[ Hearing, almost feeling that hum makes Angeal's heart quiver, and then. Then, the kiss makes it melt, utterly and completely, and his hold on Sephiroth turns so, so tender, and the palm on his cheek cupping it sweetly. His face heats up a little, eyes so very bright on Sephiroth.
He follows the direction of the grip on his hair, and comes in for a kiss of his own, just as sweet if a little more lingering, then shifts to lean their foreheads together. ]
I am, in fact, very satisfied. Happy, even.
[ Soft breath out, and he leans back a little, not letting go - in fact, his arm giving a little tug. ]
If we're not moving, then at least consider that my legs are probably going to be more comfortable to sit on than crouching.
[ ... as ever, gentle concern and trying to make things better.
Emotional upheaval does not, in fact, make some things change at all. ]
[To be so tenderly beheld this way-- it's such a foreign and intoxicating feeling. Every little touch Angeal offers is laden with affection and sweetness, speaking loudly for his heart. It feels silly to have not known how Angeal felt all this time when he holds him like this, looking at him like he's seen the stars for the first time.
He savors that lingering kiss, the way their foreheads gently bump together afterwards and their breaths mingle. Happy, even, Angeal asserts, and-- knowing that he was able to provide that joy soothes some deeply buried ache in Sephiroth's chest.]
Oh? I had intended to move, but... [After his plan to kiss Angeal, of course. His eyes wander a bit, drinking in the way the other man has leaned back to make space for him. And with that encouraging little tug at his waist? He's a lot less inclined to get up now.
He's generally tried not to let his mind wander overmuch to self-indulgent thoughts about what Angeal feels like to touch, to kiss, to... straddle. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't find himself hooked into them from time to time, especially after a sparring session or a quiet moment of camaraderie together.
And not having to wonder a moment longer? Far be it from him to refuse.
Sephiroth's lips curve into a smile that's far more playful this time. He adjusts, parting his legs as he comes forward to sink snugly into Angeal's lap. His pulse quickens a little at the intimacy of it, a warm little flush oh-so-faintly coloring Sephiroth's immaculate face.]
More comfortable, indeed. How thoughtful of you.
[He pauses, giving Angeal's collar another little tug.]
And you'll tell me if you're uncomfortable, correct? [A soft chuckle. He knows Angeal would probably just as soon let his legs fall off before he inconvenienced him, but--] I'm not particularly keen on dragging you around if your legs fall asleep.
[ Angeal blinks at Sephiroth's response, then can't help a small chuckle of his own, low and deep and honest. The last ... day has been such a roller coaster, from the lowest he's ever been, through feeling even worse, to the highest, happier than he could have believed himself ever to get.
He knows he has deprived the both of them of this, and he regrets it--
A thought that completely leaves his mind as Sephiroth straddles him, and he can hold on to him properly like this, feel his heart beating, uh. Trying not to think ... for the moment, about the exposed skin on his chest pressing against Angeal's clothes, ahem. Oh... actually, that faint blush kind of takes his breath away, too.
He forces air in his lungs (and it smells of Sephiroth, this close), and manages another smile. ]
I'm glad. [ A beat, and the smile turns a little lopsided, half wry and half... shy, somehow. And a whole lot aware how ridiculous it sounds, and maybe it's a joke? ] You wouldn't have to, you know. I can fly us if they do.
[Leave it to Angeal to blame himself for their relationship not blossoming into romance sooner when Sephiroth was equally stubborn about not saying anything. (Not everything has to be your fault, sir.)
Sephiroth finally relinquishes his grip on Angeal's collar, letting his arm slide comfortably back around the other man's shoulders. His other hand remains in Angeal's hair, however... The motions of his fingers have eased into something more relaxed, less yearning now-- idly combing sections of those soft raven strands between them.
--Did Angeal struggle to catch his breath just now? There's something to be said about the way having this effect over him feels, Sephiroth thinks. Having the ever stoic and stern Angeal be this over the moon for him makes him feel powerful in a way no elegant lash of Masamune could ever grant him. So... of course, when Angeal manages that sweetly lopsided smile for him, Sephiroth can't help but smile back. Fond. Warm. A little teasing, even.]
You didn't answer my question. [Which he assumes means: no, Angeal will not tell him if he gets uncomfortable. Still, the remark about flying earns a candid laugh.] I suppose, if you think you can carry me.
[Is that a challenge? It's hard to tell. They're pretty close in size, and Angeal's quite strong, but... Sephiroth's never had anyone even remotely try to pick him up before. For good reason, of course. Why risk losing a hand to such a silly endeavor?]
[ Yes, and no. While, perhaps, not knowing the full extent of things, Angeal is at least somewhat aware that Sephiroth has not had what one would call a conventional childhood. He hasn't been caught up in a tree when a pair of teenagers were making out and whispering sweet things in the shade beneath starlight, torn between wanting to interrupt and tease them, and trying to not move, curious, fascinated, and embarrassed all at the same time. He hasn't watched his parents share moments of tenderness. He hasn't experienced half the town being in an uproar because of a lovers' quarrel.
There are things in which it is understandable if Sephiroth does not take the first step, and Angeal can and will take responsibility for being an idiot and afraid, and not looking close enough to know that there is a first step to be taken, rather than each of them languishing (heh... possibly not exactly languishing) alone.
Either way, he is melting into the gentle touches, his eyes (tired and still a little wild and) adoring up at Sephiroth. His expression turns sheepish - because Sephiroth isn't wrong, he probably would leave his legs to fall asleep - but there is a bit of a smile to it also. ]
It'd be a shame to break us if we're feeling comfortable. [ ... no, right now, disentangling from Sephiroth does not feel appealing at all. ] I've wanted to be this close to you for a very long time. But ... let's see.
The couch?
[ He isn't letting go or trying to get up.
The last two years, he has learned many things about his own flight, after all.
His normal strength is one thing. His wing, yet another. ]
[Sephiroth regards Angeal curiously as he proposes moving to the couch and asserts his disinclination to untangle themselves in the same breath.]
...The couch would be acceptable.
[Is Angeal actually going to fly them over? Sephiroth looks at him incredulously, an amused quirk curving his mouth, but he's willing to let him give it a shot. It's-- charming that Angeal is so unwilling to let him go for even a moment so that they might move elsewhere.]
