[Sephiroth stops his hand's movement immediately as soon as Wayland touches his wrist. It could be conscientiousness, thinking Wayland might be taking issue with something before he clarifies; it could be caution, knowing his own strength and not wanting to risk any sudden movements that might exert it in competition with Wayland's own; or it could be compliance, his being so accustomed to obedience that he stops as soon as it's indicated something is wanted of him.
Oh, right...his other glove. Sephiroth's had a touch of color to his cheeks, but it definitely darkens to noticeable levels here - mostly out of pure, genuine self-consciousness. He'd been so eager, he hadn't even waited until the other glove was pulled off...or processed that it was still on. That's...definitely embarrassing. He's always had a cool head and a methodical manner, but right now...he feels strangely fumbling and awkward.]
Of course...
[But then Wayland is guiding Sephiroth's hands into his hair again, and with both hands able to feel it...it's as satisfying as Sephiroth had imagined it would be. And then Wayland's warm hands combing through his own hair...it feels just as good as when Genesis and Angeal would do it for him. He's so caught up in simply enjoying what there is that it's almost a surprise when Wayland's forehead bumps gently against his own, and he finds himself looking into this eyes at the closest range yet. At this point, they're so close that never mind breathing each other's scent, they're practically breathing each other's air; Sephiroth can feel the gentle stir of Wayland's breath against his lips.
He wants to say that Wayland's hair is soft, too, return the compliment, but the words get lost somewhere on their way to his vocal cords. Most of his thoughts have gone blank, but not unpleasantly so; the soft haze that's settled over him is like a blanket, warm and conveying a feeling of security. He doesn't feel like he particularly needs to think right now.
The effort to tilt his head and lean forward that almost-nothing distance to brush his lips against Wayland's is so negligible that there seems to be no reason not to exert it. Hesitating to do so no longer even occurs to him.]
no subject
Oh, right...his other glove. Sephiroth's had a touch of color to his cheeks, but it definitely darkens to noticeable levels here - mostly out of pure, genuine self-consciousness. He'd been so eager, he hadn't even waited until the other glove was pulled off...or processed that it was still on. That's...definitely embarrassing. He's always had a cool head and a methodical manner, but right now...he feels strangely fumbling and awkward.]
Of course...
[But then Wayland is guiding Sephiroth's hands into his hair again, and with both hands able to feel it...it's as satisfying as Sephiroth had imagined it would be. And then Wayland's warm hands combing through his own hair...it feels just as good as when Genesis and Angeal would do it for him. He's so caught up in simply enjoying what there is that it's almost a surprise when Wayland's forehead bumps gently against his own, and he finds himself looking into this eyes at the closest range yet. At this point, they're so close that never mind breathing each other's scent, they're practically breathing each other's air; Sephiroth can feel the gentle stir of Wayland's breath against his lips.
He wants to say that Wayland's hair is soft, too, return the compliment, but the words get lost somewhere on their way to his vocal cords. Most of his thoughts have gone blank, but not unpleasantly so; the soft haze that's settled over him is like a blanket, warm and conveying a feeling of security. He doesn't feel like he particularly needs to think right now.
The effort to tilt his head and lean forward that almost-nothing distance to brush his lips against Wayland's is so negligible that there seems to be no reason not to exert it. Hesitating to do so no longer even occurs to him.]