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Underage body with Overage desires	By : SabreTooth Category: Final Fantasy Anime > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1555 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 1-Underage body with Overage desires
- 2-HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SEPHIROTH
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- 2
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SEPHIROTH

A slightly unconventional birthday; that’s how he saw it. The celebration was hosted by Mrs Hewley who had baked a cake of finely ground walnuts and cinnamon, filled with custard and decorated with strawberries and cream. It was a so-called summer cake, and one of Sephiroth’s favourites. The Hewley family was living under very humble conditions, but Mrs Hewley had the capacity to create masterpieces even in a wood fired oven; the cake was rich, bursting with flavours and more beautifully decorated than if served in the most exquisite patisserie in the high-end quarters. The Rhapsodos family had provided the groceries in honour of the humble celebration and were now surrounding the young man who was stepping into manhood in age and soul. Sephiroth was surrounded by his closest friends, Angeal and Genesis, and professor Gast from the ShinRa laboratory. The blithe afternoon progressed in light mood and laughter, laced with anecdotes and stories, as well as drinks of all sorts. Genesis had brought some mead from the local brewery and Sephiroth, along with his closest friends, could officially make a toast with a light alcoholic beverage.
“Happy birthday, Sephiroth,” said professor Gast and tapped his glass with a seemingly resolute silver-haired youth. Reflecting only a smile at first, and then swiftly opening up to a beam, Sephiroth met glasses across and around the table, inviting everyone for a small celebration of coming of age. He was excited and proud. Genesis was the oldest of the three boys and turned sixteen nearly a year ago, followed by Angeal only four months later, and at last it was Sephiroth’s turn. He was the baby of the company, something the other two at times teased him for, but that would finally come to an end. He was an equal and no longer just a boy, although admittedly, when it suited some purpose he would play the part of an immature juvenile just to get away with dropping additional responsibilities. Today’s celebration would make those games a bit harder to play convincingly.
Gifts were handed to the young soldier, all of which were combat related or adorning his new uniform; similar to gifts honouring Angeal and Genesis when they moved up in rank and age. When all other gifts were handed out, professor Gast presented Sephiroth with a surprise that made the young man’s heart leap with anticipation.
“This is a gift from executive Deusericus,” he said and handed over an exquisite box carrying the signature of ShinRa’s own tailor.
Sephiroth’s eyes grew big, pupils almost round and lips slightly parted with disbelief. He had not heard from Lazard for weeks and following that fleeting voyeuristic moment in his office months ago, nothing was ever disclosed or discussed related to the subject of eroticism. He hadn’t even called Sephiroth to wish his well on his birthday this morning; how unexpected to receive a gift so openly offered… and received. Sephiroth had not revealed that night to anyone; not even his closest friends. He was hesitating for a moment to place his hands on the box as if those actions would betray his locked mind and reveal the deep secret dwelling within for the world to see. With cautious moves the young seraph opened the box; as the silvery matt tissue paper fell to the ground, a full-length trench coat of resistant and laminated chinghiale leather reached towards the floor. He was lost for words. He was blinking with disbelief, lips stale and numb and just returned a questioning gaze.
“I was told there was a history to that coat,” professor Gast began. “Genesis and Angeal had revealed for Lazard that upon visiting the Haymarket during the winter solstice celebrations, you had set your eyes on something similar and expressed your desire to own a coat like that. Lazard makes sure he cares for his soldiers.”
Sephiroth melted his shiny, emerald gaze into those of Genesis and Angeal, filled with gratitude and humility. They had memorised and honoured his wish, and brought it forth to the executive to make the young seraph’s transition to manhood something unforgettable. There was no need for words; silence following a genuine smile was sufficient.
The afternoon sun was slowly setting beyond the mountains and as the modest celebration quieted down, professor Gast thanked Mrs Hewley for her hospitality and excused himself; he had to close down the lab for the weekend and would be able to drive Sephiroth, upon the young man’s request, to Lazard’s office. He wished to express his gratitude in person.
