An Unconventional Romance - Part 1, unedited (unfinished?)
I gave it a quick read through. Blaaaargh. It's short. I knew it would be, but I am somewhat dissatisfied. I feel it should have some kind of terrible morning after as well. Something akin to slinking off after a poorly thought out drunken hook up to go fight a war. Feedback is highly appreciated and, I feel, highly needed.
Title: An Unconventional Romance, part 1
Rating: R, for bad sex and fighting
Fandom, Pairing: Crisis Core, Lazard/Sephiroth
Word Count: 1100-ish
Summary: Bad sex happens to the best of us.
Note: This happens very early in the War with Wutai, Sephiroth is quite young, but ostensibly legal... I hope. I hope that becomes more clear as I write the other two parts, but for now this is what you get. I may add a bit more to this about the nerves of leaving and setting off to go to war, in Sephiroth's mind, very much alone. (Of course he isn't, but this is Sephiroth's limited third person perspective, which I realized would be much more fun)
His muscles still ached gratefully from the back rub. A few stray hairs stuck in the massage oil and very distantly itched. There wasn’t will in him to brush them away. That would involve pulling his arms out from under the pillow, which would involve him having to move his head, which might just involve him having to open his eyes. That simply was not going to happen.
“You’re being very quiet,” Lazard whispered into his ear.
Grudgingly, Sephiroth opened only one eye, making it look all the more catlike.
“You’ve got to communicate,” Lazard warned, his lips pressed against the helix of Sephiroth’s ear. His tongue was hot as it traced the lines of the helix and antihelix. Teeth dug lightly into the flesh where antihelix met earlobe. Blissful, Sephiroth closed his eye again and smiled just slightly.
Lazard sighed slightly, but kissed Sephiroth’s neck along the hairline and then moved away.
Sephiroth was nervous, yes, but he was enjoying himself immensely. He’d never even thought about his ears as sensual parts of his body. Once he’d been around his fellow SOLDIERs for some time he’d come to accept that a few more things could be sexually pleasurable than he’d first considered, but no one ever mentioned ears.
Which was odd, because whenever anyone spoke of the sex acts men could perform exclusively they always talked about anal sex-well, not in those terms exactly-but Lazard had seemed so surprised when he’d brought it up. He smirked with the memory. Oh, yes, he wasn’t the naïve and sheltered virgin that they all thought he was. He didn’t even attach real meaning to those words; not shamed or proud, like others. There would be no difference between him and Lazard, no difference within himself, when they were done with this. Not as much as there had been when they’d first kissed, or when he’d first come to Lazard’s private quarters. What was physical virginity anyways? His body would be no different after they had had penetrative sex than it was now.
The bed dipped with Lazard’s weight and then Lazard’s warmth was on his right side. Sephiroth regretted the arrangement of his head and his long hair now, as it kept him from looking into Lazard’s blue, slightly squinted eyes. He never knew quite what it was, but that sight always brought something sharp into his chest. He wanted to wrap his longer, stronger arms around Lazard’s shoulders and just… keep him. Possess him or protect him. Something not yet identifiable.
He recognized the texture of latex over Lazard’s hands. It took away the warmth of skin on skin and it excited Sephiroth’s sympathetic nervous system in all the wrong ways. His pupils, which were strongly dilated, shrank into tight lines, his heart jumped up to a few beats faster. But it was just Lazard, and Sephiroth knew the feeling would pass. He understood.
“Are you alright?” Lazard asked, as if it wasn’t a completely foolish question. He was fine. This was nothing, really, not even uncomfortable. It was just sort of… wet. Not exactly thrilling.
Sephiroth waited patiently, lying on his belly and measuring his breaths.
The initial panic and the ensuing boredom caused his erection to flag slightly. Maybe he could have ground it against Lazard’s extravagantly soft sheets, but he didn’t know if he was supposed to move during this part. Who knows what could go wrong. Best to wait until he had his bearings in the situation.
“How does it feel?” Lazard asked.
Sephiroth was silent. A bare hand ran through his hair, carefully lifting it to the other side, laying to across his neck and encouraging him to turn his head.
“Look at me.”
Sephiroth turned his head, even though he could only really see Lazard’s shoulder and half his side. There were brown freckles on his shoulders laid in a net of flushed blood vessels that made Lazard’s skin endearingly pink.
