Ah - Sephiroth sees where Genesis' shirt gets pulled up, where those perfect hips of his are exposed, and instantly his hands move to grip bare skin instead of fabric. He can't actually feel it through his gloves right now, and the only reason he doesn't stop to take them off so he can is because he doesn't want to stop right now for anything. Genesis may appreciate that leather against his skin, though, never mind the bruising grip.
"Yes," Sephiroth hisses, voice low and hungry, drinking in the sights and sounds of Genesis like this. All for him. All because of him. It's perfect. He's perfect. And the hot fluttering tightness of him around Sephiroth is the most perfect thing of all. Under other circumstances he might have been shocked at how quickly, even for them, he'd recovered from his last orgasm, enough that he's already fucking Genesis again not even a minute later, but even if he were thinking about it...with Genesis like this, it only seems logical. How could he not respond to him this readily, want him this badly? Genesis begs for more, and everything in Sephiroth aches to respond.
But even as focused as he is, Sephiroth is a soldier before he knows how to be anything else, and a sudden sound snaps his head around - even though he doesn't even slow in his rocking into Genesis. It's the back door of the bar opening, and someone - a man, Sephiroth makes out little else, his brain stamps him as civilian automatically and leaves it at that - walks into the alley, stopping wide-eyed in his tracks as he spots them.
Sephiroth doesn't even consciously register any thought. All he feels is a surge of - protectiveness? Possessiveness? Territorial instinct? Pure anger? It's difficult to define. But whatever it is, it hates the thought of someone interrupting them, of their being here, especially of them seeing Genesis in a moment meant only for him. And the wordless snarl that rips out of Sephiroth, eyes momentarily blazing, reverberates through the entire alley. And as if to punctuate it - or, perhaps, to stake his own claim as thoroughly as possible - Sephiroth shifts his grip on Genesis and slams into him roughly, as deep as he can get.
This is his.
The man likely would have backed out anyway, but that turns it into something more like 'fleeing'. The door slams behind him, and they're alone again. And the satisfaction of that, the reassurance that his claim on Genesis is uncontested, is enough when combined with the pleasure he's already feeling for Sephiroth to lean forward and dig his teeth into Genesis' neck, only needing a few more thrusts before he's spilling himself into his mate again.
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"Yes," Sephiroth hisses, voice low and hungry, drinking in the sights and sounds of Genesis like this. All for him. All because of him. It's perfect. He's perfect. And the hot fluttering tightness of him around Sephiroth is the most perfect thing of all. Under other circumstances he might have been shocked at how quickly, even for them, he'd recovered from his last orgasm, enough that he's already fucking Genesis again not even a minute later, but even if he were thinking about it...with Genesis like this, it only seems logical. How could he not respond to him this readily, want him this badly? Genesis begs for more, and everything in Sephiroth aches to respond.
But even as focused as he is, Sephiroth is a soldier before he knows how to be anything else, and a sudden sound snaps his head around - even though he doesn't even slow in his rocking into Genesis. It's the back door of the bar opening, and someone - a man, Sephiroth makes out little else, his brain stamps him as civilian automatically and leaves it at that - walks into the alley, stopping wide-eyed in his tracks as he spots them.
Sephiroth doesn't even consciously register any thought. All he feels is a surge of - protectiveness? Possessiveness? Territorial instinct? Pure anger? It's difficult to define. But whatever it is, it hates the thought of someone interrupting them, of their being here, especially of them seeing Genesis in a moment meant only for him. And the wordless snarl that rips out of Sephiroth, eyes momentarily blazing, reverberates through the entire alley. And as if to punctuate it - or, perhaps, to stake his own claim as thoroughly as possible - Sephiroth shifts his grip on Genesis and slams into him roughly, as deep as he can get.
This is his.
The man likely would have backed out anyway, but that turns it into something more like 'fleeing'. The door slams behind him, and they're alone again. And the satisfaction of that, the reassurance that his claim on Genesis is uncontested, is enough when combined with the pleasure he's already feeling for Sephiroth to lean forward and dig his teeth into Genesis' neck, only needing a few more thrusts before he's spilling himself into his mate again.