It would be greatly appreciated if you could refrain from knocking things off my desk.
[It's said in a lighthearted tone, not meant to chide Angeal in any sincere manner. But... a little extra caution couldn't hurt. Not only is Angeal's wing considerably large, but it's probably powerful enough to create a gust that would easily obliterate the paperwork Sephiroth currently has stacked into neat, organized piles. No amount of adoration he has for this man would save him from the depths of Sephiroth's frustration if he's forced to sort through that mess.]
[ ... look. For the last two years or so, he has had the chance to even see Sephiroth all of once. And then he got to see what he suspects Sephiroth, here and now, will never want to become. And now he can hold him and be held, and, yes, he'll cling a little.
At the instruction, his eyebrows fly up, but he can't help his lips twitching, anyway. Sephiroth might be unaware the amount of indulgence (inasmuch as it is indulgence, as paperwork is important) Angeal is willing to grant him-- actually, Angeal might have been unaware until now, too. They have yet to discover where Angeal will be drawing a line, but he suspects it might ... take a lot of effort to discover the limits. He still glances at the desk, to see the situation there, and hums. This will certainly be a challenge....
... and he finds himself very curious if he can, ah, rise up to it. He obviously can't use the full length of the wing, for this, so it'll be a matter of working harder with a smaller wingspan, but he glances around to gauge the angles in which the gust will reflect the least. ]
As you wish.
[ Arms tighten a little around Sephiroth, pressing them flush against each other, and the wing moves, beating softly until they are airborne, if only jsut hovering, to avoid both the harder gust and the less control he'd have over it if he goes higher, but he can manage that.
And off they go towards the couch, only a single, solitary sheet of paper floating to the ground among the white feathers.
[It's very much involuntary, the little sound that ends up jarring itself out of Sephiroth's throat when Angeal pulls him even tighter, keenly aware of how closely their hips are pushed together and the way his legs end up having to wrap around the other man when they lift off the ground. Oh dear... what a compromising position he's just found himself in.
His face - his whole body, really - heats up, but he manages to keep his well-practiced composure and not let his mind wander... too much. It skips for the briefest moment to how Angeal might feel settled in between his legs like this in... ahem, other and certainly more provocative situations-- only for him to immediately and almost frantically rip that train of train away to something far less inappropriate, dear god. Whoops.
Please don't comment on how turned on he is. Please.
In fact, he's going to pretend - with great determination - like nothing happened, and focus instead on... that scrap of paper that just wafted to the ground. It's almost convincing, too-- how unbothered he tries to pretend he is. If Angeal didn't know him well enough to be able to pick that sort of thing apart, that is. But he's banking on Angeal being merciful, as he often is.]
Impressive. I'll take that as a victory. Have you been practicing?
[Internal panic and a desperate attempt to distract them aside, he does mean it. He's quite taken with that wing of Angeal's, honestly.]
[ Oh... Oh, Goddess but that reaction is adorable, and Angeal would enjoy it more - and show his appreciation - if he weren't actually focusing on not making a mess of Sephiroth's things. It still makes his eyes soft and his hold - well. Not changed.
But the words make the smile slip away, most of the way, and he remains quiet until he settles them down on the couch, loosening his hold but far from letting go, unless Sephiroth tries to climb down off his lap. ]
Not controlled in a small space like this, no. But I've done a lot of flying, over the last two years, including fighting while flying. [ Thanks, old friend. ] I've learned things out of necessity.
[Sephiroth considers removing himself briefly, if only out of feeling a bit mortified, but... Angeal is still holding him and has kindly followed his lead, so... he's assuming he wants him to stay. Not that Sephiroth doesn't, mind you, but. He does end up adjusting, removing his tangled fingers from Angeal's hair and scooting back a little, so that he feels slightly less awkward and obvious about, uh... being hard on Angeal's lap. Ahem.
And anyway, he's a little more concerned with the change in Angeal's demeanor. He thinks back over what he said in conjunction with Angeal's reply, and then onto what caused this entire meeting in the first place, and...]
Ah-- forgive me... It must be a difficult subject for you.
[His mind drifts a bit-- to what Angeal must have been doing all this time. How lonely and confused he must have felt. Admittedly, Sephiroth felt that way too after Angeal and Genesis left, but... it's not quite the same. Angeal's been dealing with something unfathomably difficult, and that's only more starkly apparent now that he knows how close he was to losing him for good. Sephiroth's brows furrow a bit, and he ends up resting his free hand against Angeal's bicep, giving a soft squeeze.]
I won't force you to speak of the things you've endured more than you're willing, but... please know that you don't have to carry the weight of the world alone. It's not a burden to walk this path with you.
[ Angeal blinks. Grateful, both for the touch and the words.
Then one hand shifts up again, to gently brush hair away from Sephiroth's face, and caress his cheek again. ]
There will be things to come to terms to, but that is not - I mostly... Don't want to make light of leaving you, for all that time. I am so, so sorry, Sephiroth.
And thank you, for this. It'll take time before my words will mean anything, but...
You don't have to carry it all, either. Walking this path, today and into tomorrow, with you, is how I - never dared to dream, before. But I do want.
[Sephiroth hums, finding himself leaning into the plane of Angeal's open palm. His eyes drift shut for a moment, simply savoring this blessing. He seldom allowed himself to even humor something like this until now-- that he could be beheld and loved in such a way.
He's trying not to dwell too much on the almosts and what-ifs, but he still feels a profound ache in his chest that things got so nearly irreparably bad.]
You're here now. [A breath; finally, he opens his eyes.] But... you were the one in danger of being lost to me - to all of us - forever, and I... would have been lost without you.
[If only he really knew how true that was.]
I only wish that I had seen it sooner. I wish... that I had seen many things sooner.
[But he manages a smile, bittersweet though it is. His hand falls away from Angeal's arm, wandering instead - curiously - to the center of his chest. He lays his palm flat against the other man's sternum, letting his fingers slowly spread out. It's strange: he's never done this before, has never dared to do this before, and yet... Somehow it feels so familiar, like he's done it a thousand times.
He maps out Angeal's heartbeat with his fingertips, almost entranced. If it weren't for the subject matter, he might be willing to get lost in it entirely.]
--Promise me that we'll not hide the truth from each other again. No matter how painful. No matter how frightening.