The elevator was making it up to the thirty-fifth floor. Sephiroth looked into the mirror and took a deep breath. He returned an apprehensive gaze with an extensive exhale that misted the glass and shaded his juvenile features. He was nervous, but excited at the same time since he had made up his mind to make this visit and it would be his own birthday gift to himself.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened just across from the grand office. His heart was pounding wildly as he made his way across the hall and before long, his knocking extracted a response from a familiar voice.
“Come in.”
Sephiroth stepped into the office; in the far end was Lazard, sitting behind his ornamented desk with the usual stack of papers and reports flanking him from both sides. It was early evening, but still too late to be in an office on a weekend. Lazard, however, the illegitimate son of ShinRa, always felt he needed to prove himself worthy of this position and, thus, spent many nights in solitude and consistently buried under responsibilities. The young man walked up to the office desk, circling around it and wedged himself between the desk and Lazard’s chair. The executive pushed the armchair back and distanced himself with a content sigh. He kept his eyes resting against the floor for a few seconds but then raised them whilst a smile ghosted over his lips.
“The coat looks very good on you,” Lazard said taking his time to appreciate his gift on the young seraph. “It suits you well.”
Sephiroth nodded whilst scrutinizing the senior.
“I heard Angeal and Genesis told you about it,” he said. “I had noticed something similar at the market, but this is…” he paused and shifted more to the middle of the desk to face Lazard straight on as he continued, “… this is so much more beautiful. Thank you.”
Lazard let go of a fleeting smile and nodded; further extending the sentiment as the last word “beautiful” latched on to his visual perception of the boy in front of him. He was desperately trying to find the words with which to push Sephiroth away, but everything came out the opposite. Lazard had deliberately avoided contacting Sephiroth for weeks, hoping that by silence he would kill off the desire within them both as whatever was rooting inside had perhaps been wrong and definitely considered twisted by the ShinRa organisation. Sephiroth, on the other hand, counted the days, and finally he was in Lazard’s presence again. In some strange way, the executive was happy to receive him and seemingly neither of them cared anymore what anyone would think. Sephiroth could have chosen any man or woman for his first adventure; some lucky lady will be his first female adventure, but for now, Lazard was chosen to fulfil a taboo desire.
“Would you like to see the boots?” Sephiroth finally asked and casually leaned against the desk, allowing for the trench coat to split open and reveal the matching, new thigh-high boots, secured with straps below and above the knees, and the naked skin beyond the edge of the boot shaft. Lazard felt the heat rush to his groin as illicit desires helplessly flooded his mind. He looked up at Sephiroth, met his gaze with controlled, stone-like features and with audacious fingers undid another clasp on the coat, allowing it to open even more. The white, muscular thighs of the young man were initially tightly clutched, as befitted a virgin, but eased as Lazard gingerly followed the crevice between them until the lining of the coat stopped him further up in his path. He could sense the agitated state of the young man; Sephiroth couldn’t hide his heaving chest, the nostrils flaring to take in the cool air to dampen the heat inside. He was young, inexperienced and Lazard was relishing the control he exerted over the seraph. Licking his lips like a predator, Lazard’s fingers undid the last securing clasp around Sephiroth’s waist and the coat fully opened, revealing a naked, yearning body, encased in burning marble skin, which was delightfully contrasting against the black leather. The long coat accentuated Sephiroth’s slim, tall stature whilst the thigh-high boots without the rest of the soldier uniform catered to sexualising his features.
“The boots… as well… suit you nicely,” Lazard purred and leaned back in his chair, admiring the hardened, pale manhood growing out of its protective skin and reaching towards him. Sephiroth was holding on to the edge of the table as if it had been his only sense of security; body trembling with excitement and words muted in his throat. Nevertheless, no words were needed; Lazard knew what the seraph was longing for. Four months ago he was caught masturbating in the presence of the executive, and since then his mind had been occupied with expectations surrounding this moment.