“Tell me how you feel,” Lazard said, using a softer, pleading voice. “Please.”
Sephiroth tightened his lips for a moment and then told him. It felt medical. It felt like an exam.
“Oh,” Lazard said. “That’s fine. We’ll stop.”
“Wait,” Sephiroth said. Lazard’s hands both disappeared. The distinctive snap of a latex glove being removed jerked Sephiroth up, back arched and arm’s tense under him.
“Why?” he demanded.
“You’re not ready for this,” Lazard assured him, planting a wet kiss on his not quite frowning mouth.
“Yes, I am!” Sephiroth snapped. “This is not the place to tell me that!”
It felt as if Lazard was barring him from good experiences in the bedroom and forcing him into unpleasant ones in the boardroom. He was going on an eighteen-month tour in the morning. He knew he’d live, but didn’t he deserve to get laid like anyone else before they went off to war for a year and a half?!
He almost spoke it, but instead he glared at Lazard with such violence that the man recoiled from it. Sometimes he did want to lash out at Lazard, as if everything would be fixed if he just used what he knew, but another part of him knew that, reasonably, then he’d be left with just the violence and no Lazard. They’d probably have him terminated over the murder of an upstanding member of Shinra.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” Lazard said, backing away. “Want to join me?”
“No,” Sephiroth replied. A beat.
“Thank you.”
He turned hard onto his side and pulled his knees up slightly, long legs and large feet taking up more than his allotted space in the bed uncaringly. The anger had made him hard again, really hard, and he spent too much time brooding to do much about it before Lazard was out of the shower again.
“You can have the shower now,” he said, sounding annoyingly refreshed. He smelled good too, when he lifted the blankets and joined him in bed. It made Sephiroth grit his teeth. He was trying to just make it go away, but his body ached in ways he really couldn’t explain for Lazard. Even his fingers, toes, his tongue felt swollen with desire.
Lazard encouraged him to turn his head with gentle touches, but he would not be moved. There was a soft kiss on his cheek and a whispered “Sleep well.”
Sleep was easier to force onto himself than abstinence. He lay in bed, tightly curled and pulled away from Lazard on the expansive king size bed. He dreamed of disintegrating plastic tents and a rocky, swampy ground beneath his back. But in his dream, Lazard was on top of him, their fingers laced into fists and their hips grinding against each other like violence until he came, biting his pillowcase like skin, in his sleep.
Title: An Unconventional Romance, part 1
Rating: R, for bad sex and fighting
Fandom, Pairing: Crisis Core, Lazard/Sephiroth
Word Count: 1100-ish
Summary: Bad sex happens to the best of us.
Note: This happens very early in the War with Wutai, Sephiroth is quite young, but ostensibly legal... I hope. I hope that becomes more clear as I write the other two parts, but for now this is what you get. I may add a bit more to this about the nerves of leaving and setting off to go to war, in Sephiroth's mind, very much alone. (Of course he isn't, but this is Sephiroth's limited third person perspective, which I realized would be much more fun)
His muscles still ached gratefully from the back rub. A few stray hairs stuck in the massage oil and very distantly itched. There wasn’t will in him to brush them away. That would involve pulling his arms out from under the pillow, which would involve him having to move his head, which might just involve him having to open his eyes. That simply was not going to happen.
“You’re being very quiet,” Lazard whispered into his ear.
Grudgingly, Sephiroth opened only one eye, making it look all the more catlike.
“You’ve got to communicate,” Lazard warned, his lips pressed against the helix of Sephiroth’s ear. His tongue was hot as it traced the lines of the helix and antihelix. Teeth dug lightly into the flesh where antihelix met earlobe. Blissful, Sephiroth closed his eye again and smiled just slightly.
Lazard sighed slightly, but kissed Sephiroth’s neck along the hairline and then moved away.
Sephiroth was nervous, yes, but he was enjoying himself immensely. He’d never even thought about his ears as sensual parts of his body. Once he’d been around his fellow SOLDIERs for some time he’d come to accept that a few more things could be sexually pleasurable than he’d first considered, but no one ever mentioned ears.