[ Angeal's heartbeat beneath Sephiroth's hand is firm and strong, if a little erratic (he is not exactly not turned on, even if the conversation is certainly... putting a damp on that). And he almost smiles, too, the touch and Sephiroth's eyes on him a balm over hurts that he never allowed himself to consider he deserved healing from.
So, so many things. ]
I went away. You don't have to take that one up on you - you couldn't know there's a need for your hand to reach out. It's on me, and I won't make that mistake again.
[ Then Sephiroth's request makes his breath catch, and his eyes widen. He breathes out, then in. ]
I ... I do promise. But you, as well.
[ The Sephiroth who came to him earlier...
How long had he endured, alone and in silence, before changing reality? This is how long Sephiroth can hold in his pain - and Angeal does not want him to. Truth may be difficult, and emotions even more so, but...
[It's true that Angeal is the one who left, and Sephiroth did try to look for him. But... maybe he could have looked harder or given him a reason not to feel like he had to weather that burden alone. He can't help but feel responsible somehow.
But... he's also a smart enough man to know that this just isn't an argument he's going to win against Angeal, so he concedes in silence.
Instead, he focuses on those steadying breaths Angeal takes-- the way his chest feels as it rises and falls under his palm. Sephiroth smiles again-- but this time it leaves out the bitter and offers only the sweet. Leave it to Angeal to hold him to the same standard.]
I promise. A partnership is founded on equality.
[A beat.]
Assuming... we are partners?
[And... leave it to Sephiroth, currently sitting on Angeal's lap after a heartfelt confession and a shared kissed but moments ago, to still find room to be Unsure if he's allowed to call Angeal his boyfriend.]
... then his heart actually skips a beat beneath Sephiroth's hand before it speeds up, and huh, that hurts a little, but that question! ]
Partners. I... think I like that word. [ His expression full of wonder. ] And I think many others will still fit. Yes, Sephiroth. We are.
[ He does know him enough to know that this is a time for reassurance first.
Then... quieter. ]
Does it not... bother you? To consider yourself equal with a [ monster ]... an experiment?
[ And someone still beneath Sephiroth's abilities, but Angeal can concede that if that hasn't disturbed Sephiroth before, it is hardly going to start now. And that the skill gap isn't quite as impossible to breach as the one between himself and the Sephiroth from the future. ]
[Oh, how Sephiroth's eyes and smile warm at the way Angeal's heartbeat drums under his hand-- at the way Angeal looks at him in that moment. It makes his entire ribcage come alive with warmth and electricity.
Slowly, he begins to trace soothing circles across Angeal's chest.
It-- makes him profoundly happy to hear those words - 'Yes, Sephiroth. We are.' - and know that... for perhaps the first time, he's allowed to possess the kind of closeness he's always craved. He's watched others around him develop meaningful relationships for a long time, and he's always felt so isolated on his little island. If only he could go back and tell his younger self - confused and afraid of his own developing crush on Angeal - that things would turn out alright.
...But that joy falters when Angeal speaks again, giving voice to his insecurities.]
Angeal...
[His hand pauses against the other man's chest, fingertips pressing firmly-- almost grasping at the corded fabric of his shirt.]
What they did to you does not define who you are. It does you a great disservice to be defined so callously as an "experiment". You are a man, above all else. A good man. One worthy of being cherished.
...What bothers me is that you would think yourself beneath me at all.
[Sephiroth has grown to understand that Genesis always harbored some sizeable resentment on that front. But Angeal? He thought they'd come to an understanding. He knows finding out difficult truths about himself has undoubtedly affected his confidence and self-worth, but... It doesn't make it any easier to hear such a thing come out of Angeal's mouth. As it were, there's only one way Sephiroth will ever think about you being beneath him, Angeal, and it has nothing to so with equality.]
[ Oh... to be able to bring such joy to Sephiroth? He did not expect... no, he actually hadn't hought this far. But it is so, so incredibly good that it loosens something around his heart that the other topic they are discussing has tightened painfully.
He swallows, then breathes out deeply. ]
One day, probably soon, I will shown you why I spent some of the time after I learned just wishing that I were... human. It has been many, many long days, turning into months, and more. It will take me a while, before I stop thinking of myself as ... lesser. Wrong.
But I will, Sephiroth. Because you see me as a man and that is enough for me to try. And I do apologize for bringing the mood down but this is - the first step of keeping my promise. I won't hide.
[ A beat, then a small, wry smile. ]
It may take some good, good deeds before I will consider myself a good man, but I'm here to work on that.
[Sephiroth - too - finds himself taking a deep breath, easing it out slowly through his nose. He can't claim to understand what Angeal is going through, nor can he claim to know what makes someone human, but... he does know that he loves this man with every breath in his body. He hopes that'll be enough.
And Angeal is right-- this is part of keeping their promise. Sephiroth would rather he speak of the pain in his heart than continue to bury it. Accordingly, he shakes his head some at Angeal's apology.]
No... Don't apologize. I want you to feel free to tell me what lies in your heart. Even when it's pain. [A breath-- he thinks again of Angeal's attempt to end his own life today, and his entire chest contracts.] Especially then.
[He doesn't want to end up in that place again-- with Angeal feeling isolated and burdensome, and Sephiroth wondering what he could have done differently.
It may take some good, good deeds before I will consider myself a good man, Angeal says, and Sephiroth laughs softly.] You've always been impossibly hard on yourself. [And Sephiroth finds himself wanting to comfort him-- to soothe that doubt, that pain etched into every part of him. He spreads his fingers out across Angeal's chest again, using it as a bit of gentle leverage to push the other man back against the couch. He adjusts, sitting up on his knees a little more, sliding a bit closer-- he dips his face down until his lips are but a breath away from Angeal's.]
...So, I suppose I'll just have to carry that truth for you instead... until you're ready.
[And then he takes Angeal's mouth against his, punctuating his words with a slow, gentle kiss.]
[ One day, sooner rather than later, Sephiroth will know how literally Angeal is alive because of him and for him. And how relevant all of this will be for Sephiroth himself.
But, tonight, there has been enough of the hard truths, and even this heartache is fading, with the reassurance and the laugh and the--
--oh!
Angeal's eyes widen slightly as he is pressed back, as words upon words wash over him, not like a tempest but soft, soothing rain. Tension leeches out from his shoulders as the slow kiss makes him melt, one hand settling on the small of Sephiroth's back... and the other one cupping the back of his head, not trying to seek more than is given, not right now, but holding on, so very tenderly.
