go ahead.
no subject
He lets Angeal slide the jacket off his shoulders, then obligingly peels it off the rest of the way until it lands behind him on the floor in a muted thump. Admittedly, it does feel much better now that it's gone-- especially when they're pressed close like this. The air hitting his flushed skin is enough to send prickles up his back, but he doesn't shiver. Of course not.]
We'll find you better clothes. [Less complicated. Again, ironic coming from him, but.] You can borrow mine in the meantime.
[Which-- is another one of those things Sephiroth never really let himself humor until now, but... now that he has, he's a bit enamored with it. They're close to the same size, with Angeal being slightly taller and more barrel-chested next to Sephiroth's more lean stature. But... he'll probably fit just fine into most of Sephiroth's casual shirts and pants. He'll revisit that thought later, when Angeal isn't looking beautifully dazed beneath him, his voice nearly cracking from the pleasure.
Angeal's hand is wandering now-- his trembling fingers taking in the curve of his chin first. When they meet his throat, Sephiroth indulges them-- tipping his head back to allow further access, then leans into them as they trail down his chest. He's never quite cared for being revered, but it's so much different when it's Angeal looking at him this way, taking the time to intimately admire his body. His lashes flutter when Angeal's strong hand eventually slides down to his groin, a pleasant and maddeningly tempting pressure that reflexively bucks his hips forward a little. The sensation coaxes a soft groan out of him, followed by another stuttered breath as he tries to measure his breathing. His fingers twitch, his slow strokes along Angeal's cock jarring to a stop for a moment-- but he's very, very careful not to squeeze Angeal too hard in the process.
But what about you?
...There's a deep-rooted part of him that can't help but think he needs to stay in control-- the product of all those years of grueling training and exercises that have been etched into the fiber of his being. Even in a situation like this, he finds it impossible to completely let go. But-- none of this is about control, is it? It's about trusting another person enough to be vulnerable, to express every need and want that's gone buried all this time.
And he trusts Angeal.]
I had something of a plan... [He's mostly been going with the flow, figuring things out as he goes... but he did have a little idea of his own. Undoing his pants had been part of that plan, but Angeal seems eager to do it himself, so... by all means.] Go ahead.