Lazard moved his office chair close to the seraph, only a breath away from the hips of the young man. Thoughts on ShinRa Corporation were once again crowding in his head, but he dismissed them in a silent battle, knowing how much pleasure and life they have all been robbed of for the benefit of its existence. Sephiroth will continue his lifelong battle and he doesn’t even know it yet; at least his transition into manhood should be free from the restraints of ShinRa’s rules and regulations, their crippled morals and the hypocrisy. Indeed, Sephiroth was standing before Lazard pure in intent as in body. The young seraph had made no secrecy about his fondness of the executive and was now holding the senior to a promise made in the past. Lazard felt his heart beat warmly at the thought of such loyalty.
He remained seated and with soft fingertips followed the contours of a throbbing member watching Sephiroth’s face nearly dissolved in pleasure as a half muted moan escaped the moist, swollen lips. The young man had seen erotic features and could imagine what a touch could feel like, but to experience it skin against skin, was beyond what the mind could conjure up. His fingers curled around the desk and head flung back with an extensive and loud intake of breath as his member slid deep into the warm embrace of Lazard’s mouth. Pleasure was surging through the source of the moist heat, coursing through his veins and spreading inside his body like liquid fire. Without even noticing, his arms gave way and slowly he lay down on his back, head hanging over the edge of the desk and legs spread to the delight of Lazard. The pale body was receptive and responsive to the cosseting hands, the playful mouth, the coiling tongue and the burning kisses, but Lazard didn’t want it to end too soon. He knew Sephiroth wanted a union. Thus, he pushed the young man’s legs further back and exposed his portal for endearing abuse with mouth and fingers. He gently pushed one finger inside Sephiroth to which the seraph quickly raised his head, taking Lazard into view. It was an unusual and foreign sensation, which bordered between pleasurable and disagreeable. It was intrusive, yet as his member was once again caressed, the strange sensation turned more pleasant.
Lazard could feel the muscle relaxing around his finger and after moistening the tight portal a bit more, he pushed yet another digit inside the young man. This time, Sephiroth relaxed a bit more, allowed for the sensations to settle and encouraged the senior for more indulgence by placing his hands on Lazard’s head, burrowing his fingers into his blonde mane and gently pushing the head rhythmically down his own shaft.
As the tongue circled his flesh, the digits inside moved to seek, to probe, to pleasure and to find that little spot, which was the centre of his pent up desire. Lazard watched the seraph arch his back and moan loudly as the little bud inside him was discovered and playfully stimulated. As an eager youth, Sephiroth was quickly aroused to the pinnacle of his ecstasy and close to spending; member leaking with slick lubricant and veins protruding in pulses through the thin, transparent skin. The executive stopped and slowly stood up from his chair, reluctantly releasing the seraph from his mouth. He placed his hands on Sephiroth’s slim waist and traced the contours of a toned torso to the shoulders, and encouraged the young man to stand up.
Dazed and high on elation, Sephiroth obeyed and hardly took notice of the coat slipping off his shoulders as he was repositioned, bending over the sturdy desk. His right leg was also resting against the rosewood surface whilst the rattle of condom packaging drowned in his own panting and surging blood. The cool, artificial lubricant dripped over his buttocks, following the canyon between the firm cheeks and flowing over the hot, little portal now aching to be breached. Sephiroth cast a hazy glance over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the toned waist of Lazard partially exposed behind the open shirt and trousers. Although more experienced, the senior was all but aloof. He too was perturbed, cheeks flushing and chest heaving with those heavy, revealing breaths.
Sephiroth smiled and pushed his buttocks teasingly against Lazard for which he received a playful slap on his rear. The slight twinge only added to his pleasure and he subsequently deliberately provoked a second slap to his bottom. His head flung back and the flowing slivery ponytail was caught in the hand of Lazard, gently assuming control over it as a rein. Pulling it forced Sephiroth to arch his back as a hard member slowly pushed inside the juvenile, receptive body. Both released a simultaneous moan as pleasure overtook them, and following a few gentle moves, Lazard’s free hand reached around the pale hips of the seraph to encase his member in a playful palm.