When he can finally breathe again, heart in his eyes, he quirks a small smile. ]
Back when I left home, it was for Genesis chasing after a dream, his eyes on the distant hero. But then, I got to know you. In the times when you are quiet, and determined, and kind, and radiant, and real, as human as me, but... peerless. How could I not fall in love? And how could even consider myself worthy to stand by your side... [ The hand on the back of Sephiroth's head slides, slowly and gently and deliberately, down along the length of Sephiroth's spine. Then curves around the side of a hip, and continues down one thigh, until it can stop wrapped gently around Sephiroth's knee. ] Or in your arms.
Yet, here I am. [ He tilts his face up to claim another kiss from Sephiroth's lips. ] And if you have allowed me here, then I'd better meet you halfway. As an equal.
One day, I will relieve you from the burden of keeping this from me - though not from my presence or my lov. Until then, I trust you with it.
[Oh dear... There's something terribly gratifying about the way Angeal looks at him with such surprise and awe when his back is pushed against the couch and he finds himself kissed so tenderly.
It feels even better to have Angeal's arms wrapped around him, his fingers gently tangling in his hair. It seems a bit trite to say that this is better than anything he could have imagined in the rare instances he'd allow himself to indulge, but... it's true. And then Angeal is saying sweet things to him-- every word that Sephiroth has ever longed to hear, but especially... as human as me.
Because... in the end, that's one of many things that had Sephiroth falling irrevocably in love with him. He's never been something "other" to Angeal; he's always just been a man.
But-- then Sephiroth's breath catches as Angeal's hand slides down his back, finding every little dip in his spine even through the leather. That breath stays lodged uselessly in his lungs the moment Angeal's hand wanders further down, finding the curve of his hip and lingering against his thigh. He has to remember to actively breathe by the time that hand reaches his knee, and when the breath finally leaves his body, it does so in the softest:] --oh. [It barely registers when Angeal reaches up to kiss him-- like his brain has short-circuited and fizzled hopelessly out of commission.
He's not even really thinking when one of his hands moves, falling away from Angeal's shoulder to find that wandering hand instead, imploringly urging it back up his thigh. He ends up digging his fingers under the fabric of Angeal's glove in the process, almost hungrily peeling it off his hand. He'll find room to be embarrassed about it when he comes back down to earth, but-- he's just eager to feel those strong fingers pressing against his leg again... and with one less barrier of leather between them.]
I-- [What were they talking about? Sephiroth's all but forgotten, which is... quite unprecedented for him, to be put out of sorts like this. ...Oh-- Angeal Hewley, look what you've done to him. He blinks a couple times, trying to think back over Angeal's words in some muddied half-dizzy cluster of a thought process, before he finally finds words of his own:] Holding this space for you isn't a burden.
[ So, so softly, and Angeal is looking. Very, very attentively. The way Sephiroth's breathing is not working, his eyes unfocused. The way he scrambles to get the glove off, and then struggles to identify thoughts, words.
Oh... oh, indeed.
He lets his palm slide back up along Sephiroth's thigh, slower now, letting sensation, warmth, pressure soak in through to covered, pale skin.
Much slower. ]
Stop me where it feels good.
[ Sound, touch, anything will work.
As his hand moves, his thumb kneads the muscled flesh of Sephiroth's thigh, gentle but firm, and he will squeeze slightly if he makes it all the way to the curve of the hip. All through this, his darkened eyes are on Sephiroth, and, after a moment, he allows himself to register certain sensations, pressed close as they are.
Out of almost impish curiosity, he shifts his hips, pressing and sliding them up a little. Mostly to create sensation for Sephiroth and see if he likes it, but the stimulation makes his own vision swim with stars. All of a sudden, he fully recognizes why Sephiroth was scrambling for his glove. ]
[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.]
[ Angeal has seen before reflexes take over Sephiroth's motions in battle, practiced grace deadly and beautiful.
This is different. This seems more instinct, uncoordinated and determined, a need finally allowed satiation, and he would possibly get drunk on simply watching - were the stimulation not driving him higher and higher and hotter and hotter.
He is not... quite silent.
When Sephiroth's hips start moving, he manages a low, raw, ] yeah. Just like that, so good.
[ But, after that, coherence falls apart for him, and he only manages quiet groans when Sephiroth's angle is particularly good, or the pressure is just right, his pupils blown out and his body on fire.
Then Sephiroth is scrambling with his pauldrons, and he... realizes he is very far from coordinated enough to help, so he lets Sephiroth release them - himself biting at the fingertips of his remaining glove to take it off, and placing his palm on the way-too-tempting bare skin. Only for his fingers to curl, helplessly, in pleasure, blunt nails less scratching than sliding along Sephiroth's skin, trembling. So he takes his hand away, not to mar skin that is exposed unintentionally, and settles his hand to mirror the other hand on Sephiroth's hip, moving with him, encouraging, then tightening as his own world narrows down to this. Sephiroth's body moving against his, warm forehead pressed against his, curtain of silvery white hair shutting away all the rest of existence.
Then Sephiroth's breathlessly crying out his name, and Angeal comes undone, fingers digging into the man's hips and his own thrusting up, helplessly. ]
Seph... oh, Seph.
[ It's just this side of a quiet growl, not enough left to consider if the affectionate form of the name will be welcome, wanted, just caught up in him. This is ... how he wants them to be. Inextricably bound.
... later, he might concede the mess is less pleasant, but, Goddess, this feels so incomparably good, right now. ]
[Angeal's bare fingers find their way to Sephiroth's exposed chest, dragging down his skin-- and he swears they leave his skin scorched in their wake. Add that to those delectable noises Angeal has begun to make, the way he groans softly but with such urgency-- well, it certainly leaves Sephiroth's body aching with want. He starts to protest when Angeal inevitably pulls his hand away, but he can't find it in him to complain too much when both hands end up pressed against his hips.
It does, however, make him realize how deeply he yearns for skin-to-skin contact, and for the first time, he's begrudging how much of his body he keeps concealed under many layers of clothing. He's a little at war with himself-- torn between wanting to shed some of it and being reluctant to separate himself from Angeal long enough to do so. Either way, he's not going to last too long like this. Touch-starved and repressed as he is, he's already coming apart at the seams, losing himself in a heady daze. His immaculate composure has all but dissolved, and while that would normally be something he'd find worthy of shame, he just... can't be bothered.
