Underage body with Overage desires

BY : SabreTooth
Category: Final Fantasy Anime > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 699
Disclaimer: I do not own the original story line and characters of the canon FF7 genre. I do own the original plot sprung from my deviant mind and some new characters. No money/profit is made from this.


Sephiroth, a young mid-teen yet recently promoted for the position of first class SOLDIER. Not even a man yet, but still a full-fledged fighter and only the rank of a General to reach, and even that was within grasp. An exceptionally intelligent and talented juvenile, taught to be eloquent, graceful and respectful, despite his preparation since infancy to become the fiercest warlord of all time. Although befitted his adolescent character of occasional snarls and outbursts, he was mostly withheld and controlled in his manners; earning the respect of his seniors. One of them was Lazard Deusericus, the SOLDIER union executive at ShinRa Electric Power Company. Sephiroth had known him since the rigorous trainings began under the close watch of the executive; indirectly guided to propel as a solider, to rise in ranks and to one day lead the ShinRa army.

SOLDIER was the elite fighting force of ShinRa Electric Power Company with members of advanced super-soldiers possessing superhuman strength, speed, and agility. Much stronger than the ShinRa Peacekeeping Troops or the Turks, ShinRa used SOLDIER for special missions that require the greatest use of strength and, thus, Sephiroth was destined to be the finest of them all since he, even at the tender age of fifteen, already eclipsed more senior fighters.

Sephiroth entered the executive office. It was very spacious, flanked on the right with panoramic windows and with a large, projected screen behind the solid, antique office desk of polished rosewood, with ivory inserts, where Lazard would normally sit and read through mountains of documents concerning SOLDIER. In front of the desk there were two similar leather recliners as that in which he sat. On a delicately ornamented bookshelf with side-extension and movable pedestal drawers, situated to the left of the centrepiece office desk, were a few bottles of exquisite wine and port for prominent guests when meetings and negotiations had to be held on a more personal level. It was a magnificent office with a phenomenal view over the city. It was beautiful, elegant, yet neither overstated nor crowded; an office Sephiroth truly appreciated.

"Sir?" the young seraph called out. He was still in his SOLDIER outfit of black sleeveless turtleneck sweater, loose-fitting trousers with leather accents that hold armour and weapons in place when not in use. Sephiroth had removed his chest and shoulder armour, as well as helmet, before he even made his way to the office and was quietly moving about waiting for his superior to discuss the next stage of development now that the young seraph had advanced so quickly in ranks.

After a short while, his mobile rang and the executive announced he would be close to two hours late. He knew Sephiroth had been at the office waiting, but encouraged the young man to remain there until he appeared as it was imperative to have a talk sooner rather than later.

"Help yourself to some soft drinks at the bar next to the bookshelf. There should be alcohol free beverages on one of the shelves."

"Thank you, Sir," Sephiroth replied and walked up to the small office bar to look for something to drink. After a swift moment he had found nibbles of crackers and nuts and soft drinks of various sorts; the latter of which was not peaking his curiosity in the slightest. He snorted and brushed his silvery fringe aside, which was parted in the middle and barely reaching to his cheekbones to frame his juvenile face. The rest of his hair was gathered at the middle of the back of the head, high on the crown. The tail was neatly groomed and followed the curve of the head and hung at shoulder height. At times it was annoying as quick movements with the head sent the tail whipping him across the face, but with a few more years, he hope it would be long enough to rest against and along the back.

"Ruby port," he muttered whilst reading the golden letters on a bottle he picked up from a silver tray and studied it with curiosity. "… has a good intensity of colour, with more impressive thick, oily legs. The nose has rich black fruit with spice and a hint of cigar-box… what the hell does that mean?" Sephiroth raised eyebrows but continued "… smooth, rich palate, with good fruit and obvious alcohol, which retains a fiery presence. Well," he smiled, "if it's good enough for Lazard it's good enough for me."

He poured himself a glass of port, unknowingly way too much and began sipping on the drink between small portions of nuts being consumed. The first sip had a fire to it that heated the gullet and streamed like lava into the pit of his belly. The exhale carried strong alcohol vapour back into his nose cavity and made him cough. It was an unexpected blow, but the lingering sweetness beckoned for more.

