Warning: Smut. Once again, a
heads up about the content. Please skip this chap if you are
avoiding the more intimate bits.
It's a frigging love scene, folks.
It's got-- frigging in it.
Like I've said, I really don't
censor myself whilst 'being creative' so seriously, if you
don't want to read this stuff-- go away.You're
welcome back next chap.
His pale face was all she could see above her. Eyes like twin fireflies beneath white, straight brows.
Then his mouth covered hers, and she could see nothing, feel nothing but him. He was everywhere--the taste of him, the scent of him--sharp and heady. Sheer maleness with a faint tang of fire or metal. Or blood.
Slowly, possessively, his hands moved over her, smoothing away every sensation that was not him, touching her as she had never been touched. The shy, demure Aeris burned away under the caress as new sensations tore through her body. She was burning; she was drowning in him.
From his first touch, liquid flame shot through her veins and down, down to the secret parts of her body. Those parts of her that had throbbed all afternoon with aftershocks flared to life like a banked fire devouring new kindling. The cleft of her womanhood felt heavy and hot, aching with a steadily building pulse.
Her nightdress was coming open. She gave a desperate little mewling cry, muffled beneath his hungry kiss. Below, the green silk was already hiked up to her thighs, his knees spreading her legs, exposing her.
Pressure.
Pressure and heat.
"Wait, no please! Be gentle!" she cried.
The hands stopped unbuttoning the dress. They were already to her belly, and part of her breasts showed between the open halves of the fabric.
"I've been very gentle with you, little flower girl," he hissed, but he belied his own harsh tone by pulling himself away and sitting up beside her trembling form. Forcing her shaking limbs into action, Aeris retreated beneath the covers of the bed.
Silk sheets tonight.
Kept warm by some minor spell.
Not, she knew, for his benefit.
Sephiroth's eyes narrowed as he watched her withdraw, but he did not move to stop her. "Still the little tease, I see . . . I've waited five years from the day I first meant to have you. I can't imagine why." His eyes perused the coverlet that hid her, "Or how, for that matter."
"I can," Aeris held the linens over her like a shield, and her hair almost covered her face as she spoke. "You need to be sure you can throw me away like all the others. You can't touch me unless you know I can't touch your heart."
Sephiroth stared at her.
Her voice held no reproach, no baiting, just a sad little whisper that went through him like an icy wind. His arms ached for her, his chest--what was that feeling?
He wanted to hold her. To protect her.
But from what? Himself?
Because what she says is true. I want her to mean nothing to me.
Part of his mind had already tried to classify her with all the others, comparing and contrasting her with the other women he'd embraced. Then, with those mild words, she separated herself from every person he ever knew.
Just as she had that first day on the barren Midgar plains.
When he finally spoke, the words came slowly, as if each one were being torn from him. "Insightful . . . as ever . . . aren't you, my little flower girl?"
He turned away, although he still felt her warmth beside him. He had hoped she would be like the others, so he could have her and have done with her. It would be reassuring to think "all women are whores," to know he would keep her only as long as she was entertaining-- to know he was in control.
Clearly, she was having none of that.
Instead, she fed another, scarce-used part of his soul. A part of him that believed she--her unique essence and being--was more sacred than any life he had ever encountered--including his own. And with that belief came a nameless feeling that warred with his habitual perversity. A bright emotion flared in his chest, a sensation untamed and untamable.
This wasn't supposed to happen . . .
Part of the reason he brought her here, he realized, was because he wanted proof that she was nothing more than a momentary lapse of judgement, exaggerated in his mind by the stress of those dark days just before he met her-- when he learned the truth of his existence. He had been pushed to the brink of insanity then: hearing Mother calling for him, hearing Mother screaming for him. But Aeris had come, washing over his skin like rain, smelling of honeysuckle, tasting of life.
Surely no one could really be what he remembered. He brought her here to prove to himself that she was only a prosaic, pallid creature next to the flower-goddess of his imagination.
Instead, he had brought his sylph to sharp, vivid life. Even worse, the trembling flower girl on the Midgar plains-- half-memory and half-imagination-- faded in comparison with this startling, delicate woman, merciless in her gentleness. Every day, every hour, he felt himself more deeply enmeshed-- in what?
He had no words for it.
