Oh man, I came for the commentary on how FFVII is the last cheeky /not too serious FF (because YES!) and you got me with your mention of Noel/Serah first time fanfic and akdjghaskghasfkgjh this is for you I hope you like it, sorry I couldn't deliver on the Hope/Serah:
It's fine at first; it's slow and gentle, and Serah can see the attractive lines in Noel's body like a sculpture of a man beneath the clothes he's almost too shy to shrug out of. He is nothing like Snow was, because Snow always liked to take the lead. Snow called sex a waltz, and Serah would laugh at him, and they would rub noses and be generally, disgustingly happy together.
Noel lets Serah lead him to her bedroll, Mog forgotten at the door to their little tent. There is something freeing about the knowledge that they are the only two people for miles, maybe for quite a bit further than that, and Serah is driven by that knowledge, by the sheer intimacy of touching her fingers to Noel's face.
She asks him, "Is this all right?" and Noel smiles, his eyes dark and unreadable, turning into the contact of her cool hand.
Serah takes the lead, undresses, unfurls from her clothes and guides Noel's hands to touch her breasts. He lightly cups them, breath a little quicker, head down, and slowly explores the shape of them. He runs one thumb along her left nipple, and seems startled when she hums in answer, telling him,
"That's good!"
Not long after, she notices the trembling in his hands, and decides instead to simply hold him. They sit together in the quiet of their tent, like the last two people in the world, and she strokes his back until he begins to cry, softly, into her shoulder.
"It's okay," she promises, not sure if she is telling the truth. She doesn't know as much about him as she would like, but there's something heartbreakingly lonely about Noel that only seems to get worse the closer he gets to her. "I'm here. It's okay."
He laughs like she's dying in his arms and telling him to be brave. He holds her tighter.
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It's fine at first; it's slow and gentle, and Serah can see the attractive lines in Noel's body like a sculpture of a man beneath the clothes he's almost too shy to shrug out of. He is nothing like Snow was, because Snow always liked to take the lead. Snow called sex a waltz, and Serah would laugh at him, and they would rub noses and be generally, disgustingly happy together.
Noel lets Serah lead him to her bedroll, Mog forgotten at the door to their little tent. There is something freeing about the knowledge that they are the only two people for miles, maybe for quite a bit further than that, and Serah is driven by that knowledge, by the sheer intimacy of touching her fingers to Noel's face.
She asks him, "Is this all right?" and Noel smiles, his eyes dark and unreadable, turning into the contact of her cool hand.
Serah takes the lead, undresses, unfurls from her clothes and guides Noel's hands to touch her breasts. He lightly cups them, breath a little quicker, head down, and slowly explores the shape of them. He runs one thumb along her left nipple, and seems startled when she hums in answer, telling him,
"That's good!"
Not long after, she notices the trembling in his hands, and decides instead to simply hold him. They sit together in the quiet of their tent, like the last two people in the world, and she strokes his back until he begins to cry, softly, into her shoulder.
"It's okay," she promises, not sure if she is telling the truth. She doesn't know as much about him as she would like, but there's something heartbreakingly lonely about Noel that only seems to get worse the closer he gets to her. "I'm here. It's okay."
He laughs like she's dying in his arms and telling him to be brave. He holds her tighter.