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

[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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