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Title: Project R-U-N-W-A-Y
Characters: Sephiroth, Genesis, Vincent, Rude, Kansel.
Rating: R
Warnings: Exhibitionism, self-love, a dirty old man in a scarlet wrap.
Word Count: 1100
A.N.: Zoolander parody for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fantasia0829, because her How To Ensnare Your Photographer is so cute. XD
It was a dingy little hole in the ground, the kind of place you went to strut your stuff after hours, to mingle with the masses and generate your buzz, cultivate that aura and leave them weeping in your wake. Genesis scanned the crowd. “Alright, who's going to call this thing?”
There was a voice from the back of the room. “If nobody has any objections, I believe I may be of service.” And with a flash of his trademark scarlet wrap, Vincent Valentine, the supermodel of a generation past, a living legend, revealed himself to the crowd. Needless to say, there was no objection at all. He clasped both young men on the shoulder. “Now this will be a straight walk-off. Old school rules. First model walks, second model duplicates, then elaborates. Alright boys, lets go to work!”
Genesis graced Sephiroth with a thinly-veiled sneer. “Age before beauty, Sephy.” Sephiroth didn't even blink. Valentine licked his lips as he watched them part.
A signal to the DJ and it was on. Sephiroth made his way down the catwalk with his powerful strut, undoing his black leather jacket as he went. A satisfied moan went up from the audience as he revealed that he had – again – gone shirtless. He had a stunning body, the epitome of masculine beauty, and he wasn't shy about it either. His every move drew attention to planes of lean muscle.
Genesis scoffed and took his turn, mimicking Sephiroth's steps move for move. He slid his own red coat completely off and took the time to run a hand through his hair, to make eye contact with some of the cuties on the left. Sephiroth was gorgeous, even Genesis couldn't deny it, but the long-haired man lacked that personal touch, that facsimile of affection that made each gaze from a glossy page seem like an intimate moment. Genesis smirked and kissed his fingers to a fine-looking little blond in the front.
Sephiroth responded with a show of his incredible flexibility. Tough going there. Genesis worked just as hard keeping his body in shape. They moved together, perfectly alike, oblivious to the screams and sighs in the audience as the tension flared between them. Valentine nodded in approval.
It didn't take long for them to start sweating under the lights. No runway show in Midgar would ever see such action. Emotions were running fierce between them as they parted to their corners between turns. Only then did Genesis let himself shake. His forehead was damp and his hair was sticking to his face. One misstep and he would lose the whole thing.
“You gotta cut me,” he said to his assistant, Rude. “I can't see. I'm blind out there.” Rude pulled out scissors and snipped a lock. Genesis shrieked. “Not like that, man! I meant a little trim! Damn, you just ruined a four-hundred gil hairstyle!” Rude said nothing.
Sephiroth prodded a member of his entourage for water and an assessment of the situation. Kansel was sure Genesis would crack any minute. Judging from the screams in the other corner, he was right.
Genesis pulled himself together. Never mind the hair, he was a model. He got paid to make anything look good. He'd make it work later. Right now he had to get things under control. “I'm going goddess, prayer, prayer, pray to the goddess!” He concentrated, drawing on the calm space within.
He took the catwalk with a confident march, no mincing sashay for something this bold. Halfway down he stopped and struck a pose, legs wide. Then, he let one hand creep into his pants.
“What's he doing?” Sephiroth asked.
Kansel caught on quickly. “Ooh...”
“Do it, Gen!” somebody called. Genesis smirked and writhed some more, gasping and shuddering in a manner nearly licentious. With a sharp gasp he raised his hand in triumph, waving his successfully extracted shorts.
“Pfft, snap-on sides,” Kansel scoffed. Sephiroth looked thoughtful. “Look, Sephiroth, you don't have to do the whole duplicate thing if your underwear isn't right. This is just an after-hours mixer and that's a parlor-trick. It can't make or break a guy like you.”