Perhaps he'll be more embarrassed of the way he's nearly fallen apart after the fact-- of the way his breaths have begun to come out in shorter excited pants the more Angeal meets his rhythm, of the way he barely strangles back a moan when Angeal digs his fingers into his hips and thrusts against him.
Right now? He's more than happy to let himself be wrapped up in this wondrous thing he'd never quite allowed himself to want so badly.
His skin is practically on fire, and he's ravenous for more contact. He'll compromise with his earlier indecision by electing to at least get Angeal's pants pulled off his hips.] Just a moment... [Sephiroth takes this time to free his hands of their leathery prisons before he adjusts his position and slides one hand down between them. It's more to give an indication of his intentions more than anything-- to carefully slow the motions of Angeal's hips rather than jarring them to an unsatisfying stop. Indulgently, he'll press his palm against Angeal's bulge for a moment, letting his hand knead to and fro between his legs-- a little apology to make up for taking pressure away when he scoots his own hips back a bit. His endeavor to remove Angeal's pants is stopped short when his hand eventually slides back up and is met with not only one but two belts. And that's not including the suspenders Angeal happens to be sporting on top of it. It's never occurred to him how annoying the standard SOLDIER uniform is until now, and this realization is met with a grunt of impatient exasperation.]
Must you wear so many belts?
[In the heat of the moment, he - of course - fails to recognize his own hypocrisy. He's far more annoyed at the effort it's taking just to gain access to Angeal's pants, resolving that if he can just get them unzipped and opened, he'll be satisfied. He has to undo the loops on both belts, but he bypasses the suspenders entirely by sliding his fingers under the suspender's harness, finding the button clasping his pants shut, and deftly undoing it. Thankfully, standard issue SOLDIER pants are fairly spacious, so once he gets them unzipped, he's able to open them a fair bit.
Pleased with his little victory, he goes right ahead and slips his now-bare hand in, pushing Angeal's underwear down until he's exposed his cock. With a satisfied hum, he wraps his hand firmly around him, letting his fingers press curiously along his length. He'll gladly continue what they started in a moment, but for now, he just wants to... admire. Take a little moment to appreciate the way Angeal's face is wracked with pleasure and awe, those beautiful stormy eyes heavy-lidded with dizziness.]
[ ... 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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He follows the direction of the grip on his hair, and comes in for a kiss of his own, just as sweet if a little more lingering, then shifts to lean their foreheads together. ]
I am, in fact, very satisfied. Happy, even.
[ Soft breath out, and he leans back a little, not letting go - in fact, his arm giving a little tug. ]
If we're not moving, then at least consider that my legs are probably going to be more comfortable to sit on than crouching.
[ ... as ever, gentle concern and trying to make things better.
Emotional upheaval does not, in fact, make some things change at all. ]
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He savors that lingering kiss, the way their foreheads gently bump together afterwards and their breaths mingle. Happy, even, Angeal asserts, and-- knowing that he was able to provide that joy soothes some deeply buried ache in Sephiroth's chest.]
Oh? I had intended to move, but... [After his plan to kiss Angeal, of course. His eyes wander a bit, drinking in the way the other man has leaned back to make space for him. And with that encouraging little tug at his waist? He's a lot less inclined to get up now.
He's generally tried not to let his mind wander overmuch to self-indulgent thoughts about what Angeal feels like to touch, to kiss, to... straddle. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't find himself hooked into them from time to time, especially after a sparring session or a quiet moment of camaraderie together.
And not having to wonder a moment longer? Far be it from him to refuse.
Sephiroth's lips curve into a smile that's far more playful this time. He adjusts, parting his legs as he comes forward to sink snugly into Angeal's lap. His pulse quickens a little at the intimacy of it, a warm little flush oh-so-faintly coloring Sephiroth's immaculate face.]
More comfortable, indeed. How thoughtful of you.
[He pauses, giving Angeal's collar another little tug.]
And you'll tell me if you're uncomfortable, correct? [A soft chuckle. He knows Angeal would probably just as soon let his legs fall off before he inconvenienced him, but--] I'm not particularly keen on dragging you around if your legs fall asleep.
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He knows he has deprived the both of them of this, and he regrets it--
A thought that completely leaves his mind as Sephiroth straddles him, and he can hold on to him properly like this, feel his heart beating, uh. Trying not to think ... for the moment, about the exposed skin on his chest pressing against Angeal's clothes, ahem. Oh... actually, that faint blush kind of takes his breath away, too.
He forces air in his lungs (and it smells of Sephiroth, this close), and manages another smile. ]
I'm glad. [ A beat, and the smile turns a little lopsided, half wry and half... shy, somehow. And a whole lot aware how ridiculous it sounds, and maybe it's a joke? ] You wouldn't have to, you know. I can fly us if they do.
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Sephiroth finally relinquishes his grip on Angeal's collar, letting his arm slide comfortably back around the other man's shoulders. His other hand remains in Angeal's hair, however... The motions of his fingers have eased into something more relaxed, less yearning now-- idly combing sections of those soft raven strands between them.
--Did Angeal struggle to catch his breath just now? There's something to be said about the way having this effect over him feels, Sephiroth thinks. Having the ever stoic and stern Angeal be this over the moon for him makes him feel powerful in a way no elegant lash of Masamune could ever grant him. So... of course, when Angeal manages that sweetly lopsided smile for him, Sephiroth can't help but smile back. Fond. Warm. A little teasing, even.]
You didn't answer my question. [Which he assumes means: no, Angeal will not tell him if he gets uncomfortable. Still, the remark about flying earns a candid laugh.] I suppose, if you think you can carry me.
[Is that a challenge? It's hard to tell. They're pretty close in size, and Angeal's quite strong, but... Sephiroth's never had anyone even remotely try to pick him up before. For good reason, of course. Why risk losing a hand to such a silly endeavor?]
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There are things in which it is understandable if Sephiroth does not take the first step, and Angeal can and will take responsibility for being an idiot and afraid, and not looking close enough to know that there is a first step to be taken, rather than each of them languishing (heh... possibly not exactly languishing) alone.
