Disclaimer: Don't own them, they own me.
Warnings: Smut, fluff. They are teens, deal with it.
A/N: Written for areyougame at IJ for the prompt Sephiroth/Genesis: inexperience – "Teach me love or teach me war / Roses on the bathroom floor / Teach me all and teach me more"
HAPPY SEPHESIS DAY!
Genesis dreamt about it for so long he doesn't even remember when it started. How many times did his mind go through the images? A hundred? A thousand? He has no way of telling, but it doesn't really matter, because it is happening and it is so far from those daydreams.
It's so real, almost too much so: the smooth skin under his palms and the warm lips on his. He always thought Sephiroth's lips would be cool and would make his head spin and now he is proven wrong. Not about the second part, though.
How did they end up in the general's bedroom after their friendly chat in the doorway, he can only guess. One moment, he was about to thank the spar and get back to his quarters and he was gripping black leather the next, their lips locked and bodies thirsty for more - for pleasure.
The sheets are cool on his naked skin as he lowers himself to the bed, bringing the other down with him too for another kiss. Sephiroth's lips are soft, but his kisses are hard, more pressure than finesse, more edge than depth. But it doesn't matter, because finally, finally Genesis is kissing him and he has no plans to stop anytime soon.
His hands find their way into that endless mass of silver hair, each strand thin like spider silk and so impossibly satiny it easily puts each and every fantasy of his to shame. He turns to get the upper hand; throws a leg over Sephiroth's hip, and the buck of the general's hips is rewarding in itself. Soon, they are moving together, moaning hot and reluctant in each other's mouth as sweet waves of friction ripple through them.
But it's not enough, not nearly, and Genesis reaches down between their bodies just to have his hand pushed away and Sephiroth rolling on top of him and taking over the task. Those slender, sword calloused fingers closing around the both of them are threatening to finish him off too soon; the way Sephiroth strokes him is much like his kisses, more power than seduction. His movements are efficient and yet so graceful with his simple elegance, and all Genesis can do is curse and moan and thrust into that hand before his release shudders through him in a violent wave followed closely by his new lover.
They collapse in a hot, panting heap, hearts thundering and eyelids too heavy to move as they are trying to catch their breath. It takes a few minutes before Genesis feels like he can actually move, not like he wants to. At least Sephiroth has the decency to shift his body, putting his weight on the bed instead of the redhead. Even though Genesis doesn't say so, it is much appreciated.
A few minutes pass in silence, and for once, Genesis is not bothered by it. But then Sephiroth shifts again, pushes himself up on one elbow, and Genesis can feel those green eyes on himself.
"What is it?" he presses a lazy kiss to the wrist of the hand that remains cradling his head. Such surprisingly gentle touch from fingers unaccustomed to anything softer than the handle of weapons and the glass of syringes. He can feel the pulse beneath his lips, already slowing down from its wildly racing beat to the dull, lulling throb of the afterglow.
For a moment Sephiroth is silent, a light frown on his face as he weights the words in his mind. Is he going to say he regrets it? Remind him that this is not acceptable, that they are putting their careers at stake; their reputation; his dreams?
"Genesis, what we just did..."
Suddenly, he doesn't want to hear it.
"Hush," he whispers, but his movements are harsh, demanding as he pulls on silver tresses, moving in for a peck on thin lips bound to turn to more. His tongue seeks entry, but Sephiroth pulls back, causing Genesis' features to twist into an angry frown, intent on getting an answer out of the redhead.
"... was that love?"
He wants to laugh, but one glance at the general's face tells him that Sephiroth is serious, and the chuckle dies in his throat as if cut by the sole of a combat boot.
Sephiroth waits, patient and accessing. There is no avoiding it, no brushing it off, not under the gaze of those intense green eyes that blink slowly like a cat's.
Was it?
His instincts tell him to lie, but it is impossible when he does not known the truth himself. He pushes himself up into a sitting position and Sephiroth watches as he runs a hand through his hair, as the muscles of his back rip with new tension.
What if he says yes? What if he says no?
Genesis hates the feeling that his face, his silence is giving him away even as he tries to gather the thoughts that his peak had blown from his mind. This momentary hesitance makes him look guilty; it makes him look young and helpless when all he ever wanted to seem was proud, strong.
Just like a hero should.
But he is just Genesis, seventeen and in bed with his childhood idol, and nothing seems clear cut anymore. He imagined a thousand scenarios like this, the eloquent words he should say if needed, but of all the things he could imagine Sephiroth saying, he never expected a question like this, and it feels somewhat like descending into Banora's mako caves without a flashlight. But Sephiroth, why must he always be so difficult? He thinks with irritation.
"Care to give a definition of love?" his words ring like a slap through the air, hurtful and arrogant and inside he flinches at his own tone.
"I am a weapon, Genesis," Sephiroth reminds him quietly. He is sitting up, his hand touching the redhead's barely, hesitantly, then gets bolder as the seconds tick away, fingertips mapping out the bones and the knuckles, entwines their fingers, marvels at the frail grace of how they fit together. "I do not know... love."
It makes Genesis' throat constrict, this simple confession of a soldier too young for his rank, too young for the look in his green eyes.
"No, it wasn't," he says softly.
"I see."
Sephiroth's voice is so matter of fact, it makes something bleed inside him, but he is determined to keep eye contact even as he pulls his hand free.
"But... let me..."
It surprises Genesis a bit that Sephiroth allows him to pull him down to the soft bedding with him. It warms something in his soul to have the general obey him, just a little. He snuggles up close to that beautifully warm body, fiery head resting on the slowly moving chest. He smells like body wash and leather, sweat and temptation. Genesis presses a kiss on the skin and can taste salt on his lips and it makes him smile.
"Put your arms around me... like this."
He looks up into those emerald eyes and can see the scowling confusion in them as Sephiroth holds him, awkward, rigid as if afraid he would break from too much pressure.
"Like I do. Yes, that's better. So, how does it feel?"
There is a moment of hesitation before Sephiroth replies. "Warm."
"That is... a sensible observation, I guess. Umm, warm where?"
"What kind of question is that?" he can hear the frown in Sephiroth's voice. "Where your body gives off heat, of course."
"How about inside?"
The silence is a confused one, but it buys him time, time to shift, run his palm up Sephiroth's back, fingers tracing the sharp line of vertebrae on their way back down. It takes a short while for Genesis to realise the low purr that accompanies the movement is coming from his throat. But as long as Sephiroth relaxes back into his touch, it's fine.
"I guess so," the other says finally, and he sounds curious, disapproving.
"That is love, Seph," Genesis allows himself a smile as he lifts his head, azure meeting emerald.
There is a ghost of a smile on Sephiroth's lips. But more importantly, it's in his eyes too, and Genesis lets his eyes drift closed again with content. He can feel Sephiroth's heart beating calmly under his palm, and it makes him forget he ever was angry with the man.
"Seph?"
"Mmm?"
"I hope you still liked what we did, because I think we will have to do it again soon."
"Is that a promise?" Sephiroth asks, amusement seeping into his tone like sunlight through the rain.
"Certainly," Genesis chuckles, snuggles closer. "Now shut up, I want to sleep."