blackwinged-silversolace:
Held captive to the very being he had chosen to provoke. Sephiroth had invited him, invited it.
Then. His methods were meant with curiosity, an innocent flirtatious invitation to see if indeed there may be anything left of their indiscretion besides his own confused emotions. Allegedly, a ploy born of nothing more than a need to test the nature of the bond shared with the one before him. The nature of himself.
But before he knew it, Sephiroth’s own selfish experiment had revived a more sinister creature, he watched it bloom in Genesis’ wicked features. Felt his own fevered beast respond in kind, and he cannot resist being consumed~
Chains had snared him up, been locked tight, and Sephiroth might as well have thrown away any key to freedom he might have owned before the warmth had synched ‘round his wrist.
The shackles took him, ornate and beautiful, but still he is the one caught in the heat, held in the volatile snare of those unquenchable gleaming eyes. Gaia, how it burned.
Unable to break the enchantment, Sephiroth’s lids heavied, drunken by the sound of his companion’s sultry tones. So it is, that he allows his hand to be manipulated, breath held and eyes fixed, by the puzzling maneuver. During which, he is frozen. Perhaps, seemingly caught off guard and maybe he was, but too soon his body betrayed any instinct to seek escape. It knew.
Now. He had forgotten the thoughts, the self disgust, the pretenses: If the other had been used, If the other had used him? Was that sickeningly beautiful feeling for the other anything but infatuation? Would anything that came of this end in no other place but destruction?
Now. He had forgotten for a moment the exhaustion: The recent bout of insomnia these last nights had taken him, and their waking nightmares. The end of this long day of examinations, the slew of Hojo’s newest battle simulations, the thick ooze he had grown to hate seeing pumped into his skin– the increasing amounts syphoned into his body, as it had been periodically… for so many years.– The way it intruded and churned coldness within his veins and made his head throb with deafeningly quiet static.
~Even now his skin was left colder.
All of the day wasted back at that hidden laboratory. The hazed trek back to his home… All of it, only hours ago, minutes? Everything faded.
Whatever force bent fate, all powers that be, could not keep Sephiroth’s expression from twisting into something dark, starved. The thrill was chemical, a reaction that sparked and flitted across his skin, too irresistible the sort of torture that set his spine afire. All for the reminder of what it had felt like.
Before. He could have tried to stop this. He could’ve pulled at the tightening tethers, find an excuse to leave, to dismiss the other. To somehow, not allow his form to slip closer to the siren before him. He could have buried the feelings driving him to keep his hips from pressing into both of his companion’s knees. But now, he cannot dream of doing anything but all of this, or anything but allow his serpentine smile from hovering mere inches from the other’s.
So he does, and now it cannot be taken back.
“Oh? Too tired?” There is a pause, a facade of concern flickered toward his tempter’s curled lip, but the glance is quick to find the other’s eyes again, burning and amused. He purrs, the danger seeped from his voice, too thick, too deep, beckoning. “Perhaps, a taste then.” And he presses the two stained digits to the other’s parted mouth, admiring the soft way they caved. The way they did before.
That smug, ravenous void blew wide, intent to expel all but this and devour. All thanks to the look that crimson fiend had given, that treacherous demand, it was so little and yet everything needed to dance carelessly deeper into a promised inferno. The box, his clever tool of temptation, is discarded to someplace amongst the other forgotten things upon the counter..
Sephiroth’s attention would not venture, nowhere aside the memory of those lips on his, the way hands had groped for stability at his back, the teeth that bore their mark…and whether by intention or careless slip, his touch deepens ever so slightly.
He would toss the forgotten items later.
Sephiroth never cared for sweet things anyway.
The heat against his knees was victory. But the spoils tasted sweet on his tongue, the velvety chocolate imparted from Sephiroth’s fingers giving Genesis a thrill. In stark contrast to the redhead’s aloof demeanor, his eyes were ravenous, his mouth even more so. With little provocation, he was coaxed to lap his tongue against those stained fingers, the slick muscle gliding seamless along the pale flesh. But all it took was an exhale for his words to form casually, as though his mouth were not occupied with a more insidious task.
“Hnnn… Tease.” His words were muffled, but only for so long. Although he took his time to guide those fingers into his mouth, there was a sense of urgency in his movement, as though intent on reminding Sephiroth what it was it could do. And he did this by swallowing down those slender digits, the muscles in the back of his throat collapsing down on them. Then, Sephiroth was free, and Genesis was smug.
Anything to get a rise out of this stoic creature– surely. Although the fervor of his act had Genesis huff a little to regain his lost air. “I was going to ask if you had managed to stay out of trouble without me keeping you in line.” He grinned, returning the stolen hand to Sephiroth’s side, chaste, like a good highschool boy would return a man’s daughter after a dance.
Then, he slid off the counter, poignantly aware of how this made their bodies press flush against each other. Fingers crawling up Sephiroth’s ribs up to his chest, Genesis sweetly swept off a long piece of hair and pushed it over the other’s shoulder. “But something tells me you are mischief.” Flashing a fluttery smile up at his fellow SOLDIER, Genesis broke into a warm smile. “You would make an angel like me downright corrupt.” As though of the two of them, Sephiroth was the corruptor.
“So, are you going to let me through?”
