abraxaslogs | [ CATCH-ALL ] the wishes I've made are too vicious to tell

[ She is far too giddy to sit still. They toast, a wordless clink of glasses, and drink. But when she stands to clear the table a bit before anything more happens -- the room swaying at the edges, pleasantly -- Ciri notices Sephiroth standing to follow her. ]

I'll just drop these off. [ she promises not to take long, doing just as she said and leaving the plates in the kitchen for later.

He pauses just beyond the counter to the sink, presumably waiting for her, an expression on his features that Ciri can't quite place when she turns back. ]

What--?

[ She doesn't get to finish. Sephiroth closes the distance with a conviction at once exciting and somehow comforting, with the certainty of the waiting being over, and none of the in-between awkwardness of trying to figure out how to begin. She's never been so good at that part, anyway.

Ciri doesn't kiss him so much as allow him to kiss her, reciprocating when he leads, surrendering when he pushes. Her hands drop to her sides, face lifting. Her mouth opens, and her eyes slide shut. ]

[It seems to be a trend that, when the initial awkwardness and self-consciousness between them is no longer an issue, it is so easy for Sephiroth to work on instinct. To listen to what his body wants in tandem with hers, and act accordingly, with such an ease that it’s sure to surprise him when he thinks back on such moments.

It was similar when they spent their last night together. Similar, but not the same, exactly — no unknown, outside influence shearing away at their inhibitions, but instead a real choice on their part. No run-down, abandoned home belonging to a stranger, but the safety of a place known, warm and inviting. In a way, it’s as though they have all the time in the world.

Even if Sephiroth, after letting the warmth of that kiss bloom all along the planes of his body, coiling heatedly just below his belly, isn’t sure how much time he really wishes to take. Already, his lips part and he presses into hers harder, teases with his tongue; already, his hand drops just to place against her hip, pushing back just enough to make her bump against the counter behind her.]

What if I— [He finally breathes out, just barely enough space between their parted lips to form words.] —just took you right here.

[Bold indeed.]

[ Any misgivings she might've had are entirely drowned out by the tingling warmth in her limbs, the heat of his mouth on hers. Any higher logic pushing her to consider it would probably be technically a better and more comfortable idea to insist on the bedroom has fled by now, replaced by the urgency of desire, and the pleasant unreality of this moment as it seems to separate from the confines of the physical room and the concept of time -- it's just them, just him and the press of the counter's edge at the small of her back, and the pounding of her own heart in her temples.

Ciri's lips are wet with his tongue. She breathes out, air mingling with his, eyes soft and hazy, watching him with pupils nearly eclipsing the green. It isn't shyness this time, but she blushes all the same. ]

We won't be interrupted. [ She promises, voice barely above a whisper. It's not a no. ]

[It's not a no, and though practicality would also do them well in this moment—after all, the bedroom would be more comfortable—it seems such a faraway concept. So much more overrides it, bolstered by the way she’s looking at him, the way her cheeks are tinging pink. The thrum of his own heartbeat in his chest, ratcheting up a few notches at the growing reality of the idea, images already threatening to form in his head.]

Good.

[Then maybe that’s what they’ll do. Maybe they’ll let desire and impatience reign so much that every second feels like a wasted moment.

His hands move from her hips to the hem of her top, fingers gripping at the fabric, tugging upwards, as his own hips knock into hers amid the effort, causing him to hiss out a little in impatience.]

[ There is a very practical reason she wore a dress (though she wasn't quite bold enough to go without underwear despite her plans or hopes for the evening, so he'll have to contend with that; still, it's not much of a barrier).

A breathless giggle spills out, possibly prompted by his noise or maybe just her own giddiness. She wraps her arms around his neck, standing up on tiptoes in her bare feet. ]

Good. [ she echoes, and kisses him again, enthusiastically. ]

[Well, a dress is certainly more material to bunch up in his fingers, when he'd rather use his hands to feel her skin, instead. But that's fine, too; let it ruck up while he smooths over the lines of her waist. Again, he hitches his hips against the thin fabric of her underwear as she catches him in another kiss, her arms looped around his neck.