A hand on his arm.
"Sephiroth?"
She sat up in the bed, one hand holding the sheet to her breast, the other reaching out to him.
Oh, gods! She's perfect. Every angle, every curve. Perfect angel flesh.
And her eyes-- like green diamonds.
He could still feel her squirming enticingly beneath him, resisting and receiving at once.
Clouds scudded across the moon, casting beams of moonlight across half her face. The other half reflected the low-burning fire. Two lights: one harsh and cool, the other gentle and warm. Distinct but complementary.
She fit here. An urge, almost blinding in its intensity, swept through him. He wanted to be with her, to explore her as intimately as possible. The swordsman's hand trembled slightly as he reached up to cover the fingers on his shoulder. He wanted her here, in this room where he spent his nights. It was as if she made this ostentatious room his.
For a moment, he hovered at a crossroads. He could push her away, leave this room, and her, and all the strange emotions she brought with her. Sandria was probably still around here somewhere.
Or, he could stay.
Stay with this green-eyed angel with a halo of tousled hair, and let these feelings overpower him.
She had looked away, shyly, when he touched her, but now her eyes met his--and he was lost.
He knew it took all her virginal daring to meet his eyes just then, and he needed no further invitation but that one look--which he caught and held with his own eyes. It was a look he had never seen in her before: eagerness and anticipation--and something else that went beyond simple eroticism.
He heard his own voice speak the words in her eyes: "You belong with me."
Sephiroth unclasped his coat and let it slide from his shoulders, pauldrons clanking together when they hit the ground. Hardly daring to look away, he reached down and unfastened his boots, then slid them off.
"Are you ready, my pet?"
Aeris broke the gaze then, staring down at the sheet that still covered her. Her breathing was quick and unsteady, and a blush reddened her cheeks as she nodded. "But I'll wait," she looked up at him again, "if you're not."
Sephiroth inclined his head at her, a half-smile twisting his lips. She spoke with perfect sincerity--this was no hedge to cover her own reluctance.
He gave a short, startled laugh.
The absurdity of it all! Here she was, his prisoner--if a willing one--and a virgin, and she was comforting him.
Moonlight and firelight played over her features, darkening her hair and pooling shadows around her. She was smiling. Not, he knew, because she thought her own statement was funny, but because she was glad to hear the tentative, long-disused sound of his laughter.
Gods, she's even more beautiful smiling than she is afraid.
"I'll manage, little flower girl," he replied.
Emerald eyes stared up at him as he got to his feet, and widened as he unfastened his pants.
His hair was the only thing obscuring his long, lean form, and it fell around him like a misty waterfall. Each muscle was sculpted perfection: live ivory--
Breathtaking.
Aeris had never seen a naked man before--had never hoped to see this one naked until three nights ago when he brought her here.
What kind of pleasure could I offer him? How could I possibly compare to women who train for years in how to satisfy men?
And she wanted to please him, there could be no denying that. Wanted somehow, despite all the impossibility of it, to stay beside this half-crazed man who made her blood heat and her body sing. To share with him that connection she sensed between them--that twining of souls that bound her to him ever since that day outside Midgar, another lifetime ago.
For me, there will never be any others.
Her own certainty frightened her.
Everyone who had known her for the past five years thought of her as prudish and conservative, but that was because her passion lay here, in this darkened room with the silver-haired general, burning under the ghost light of his slit-pupiled eyes.
He pulled the coverlet off the bed, glowing mako watching her reactions. Only the warm sheet lay between her and near-complete nudity, and this knowledge made her throb with a deeper, more intimate ache than any she'd ever known.
He's going to take me.
He's going to take me, and I want him to take me.
And she did want it. She hungered for him with a helpless desperation, alarming in its intensity.
He stretched out above her on the bed, supporting his weight on his elbows and thighs. For the second time that night, his face was above her. She recognized his look from when he held her beneath him in the rosebud tree. His cat-like pupils had widened with passion, darkening his eyes the way thunderclouds darken the sky.
He left the sheet between them, letting its warmth and slipperiness tantalize and excite, but he slid his arms beneath her and felt her body accept his embrace. She did not seem to notice that the arch of her back made the sheet slip down, exposing one of her nipples.