Sephiroth walked up to the panoramic office window and looked over the darkening city as the dusk descended upon the buildings and streets light came alive. He stood there for a little while, sipping his port and allowing for the pleasantness of the drink to course through his veins. It was the first time he drank something he was not meant to according to his rigorous diet plans. However, the youth in him wanted to rebel; it wanted to explore, to give in to temptation and to curiosity; it wanted to learn by doing, learn by tasting and learn by experiencing. But the port was indeed fiery even for an exceptional little SOLDIER and his human heritage made him compatible with some euphoric highs his peers were experiencing too. His body was becoming pleasantly numb and his mind fogged over with erratic thoughts that became the centre of his state. Once he emptied his first glass, he poured up another and time in a way ceased to exist. A smile ghosted over his lips with a big sigh. Sephiroth was utterly relaxed and playfulness was seeping through his otherwise stern character. He was swirling in the chairs, pushing himself across the room and allowed right down irresponsible behaviour to read into whatever files he could find on the table.

Following his third glass, his steps became slightly less graceful and in an awkward moment of relinquished balance, Sephiroth spilled some of the wine on his top. The office was en suite and he stumbled into the bathroom. With some effort the young man managed to remove his top and started rinsing it under the tap. He wrenched the fabric inside a towel to dry it faster and hung it over the towel rack for time being before turning back to the sink. He splashed some water on his face and with the coolness that covered his face, some focus returned into his dazed head. Sephiroth took a deep breath and released an exhale saturated with alcohol. As he opened his eyes, he caught glimpse of himself in the mirror and remained standing there for a few minutes. The young man in the mirror wasn't staring back, but rather focused his gaze on the slim, smooth yet chiselled torso in white marble like skin. The muscles were not yet pronounced and veins were not protruding through the skin, nonetheless, his body carried evidence of arduous training. He was a thing of beauty, but it was not the visual input that triggered his spur of the moment, but rather the tantalising thoughts on what that body wanted to be subjected to. He closed his eyes and relished the fantasies that often haunted his juvenile mind. Sex and illicit games that he often indulged in through streaming images and movies on his private web-connection.

It had become a routine activity at night-time when he was back in his own private room. In juxtaposition to his superior strength, his agility and intelligence, he also had a raging libido that tainted his mind and focus on a daily basis; just like now. He felt the heat from his belly concentrate into his groin and with the remaining glass of port in his hand, he made his way into the office again. Sephiroth threw himself in Lazard's office recliner and placed his feet on the desk; legs crossed. He took a sip of wine, and before even swallowing the drink, his fingertips were slowly gliding over his belly, past the navel and following the edge of the trousers which were restraining his desire firmly clenched between his thighs. He swallowed his sip of port and took a deep breath. His body was getting hot and needed some attention. Carried by a wicked thought, he cleared the desk of documents and stretched over the neatly polished wood, exposing his body to the cool surface whilst undoing the trousers and pushing it far enough down the hips, over the swelling bulge, to free the pulsating member that was leaking with yearning.

Palpitating with a hint of desperation, his long fingers enclosed his vein-covered shaft and moved slowly along its length; rhythmically pulling the skin over the glans as images of women and men flooded his inner canvas. He lay many nights admiring their bodies, their actions, the luscious curves of the female body and the chiselled forms of the male stature; he desired them all. He also secretly desired Lazard. He was lanky, but elegant, always with a hint of cedarwood and musk fragrances, and impeccable manners. His face was mature, but with graceful lines and the notion that he was superior to Sephiroth in age and experience was both intriguing and catering to a fantasy to be subdued. Sephiroth was omnivorous and a ravaging hunger had surfaced as of late; a hunger that was hard to control. It could be awakened by a scent, a glance, a smile, a shape or even a move. It would take hold of him and he would dream of lust even in the waking hours of the day; calling for the man in him to awaken to his full potential as a male.

As his hands increased pace, lips were moistened by the tip of his tongue, and moans escaped his open throat. He was so engulfed by his own desires and distracted by his thoughts, that only the voice of Lazard ripped him brutally back to reality.

"I do apologise to intrude on your private party, but I wouldn't expect it to take place on my desk."

