"Always," Sephiroth purrs back. "You're mine. To take, and to keep."
Like Genesis, he's not thinking much about what he's saying, or what his instincts are telling him. It doesn't much matter, and he doesn't care about the details. He can practically feel their hearts beating in sync; he feels that Genesis would understand him no matter what he said, and even if he said nothing at all. Is that due to feeling as though their bodies are speaking to each other as any words could, or that they know each other on a level that goes even deeper than that? Either, possibly, or both.
No, all that really matters is the perfect heat of Genesis around him, the roll of their hips against each other, the way Sephiroth kisses and bites along Genesis' throat, the way he grips his mate's hips or lifts his thighs to drive himself deeper. They've found a rhythm now, not a frantic dash that will burn them out but a steady lope that they can maintain for hours. And this time, when Sephiroth comes again, he's barely shuddered through it before he's moving again, pushing them further, higher. He doesn't want Genesis to think, smell, feel anything but him, wants Genesis to fill his senses just the same, and he'll claim his mate until there's nothing left of either of them other than each other.
It takes hours, but they certainly get there.
When they're finished, they're finished. Sephiroth, for his part, feels like he can barely move. But also, he hasn't the slightest urge to. He's normally extremely fastidious, and to say they've made a mess would be an understatement, but...even if he had the energy, he doesn't want to move an inch away from Genesis. He's still sunk in him, both too tired to pull out and honestly pretty comfortable where he is, with Genesis wrapped protectively in his arms, back to chest. (Genesis' hair has largely been tucked out of the way.) His nose is nuzzled against the back of the other man's neck, simply breathing him in. He's lazily admiring the marks of his own teeth on Genesis' skin, too drunk on contentment to process that he's only able to see them because the sunrise is casting light through the windows.
Leviathan, meanwhile, pads into the room, very carefully holding a water bottle in their jaws. They boost themself up with their front paws on the side of the bed to drop it somewhat pointedly where Genesis and Sephiroth can both see it, then pads off again.
You boys may be super-soldiers, but you still need to hydrate.
no subject
Like Genesis, he's not thinking much about what he's saying, or what his instincts are telling him. It doesn't much matter, and he doesn't care about the details. He can practically feel their hearts beating in sync; he feels that Genesis would understand him no matter what he said, and even if he said nothing at all. Is that due to feeling as though their bodies are speaking to each other as any words could, or that they know each other on a level that goes even deeper than that? Either, possibly, or both.
No, all that really matters is the perfect heat of Genesis around him, the roll of their hips against each other, the way Sephiroth kisses and bites along Genesis' throat, the way he grips his mate's hips or lifts his thighs to drive himself deeper. They've found a rhythm now, not a frantic dash that will burn them out but a steady lope that they can maintain for hours. And this time, when Sephiroth comes again, he's barely shuddered through it before he's moving again, pushing them further, higher. He doesn't want Genesis to think, smell, feel anything but him, wants Genesis to fill his senses just the same, and he'll claim his mate until there's nothing left of either of them other than each other.
It takes hours, but they certainly get there.
When they're finished, they're finished. Sephiroth, for his part, feels like he can barely move. But also, he hasn't the slightest urge to. He's normally extremely fastidious, and to say they've made a mess would be an understatement, but...even if he had the energy, he doesn't want to move an inch away from Genesis. He's still sunk in him, both too tired to pull out and honestly pretty comfortable where he is, with Genesis wrapped protectively in his arms, back to chest. (Genesis' hair has largely been tucked out of the way.) His nose is nuzzled against the back of the other man's neck, simply breathing him in. He's lazily admiring the marks of his own teeth on Genesis' skin, too drunk on contentment to process that he's only able to see them because the sunrise is casting light through the windows.
Leviathan, meanwhile, pads into the room, very carefully holding a water bottle in their jaws. They boost themself up with their front paws on the side of the bed to drop it somewhat pointedly where Genesis and Sephiroth can both see it, then pads off again.
You boys may be super-soldiers, but you still need to hydrate.