[He does kiss more deeply, mouth slotting open to make room for a questing tongue. It is telling how little effort it takes for him to do so, how only a modicum of encouragement is drawing him down this same path. Against his body, he feels her arch against him, and warmth coils just beneath his belly. They are dirty and grimy and couched in the dim lighting that pours through the broken windows — this is not an ideal place to do this.
But Sephiroth cares less and less. His hands want to move, want to rove over her — the idea is almost too much to only humor in thought. She’s already so, so warm, and whose heart is that, thudding in his chest? Pulsing in his ears? It must be his own.
He pulls away, an almost-gasp spilling from his lips already glistening from her; not to stop, but to say—]
I don’t want to wait anymore.
[His chances to be close with her, like this with her, put off time and time again.]
no subject
But Sephiroth cares less and less. His hands want to move, want to rove over her — the idea is almost too much to only humor in thought. She’s already so, so warm, and whose heart is that, thudding in his chest? Pulsing in his ears? It must be his own.
He pulls away, an almost-gasp spilling from his lips already glistening from her; not to stop, but to say—]
I don’t want to wait anymore.
[His chances to be close with her, like this with her, put off time and time again.]