Sephiroth relished the overload of sensations emanating from within, as well as from his rhythmically caressed shaft, merged with the encouraging, dirty, little words slipping from Lazard and his own audible confirmations of indulgence.
The fluorescent lights of the office were shining down on two famished bodies merging with desire. Lazard was gentle and attentive to every move of the seraph; gauging and assessing the pleasure he was giving to an inexperienced body. He pushed his hips against the firm buttocks of the young man, watching the muscle tremble as it received the thrust, thus fuelling his own visual gratification. As the feelings intensified, Sephiroth began leaning into the thrusts, guiding the pace by meeting the plunges through pushing against Lazard and holding the intruding shaft in a tight portal. His moans grew, breath becoming shallow, and his eyes were increasingly burning. Not being able to formulate a comprehensive sentence out of elation, he directed Lazard’s hands to take a firm hold of his hips with both hands, whilst reaching his own shaft to heighten his pleasure.
The executive understood from Sephiroth’s moves, that the young man had reached a point where he was craving for speed and more determined thrusts. With his hands firmly anchoring on to the seraph’s narrow hips, Lazard began pushing himself to climax. The thrusts were short, intense and deep; every one of them taking him higher on elation.
Sensing the tension and pleasure cooped up inside Lazard, Sephiroth intensified his moves around his own member. Every push from Lazard was like an electric impulse shooting through his spine and washing over his senses. His heart was racing, hammering like ravaging beasts against his rib cage and the familiar sensations of ascending highs overtook every nerve in his body. His hand was tugging, his lips were moaning, his eyes screwed shut and strewn over by thousands of twinkling stars, his body was trembling and his sensations reaching the point of rapture.
Suddenly, Lazard felt the warm cave around him collapse, pulling him in and rhythmically cramping along the entire shaft, teasing his euphoria into release. As Sephiroth’s scream filled the air, Lazard arched his back, helplessly losing himself inside the young man and emptying his ecstasy in waves of heat flowing through him. His abdomen was cramping while the muscles pushed his essence through his being and following the crash from his euphoric high, he collapsed on the back of the shivering seraph. Sephiroth was panting, audibly trying to recover from the exhaustive union, slowly trying to regain strength in his numb limbs.
Still weakened, but slowly awakening, Lazard pulled out of Sephiroth, his member growing increasingly flaccid and the condom remaining loose with his emptied seed. He discarded the protection and stumbled into the bathroom to fetch a towel. Sephiroth had remained motionless, continuously bent over the table, and thus with the towel wrapped around his waist, Lazard directed him to the shower. Neither of them spoke for a long while, only exchanging glances, kisses, and occasional physical contact to ensure the feelings were still lingering on. The water had long stopped pelting against the floor when the two once again reunited in the grand office.
“What happens now?” Sephiroth finally asked with a trailing apprehension of a perfect night ending too soon, but Lazard was indeed the wiser and more experienced of the two.
“What happens is… dinner at mine. It’s half past eight and I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch… you?”
Sephiroth tilted his head from side to side admitting he had at least enjoyed some cake.
“Well,” Lazard continued, “do you have room for steak?”
Sephiroth smiled and nodded and watched as Lazard called for his driver to prepare for a pick up. As much as he wanted to go to Lazard and share a meal, the night still felt unfinished and there was more he wanted to learn, to taste, to feel… Finally, he spoke.
“And then what, Sir? Do we call it a day?”
Lazard smiled at the dejected glance hiding behind the façade of the young seraph.
“No, my dear,” he responded as he adjusted his jacket. “The evening is merely half way through. We still have the night ahead of us. Remember what I taught you, Sephiroth… we do not leave a job half done.”
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Underage body with Overage desires