Which was odd, because whenever anyone spoke of the sex acts men could perform exclusively they always talked about anal sex-well, not in those terms exactly-but Lazard had seemed so surprised when he’d brought it up. He smirked with the memory. Oh, yes, he wasn’t the naïve and sheltered virgin that they all thought he was. He didn’t even attach real meaning to those words; not shamed or proud, like others. There would be no difference between him and Lazard, no difference within himself, when they were done with this. Not as much as there had been when they’d first kissed, or when he’d first come to Lazard’s private quarters. What was physical virginity anyways? His body would be no different after they had had penetrative sex than it was now.
The bed dipped with Lazard’s weight and then Lazard’s warmth was on his right side. Sephiroth regretted the arrangement of his head and his long hair now, as it kept him from looking into Lazard’s blue, slightly squinted eyes. He never knew quite what it was, but that sight always brought something sharp into his chest. He wanted to wrap his longer, stronger arms around Lazard’s shoulders and just… keep him. Possess him or protect him. Something not yet identifiable.
He recognized the texture of latex over Lazard’s hands. It took away the warmth of skin on skin and it excited Sephiroth’s sympathetic nervous system in all the wrong ways. His pupils, which were strongly dilated, shrank into tight lines, his heart jumped up to a few beats faster. But it was just Lazard, and Sephiroth knew the feeling would pass. He understood.
“Are you alright?” Lazard asked, as if it wasn’t a completely foolish question. He was fine. This was nothing, really, not even uncomfortable. It was just sort of… wet. Not exactly thrilling.
Sephiroth waited patiently, lying on his belly and measuring his breaths.
The initial panic and the ensuing boredom caused his erection to flag slightly. Maybe he could have ground it against Lazard’s extravagantly soft sheets, but he didn’t know if he was supposed to move during this part. Who knows what could go wrong. Best to wait until he had his bearings in the situation.
“How does it feel?” Lazard asked.
Sephiroth was silent. A bare hand ran through his hair, carefully lifting it to the other side, laying to across his neck and encouraging him to turn his head.
“Look at me.”
Sephiroth turned his head, even though he could only really see Lazard’s shoulder and half his side. There were brown freckles on his shoulders laid in a net of flushed blood vessels that made Lazard’s skin endearingly pink.
“Tell me how you feel,” Lazard said, using a softer, pleading voice. “Please.”
Sephiroth tightened his lips for a moment and then told him. It felt medical. It felt like an exam.
“Oh,” Lazard said. “That’s fine. We’ll stop.”
“Wait,” Sephiroth said. Lazard’s hands both disappeared. The distinctive snap of a latex glove being removed jerked Sephiroth up, back arched and arm’s tense under him.
“Why?” he demanded.
“You’re not ready for this,” Lazard assured him, planting a wet kiss on his not quite frowning mouth.
“Yes, I am!” Sephiroth snapped. “This is not the place to tell me that!”
It felt as if Lazard was barring him from good experiences in the bedroom and forcing him into unpleasant ones in the boardroom. He was going on an eighteen-month tour in the morning. He knew he’d live, but didn’t he deserve to get laid like anyone else before they went off to war for a year and a half?!
He almost spoke it, but instead he glared at Lazard with such violence that the man recoiled from it. Sometimes he did want to lash out at Lazard, as if everything would be fixed if he just used what he knew, but another part of him knew that, reasonably, then he’d be left with just the violence and no Lazard. They’d probably have him terminated over the murder of an upstanding member of Shinra.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” Lazard said, backing away. “Want to join me?”
“No,” Sephiroth replied. A beat.
“Thank you.”
He turned hard onto his side and pulled his knees up slightly, long legs and large feet taking up more than his allotted space in the bed uncaringly. The anger had made him hard again, really hard, and he spent too much time brooding to do much about it before Lazard was out of the shower again.
“You can have the shower now,” he said, sounding annoyingly refreshed. He smelled good too, when he lifted the blankets and joined him in bed. It made Sephiroth grit his teeth. He was trying to just make it go away, but his body ached in ways he really couldn’t explain for Lazard. Even his fingers, toes, his tongue felt swollen with desire.
Lazard encouraged him to turn his head with gentle touches, but he would not be moved. There was a soft kiss on his cheek and a whispered “Sleep well.”
Sleep was easier to force onto himself than abstinence. He lay in bed, tightly curled and pulled away from Lazard on the expansive king size bed. He dreamed of disintegrating plastic tents and a rocky, swampy ground beneath his back. But in his dream, Lazard was on top of him, their fingers laced into fists and their hips grinding against each other like violence until he came, biting his pillowcase like skin, in his sleep.