Sephiroth indulges in it, but it's clear that standing, a height difference might come into play as a slight issue. Still, for now, he's more concerned about that dress:]

This is in the way.

[Where his fingers bunch in the cloth, now they tug. Let him help you with that, perhaps, Ciri. Does it untie in the back?]

Then get rid of it.

[ She replies simply, with a coy smile warm against his lips. Ciri pulls back enough only to let him do so, and if he wants to ruck up the dress and get under it, he's perfectly welcome.

If he chooses instead to try to remove it entirely, she'll help him out. There are no buttons or laces to mess around with this time, not even a clasp. The thing is as as flimsy as they come, with only elastic keeping it up (what a fantastic invention). ]

[Elastic, an amazing and highly convenient material for moments like these especially. With that kind of leeway given to him, Sephiroth won't just ruck up her dress; he'll remove it entirely, easing it up and over her head, until every curve of her beneath is revealed to him. After that, he merely lets it crumple to the ground, discarded for now.

And then, he leans in, and presses a heated kiss to the nape of her neck, his hands sliding down to hitch his thumbs along the band of her underwear and pull that down, too. Patience is a novel thing -- but with his heart thudding in his chest the way it is, it's becoming clear that Sephiroth doesn't care to rely on much of it here and now.]

[ She shimmies out of the dress, arms up as Sephiroth pulls it off her, up and somewhere off to the side to be dropped out of the way. Already, Ciri's breathless and pink-faced, the blush spreading down her throat, scattered over the flat of her chest above her breasts. She was not wearing a bra.

Yes, it's embarrassingly clear she planned this. And yet, it still manages to startle her when he starts impatiently pulling down her panties next. Ciri lets out a small squeak, and then her hands follow, pushing the material down her thighs enough to kick it off.

Leaving her completely nude, hair down, the small of her back pressed into the counter as she stands up on her toes.

Just standing there for a long moment, heart pounding. Not entirely sure what to do next. ]

[But it’s exciting, knowing that she was anticipating this, that she planned it. That she stands completely nude after he’s slipped off her dress is proof of that.

He only appreciates the view when he straightens again, a hand idly sweeping back a stray lock of hair past the curve of her neck. And— Gaia, she’s beautiful like this, flushed and eager, if not awkward in not knowing how to proceed. (Something they both share in varying degrees, apparently.)

Sephiroth has her at an advantage, though; he’s far more dressed than she is, but he doesn’t seem to be keen on evening the field anytime soon. Instead, his hands sweep down at to her hips, and he lifts her up to seat her on the kitchen counter. At least she needn’t stand on her tip-toes any more.]

[ There's something about the way he moves her about so easily, sweeps her off her feet like she weighs nothing, that makes Ciri's heart catch in her throat like a fluttering bird. Something deep inside her base instinct still becomes just the slightest bit alarmed-- or maybe it's thrilled, instead, walking that line between excitement and trepidation that makes her blood pound in her ears.

She grips him with her knees, and seems to realize belatedly he's full dressed, towering over her. Her stomach clenches up, mouth falling open.

She drags him down by the hair for another heated, forceful kiss. ]

[That little surge of a thrill is shared, though maybe in a slightly different degree, when she tugs him down by the hair so their lips crash together. That impatience, bordering on forcefulness, is not something Sephiroth experiences often or ever — the fact that he enjoys it from her is a new nugget of information about himself that he can turn over in his mind more later.

For now, her knees bracket around him, an act that just keeps on piling on the anticipation, and suddenly these clothes are far too cumbersome for his liking, and his hands are flying up to undo the buttons of his dark shirt, working down, down.

He severs the kiss, though it lingers on her lower lip, just the faintest sensation of teeth, before he pulls away by mere inches. His hands move fast; he’s already trying to shrug off his shirt, while still remaining as slotted against her as possible. An awkward affair.]

Ciri. Will you touch me?

[ He barely has to ask; her hands slide under his shirt before the sentence even completely leaves his mouth. Her body moves forward instinctively, using the grip of her legs to anchor herself, and she helps to pull at his shirt and presses her palms to her shoulders, down his chest and ribs, fingertips grazing down the center of his stomach--

Hesitating a little at his belt.

Her eyes flick up again, seeking out his gaze for permission, or maybe just encouragement. ]

How... do you want me to touch you?

