Sephiroth smiles faintly, tilting his head to the side. "I've learned that pain can accentuate pleasure, so I'm not entirely averse to causing it. Simply being rough, leaving aches or marks...I enjoy that much." His eyes drop to Zechs' neck, where the reddened marks of his own teeth are still livid. "But anything more serious than that - I'd prefer to avoid."

At the remark about holding Zechs up...that gets a smirk. A confident one. If there's anything Sephiroth knows and trusts, it's his own abilities. "I assure you," he drawls, "that I could lift you the full extent of my arm over my head with one hand. Though I doubt that will be required. Holding you up won't be an issue."

He can tell Zechs is interested in his strength - perhaps even enticed by it. He's not, in fact, entirely sure that remark of Zechs' wasn't bait, hoping to get a better measure of just what he can do. He's content enough to indulge him...and, more to the point, it's a balm to his pride to have one thing he can have total assurance - even superiority - in, when he's feeling inadequate in other areas. He's capable, if he's nothing else.

Sephiroth steps back to watch Zechs undress, unfastening his own belt as he does so and letting it fall to the ground. His eyebrows start to raise a bit as the layers...simply keep coming. "And I thought my outfit was impractical," he remarks, after what seems like a long enough time to invite comment. He's smiling, however, clearly teasing.