“I can do this, Kansel.” Sephiroth stood and began to walk. He didn't miss a beat in his strut. His eyes dared any and everyone to try getting closer. His lips were a perfect pout of disdain. Halfway down he paused, just as Genesis had, and ran his fingers down a taut torso before slipping them into his leather pants. He writhed and gasped just as much as Genesis had, drawing attention to the sheen of sweat on his body under the lights.
A moment went by, and another. The crowd began to murmur. Sephiroth was taking far longer than Genesis had. Could he do it? Would the Great Sephiroth take a fall? One moment more and he did, collapsing to his knees with a groan and his head thrown back. His silver hair pooled on the runway as he arched his back, getting more movement in.
His eyes shut tight and with one final hoarse cry, he flushed and went still. The sound of breathing, or the whole room panting in time with the man rose above the heartbeat rhythm from the speakers. There was still no sign of underwear. Sephiroth had failed.
Slowly, the man opened his eyes. He shifted his hand a little more before drawing it out, then carefully undid the button of his fly just enough to let the leather slide down his hips. It was too tight to go far, but it was just enough to see the silver trail of hair running down into the shadow, going lower than where underwear should have been.
“Sorry,” Sephiroth breathed, looking straight at Valentine, “Seems I forgot my shorts today.”
Valentine shifted once in his seat and declared, “Winner!” The crowd roared. Sephiroth smirked. Genesis scowled.
“I don't think modeling's right for you, Sephiroth,” he said as the other man slid off the stage. “You ought to go into porn.”
“Sex sells, Genesis.” Sephiroth graced his rival with an far-too-satisfied smile. “Don't blame me because you don't have the balls to try anything harder.”
“Why, you-”
“Boys, boys!” Vincent caught them both by the shoulders again. “Don't give the tabloids more fuel. Let's go in the back where we can sort this out like men.”
Kansel and Rude watched them go. “They'll probably be a while,” Kansel said. Rude nodded. “So,” Kansel looked up at the bigger man, “we going for the coat room this time, or backstage?”
Characters: Sephiroth, Genesis, Vincent, Rude, Kansel.
Rating: R
Warnings: Exhibitionism, self-love, a dirty old man in a scarlet wrap.
Word Count: 1100
A.N.: Zoolander parody for
fantasia0829, because her How To Ensnare Your Photographer is so cute. XD It was a dingy little hole in the ground, the kind of place you went to strut your stuff after hours, to mingle with the masses and generate your buzz, cultivate that aura and leave them weeping in your wake. Genesis scanned the crowd. “Alright, who's going to call this thing?”
There was a voice from the back of the room. “If nobody has any objections, I believe I may be of service.” And with a flash of his trademark scarlet wrap, Vincent Valentine, the supermodel of a generation past, a living legend, revealed himself to the crowd. Needless to say, there was no objection at all. He clasped both young men on the shoulder. “Now this will be a straight walk-off. Old school rules. First model walks, second model duplicates, then elaborates. Alright boys, lets go to work!”
Genesis graced Sephiroth with a thinly-veiled sneer. “Age before beauty, Sephy.” Sephiroth didn't even blink. Valentine licked his lips as he watched them part.
A signal to the DJ and it was on. Sephiroth made his way down the catwalk with his powerful strut, undoing his black leather jacket as he went. A satisfied moan went up from the audience as he revealed that he had – again – gone shirtless. He had a stunning body, the epitome of masculine beauty, and he wasn't shy about it either. His every move drew attention to planes of lean muscle.
Genesis scoffed and took his turn, mimicking Sephiroth's steps move for move. He slid his own red coat completely off and took the time to run a hand through his hair, to make eye contact with some of the cuties on the left. Sephiroth was gorgeous, even Genesis couldn't deny it, but the long-haired man lacked that personal touch, that facsimile of affection that made each gaze from a glossy page seem like an intimate moment. Genesis smirked and kissed his fingers to a fine-looking little blond in the front.