[Nerves alighting under her touch, every single place her fingers trail. Across shoulders and chest, his sides, down the plane of his stomach, and pausing just above the belt line.

She barely needs permission. And she will certainly win a fair share of encouragement; that is exactly the sort of touching that Sephiroth’s body has begun to ache for the most. It’s not hard to guess at, given how he’s begun to tent beneath the fabric of his trousers, suddenly feeling all-too constrained.

As quickly as he had tended to the buttons of his shirt, his hands move to unfasten his belt. The top button of his pants follow, to leave no room for doubt.]

I want to feel your hand wrapped around me.

[ Her hand shies away when his replaces it, letting him at the belt buckle. But she is curious, and while he moves to undress himself, her fingers slide lower, hovering just over the shape of him bulging in his trousers.

Before he can unbutton the trousers completely, she closes the distance, palm cupping him through the fabric so gently it's barely a touch, aware of the heat radiating beneath.

She draws her lower lip between her teeth, exhaling sharply. Not sure when to tell him-- or if she's too embarrassed to say it at all.

Ciri just nods, pulls her hand away enough to let him open his pants the rest of the way, and watches. ]

[His throat bobs, swallowing, when her hand just barely moves to cup him. It takes all manner of self-control not to hitch his hips further into her touch like some desperate teenager. The aphrodisiac certainly doesn’t make it easy.

But he manages, and she pulls away soon enough, allowing him to loosen his trousers properly and shirk them off, pushing the material down along with his undergarments, just enough to reveal his arousal, flushed and warm.

His cock’s more than just a little hard at this point. Again, the aphrodisiac has left his body particularly desperate for stimulation, and this is certainly no exception. Sephiroth feels Ciri’s eyes on him; exposed like this, that’s nearly titillating on its own, and he reaches out to run his hands down the sides of her thighs, happy to let her approach this unhurried.]

[ The drug's effects on her are far less obvious, but for the flush that warms her face and travels down her throat and chest, and her pupils dilating, eyes wide, fixed between his legs. She doesn't notice the way she licks her lips, the tip of her tongue darting out along the place she'd been biting down on a moment ago.

So intently is she staring, that his touch seems to surprise her when his palms rub down her thighs. Her skin prickles beneath his fingers, another wave of heat coiling, squeezing low in her belly and leaving the space between her thighs significantly wetter.

With a long, shaky breath, Ciri follows his request and takes Sephiroth's waiting cock in hand. Gently curling her fingers around it. Weighing it against her palm. It is softer than she expected, skin so delicate and velvety. Her thumb slides down the shaft, rubbing curiously, as if petting a very fragile little creature.

Her ankle hooks around the back of his thigh. Ciri scoots forward to reach better. And see better. (It's not like she's never seen a dick before, but this is different.) With both hands, she explores, noticing the moisture beading up at the tip with his excitement, finding it makes it easier to slide her hand down, as expected. She measures him along the length of her hand, and swallows.

It's not the first time she's seen Sephiroth naked. But Ciri's context is limited in the bedroom, and as it turns out, men get bigger when aroused.

She takes up stroking him again, with the added slipperiness from his precum managing to settle into a slow, rhythmic motion. ]

Does this feel okay? [ Her voice comes out soft, almost a whisper, even though it's only the two of them. ]

[Sephiroth has never been touched like this by someone else. To have Ciri explore the length of his cock so gently, so curiously at first, has him guttering out a breath — measured out in equals parts surprise and pleasure. The latter coils hot in his belly, and he finds himself biting his own lower lip to hold back any further sounds. (For now.)

When she slicks his precum along his length, he tilts his head back slightly, reveling in the sensation. She’s so warm, and though it’s undoubtedly exaggerated in his lust-addled mind, her palm feels all-encompassing.]

I…

[His tone is low, too, his mind trying to consider how to answer this question, pulled from a blissed out languor from how her strokes have become all but rhythmic now.]

Don't stop yet.

[That's a yes.]

[ A little thrill sparks through her, a jolt of pleasure echoing, reveling in his. Excited that he likes it, that her clumsy, uncertain attempts have elicited such an unexpectedly enthusiastic reaction.

