[Something shifts, less like a switch and more like a shadow slipping across a threshold. Somewhere between the plaster cracking and falling, or the sieves of dust raining down from the ceiling above, a different sort of want has needled itself into her — no, into him, too. He cannot know if it’s the aftermath of adrenaline, or relief, or the many times of nearness they’ve spent together, crystallizing into one moment of action, but he doesn’t care to overthink it.
Her lips press hard into his, hot and hungry and unlike any he’s experienced thus far, and he returns it in kind, closing his eyes. On his tongue, he tastes blood, and there’s something—
(Thrilling, says the whisper in his head. Something thrilling about that, too. He does not care to disagree.)
Sephiroth’s hands move from her shoulders and glide down the curve of her, finding purchase on opposite sides of her hip. His gloved fingertips press a little harder, almost imploring, suddenly keenly aware of her half-dressed state, while he parts his lips a little amid their kiss. It's as though his body moves on its own, seeking out her warmth, instinct wanting to keep himself close, closer than he's ever been before.]
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Her lips press hard into his, hot and hungry and unlike any he’s experienced thus far, and he returns it in kind, closing his eyes. On his tongue, he tastes blood, and there’s something—
(Thrilling, says the whisper in his head. Something thrilling about that, too. He does not care to disagree.)
Sephiroth’s hands move from her shoulders and glide down the curve of her, finding purchase on opposite sides of her hip. His gloved fingertips press a little harder, almost imploring, suddenly keenly aware of her half-dressed state, while he parts his lips a little amid their kiss. It's as though his body moves on its own, seeking out her warmth, instinct wanting to keep himself close, closer than he's ever been before.]