Either way, he is melting into the gentle touches, his eyes (tired and still a little wild and) adoring up at Sephiroth. His expression turns sheepish - because Sephiroth isn't wrong, he probably would leave his legs to fall asleep - but there is a bit of a smile to it also. ]
It'd be a shame to break us if we're feeling comfortable. [ ... no, right now, disentangling from Sephiroth does not feel appealing at all. ] I've wanted to be this close to you for a very long time. But ... let's see.
The couch?
[ He isn't letting go or trying to get up.
The last two years, he has learned many things about his own flight, after all.
His normal strength is one thing. His wing, yet another. ]
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...The couch would be acceptable.
[Is Angeal actually going to fly them over? Sephiroth looks at him incredulously, an amused quirk curving his mouth, but he's willing to let him give it a shot. It's-- charming that Angeal is so unwilling to let him go for even a moment so that they might move elsewhere.]
It would be greatly appreciated if you could refrain from knocking things off my desk.
[It's said in a lighthearted tone, not meant to chide Angeal in any sincere manner. But... a little extra caution couldn't hurt. Not only is Angeal's wing considerably large, but it's probably powerful enough to create a gust that would easily obliterate the paperwork Sephiroth currently has stacked into neat, organized piles. No amount of adoration he has for this man would save him from the depths of Sephiroth's frustration if he's forced to sort through that mess.]
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At the instruction, his eyebrows fly up, but he can't help his lips twitching, anyway. Sephiroth might be unaware the amount of indulgence (inasmuch as it is indulgence, as paperwork is important) Angeal is willing to grant him-- actually, Angeal might have been unaware until now, too. They have yet to discover where Angeal will be drawing a line, but he suspects it might ... take a lot of effort to discover the limits. He still glances at the desk, to see the situation there, and hums. This will certainly be a challenge....
... and he finds himself very curious if he can, ah, rise up to it. He obviously can't use the full length of the wing, for this, so it'll be a matter of working harder with a smaller wingspan, but he glances around to gauge the angles in which the gust will reflect the least. ]
As you wish.
[ Arms tighten a little around Sephiroth, pressing them flush against each other, and the wing moves, beating softly until they are airborne, if only jsut hovering, to avoid both the harder gust and the less control he'd have over it if he goes higher, but he can manage that.
And off they go towards the couch, only a single, solitary sheet of paper floating to the ground among the white feathers.
Close enough? ]
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His face - his whole body, really - heats up, but he manages to keep his well-practiced composure and not let his mind wander... too much. It skips for the briefest moment to how Angeal might feel settled in between his legs like this in... ahem, other and certainly more provocative situations-- only for him to immediately and almost frantically rip that train of train away to something far less inappropriate, dear god. Whoops.
Please don't comment on how turned on he is. Please.
In fact, he's going to pretend - with great determination - like nothing happened, and focus instead on... that scrap of paper that just wafted to the ground. It's almost convincing, too-- how unbothered he tries to pretend he is. If Angeal didn't know him well enough to be able to pick that sort of thing apart, that is. But he's banking on Angeal being merciful, as he often is.]
Impressive. I'll take that as a victory. Have you been practicing?
[Internal panic and a desperate attempt to distract them aside, he does mean it. He's quite taken with that wing of Angeal's, honestly.]
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But the words make the smile slip away, most of the way, and he remains quiet until he settles them down on the couch, loosening his hold but far from letting go, unless Sephiroth tries to climb down off his lap. ]
Not controlled in a small space like this, no. But I've done a lot of flying, over the last two years, including fighting while flying. [ Thanks, old friend. ] I've learned things out of necessity.
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And anyway, he's a little more concerned with the change in Angeal's demeanor. He thinks back over what he said in conjunction with Angeal's reply, and then onto what caused this entire meeting in the first place, and...]
Ah-- forgive me... It must be a difficult subject for you.
[His mind drifts a bit-- to what Angeal must have been doing all this time. How lonely and confused he must have felt. Admittedly, Sephiroth felt that way too after Angeal and Genesis left, but... it's not quite the same. Angeal's been dealing with something unfathomably difficult, and that's only more starkly apparent now that he knows how close he was to losing him for good. Sephiroth's brows furrow a bit, and he ends up resting his free hand against Angeal's bicep, giving a soft squeeze.]
I won't force you to speak of the things you've endured more than you're willing, but... please know that you don't have to carry the weight of the world alone. It's not a burden to walk this path with you.
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Then one hand shifts up again, to gently brush hair away from Sephiroth's face, and caress his cheek again. ]
There will be things to come to terms to, but that is not - I mostly... Don't want to make light of leaving you, for all that time. I am so, so sorry, Sephiroth.
And thank you, for this. It'll take time before my words will mean anything, but...
You don't have to carry it all, either. Walking this path, today and into tomorrow, with you, is how I - never dared to dream, before. But I do want.
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He's trying not to dwell too much on the almosts and what-ifs, but he still feels a profound ache in his chest that things got so nearly irreparably bad.]
You're here now. [A breath; finally, he opens his eyes.] But... you were the one in danger of being lost to me - to all of us - forever, and I... would have been lost without you.
[If only he really knew how true that was.]
I only wish that I had seen it sooner. I wish... that I had seen many things sooner.
[But he manages a smile, bittersweet though it is. His hand falls away from Angeal's arm, wandering instead - curiously - to the center of his chest. He lays his palm flat against the other man's sternum, letting his fingers slowly spread out. It's strange: he's never done this before, has never dared to do this before, and yet... Somehow it feels so familiar, like he's done it a thousand times.
He maps out Angeal's heartbeat with his fingertips, almost entranced. If it weren't for the subject matter, he might be willing to get lost in it entirely.]
--Promise me that we'll not hide the truth from each other again. No matter how painful. No matter how frightening.
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So, so many things. ]
I went away. You don't have to take that one up on you - you couldn't know there's a need for your hand to reach out. It's on me, and I won't make that mistake again.
[ Then Sephiroth's request makes his breath catch, and his eyes widen. He breathes out, then in. ]
I ... I do promise. But you, as well.
[ The Sephiroth who came to him earlier...
How long had he endured, alone and in silence, before changing reality? This is how long Sephiroth can hold in his pain - and Angeal does not want him to. Truth may be difficult, and emotions even more so, but...
They are important. ]
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But... he's also a smart enough man to know that this just isn't an argument he's going to win against Angeal, so he concedes in silence.
