Re: Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Cloud, wing-kink - why preening is a private affair pt2
Unconsciously, he'd been moving closer to the position he usually occupied when they were in bed together, half-laying against Sephiroth's side with one hand continuing to stroke at the wing. It wasn't until his own hips were pressed against the older man that he realised Sephiroth's hips were moving: short, subtle movements against the blankets, movements that made him think of sex.
His hand paused. If Sephiroth was moving like that, it would be rubbing him up against the mattress. It was true that the man's pants, and possibly the lower parts of his coat, were in the way, but...
Cloud stroked his fingers over soft feathers, and watched Sephiroth's hips rock forward. His face felt hot, but he did it again and caught his breath as the movement also meant Sephiroth rubbed against the front of his own pants, which were getting tighter.
Settling more firmly against Sephiroth's side, he continued, feeling slightly guilty as the rocking movements picked up their pace in response to his ministrations. It wasn't as though Sephiroth was even really conscious of what he was doing, and Cloud shouldn't be enjoying this so much. He was just supposed to be taking care of him, not getting off.
He wasn't sure when he began thrusting his own pelvis against Sephiroth's thigh, but he felt it when Sephiroth's hips jerked forward sharply, and a shudder rolled through the long body. A small sound of disappointment escaped his when he realised what it meant.
Then long hair shifted, and he looked up to see Sephiroth had turned his head. The silver-haired General was looking at him, his eyes bright and aware for the first time in weeks.
“Cloud,” he said, the usually smooth voice raspy from disuse. There were a lot of messages hidden in those brilliant green eyes, guilt and unease among them, but what made Cloud catch his breath was the one he was most familiar with.
Desire.
He should be angry at Sephiroth for burning down his village and attacking them, disappointed or hurt or something, but all Cloud felt was relief. Leaning forward, Cloud pressed a kiss against dry, cracked lips, and stroked his hand over feathers once again.