Sephiroth's eyes burst open and he immediately sat up, feeling sheepish and abashed, and desperately trying to maintain some dignity by shielding his penis with a hand. Lazard met his gaze with a stern look. The senior's eyes wondered over the naked torso and with deliberate callousness he nonchalantly pushed the hand aside to reveal a slowly wilting manhood. Sephiroth bit his lower lip and apologised and was ready to get off the table when Lazard spoke commandingly whilst making his way over to the open bottle of port.

"SOLDIERs never leave a job half done, Sephiroth," the executive said whilst pouring the red intoxicating drink into a glass. He walked back to the office desk and took his place in his armchair. "Am I right, soldier?"

"Yes, Sir," Sephiroth responded, cheeks still flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For disrespecting you."

Lazard smiled. He knew he was one of the very few people whom Sephiroth respected, as having an older and wiser senior to look up to was important for a young man who trumped most others he came in contact with. Lazard was older, mid thirties, and with age came some measure of wisdom, which was greatly appreciated by the young seraph. He needed people to look up to and his strong ethos did not allow him to disappoint; yet here he was. Caught masturbating on the desk of his senior, papers all strewn across the floor, mind and body fogged with vintage port and reactions numbed. In a way, Lazard felt honoured to be of such importance to the young man, and also, to provide with such sense of security that Sephiroth allowed himself to fully open up his soul.

"Well," Lazard repeated. "We do not leave a job half done."

He leaned back in the recliner and took Sephiroth into view. The white skin was almost fluorescent in the dimmed office, the slim body with the long limbs stretched across the desk like an offering on an altar. Sephiroth was a visual feast; even at his tender age. He knew the young body needed some release and secretly acknowledged his own voyeuristic pleasure in seeing the seraph so openly exposed. But Sephiroth was only fifteen and still underage; he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of the young man even if it fuelled his instant flare of craving. But he could allow himself a kiss.

Sephiroth accepted the kiss subduing him as Lazard pushed the young man down on the desk under the weight of merging lips. Sephiroth felt euphoria like electric impulses sending ripples of warm current through his body and gathering between his thighs. He moaned and took hold of Lazard's neck, pulling him closer and with a trembling voice asking for more.

Lazard had to gather all his strength to pull away as he softly spoke into Sephiroth's mouth; "I'd desire nothing more than to taste your youthful flesh, but I cannot until you've reached your appropriate age. Four months from now, you're sixteen. Then…"

Sephiroth flashed him with a beam, the broad smiling mouth exposing symmetrical teeth behind thin lips. He knew, Lazard always kept his promise and thus eased his embrace although maintained a tight grip with his gaze. Lazard sat down and swirled his glass and took a sip of wine. He smiled at the young man and raised his glass in a toast.

"To pleasure, my beautiful Sephiroth."

Sephiroth's hands anew found the centre of his burning desire; his member growing hard and yearning for release. Lazard watched the shapely fingers dance over the shaft, skin moving over the glans and testicles occasionally cupped in warm palms. As an impatient youth, stirred by emotions running amok and further teased by a ripping moment, he soon found himself at the point of no return. Lazard watched with ripping anticipation as the body in front of him began ascending to climax; movements grew more intense, Sephiroth's moans were louder, and the slick penis got increasingly wet. He was almost tuning into the fervent breathing of the seraph, heart pounding wildly and sensations coursing through every nerve in his body. Sephiroth's head flung to the side, wet, burning eyes taking Lazard into view with almost an agonising expression.

"Please, Sir," Sephiroth panted.

Lazard delayed his words with only a few seconds, but it seemed like eternity. With satisfaction sprung from his ultimate control over the seraph, he whispered; "I grant you release."

With an echoing scream and cramping muscles, Sephiroth released his orgasm; pushing semen over his torso, which burst out of him in recurring waves until the intensity ebbed and washed over his knuckles in rivulets of milky liquid. He was breathing heavy, panting like a famished dog and only managed to extend his wet hand to reach for Lazard as a gesture of gratitude for a moment of peace. Lazard leaned forward and took the long fingers into his hand and kissed them; relishing the salty, crisp taste of Sephiroth's spending. The young man watched a set of soft lips clear his fingers of the remnants of his desire and turned to face Lazard. Sephiroth lay on his side, still too dazed and exhausted to get up and spoke softly.

"Four months from now, I'm sixteen."

Lazard smiled. Yes, that was the young man's birthday and then the gloves were off and the battle of desires could begin.

NOTE: In many countries, consensual age is at 16.

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