Instead, he focuses on those steadying breaths Angeal takes-- the way his chest feels as it rises and falls under his palm. Sephiroth smiles again-- but this time it leaves out the bitter and offers only the sweet. Leave it to Angeal to hold him to the same standard.]
I promise. A partnership is founded on equality.
[A beat.]
Assuming... we are partners?
[And... leave it to Sephiroth, currently sitting on Angeal's lap after a heartfelt confession and a shared kissed but moments ago, to still find room to be Unsure if he's allowed to call Angeal his boyfriend.]
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... then his heart actually skips a beat beneath Sephiroth's hand before it speeds up, and huh, that hurts a little, but that question! ]
Partners. I... think I like that word. [ His expression full of wonder. ] And I think many others will still fit. Yes, Sephiroth. We are.
[ He does know him enough to know that this is a time for reassurance first.
Then... quieter. ]
Does it not... bother you? To consider yourself equal with a [ monster ]... an experiment?
[ And someone still beneath Sephiroth's abilities, but Angeal can concede that if that hasn't disturbed Sephiroth before, it is hardly going to start now. And that the skill gap isn't quite as impossible to breach as the one between himself and the Sephiroth from the future. ]
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Slowly, he begins to trace soothing circles across Angeal's chest.
It-- makes him profoundly happy to hear those words - 'Yes, Sephiroth. We are.' - and know that... for perhaps the first time, he's allowed to possess the kind of closeness he's always craved. He's watched others around him develop meaningful relationships for a long time, and he's always felt so isolated on his little island. If only he could go back and tell his younger self - confused and afraid of his own developing crush on Angeal - that things would turn out alright.
...But that joy falters when Angeal speaks again, giving voice to his insecurities.]
Angeal...
[His hand pauses against the other man's chest, fingertips pressing firmly-- almost grasping at the corded fabric of his shirt.]
What they did to you does not define who you are. It does you a great disservice to be defined so callously as an "experiment". You are a man, above all else. A good man. One worthy of being cherished.
...What bothers me is that you would think yourself beneath me at all.
[Sephiroth has grown to understand that Genesis always harbored some sizeable resentment on that front. But Angeal? He thought they'd come to an understanding. He knows finding out difficult truths about himself has undoubtedly affected his confidence and self-worth, but... It doesn't make it any easier to hear such a thing come out of Angeal's mouth. As it were, there's only one way Sephiroth will ever think about you being beneath him, Angeal, and it has nothing to so with equality.]
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He swallows, then breathes out deeply. ]
One day, probably soon, I will shown you why I spent some of the time after I learned just wishing that I were... human. It has been many, many long days, turning into months, and more. It will take me a while, before I stop thinking of myself as ... lesser. Wrong.
But I will, Sephiroth. Because you see me as a man and that is enough for me to try. And I do apologize for bringing the mood down but this is - the first step of keeping my promise. I won't hide.
[ A beat, then a small, wry smile. ]
It may take some good, good deeds before I will consider myself a good man, but I'm here to work on that.
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And Angeal is right-- this is part of keeping their promise. Sephiroth would rather he speak of the pain in his heart than continue to bury it. Accordingly, he shakes his head some at Angeal's apology.]
No... Don't apologize. I want you to feel free to tell me what lies in your heart. Even when it's pain. [A breath-- he thinks again of Angeal's attempt to end his own life today, and his entire chest contracts.] Especially then.
[He doesn't want to end up in that place again-- with Angeal feeling isolated and burdensome, and Sephiroth wondering what he could have done differently.
It may take some good, good deeds before I will consider myself a good man, Angeal says, and Sephiroth laughs softly.] You've always been impossibly hard on yourself. [And Sephiroth finds himself wanting to comfort him-- to soothe that doubt, that pain etched into every part of him. He spreads his fingers out across Angeal's chest again, using it as a bit of gentle leverage to push the other man back against the couch. He adjusts, sitting up on his knees a little more, sliding a bit closer-- he dips his face down until his lips are but a breath away from Angeal's.]
...So, I suppose I'll just have to carry that truth for you instead... until you're ready.
[And then he takes Angeal's mouth against his, punctuating his words with a slow, gentle kiss.]
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But, tonight, there has been enough of the hard truths, and even this heartache is fading, with the reassurance and the laugh and the--
--oh!
Angeal's eyes widen slightly as he is pressed back, as words upon words wash over him, not like a tempest but soft, soothing rain. Tension leeches out from his shoulders as the slow kiss makes him melt, one hand settling on the small of Sephiroth's back... and the other one cupping the back of his head, not trying to seek more than is given, not right now, but holding on, so very tenderly.
When he can finally breathe again, heart in his eyes, he quirks a small smile. ]
Back when I left home, it was for Genesis chasing after a dream, his eyes on the distant hero. But then, I got to know you. In the times when you are quiet, and determined, and kind, and radiant, and real, as human as me, but... peerless. How could I not fall in love? And how could even consider myself worthy to stand by your side... [ The hand on the back of Sephiroth's head slides, slowly and gently and deliberately, down along the length of Sephiroth's spine. Then curves around the side of a hip, and continues down one thigh, until it can stop wrapped gently around Sephiroth's knee. ] Or in your arms.
Yet, here I am. [ He tilts his face up to claim another kiss from Sephiroth's lips. ] And if you have allowed me here, then I'd better meet you halfway. As an equal.
One day, I will relieve you from the burden of keeping this from me - though not from my presence or my lov. Until then, I trust you with it.
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It feels even better to have Angeal's arms wrapped around him, his fingers gently tangling in his hair. It seems a bit trite to say that this is better than anything he could have imagined in the rare instances he'd allow himself to indulge, but... it's true. And then Angeal is saying sweet things to him-- every word that Sephiroth has ever longed to hear, but especially... as human as me.
Because... in the end, that's one of many things that had Sephiroth falling irrevocably in love with him. He's never been something "other" to Angeal; he's always just been a man.
But-- then Sephiroth's breath catches as Angeal's hand slides down his back, finding every little dip in his spine even through the leather. That breath stays lodged uselessly in his lungs the moment Angeal's hand wanders further down, finding the curve of his hip and lingering against his thigh. He has to remember to actively breathe by the time that hand reaches his knee, and when the breath finally leaves his body, it does so in the softest:] --oh. [It barely registers when Angeal reaches up to kiss him-- like his brain has short-circuited and fizzled hopelessly out of commission.
