It was unexpected. For as long as we have found ourselves in this game of dance and play, of guile and smoke, rarely has forced ever truly be executed upon this man sparing the fateful encounter from his life as was before, of course. A fractioned widening perceived upon claret irises in reflection of their owner’s surprise deems almost out of place when by strong hands and powerful limb I am forced down, back to where it starts though remaining doubtful whether it shall be where it, as well, ends: the bed.
There was a reward of a soft hiss slipping past coral lips. Therein a twisting, and a turning, fluid movement of lithe form as a nudge of one hips against another could result in a shifting of upper bodice in an angle of 45 and graceful steps braced aside and from then a grip fasten upon his wrist, a halting to his ensnarling grasp with a bending of elbow in the motion of his arm being pressed back against the arch of spine— firmly, albeit not too hurtful— are all the possibilities of how his intention may be placed to a stop, yet, none of those are proceeded with.
Instead, I found myself letting him draw me down. Therein the fluidity of motion, the state of crisp cotton shirt becomes as roughen up as the ravenette by whom it is worn— bunched up in some; becoming more revealing in some. If silvern is to be his signet, then the ivory of his mark is perceived to be as effective as any of his stroke of blade. Built from deep within, a low growl emerges in laced resonance to his snarling sigh, instinctive in how abalastrine form acquiesces, arching up with both wrists tempting against his grip and one leg drawing an angle, dragging the crumpling sheet beneath with.
For a brief moment, thick ebony lashes fall to shutter. In betwixt those interspersing assonance that may not be perceived as anything else but sexual sounds also of breathe being heavily sucked.…
…and release. I will myself to relax. Aristocratic feature turns mildly to the side. Where moon’s argentine silk is woven with midnight’s black is a cautious draw of upper body in ascension. “Sephiroth.” I begin. The first consonance is whispered in his name, and along the contour of strong jaw tepid lips caresses. “Seph…” Dulcet tone drops a decibel but the ante is up by that second consonance alone, now drifting to the conch of his ear. I nudge his sterling tresses aside with my nose. “…Release me, Seph.”
With quiet exhalation, I acquiesce. “…I’m not going anywhere.”
Somewhere in the back of his muddled thoughts, Sephiroth knew that had Vincent not been interested, at least somewhat, that he could have broken free. Every Turk knew ways to incapacitate and given Vincent’s enhancements, it would’ve been laughably easy for the brunette to handle the drunken SOLDIER at this moment in time. Sephiroth wondered why he didn’t as they fell back against the bed, letting his lips enclose the skin of the older man’s throat while listening to the noises being made. They inflamed his blood, the sounds being drawn forth from the older man’s throat and a soft moan answered the noises. But even as he did that, Sephiroth was listening for any negative reaction.
He was not entirely addled by the alcohol that burned in his belly and bloodstream, not to the point where he wouldn’t have stopped had there been protest. Even he was not so monstrous as to give in and ignore the denial of someone. But he wanted to taste the older man, to find out what spots made Vincent react in those pleasing ways and he was glad for the success in pulling the older man down beneath his body. His legs shifted as he straddled the lithe figure, fingers gripping gently at their posts while he hummed a rough purr of noise.
Every subtle movement of Vincent’s form wasn’t unmissed, the noises heard making Sephiroth rumble even more loudly as the dragon drew his fangs upon the pale skin, marking it with bite and bruise alike. He would leave the other’s flesh etched with memory, let him look in the mirror afterwards and he growled gently. Of course, when the noise of words came from nearby, warm air working through the air and against his jawline and ear, the younger man’s head came up and those brilliant eyes fixed themselves to Vincent’s features. There was no sign of the man’s usual dose of restraint right then, not with the stare that Vincent was now the recipient of. It was a hunger that was being pulled out of him, a hunger that made Sephiroth’s features tighten before a slow smile etched his lips at the words tht he heard.
He was a beautiful sight, all wild hair and the gaze that focused upon Vincent was something only for the older man at that moment in time. Slowly, carefully, as if sure he was about to have the gunman bolt, Sephiroth’s fingers uncurled from where they held onto the slender wrists and he shifted to lean back, seating himself atop the other man’s obliques. All it would take would be a single backwards shift, an angling of his hips— His nostrils twitched, flared, and he breathed out softly before letting his hands grip at the fabric of Vincent’s shirt, pulling it upwards with firm tugs until it was leaving the older man’s abdomen exposed. It was to the chest that those broad hands crept, fingers easing upon blemishes of the skin and Sephiroth tilted his head.
”.. you look.. ravishing,” came the murmur before the younger man was bending his body once more, lips brushing carefully upon the mark he’d left against Vincent’s throat before they were moving upwards. It was almost shy, the gestures he was making, careful to not press too far and too fast. Easy enough to take his time with the other pinned beneath him, held securely by those strong legs and yet— easy enough to throw the younger off. He waited, almost shy, to see how the Turk would react to every ounce of this attention. Would he tell Sephiroth to halt? Or would there be encouragement? He didn’t know.
What was it, in truth, that constituted a consent?
An agreement from all the parties involved.
