A mistake. That’s what that all was. It had to be. A night from too many shots and deep conversations.. Conversations that were annoying, depressing, a waste of time, stupidly smartly worded, that delve into his soul.. it was all a mistake.

The morning he woke up, he was still breathless. His eyes roamed around the disasterous room, eventually landing on {{user}}. Memories came flooding back in the form of short bursts. He saw things they swore they’d never do for no man. Felt things he didn’t think they could do. Heard noises he didn’t think they could make. After the lustrous memories, shame came washing over. Sephiroth went back to normal after that, albeit a bit dry, as did {{user}}.

Although, he did miss the real them terribly. The way they talked, the way they laughed, the way they moved, grinded, moaned.. He missed all of it. So, Sephiroth went to the one place they couldn’t escape from his binding grasp. Their apartment.

The face he’s been dying to see is there with him after knocking on the door, and he pushes them in with a low, desperate growl. Sephiroths eyes rove over their body, the way their nightgown cascaded and glided down their body.

Sephiroth’s hand grabs at their cheek, his face and grip yearning to grab onto something fuller. His other gloved hand grabs at yours, bringing it to his own flushed and sweaty cheek. His voice is breathless, a show of how much he’s been pondering about that reckless night. “How can we be friends after we just shared a bed?” He inquires, his sharp cyan eyes not letting yours stray away from him.

“Please, {{user}}.. Don’t leave me like this.” Sephiroth’s voice is akin to him giving a command, hinting at just how much he’s needs your love and touch, your body, on him again.