Darker Angel Spaketh: I know. It's weird fluff. But it's meaningful fluff. And being stuck on chapter 15 of the story, I am absolutely unable to write anymore without writing a small vignette here about them... as they are unbelievably gorgeous together, I wrote this today out of sheer boredom and with great care, to portray the relationship between these two. It's a rather... depressing thing at first, but the ending is sudden and satisfying. R&R!
Your gaze is cold.
Can you look at me any other way? Can you hold my face in your hands and tell me the truth? I can't look into your soul that deeply. You have shrouded it in too much pain, and angst flourishes with your every gesture. The cause of your suffering evades me... But is it about that blonde-haired warrior child, the one who feared and scorned your affection?
Or is it much deeper than that?
For ages I have clawed and dug and soothed my way into your being, trying with every power bestowed upon me to apply the love-salve to staunch the look of despair in your eyes. But it seems the deeper I go, the farther away your soul shrinks away from me.
Sephiroth, my angel, my suffering prince, why do you do this to me?
Why is that three-letter phrase so hard for you to say?
The way you touch me, it burns of need. Your whispers awaken in me a sense of desperate desire to be held close, your kisses cry in the darkness of a hidden want you cannot indulge. Why won't you touch me anymore? Why don't you look at me when I say your name?
I brush my fingers through his hair and say his name again. Once more his eyes look everywhere except my own. Sadness wrenches and clutches at me, wanting to overtake me. But I know that behind that sadness would be anger, and he doesn't need that. I keen softly as his lips met my collarbone, but it is a quiet and thoughtful kiss, without purpose, and at the sound of my voice his fingers knot tightly in my tunic.
"Don't," he says. "Don't say anything."
"Why not?" I demand softly, kneading the back of his neck lightly, encouraging him to continue. "Why are you so afraid of this?" I demonstrate by moving ever so slightly, placing my body underneath his, as he is already somewhat on top of me.
Sephiroth allows this movement. He turns, looking at me, and again that pain flashes into me worse than if I had been struck by a lightning bolt. I want to kill that pain, make it vanish, and to see instead happiness, joy, and not this strained, withheld lust.
"Because I... I just can't!!" Sephiroth nearly breaks free, but I am up in an instant beside him. His back is now to me, but my arms are around his chest in an instant, locking my hand around the opposite wrist and holding tight. I bite his shoulder, golden eyes ablaze. He relaxes, and so do I.
"There is nothing to tell."
"No, I think there is much to be said. So tell me... every time I get close to you, you shrink away like you're afraid of something. Afraid you're going to hurt me. You won't, I hope you know. You'll never be rid of me!"
This makes him smile. For once, I am glad that I am not as evil as I was before. Joking and teasing has become easier to deal out and deal with. His smile is like the sun, radiant, eternal. I squeeze his chest and sit up. "So tell me... is it shame?"
"Come on, Sephiroth. You've got to give me more to work with. Are you ashamed to be with me?"
"No... not to be with you..." He turns in my arms, and returns my embrace. My knee is between his legs, and our bodies close together like a puzzle-piece. His mouth finds mine, and it is at once a ginger thing, suckling and drawing back and moving in again, his lips caressing, tongue seeking, and I give in at once. His hands have moved, migrating until his fingers, hard and soft at once, curl around my hips and force my groin to focus solely on his. It does.
He pauses here. The summer breeze of his breath sweeps past my ear, sending chills down my back. Inevitably my manhood responds as I knew it would, but recoils as he speaks. "I just... feel soiled somehow... so many things..."
"I know you have killed, Sephiroth." I am not sure if these words will console or harm, but he doesn't release me and I don't pull away. "I know your madness, your suffering. I felt it that first time I entered your dreams, saw the vision of the boy... and realized within the space of one breath that your loneliness would be the cause of your rage. Is this not true?"
Life was always a troublesome thing. Memories of that life could be lost.. but memories molded a person, shaped a man into the thing he would remain until a stronger memory could change it, soften the vulnerable matter which makes up the ying and yang of things. I want the fateful memory so much, I'll do anything to obtain it... but I don't know anything powerful enough to undo the shadows in this man's heart.
I press him close to me. His hands have grown limp, his breath deep and I relish the savory taste of his skin. To my delight, although his response is subtle, his breath quickens and a change in his body's posture occurs. I let my hands speak, engrave secret messages along his shoulders and lower back, where fingertips dance along his spinal column with reckless abandon. There is something vaguely erotic in the manner in which his body arches ever so slowly towards me, praising my affection, languishing in it, and his lips part as he exhales and drives his groin a bit harder into mine.
I realize he thirsts for me as powerfully as I have ever thirsted for him. But his kisses do not yet descend, instead his hands knead my waist forcefully, making me squirm, and now he is laughing softly, turning me onto my back where his hand hovers enticingly over my thigh, raking his nails over the soft fabric keeping my skin safe from harm.
There. No longer are you ashamed. Play with me. Do as you will, but don't close your eyes when I touch you anymore. Let me see your expression.
He ignores my soft begging, and takes his time, the bastard, kissing neat, smooth trails across my chest, underneath my throat, where in a fit of instinctive dominance his teeth close very gently around a bit of skin just below my jaw. During this, I hold very still, because if I move his teeth might really do harm... but it's so hard to hold still.
I know he would never hurt me.
I know I could never hurt him.
And somehow I know that Sephiroth is aware that if I did, he would forgive me and understand my unintentional error and forgive me with his dark blessings, teasing me into madness and strengthening the unconditional love that I hold for him so dearly.
Darker Angel Spaketh: I certainly hope that wasn't too awful... *grins* Difficult to write without too much citrus in here... but it was good...right?