Ciri smiles, drawing him closer, so her hands are between her own thighs to reach him. Going now by touch alone, she continues in the same slow, steady pulling motion, all the way up with a gentle squeeze, relaxing her grip to slide back down again and repeat. It's instinctive, though she's guessing a bit at the pressure to use, erring on the side of being too gentle than not; it feels at once so firm and solid, and yet more fragile than she expected, and she can feel his pulse, throbbing beneath her fingers.

Taking advantage of the proximity, Ciri tips her face down to the curve of his throat, pressing her lips to his jumping pulse there too and sliding her tongue along it. Her breaths comes out in hot, short bursts, impatience beginning to unravel the edges of her shyness and tug away the layers of uncertainty in what she's doing. The more she touches him, the easier it becomes to stop thinking about it.

Her hand around his cock gains speed and confidence. The other settles on his waist, with her knee just below it, fingers and thighs squeezing, her mouth latched on tight and tongue in the delicate space above his collar bone. ]

[He was already stiff and swollen in her hand, but her continued attentions—even as exploratory and gentle as they are—leave no room for leeway now. By the time Ciri dips her mouth against his throat, where his pulse ticks in time with his heart, his cock is fully hard. And then she grows in her assuredness, something he can feel with every stroke, leaving Sephiroth caught between a burgeoning sensation of increasing pleasure—heated, sliding through him—contrasted against knowing this still feels insufficient.

He wants to be impatient, but he also would like for this moment to stretch on for as long as it can, and so he gutters out a breath, dipping his head down, eyes closed. On the upstroke, Ciri applies just enough pressure to ease out a low moan from him. Her touch feels so good.

Without even thinking, his own hands find themselves at her hips, as though he might want to seek even more stimulation in any way he can. The position’s a little awkward, with how near she is, but one hand trails to the inside of her thighs and up, mindlessly seeking the wetness between her legs.]

[ She startles, sucks in a sharp gasp. Lets it out with a shudder of hot breath against his neck.

Ciri's rhythm falters, distracted. Her hips shift. ]

[Despite everything, somehow, the corners of Sephiroth's lips lift in response to her fanning breath, the way she shifts against his touch. Of course he wants her to continue touching him, and providing a distraction is the opposite of allowing that to happen...

But there's a different kind of pleasure in this, too. Trying to gather up just enough cognizance as she strokes him off so he can try to return the favor with an exploratory touch of his own.

If she's moved enough to grant him a little better access, then he'll take advantage of it, sliding a long finger up the center of her folds.]

Easily distracted.

[Even now, he teases. Breathy, distracted. But just a little.]

[ Ciri makes a soft, affronted noise. Or maybe it's a gasp, trying to be affronted, mostly just focused on his touch. She tries to give him room, though the position is awkward. ]

You know that is entirely your fault. [ she points out, not whining, just a statement.

She lifts one knee a bit, using her heel against the side of counter to pull herself forward onto the very edge. It means she's leaning right up against his chest when she bends forward to reach, adjusting the angle of her hand to make it easier to curl her fingers around his cock again from above. ]

Should we... move?

[He can’t argue that point. Nor does he seem to want to, his smile twisting into something pleased — before his breath hitches again when she scoots closer, her hand angling enough to usher in a sensation that feels dimly different, but just as distracting.

Her question registers somewhere in that warm buzz.]

If I move you somewhere more convenient— [For as nice as this is, it’s obvious they’re having to accommodate for the differing heights.] —then I won’t want to take this slow.

[Which is not so much as a complaint as it is a question: is she comfortable with that? He’s already throbbing with want, the aphrodisiac is doing its job and then some, and if he moved them to, say, a sofa, or a bed, the very idea of Ciri being under him will drive him mad.]

[ The blunt response sends a jolt through her, unexpectedly. Sends her imagination running wild.

Ciri swallows, nodding her head while she finds her voice. ]

I... don't mind. I think.

[ Releasing him, Ciri reaches up instead, looping her arms around his neck so she can hoist herself from the counter. Or he can simply pick her up. ]

[ CATCH-ALL ] the wishes I've made are too vicious to tell

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kneeslides back in here

yoooo

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