The sight was painfully beautiful, but he turned his attention to her mouth--a hungry kiss that made all thoughts vanish but the searing beauty of her.
Careful!
He wrestled for control. He wanted to plunge into her and exult in taking her, but he would have to go slowly if Aeris was to enjoy this.
But being careful was nearly killing him.
"Say you want me," he whispered into her mouth, "Aeris."
"I want you, Sephiroth. Oh gods, I want you. I've waited all these years for you."
He sucked air through his teeth, her hushed words stinging him-- then he parted her lips with a fervid kiss, savoring her with his tongue. He settled his hips against her and, with a shuddering sigh, she arched for him, her body rising to meet his beneath the silk sheet. He accepted the offer and slid over her, turning the arch into a thrust, pushing her deeper into the bed with his hips. She offered again, and again his own body thrust in response.
They surged together, rolling like a slow tide, hips locked, devouring one another.
Thoughts flashed through Aeris' mind. Pregnancy. Ostracism. The state of her hair.
But then his hips rolled over hers again and the wave of pleasure was all she could think of.
She melted for him, her body turning to liquid beneath his, and he pressed down into her like a stone into water. All her life, she had heard the planet's song--winds and strings and splashing water. These, the steady thrusts of his passion, these were the percussion. The deep and ancient rhythm of life passing on.
He was kissing his way down her neck: wet, nibbling kisses.
The sheet was down, exposing her breasts.
One of his hands slid down the sheet that still separated them and gripped her hip, stilling the convulsive rocking movements there. Aeris opened her eyes, panting. Colors--the white frost of his hair, the jade green of his cat's eyes--stood out sharp and clear in her passion-dilated eyes.
"Don't look so reproachful, pet. I'm just getting started." The half-smile curved his mouth.
He slid himself lower over her, and she felt his breath on her breasts. He kissed each brown circle, his tongue swirling, sending shivers down her back and slow twisting heat between her thighs. Then he turned his attention to the undersides of her breasts, kissing her lightly like spring rain.
She gasped, then whimpered at the teasing caress.
The sheet slid lower.
He raised himself and pressed against her side, tucking her to him. He angled his head to kiss her, softly, on the lips. He was being willfully overcautious, deliberately refusing to deepen the kisses, leaving her unsated. He paused between each kiss to look into her eyes.
The next move is mine.
Every inch of her wanted his touch, and she begrudged each part that could not be exposed to him. After a moment, it was she who shrugged out of her nightdress, then peeled the sheet away. She lay before him, covered only with her damp underwear, green as her eyes and tied at the sides.
For a long moment, he only looked at her--a gleam like avarice burning in his mako gaze, making her hips quiver and twitch under his attention.
She looked at him, too.
A lean, hard, pale body, smooth and scarless--which was odd, for a soldier.
Well, nearly scarless.
A thick white line ran down the inside of his elbow--the same kind that junkies in the slums developed after shooting up too often.
But, Sephiroth hates drugs. Hardly even approves of painkillers for medunits.
--Hojo.
The answering thought hit her like a slap.
"What's wrong?" a low, deep voice asked.
"Noth--" An arched eyebrow silenced her. "Your arm," she whispered after a pause. "Does it hurt?"
His white brows relaxed, and she saw that he understood everything she'd been thinking. He glanced down at the inside of his elbow speculatively, then closed his eyes with a sigh and pulled her tighter against him.
"Not right now," he whispered. "Touch me . . . Aeris."
She reached up and touched his face, brushing cheekbones, eyelids, lightly with her fingertips. She let her hand run down his neck to the broad, flat plane of his chest. He stopped her, his hand catching hers again. His eyes were closed-- an expression akin to distress on his marble features.
It will be a long time before he can stand to be touched. Years, probably.
She leaned her head over and kissed him on the shoulder.
He lifted her fingers to his lips, and then, steadily, drew her hand downward.
Down to the place she hadn't let herself see yet.
She dared to look then, at the nest of silver curls and that part of him, that part of a man she had never touched, stiff and alert. Ready for her.
She sucked in her breath. How could all that ever fit inside her?
"Touch me--there," he said, and stopped guiding her hand.
She reached out gingerly, first with one finger, then with all of them--exploring, brushing him with her fingertips. Smooth and hard and hot.