Similarly to her decision to enter a holy matrimony with him, and to later registered their firstborn under the S Project was my promise to her that I was to never involve. For awhile, that pledge with her had been kept until the term was later rewrote at her son’s birth. The first form to this mentioned agreement, while had been what was agreed upon only between her and I, and between him and her, it was as well an unspoken recognition between me and him , a strange form of equilibrium within this twisted tangle until all was torn down in that single night when tears began to rain and love were caught bleeding. When honey orbs made their silent pleas and pale lips preached for salvation, what was a man to do if not complying?
Between the professor and I, that night, it no longer was that unvoiced agreement.
For the infant, their child, and… the subject, how he had came to be had never been the boy’s own consent.
My silence had been my sin. Perhaps this was expected to be an extracted payment.
As swift as the slash of his blade, form was being pulled against form and into form, soft surprise gasp was let escape when with a twisting of hips and at his insistant urging, I soon found myself straddled and marked. With his hands, his lips, teasing white molar dragging a small groan from the obliques beneath and quickening the pulse, familiar shape of irises with deepest beryl hinting and the heat emitted through leather and the skin of his thigh against mine, blood was heated and for a moment, this man was left lost. It was painful. Despite having been many things in his life, and many more in his death, Vincent Valentine was just a man and who was that man to truly stand against a pair of eyes and almost too delicate contour of face? I found myself suck heavily the air through gritted teeth at his low moan. Tenuos digits tightened into a fist as oculis were forced to shut completely with vehement conviction as traitorous form squirmed against him.
"…Hah." I bit my lips. Inky tendrils sprayed across snow white pillows in cut contrast, and was made more so as he shifted forward, and came interlacing through my charcoal tresses was his moonlit silk. It was ironically etereal, the way he look with his malachite, cat-liked slits boring into mine and with those gems stood out so strongly from his moon-basked feature. Smooth silken skin should have been as bracing as luna’s bath, yet arriving with each touch was the heat of her madness where blood was brought to boil and form was left shudder. How could the product of Gaia’s catastrophe conceivably be so? I pushed against his teeth. The sharp pain on my throat, and what was granted after in soothing sent blood to pool where it should not be, and lithe built slowly curled up and into itself as much as was allowed with our current position considered.
Seph. Sephiroth. Her child. Making naught different than a personal chanting, words sped hazily through my mind as I breathed in deeply, seeking to regain a control over myself. Firm, his hold over me was. It had not been entirely too constricting that I may find myself being, at all, unable to moved. With my feet braced against the bed’s hard mattress, upper torso was shifted up where aristocratic profile may edge forward as much as was allowed. His sterling strands caught in my lips as much as reflected in my eyes. Too damning, it was. Long lashes fell flutter, once, twice, I began with his name: Sephiroth.
With tepid lips guided along the contour of his jaw and toward the conch of sensile ear, I proceeded with him, and something never before allowed to be voiced precisely for how I knew it would sound: too close, too timid, too binding and too damning.
"Seph.", I said.
And he smiled.
Like a child being granted with a candy when I am that candy, he smiled and I had to hold my breathe for how exquisite that smile was. Allowing visage to fall briefly to closure, it was only with his release of my wrists that twin pools of scintillating dusk were beckoned once more to their opening. I retracted both arms. A bending of both elbows discovered obliques edged further up where through thin layer of snow white sheet, his strong built was much perceived, as with the hand curiously exploring the expanse of skin on my chest. “I look like a dead man…”, I found myself saying. The statement sounded nearly funny with my heart thumping so viciously against the silverette’s callous palm, yet, it was said all the same with cranium mildly tipped back to allow him with further exploit and one slender lateral raised and brought to rest firmly on his nape.
"I look like a dead man who may never die." I exhaled a soft sigh. Where his lips tentatively explored, mine was guided for a purpose, having known precisely what I sought and all the more being cursed for it. I parted my lips. With pearl white molars first dragging across his yielding tier, I caught his lower dusk between my teeth before softly biting down. From betwixt two yielding tiers, dusky flesh flicked past to sooth the mark before slipping into his mouth as I pressed forward. I drank deeply his taste. Upon his palm, a rumbling hum would reveberate a low basso as by my other hand, his was to be guided across my chest and to my back.
Using my own body, I nudged him back, reversing our position. With lean thighs straddling his hips and soft pad of palm bracing atop his left pectoral in provided leverage, I met his gaze, vermilion shaded irises burning vividly red in the chamber’s pale lambent. If not for the presence of scars and the light therein rubies inset, alabastrine facade might as well have belonged to Greek’s work of old, finely sculpted. I traced my digits along the dip and raise of his form. Each inhalation and exhalation observed in each falling and rising of strong chest as I guide my face forward, catching his lips once more in mine. Drawing upon his abdomen a slow circle, tenuous laterals detached from his body to find both arms drawn back as to removed the piece of clothing he seemed so intent at getting rid of prior, the shirt.
I ground my hips slowly down against his. Beyond the contact of leather and thin veiling sheet, and the promise offered in a kiss where tongues were left entangling and breathe was to be stolen, there was nothing else.