Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ That is Why They Call it Self Love ❯ Power is an Aphrodisiac ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: HimeAndi 
Syemour has some time on his hands and a nice way to spend it in mind...
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.20.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 689 | Visits: 527 | Status: Completed
Syemour has some time on his hands and a nice way to spend it in mind...
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.20.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 689 | Visits: 527 | Status: Completed
It was silent now. Alone Seymour disrobed and sat on the bed. His blue hair shifted with a breeze from the open windows, a breeze that did nothing to calm his blood. Ah, there nothing like ensnaring others in his games to fire his blood…unless it was her.
But it was the girl on his mind now. The fire was on his mind; the fire and the reaction within him to the fire. His hands rested on his sleek thighs as he breathed deeply, evenly. Heat coiled in his belly, spreading through his veins like blue light. He saw it, felt it keenly, probably more so than most due to his heritage, but he enjoyed that uniqueness. He even felt the black marks, pricked into his skin long ago, breathing and pulsing with the need inside him. Rampant beast on each breast, how fitting.
Slowly his clawed fingers drew up his thighs, sending cold shivers through him; he traced up his ribs, flicking at his nipples as he crossed his arms and hooked his hands over his own shoulders. Bowing his head his eyes fell on his swelling length, a smirk dancing across his lips. His tongue darted to lick his lips, watching the shaft bob gently with his heartbeat. So hard already, and not even an image in his mind to arouse him. Power was such an addictive thing. He imagined how it would feel when he encircled the length in his hand and huffed softly in anticipation, his right hand sliding down his left pectoral, over the raised skin filled with sacred ink shaped like hypogryphs, and paused to trace their prancing forms with one long claw. The pain of their creation was long forgotten, only their beauty remained but beauty was another obsession that made his spine shiver. He knew it was not ego to believe he was beautiful. He was pleased with his form, very pleased.
The claws found his left nipple and flicked at it. The bobbing shaft twitched, and Seymour smiled. “It is nice isn't it?” he purred to himself, and pinched the small nub of flesh. His manhood was swelling even more with each moment, and he realized he was breathing less deeply, with faster, gasping breaths. He slowly reclined onto the bed, swinging his legs up and wriggling into the silken covers with delight; his skin was so sensitive after all. It felt like a large soft hand caressing his back and ass.
His hand had wandered on its own and had reached the base of the shaft, slowly working up until two, then three then all four fingers could wind around it. His moan of eager enjoyment startled him, but did not stop his hand from stroking up to the tip and almost off, before descending smoothly again. Now his back arched a bit, forcing his hips up into the down stroke, and setting the pace as he repeated the process. Bolts of pleasure zipped through his limbs and he tilted his head down to watch his blue tinted member pulse in his own hand.
But it was not enough…he quickly stretched his left arm down his belly and switched hands, stroking with the left hand, which seemed to want to go faster, while his right hand squirmed under his him and crept towards his entrance. “So perverse but so delightful,” he whispered, his claws circling the tight rings of muscle. He teased himself for a while, until his breath was almost a hiccupping gasp, and the pleasure tingled from his shaft through his belly and thighs. He could feel the release rising along the turgid member, hot and eager.
“Now, now is the timeâ€
But it was the girl on his mind now. The fire was on his mind; the fire and the reaction within him to the fire. His hands rested on his sleek thighs as he breathed deeply, evenly. Heat coiled in his belly, spreading through his veins like blue light. He saw it, felt it keenly, probably more so than most due to his heritage, but he enjoyed that uniqueness. He even felt the black marks, pricked into his skin long ago, breathing and pulsing with the need inside him. Rampant beast on each breast, how fitting.
Slowly his clawed fingers drew up his thighs, sending cold shivers through him; he traced up his ribs, flicking at his nipples as he crossed his arms and hooked his hands over his own shoulders. Bowing his head his eyes fell on his swelling length, a smirk dancing across his lips. His tongue darted to lick his lips, watching the shaft bob gently with his heartbeat. So hard already, and not even an image in his mind to arouse him. Power was such an addictive thing. He imagined how it would feel when he encircled the length in his hand and huffed softly in anticipation, his right hand sliding down his left pectoral, over the raised skin filled with sacred ink shaped like hypogryphs, and paused to trace their prancing forms with one long claw. The pain of their creation was long forgotten, only their beauty remained but beauty was another obsession that made his spine shiver. He knew it was not ego to believe he was beautiful. He was pleased with his form, very pleased.
The claws found his left nipple and flicked at it. The bobbing shaft twitched, and Seymour smiled. “It is nice isn't it?” he purred to himself, and pinched the small nub of flesh. His manhood was swelling even more with each moment, and he realized he was breathing less deeply, with faster, gasping breaths. He slowly reclined onto the bed, swinging his legs up and wriggling into the silken covers with delight; his skin was so sensitive after all. It felt like a large soft hand caressing his back and ass.
His hand had wandered on its own and had reached the base of the shaft, slowly working up until two, then three then all four fingers could wind around it. His moan of eager enjoyment startled him, but did not stop his hand from stroking up to the tip and almost off, before descending smoothly again. Now his back arched a bit, forcing his hips up into the down stroke, and setting the pace as he repeated the process. Bolts of pleasure zipped through his limbs and he tilted his head down to watch his blue tinted member pulse in his own hand.
But it was not enough…he quickly stretched his left arm down his belly and switched hands, stroking with the left hand, which seemed to want to go faster, while his right hand squirmed under his him and crept towards his entrance. “So perverse but so delightful,” he whispered, his claws circling the tight rings of muscle. He teased himself for a while, until his breath was almost a hiccupping gasp, and the pleasure tingled from his shaft through his belly and thighs. He could feel the release rising along the turgid member, hot and eager.
“Now, now is the timeâ€