Of Silver And Red
Sephiroth hissed as the sword blade was drawn slowly once again across his back. The silver blade split milky flesh, and crimson welled from the slice.
Genesis gasped at the sight of his three favorite colors blending together. The feeling of power that accompanied it was almost orgasmic. Sephiroth, not unaware of the effect that his obvious surrender to the older man created, moaned softly at the pain and pleasure that the torture inflicted.
Suddenly, Sephiroth bucked his hips backwards, making Genesis fall from his perch across Sephiroth's thighs. The older man tossed the sword aside, grinning wickedly.
Sephiroth had time to flip over onto his back, smearing the blood onto white sheets. Writhing, just to torment Genesis, he sat up far enough to touch one of the cuts, gathering blood on his immaculate hand.
Genesis paused, wondering about this new step. The Sephiroth started to trace patterns on his bare chest with the red liquid.
Genesis hissed in appreciation. He thought he'd known every step in this macabre dance, but every time he thought he had it figured out, Sephiroth changed the rules.
Genesis growled as the younger man looked up through hooded eyes and grinned. He tackled the slender body to the bed, loving the cry of pain that escaped Sephiroth's lips as his back met painfully with the bed.
Genesis wasted no time, dipping his head to lick at the red lines, only now realizing that Sephiroth had spelled out 'yours'. The metallic taste of the blood acted as an aphrodesiac, driving Genesis higher.
Sephiroth cried out, arched his back, as Genesis licked lower, now ignoring the bloodied white skin, in favor of something much more enticing.
He reared up on his knees, roughly ripping at Sephiroth's black jeans, then tearing them down his slender hips and tossing them away.
Then he stopped, just gazing at the sight. Sephiroth, spread unhibited across the bed, the white sheets below him dotted with blood, his white chest heaving under the word that he'd written there. Yours.
Genesis nodded. Yes, Sephiroth was his.
Reconfirming that, he lowered his red head to Sephiroth's neglected member, and the younger ached his back again, tossing his head back and forth, making the cuts in his back open wider, the sheets darker with his lifegiver. Genesis sucked hard, then softly, making the man above him whimper with want. He tried to push up, deeper into that hot orifice, but Genesis was having none of it.
He made a small humming sound deep in his throat, and shoved the questing hips back down.
Sephiroth made a small, keening sound, desperate, something he hated, but something Genesis loved.
Finally, Genesis gave the other what he wanted-- his release.
But Genesis wasn't done.
This was the part Sephiroth hated, but had finally, wearily, resigned himself to. Genesis allowed no preperation, no waiting before he slammed into the now exausted Sephiroth.
The pleasure of his orgasm only moments before dulled some of the pain, but not all. Genesis grinned to himself as Sephiroth gasped in agony, then pulled out and slammed back in.
Sephiroth turned his head, closed his eyes, hating this side of Genesis, the part that hated emotion and loved the pain he inflicted.
The silver haired man tried to relax, knowing that tensing only made the pain worse for him, and thus more pleasurably for Genesis. But he couldn't stop the tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes as he felt his body give way, knowing he was bleeding from more than his back now.
Genesis gasped, an unspoken command. Sephiroth, as always, obeyed, and turned his head back, opening his eyes to look up at his lover.
The sight made him gasp slightly at the beauty of the man above him, and his own legs locked around the redhead's neck. And then, Genesis looked down at him, mako green clashing with hazel as Genesis came deep inside his lover's body.
Afterward, Genesis left.
He always did, leaving the cleanup to Sephiroth, a kind of skewed punishment. First, the sheets, stiff with semi-dried blood, came off and went into the bathroom sink to soak, slowly turning the crystal water to rust.
Then, Sephiroth showered, wincing as the warm water ran in rivulets down his back, across the cuts. Then, he bandaged them as best he could, before remaking the bed, and falling exausted into the comfort he, strangely, still found there.
And he would wait for the next time that Genesis came knocking at his door.
He was, after all, only a possession.