He's not even really thinking when one of his hands moves, falling away from Angeal's shoulder to find that wandering hand instead, imploringly urging it back up his thigh. He ends up digging his fingers under the fabric of Angeal's glove in the process, almost hungrily peeling it off his hand. He'll find room to be embarrassed about it when he comes back down to earth, but-- he's just eager to feel those strong fingers pressing against his leg again... and with one less barrier of leather between them.]
I-- [What were they talking about? Sephiroth's all but forgotten, which is... quite unprecedented for him, to be put out of sorts like this. ...Oh-- Angeal Hewley, look what you've done to him. He blinks a couple times, trying to think back over Angeal's words in some muddied half-dizzy cluster of a thought process, before he finally finds words of his own:] Holding this space for you isn't a burden.
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[ So, so softly, and Angeal is looking. Very, very attentively. The way Sephiroth's breathing is not working, his eyes unfocused. The way he scrambles to get the glove off, and then struggles to identify thoughts, words.
Oh... oh, indeed.
He lets his palm slide back up along Sephiroth's thigh, slower now, letting sensation, warmth, pressure soak in through to covered, pale skin.
Much slower. ]
Stop me where it feels good.
[ Sound, touch, anything will work.
As his hand moves, his thumb kneads the muscled flesh of Sephiroth's thigh, gentle but firm, and he will squeeze slightly if he makes it all the way to the curve of the hip. All through this, his darkened eyes are on Sephiroth, and, after a moment, he allows himself to register certain sensations, pressed close as they are.
Out of almost impish curiosity, he shifts his hips, pressing and sliding them up a little. Mostly to create sensation for Sephiroth and see if he likes it, but the stimulation makes his own vision swim with stars. All of a sudden, he fully recognizes why Sephiroth was scrambling for his glove. ]
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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.]
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This is different. This seems more instinct, uncoordinated and determined, a need finally allowed satiation, and he would possibly get drunk on simply watching - were the stimulation not driving him higher and higher and hotter and hotter.
He is not... quite silent.
When Sephiroth's hips start moving, he manages a low, raw, ] yeah. Just like that, so good.
[ But, after that, coherence falls apart for him, and he only manages quiet groans when Sephiroth's angle is particularly good, or the pressure is just right, his pupils blown out and his body on fire.
Then Sephiroth is scrambling with his pauldrons, and he... realizes he is very far from coordinated enough to help, so he lets Sephiroth release them - himself biting at the fingertips of his remaining glove to take it off, and placing his palm on the way-too-tempting bare skin. Only for his fingers to curl, helplessly, in pleasure, blunt nails less scratching than sliding along Sephiroth's skin, trembling. So he takes his hand away, not to mar skin that is exposed unintentionally, and settles his hand to mirror the other hand on Sephiroth's hip, moving with him, encouraging, then tightening as his own world narrows down to this. Sephiroth's body moving against his, warm forehead pressed against his, curtain of silvery white hair shutting away all the rest of existence.
Then Sephiroth's breathlessly crying out his name, and Angeal comes undone, fingers digging into the man's hips and his own thrusting up, helplessly. ]
Seph... oh, Seph.
[ It's just this side of a quiet growl, not enough left to consider if the affectionate form of the name will be welcome, wanted, just caught up in him. This is ... how he wants them to be. Inextricably bound.
... later, he might concede the mess is less pleasant, but, Goddess, this feels so incomparably good, right now. ]
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It does, however, make him realize how deeply he yearns for skin-to-skin contact, and for the first time, he's begrudging how much of his body he keeps concealed under many layers of clothing. He's a little at war with himself-- torn between wanting to shed some of it and being reluctant to separate himself from Angeal long enough to do so. Either way, he's not going to last too long like this. Touch-starved and repressed as he is, he's already coming apart at the seams, losing himself in a heady daze. His immaculate composure has all but dissolved, and while that would normally be something he'd find worthy of shame, he just... can't be bothered.
Perhaps he'll be more embarrassed of the way he's nearly fallen apart after the fact-- of the way his breaths have begun to come out in shorter excited pants the more Angeal meets his rhythm, of the way he barely strangles back a moan when Angeal digs his fingers into his hips and thrusts against him.
Right now? He's more than happy to let himself be wrapped up in this wondrous thing he'd never quite allowed himself to want so badly.
His skin is practically on fire, and he's ravenous for more contact. He'll compromise with his earlier indecision by electing to at least get Angeal's pants pulled off his hips.] Just a moment... [Sephiroth takes this time to free his hands of their leathery prisons before he adjusts his position and slides one hand down between them. It's more to give an indication of his intentions more than anything-- to carefully slow the motions of Angeal's hips rather than jarring them to an unsatisfying stop. Indulgently, he'll press his palm against Angeal's bulge for a moment, letting his hand knead to and fro between his legs-- a little apology to make up for taking pressure away when he scoots his own hips back a bit. His endeavor to remove Angeal's pants is stopped short when his hand eventually slides back up and is met with not only one but two belts. And that's not including the suspenders Angeal happens to be sporting on top of it. It's never occurred to him how annoying the standard SOLDIER uniform is until now, and this realization is met with a grunt of impatient exasperation.]
Must you wear so many belts?
[In the heat of the moment, he - of course - fails to recognize his own hypocrisy. He's far more annoyed at the effort it's taking just to gain access to Angeal's pants, resolving that if he can just get them unzipped and opened, he'll be satisfied. He has to undo the loops on both belts, but he bypasses the suspenders entirely by sliding his fingers under the suspender's harness, finding the button clasping his pants shut, and deftly undoing it. Thankfully, standard issue SOLDIER pants are fairly spacious, so once he gets them unzipped, he's able to open them a fair bit.
Pleased with his little victory, he goes right ahead and slips his now-bare hand in, pushing Angeal's underwear down until he's exposed his cock. With a satisfied hum, he wraps his hand firmly around him, letting his fingers press curiously along his length. He'll gladly continue what they started in a moment, but for now, he just wants to... admire. Take a little moment to appreciate the way Angeal's face is wracked with pleasure and awe, those beautiful stormy eyes heavy-lidded with dizziness.]
That's better, don't you think?
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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.) ]
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