Sephiroth's breath came in unsteady gasps. A hand on her hip tightened, and she stopped petting him, both frightened and excited by the way his face contorted as he fought for control. "Seph--"
A tiny "sssh" noise silenced her, but it wasn't him hushing her, it was the soft sound of a tie at her hip whispering open. The other side came next, and Aeris felt the slight coolness as her womanhood was exposed to the air of the room. Her heart pounded hard and fast as he drew the panties away from her.
His lips covered hers--a lingering kiss, deep and unhurried, and his hard hand massaged her hip. He drew her lower lip between his teeth and sucked gently, then teased her with a peppering of light kisses, never full on the mouth, as if he were knocking, seeking entry. Aeris parted her lips for him, her quivering breath escaping in a moan.
Again his tongue slid between her teeth, exploring her, caressing the inside of her mouth.
He pushed her legs apart and his hand slid up the inside of her thigh, up to her damp apex. A large hand-- a callused, swordsman's hand-- covered her, making her shudder and gasp. The hand moved in little pleasuring circles, and her muscles locked. She was acutely, almost painfully aware of his every touch, and tension built inside her, making her legs stiffen and her toes curl.
"Oh, Seph, Sephiroth please!"
The little circles moved faster.
Dimly she was aware that he was shifting position, moving down her body, trailing kisses down her belly. The hand moved away, and Aeris opened her eyes only in time to feel his breath on her sex. She cried out as the heat of his mouth touched her--hot and slippery against her hot, slippery places.
"But that must-- No!" Aeris gasped as he opened her with his tongue.
Then she couldn't say anything, couldn't think anything, but, "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods." His tongue swirled around her outer flesh, then, more slowly, tasted her inner folds-- the petals of her wet rose. She had not known her body could open this way, she felt stretched, as if she had opened in a perfect "O."
Then his tongue moved to her sensitive nub and swirled it back and forth. Her body clenched, thighs tightening helplessly, and she was aware that he was using some force to hold down her writhing legs.
Lights exploded in her eyes, her hands clutched his hair, her back arched up like a bridge and she climaxed for him, climaxed hard, her body bursting with ecstasy. There was no time. There was no sound. There was only bliss, and heat, and him.
He was moving up her again, his hands pressing into her, caressing every dip and hollow. He paused to kiss her navel, circling and entering it with his tongue.
"Aeris Gainsborough." Hot breath teased her skin. "I have never wanted anything as much as I want you." His voice was gravelly and tight. Almost angry.
"I'm yours." Her answer wavered, thin and high, plaintive.
He made a snarling sound and his hands covered her fiercely, kneading her breasts and squeezing her thighs. His tongue was inside her mouth, and she tasted a strange saltiness-- the taste of her own passion. The heat of his body washed through her, the scent of him dizzying, maddening.
He broke the kiss only long enough to say into ear: "Good answer." As he spoke, he seemed to gain some control back, but the tender probing was gone. His movements were purposeful, and his slit-pupils had widened to deep, black ovals.
He would have her and he would have her now.
"Please, oh Sephiroth, please. Oh please," she heard herself begging.
"What is it you want?"
"Please!" she cried, "I want you to take me. Just do it, please!"
He kissed her lips again, and took her hand, guiding it downward until her fingers closed around the base of him. "You do it," he said.
Aeris' eyes flew open and she hesitated, searching his face. She was past blushing, but was he really asking her to break her own virginity?
He wants me to be a willing participant in this-- every step of the way, so I'll never be able to think it was all his idea.
It's not just my body he wants-- he could have had that long ago. He's asking for my innocence.
For my soul.
He shifted so he was above her again, watching her quiver beneath him. Aeris did not let go, just waited until he was in position, then, trembling, she raised her hips and touched him to her opening.
He gasped, and shut his eyes, breathing fast through clenched teeth.
She drew the head of him into herself, pushing until she felt pain, then she let the little bit of him that had worked into her slide out again, and again, pushed him inside.
"Ah!" Sephiroth's uncharacteristic cry made Aeris stop for a moment. He pulled her hand away and drew it around him, so she clung to his back, fingers twining in his moonbeam hair. He lowered himself over her, and the touch of his bare chest on hers seared her, burning her body and spirit.
