OPEN POST; [ SEPHIROTH / FFVII ]

[supersoldier]

those chosen by the planet.

(( despite the ominous choice of music i default to a pre-nibelheim canon point, but can play post-nibelheim upon request! ))

Comments

[velvetshot]

( Until I tell you to stop.

There it is. Yazoo exhales softly, too enticed by the offer of freely using his hands, teeth and tongue to much care for the caveat, and pushes up onto an elbow as though compelled to follow his brother by some kind of magnetic pull. It may as well be precisely that: whatever this is that's happening between them isn't something he's certain he'd be able to stop, not with the way each cell thrums and aches for Sephiroth as he kneels there above him. )

And what happens then?

( The very tip of his tongue wets the plush curve of his lower lip as Yazoo lets his gaze rove down over the exposed parts of Sephiroth's chest. He's never really looked at him before; if there had been a hint of a sexual element to his awe it wasn't something he'd ever lingered on, but now that he can freely soak in it Yazoo finds himself unable to get enough. The desire to consume and be consumed ...

It's stronger than he'd realised. )

When I stop, do you start?

( Yazoo shifts again. This time he pulls himself up properly so that he can kneel before him too, although unlike his brother he sits back on his ankles with a just a hint of a wince. For all Masamune is planted deep in the ground it still stings at the back of his leg; a cold, strange pain that seems so far removed from the heat of Sephiroth's flesh before him. He reaches out with no small amount of reverence and slides his hands in beneath the leather, palms skimming hot, smooth skin to feel the unyielding muscle beneath.

... It would be a lot easier without the coat, wouldn't it?

Slim fingers drift to the buckles holding Sephiroth's pauldrons in place. Yazoo rises just enough to reach his throat, his lips brushing against the beat of his pulse as he works the fastenings open, before curling into a smile that parts for the slick flat of his tongue. He licks slowly, savouring his flavour before scraping his teeth against taut skin, and lets the pad of his thumb glance over a nipple as he works on those leather straps. )

[supersoldier]

[In this way, it is almost as though they are prostrated before each other, were it not for the red slashed across the back of Yazoo’s leg, or the clear hitch of a wince marring his features. As always, even when they are equal, they are decidedly not, the clear advantage of both physicality and demeanor perpetually skewed in Sephiroth’s direction.

But now is a time of temporary indulgences for both, and he knows that his brother experiences the same buzz of lancing anticipation when he draws so near on his own accord. Yahoo’s deft and questing fingers make quick work of the fastenings that keep his pauldrons snug against the hill of his shoulders, and the leather straps that cross his chest are worked upon next; every brush of his fingertips is like fire -- or maybe a shard of ice -- against his skin, unsurprisingly lascivious despite how transiently it sweeps past.

Sephiroth’s voice is a quiet, rumbling vibration through the hollow of his throat as his brother presses the flat wet of his tongue against his skin. He angles his chin upwards, revealing more of the contoured line of his neck, his gaze half-lidded and fixed on an invisible point.]

Yes.

[His words may as well be a low hum, just the essence of a languid timbre, but Sephiroth is articulate all the same. Often to the detriment of others, though perhaps “detriment” is a misnomer on this occasion.]

I know it’s what you want. That desperate desire rolls off of you, Yazoo.

[His brother's thumb brushes an exposed nipple; his teeth relish across pale skin. Sephiroth's nerves are alight, the strain between his legs warm and wanting.]

It’s why you’ll push the limits of what you are allowed. You’re considering it now, aren’t you? [The leather straps eventually give, falling loose around his frame.] Hungry for the my retaliation, even in all your revelry.