Sephiroth responded with a show of his incredible flexibility. Tough going there. Genesis worked just as hard keeping his body in shape. They moved together, perfectly alike, oblivious to the screams and sighs in the audience as the tension flared between them. Valentine nodded in approval.
It didn't take long for them to start sweating under the lights. No runway show in Midgar would ever see such action. Emotions were running fierce between them as they parted to their corners between turns. Only then did Genesis let himself shake. His forehead was damp and his hair was sticking to his face. One misstep and he would lose the whole thing.
“You gotta cut me,” he said to his assistant, Rude. “I can't see. I'm blind out there.” Rude pulled out scissors and snipped a lock. Genesis shrieked. “Not like that, man! I meant a little trim! Damn, you just ruined a four-hundred gil hairstyle!” Rude said nothing.
Sephiroth prodded a member of his entourage for water and an assessment of the situation. Kansel was sure Genesis would crack any minute. Judging from the screams in the other corner, he was right.
Genesis pulled himself together. Never mind the hair, he was a model. He got paid to make anything look good. He'd make it work later. Right now he had to get things under control. “I'm going goddess, prayer, prayer, pray to the goddess!” He concentrated, drawing on the calm space within.
He took the catwalk with a confident march, no mincing sashay for something this bold. Halfway down he stopped and struck a pose, legs wide. Then, he let one hand creep into his pants.
“What's he doing?” Sephiroth asked.
Kansel caught on quickly. “Ooh...”
“Do it, Gen!” somebody called. Genesis smirked and writhed some more, gasping and shuddering in a manner nearly licentious. With a sharp gasp he raised his hand in triumph, waving his successfully extracted shorts.
“Pfft, snap-on sides,” Kansel scoffed. Sephiroth looked thoughtful. “Look, Sephiroth, you don't have to do the whole duplicate thing if your underwear isn't right. This is just an after-hours mixer and that's a parlor-trick. It can't make or break a guy like you.”
“I can do this, Kansel.” Sephiroth stood and began to walk. He didn't miss a beat in his strut. His eyes dared any and everyone to try getting closer. His lips were a perfect pout of disdain. Halfway down he paused, just as Genesis had, and ran his fingers down a taut torso before slipping them into his leather pants. He writhed and gasped just as much as Genesis had, drawing attention to the sheen of sweat on his body under the lights.
A moment went by, and another. The crowd began to murmur. Sephiroth was taking far longer than Genesis had. Could he do it? Would the Great Sephiroth take a fall? One moment more and he did, collapsing to his knees with a groan and his head thrown back. His silver hair pooled on the runway as he arched his back, getting more movement in.
His eyes shut tight and with one final hoarse cry, he flushed and went still. The sound of breathing, or the whole room panting in time with the man rose above the heartbeat rhythm from the speakers. There was still no sign of underwear. Sephiroth had failed.
Slowly, the man opened his eyes. He shifted his hand a little more before drawing it out, then carefully undid the button of his fly just enough to let the leather slide down his hips. It was too tight to go far, but it was just enough to see the silver trail of hair running down into the shadow, going lower than where underwear should have been.
“Sorry,” Sephiroth breathed, looking straight at Valentine, “Seems I forgot my shorts today.”
Valentine shifted once in his seat and declared, “Winner!” The crowd roared. Sephiroth smirked. Genesis scowled.
“I don't think modeling's right for you, Sephiroth,” he said as the other man slid off the stage. “You ought to go into porn.”
“Sex sells, Genesis.” Sephiroth graced his rival with an far-too-satisfied smile. “Don't blame me because you don't have the balls to try anything harder.”
“Why, you-”
“Boys, boys!” Vincent caught them both by the shoulders again. “Don't give the tabloids more fuel. Let's go in the back where we can sort this out like men.”
Kansel and Rude watched them go. “They'll probably be a while,” Kansel said. Rude nodded. “So,” Kansel looked up at the bigger man, “we going for the coat room this time, or backstage?”
