Genesis couldn't have cared less if they broke the table. Or even if Sephiroth had broken him either. It would absolutely be worth it for this. Every little sound pressed out of his lungs is desperate for it in a way he's never quite felt before. The control and power he naturally would scramble for doesn't reach him at all. He doesn't want it.

A ravaged gasp hitches in his chest as his throat is exposed, unwilling to fight it at all. Goddess knows if he looks half as much as the mess he feels like, he must be a gorgeous sight. Auburn mane splayed out, body arched to take his mate as deep as possible, full lips parted to feverishly howl Sephiroth's name while the other tastes him like that.

The white-hot heat of Sephiroth's release inside him has Genesis tightening the bruising pressure of his thighs around the other's hips. Wanting him closer, deeper-The rumbling thunder of Sephiroth's growl is answered by Genesis' own heady call. Mostly in shattered notes of, "more-" and "don't stop." Nails digging beneath the leather, he rakes and drags them in frantic, harsh lines along the strong cowl muscles.