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

[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. ]

[Maybe the "I think" is reason to hesitate, but her arms looping around his neck acts as confirmation enough for now. Sephiroth won't wait for her to lower herself to the ground. Instead, he hitches her up with a bracing grip, holding her in his arms as he turns around to lead them into the living area. If she wants to wrap her legs around him as they cross over, all the better for now.

His lips seek hers in the interim, a hungrily selfish gesture that does little to watch where he's going, but he has a general idea of where to deposit her. When his shins bump against the couch (or at least the nearest facsimile of a lounge sofa), he lowers her down onto the cushions. He’s kind enough to not simply drop her, but there’s a hurriedness to his actions, an eagerness to see her from a new angle above and take in the sight.]

[ In this case, it's not the wrong response, her body language clear where her words stumble. He's found perhaps the only thing she's still unsure of, a new facet to her that's so different from the sharp edges of the self-assured huntress. It's different now, when neither of them is addled by outside forces (that little nudge of some recreational drugs notwithstanding, of course).

Her mouth opens in a moan that disappears into his, while Ciri wraps her legs around him without bothering to look where he carries her. She clings a moment longer when he drops her, before realizing she should relax. Her thighs fall open.

The grip around Sephiroth's neck loosens too, though Ciri keeps her hands on his shoulders while he stays close. Her breasts, nipples flushed and perky, rise and fall with the quickness of her excited breaths.

She bites her lip, more shyly than coyly, watching him through half-lowered lashes. ]

You know... [ Ciri looks away, not ashamed but embarrassed, finding the act of looking him directly in the eyes somehow too intense right now. She wants to squirm, stomach tight in several different ways. Her fingertips press into the nape of his neck. ]

I've only really been intimate with women.

[ It's not that she thinks that will change anything. If she had, he wouldn't have gotten this far. But Ciri peeks back quickly to gauge his reaction anyway. ]

...well. Not counting the time in Libertas.

[His hair slides down his shoulders, pooling a little on either side of her, working to act as a strange little veil of privacy — even if the two of them are the only ones present. It couches this moment, her small show of embarrassment, more intimately. A secret shared between two lovers.

His trousers have fallen and crinkled just around the middle of his thighs, but Sephiroth can still maneuver himself to press a knee into the cushions, to center himself between her legs. He’s seen her like this before; but she’s still just as arresting, and they share that tight, fluttering feeling just below the belly. His cock absolutely aches.

Sephiroth’s reaction to her admittance is less of surprise and more of consideration. He trails a free hand down her chest, fingers teasing at a pert nipple.]

Are you nervous, then?

[He asks, simply.]

[ Her immediate desire is to deny it, defensive and unwilling to admit a weakness. It won't serve her well.

She bites her lip again, and admits softly: ]

A little.

[ There's a beat. The way her heart leaps around wildly seems like it should be audible. Between them is the whole stretch of a world all its own, completely secluded, where her words can remain safely tucked away within this liminal space. She adds: ]

But I'm curious, too. And I like you.

I want it to be with you.

[Words that resonate. Somehow, words that make his own heart jump in his chest, despite everything that's brought them here to this moment: And I like you. How simple a statement, just a short thing, but they make him feel warm in a way that isn't related to the physical lust pulsing between them.

And he hangs onto that feeling, revels in it, just long enough to bring his face in closer for a kiss. Lingering, flushed, affectionate.

His hand at her chest trails down to one of her thighs, already spread for him, but he nudges her legs apart a little more, his intent clear. And then, finally breaking the kiss, he mutters lowly against her lips-]

I like you, too.

[ Her body curves with his touch, a slight but eager arch of her spine as his hand moves from her breast down her stomach, to her hip and thigh.

She puts her hands on his shoulders in turn, and kisses him back with a softness, a warm sweetness that might seem unexpected from her.

The reciprocating words he returns to her send a thrill through Ciri's heart. And her body, too, as her heart beats faster, and her face feels hotter even than before.

She braces her heels on the cushion, knees up. Watches him through her lashes, still nose to nose. ]

Well...? Don't keep me waiting.

