Work Text:
CLANK!
Exhaling heavily, Sephiroth lowers his arm, the tight ache prominent particularly in his shoulder and hand from how tightly he’s been clutching Masamune. How long have they been training for? Is it even training at this point or some kind of punishment?
Keeping a wary eye on Genesis, he watches as the other man shakes his head, sending droplets of sweat flying off his face. They stripped down to their pants long ago – hours ago, really. A shame they’ve already destroyed the clock in the corner (thanks to a misaimed fireball from Genesis), otherwise Sephiroth might have some idea as to how much time has passed. Enough. Too much. Never enough .
Fighting is exhilarating, yet fighting with Genesis is nothing short of ecstasy. To be constantly challenged, their skills unparalleled and contrasting with one another that it feels as though it transcends anything that Shinra could have ever hoped to accomplish with their individual training.
And that is precisely why Sephiroth had the cameras in this training room disabled prior to their session. One of the reasons, at least.
“Tired?” Sephiroth asks, stepping back into his usual stance, bracing himself for another onslaught and flurry of attacks from Genesis. “I believe I’m ahead.”
“You wish! I am far from tired,” Genesis hisses, his eyes narrowing, the expression on his face one of frustration. “Next one will determine just whom services whom.”
“Here?”
“Afraid it’ll be you on your knees?”
“Hardly,” Sephiroth laughs, bringing his sword up just in time, right as Genesis lunges at him.
And so it begins again anew; an endless cycle of clashing and dodging, until only one of them is left standing. Confident in his ability to overpower Genesis (even if he cannot outpace his incredibly agile and nimble opponent), he grows too cocky and stands his ground when he should have rolled out of the way and the impact of Rapier (combined with how damned sweaty he is) manages to send a shockwave rippling through Sephiroth, causing him to lose his grip on Masamune and –
“Oh. Oh come on. Pick it up. That doesn’t count.”
Sephiroth should pick it up. It’s not the first time he’s dropped his weapon during training, or even combat in general – hell, it’s not the first time with Genesis. Only…only, he’s so damned tired , and he hates seeing Genesis frustrated because of him .
So why should he pick his sword back up when he can close the distance between them and drop to his knees? That seems like a far better idea, and Sephiroth gazes up at Genesis, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “No. It doesn’t.” Reaching for Genesis’ pants, his hands are batted away immediately, and he makes a frustrated noise under his breath. “Let me. I want to. Do you?”
If Genesis truly doesn’t want this – he would be out the door. Sephiroth has never known him to do anything that goes against his true desires…no matter what form they may take.
“I do,” Genesis finally breathes, dropping his own sword in favour of pushing his hair out of his face, his piercing blue eyes never leaving Sephiroth’s. “How can I say no to such a transcendent sight like that of the great Sephiroth on his knees for me ?”
Only him . Sephiroth would never do this with someone else because no one comes close to being his equal. No one else manages to light a burning fire of hunger within Sephiroth’s guts, like the sun itself can be found in that penetrating look of pure want in Genesis’ eyes. “Easily. Tell me no,” he whispers, reaching up to fumble with Genesis’ belt.
“Goddess... you’re practically panting for it, aren't you?”
Hard to argue with the truth. Not that Sephiroth would; there is a certain feeling that cannot be captured in fighting that completely encapsulates their relationship outside of being Firsts, one that he can only attribute to being equals . The only problem with that is that he knows Genesis doesn’t feel the same, that he wants to triumph over him in combat at least once before he’ll be completely satisfied.
For now, Sephiroth will do his best to satisfy Genesis in other ways.