His hair fell over her like a silver shower, spring rain penetrating the waiting earth. "Don't be afraid," his breath teased her ear, sending shivers through her. He pulled back a little and gripped her by the hips, pressing slightly against her opening. "It will hurt, but only for a moment."
He entered her, hard and hot.
An undignified yelp burst from her lips. Somehow, despite everything she knew, and Sephiroth's own warning, she had not really believed it would hurt.
It did.
He was breaking her, forcing her open. She writhed, feeling pressure, pressure and tearing pain. With a little cry, she tried to shake him from her, but he only thrust in deeper, the barrier of her virginity yielding to him.
"Yes! You're mine now, Aeris. Mine!"
Aeris whimpered.
"Sssh, sssh now," he added more gently. "Try to relax."
Oh gods! I'm not a virgin anymore! I've given myself to this man!
It took a little while for her to soften for him again, because every time Aeris began to unbend, a stab of pain went through her. Sephiroth surprised her with his consideration, crooning to her and kissing away her tears, kissing her throat and jaw and the hollow of her neck, waiting for her, dissolving her discomfort before continuing.
The scent of him soothed her, as did his patience. He propped himself on his elbows and levitated slightly, encouraging her to look at the place where their bodies joined. His silver curls tangled with her amber ones, and maleness disappeared into her-- but not all the way; he was still waiting for her.
Slowly, she became aware of other sensations besides the pangs. His breath in her nostrils, his sweat in her pores, his body in her body. They were no longer two separate beings, but one-- and bit by bit the rightness of being in his arms melted away the last of the pain.
He was inside her.
At last.
He had been waiting for this for the last three days, for the last five years-- for his whole life.
"My pretty Aeris," he whispered, exulting in her body.
Her neck was smooth and inviting, the skin of her breasts soft as lily petals, her hips a sleek, flat plane.
And all the while, her hot, sweet depths tightened around him like heated honey.
He felt-- connected-- as if everything in nature and heaven aligned to make this night perfect. He could feel the pulse of the planet in her veins. The scent of life--sweet ambrosia-- herbal and heady, in her hair.
She, the last of her kind, he, the only of his.
Ancient magic and experimental science.
She reached up for him, angling her head to touch her lips to his. It was the first kiss that had been purely her initiative, and he drank it in avidly. She was his desert oasis, his winter haven, his feast.
Her hips ground against him as she took more of him into herself.
Sephiroth gave a strangled gasp and his fingers twisted in her hair.
"Yes, my lovely," he snarled from the back of his throat, "Taste my darkness. And I will have your dark places, too, bright one."
He bent his back, moving deeper inside her slippery heat, pushing into her completely. He felt her clench around him and gloried in her helpless, impassioned cry.
In and out, slowly at first. Above, he explored her mouth with his tongue, nipped her neck with white, straight teeth. Below, each thrust permeated her with a strange sensation of completion, of fullness, only to be followed by the precious agony of each withdrawal. This was the dance he had invited her to.
But as he moved, something-- else--built between them. Each thrust was pushing them higher, higher toward some nameless ecstasy. His tempo was gradually increasing. She felt him growing hotter, growing harder, if that were possible, his whole body stiffening.
Her own frame answered, tightening her stomach and legs, but leaving her womanhood more pliant and vulnerable than ever. Passion began to wash over her in waves, and as each surge wracked her, she mewled and moaned into his chest.
Her involuntary actions only seemed to fuel his passion further and he moved faster inside her.
The tension rose, she felt it clenching in her loins. They were close now, both so close.
His face was above her, contorted as if by pain, agonized arousal twisting the features of the marble god.
She lay pressed beneath him, every nerve and muscle taught, straining with him. Then a new feeling broke through her-- an inexpressible, dizzying elation-- and her body convulsed in ecstasy.
Pleasure and heat sparked in her loins and swept through every fiber of her being. She bucked and writhed, crying out his name.
"Yes, Aeris, give it all to me!"
Nothing-- Nothing could feel better than this.
But, she barely had time to think this when she knew she had been wrong, oh so sweetly wrong.
Sephiroth gave in to his own rapture, letting the paroxysms of pleasure wrack his flesh, and his hot seed filled her. Her body uncoiled: damp earth receiving silver rain.
The world went white.