[The softness of that kiss will remain etched in his memory, fleeting as it is when it gives way to her slightly shifting form beneath him, draining away what's left of his restraint. Her words banish it completely, and Sephiroth's throat bobs up and down as he swallows hard, moving his hands to the side of each thigh, fingertips pressing in.

He draws himself up, takes in the sight for a half-second more, and after that, he makes neither of them wait for much longer.

One hand moves to the base of his cock, guiding himself into her. Dimly, he doesn’t want to be hasty, he knows he should give her time to adjust — she had just told him that she’s never been with a man before, not like this.

But he has barely any patience to hold onto. He’s far from hesitant when he finally seats himself inside of her, and not particularly languorous about it, either. It’s a blessing that she feels so good, even like this, that he doesn’t do much more than hitch forward slightly, adjusting, and feeling. For now, breath gutters out of him.]

[ A soft hiss escapes her lips when she feels him press against her folds. She angles her hips up, holds onto his shoulders. Her nails press into skin as he begins to press into her.

Ciri is not so inexperienced that the sensation is completely foreign, but at the same time, it does feel different. Bigger, certainly. Deeper. More.

The sound she makes is not intentional, as her head tips back, mouth open helplessly. A low, quivering moan, drawn out, rasping in her arched throat. Her hips jolt up on their own, shaking, as his cock opens her up insistent and unrelenting, sending waves of startled, confusing signals shuddering through her body from the base of her spine to her fingertips, which snag in Sephiroth's loose hair.

It takes less time than she expected. He pauses, and Ciri gasps in great lungfuls of air, audibly, thighs squeezing either side of his hips and toes curling in the cushions while she learns the sensation of being filled so tight she's certain neither of them can move.

Except then his hips snap forward again, quick and forceful, hitching her body up right against his and holding her there. The pressure squeezes inside her, building, almost hurting. For a few seconds, Ciri breathes like its the only thing she can do, clinging to him and reveling in the sensation with a sense of wonder at the novelty of it, a little twinge of pride. ]

Fuuck... [ she breathes out, and with the long exhale, her twitching muscles relax a little, as does her hard grip on Sephiroth's shoulders, leaving little half-moon nail marks behind. ]

[The tug of her fingers caught in his hair barely registers, and even the bite of her nails are negligible, lost somewhere in that frozen-still moment of them newly slotted against each other. The feeling of it being almost too much, too full, is a shared one, though to a different degree — he feels completely squeezed by her, warm at every angle, and even his single movement forward had sent a wave through him. A pulse with every twitch, every adjustment on her side, that has him biting his lower lip, trying not to hiss out the exact same word in turn.

He barely manages; what leaves his mouth is a sound incomprehensible. Ciri relaxes around him, and suddenly too much feels like not enough, and Sephiroth moves his hands to just below her hip bones, hiking her up, then retracting his cock halfway from her. They glisten where they meet. He hasn’t time to appreciate the view, really, because his body has him pushing himself back into her, harder.

The effort to leash his words are useless this time, falling out as they do; a rarity for a man like Sephiroth—]

Nngh, fuck. Ciri…

[ In fairness, she's not interested in any sort of view either. She isn't even looking at him, too overwhelmed by the physical sensations that thunder through her body, only amplified by the bit of assistance they'd taken before. Her mind is blissfully, shockingly blank-- something she might reflect on later, but right now, all that matters is that he's moving.

Her fingers snag in his hair again reflexively, and she's not gentle. Sephiroth's tight grip on her hips lifts her off the cushions and shifts the angle somehow in a way that feels like he gets even deeper on the next thrust, or maybe it's just that he more forceful this time, or maybe it's the same but it's just a shock every time.

Ciri yelps, soft and high, her hips hitching up against his. Her back arches, head pushed back against the cushions, eyelashes fluttering. She's slick and hot around him, and he can probably feel each shuddering breath, her body twitching and heaving.

She doesn't ask him to slow down or stop. It doesn't really occur to her that she can, though that's not because Sephiroth's made any indication of that; but there's something entrancing about giving herself over, letting him have her and experiencing only how it feels, what it does to her body, the new sensations that arise. ]

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

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