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Drink Me

The Aphrodisiacs Drink Meme

Welcome to the drinks meme! Use RNG or pick a drink that catches your fancy. Effects are coupled, so the more the merrier (and kinkier)! All drinks include powerful aphrodisiacs and the bar features handy private rooms stocked with everything your fantasies require.

1. red - juicy red apple spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg. effect: extreme, sudden arousal. You need someone, anyone, and you needed them yesterday.

2. orange - fresh orange juice with vanilla-laced champagne. effect: voyeurism. who cares who's watching? you want it right here and now. Or maybe you're the one who's into watching?

3. yellow - sweet and sour lemonade topped with meringue. effect: violence. angry hatesex can be more fun that it sounds...

4. green - lime sparkler with coconut and green tea flavors. effect: jealousy/yandere. You'll crave your partner desperately, and no one else can have them.

5. blue - crushed blueberry puree, vodka and soda. effect: domination. You'll have the urge to beat someone into submission. Make them the dog they really are.

6. purple - crushed blackberry puree, vodka and soda. effect: submission. You'll submit to any demands, and pain becomes the greatest pleasure. Who knew bleeding could feel so good?

7. pink - sweet sparkling champagne with strawberries. effect: loving. Your coupling will be adoring and loving. Onlookers will puke from the sweetness.

8. black - licorice and chocolate liqueurs. effect: The strongest of them all. There's no fighting the urge to fuck after drinking this. Even the most stoic of people can't resist this drink.

9. brown - coffee with hazelnut and cream. effect: energizing. You'll want to go all night, nothing can stop you. Multiple orgasms are nothing.

10. white - frozen coconut with jelly balls. effect: extreme bondage. You'll be frozen in place and desperate to be bound.

11. grey - earl grey tea with honey. effect: genderswap. Not the prettiest of drinks, but it will make you into the prettiest (or most handsome) belle of the bar. Just a sip gives the unbearable urge to crossdress.

meme written by

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[For that small gain, this afternoon is perhaps worth it. And Sephiroth has accomplished some work, a few more items that he can cross off his list of things to do. But now—

Sephiroth wonders— briefly, and with the natural paranoia of a man born a soldier— if this effect is not entirely accidental. He senses Zack's approach and it feels like damnation. His hand falls free of the door.]

Do you not feel it? [Sephiroth glances to Zack for a moment before his gaze slides away, unwilling to trap the man even that much.] You do not, I think, wish to be near me.

[ Zack's brow knits with confusion. ]

What are you-

[ The words die in his throat almost instantly, the wind knocked from his lungs by the sudden onset of a very powerful sensation. He knows what it is (what young man doesn't?), but it's never been this bad.

He looks from Sephiroth to the door to the counter, where they were testing potions not too long ago. Surely...surely, they wouldn't.

He swallows, mouth dry. ]

S...Sephiroth?

[ It's almost agonizing already, and he's not sure how long he can stand it without...well. Dealing with it. ]

[Though he's not looking directly at Zack's face he's still observing the man, if somewhat obliquely. As such he sees it hit and it's almost painful to watch. There's something about the slight widening of Zack's eyes, his expression, the way he glances to the counter...]

Yes.

[It's a quiet syllable, confirmation and damnation both. Sephiroth knows, Zack. He knows what you're feeling. He turns his back to the door now, leaning against it for a moment of strength.]

Sit— [No, he cannot make it an order; that has no place here. He tries again, quieter...and more vulnerable himself.] Sit back down, Zack. We're not leaving.

Edited (spelling) 2013-06-23 05:49 (UTC)

[ This? This is most certainly NOT what he agreed to when he signed up for SOLDIER.

Shock, discomfort, and uncertainly all flicker across his face rapidly...and maybe something else when he meets Sephiroth's gaze. He almost doesn't move (how is he supposed to move like this??), but eventually he kind of...teeters back behind the counter and sits.

He looks at the other man again. ]

... Sephiroth?

[ What are they supposed to do? ]

[This is not what either of them signed up for— or should have to deal with at all— but it's the hand they've been dealt, and deal with it they must. Sephiroth cannot deny that he feels a certain responsibility toward the other man; he is Zack's commanding officer, and a commander takes care of his men. But this— and it's Zack—

When they make it out of here, Sephiroth is going to use all the considerable pull of his position to insure that heads roll (figuratively!) over this.

Until then he just watches Zack, his own breathing a little heavier than normal, pupils dilated a little wider than usual. His gaze is perhaps a little predatory, and it is not something he does entirely on purpose, not in this case. It feels an ocean of space between them instead of just half a room; the distance is at once too far and not enough.]

I feel it as well. [Was that a hitch of breath? The barest catch on that last word, something Sephiroth had tried to mask.] Intensely. Very intensely.

[ He's trying to think of something -- anything that will distract him from the want he feels shaking apart his inside. Squeezing his eyes shut, he grips his pants, rocking a little in the chair. This is bad, but the longer he has to endure this, the less it seems to matter.

Why should they hurt and restrain themselves like this when they can just...get it done?

Confused, he shakes his head. ]

We... [ He swallows thickly. ] We can't...

[ It's short, almost breathy. He's having a little more difficultly controlling himself than Sephiroth is. The last bit is even softer: ]

...can we...?

[The hardest thing (haha) about this situation is not what is happening to Sephiroth's own body, but how it is affecting Zack. The General is at least used to being an experiment, even if this goes far beyond the scope of anything he's thus done. But Zack is Zack, and there's no hiding his struggle with a carefully-crafted straight face, no trying to pretend this doesn't exist. And perhaps there is a freedom in that has well; Sephiroth feels as if he is being torn asunder himself, and it is all he can do to hold onto the shreds of his control. The urge to touch, to find relief—]

We...

[Sephiroth's head bows, the long fall of his hair hiding his expression for a moment. This breaks all the rules and all his rules, all save one: you take care of your men. Zack is suffering, and Sephiroth—

He pulls away from the wall finally, hands curled into fists and steps slow as he crosses the room. This is his defeat and his surrender as much as anything else, and he is not looking at his subordinate as he drops to his knees in front of Zack's chair.]

Tell me what you need, Zack.

[ It's embarrassing.

He can't decide if it's worse or better than it's Sephiroth stuck in this mess with him instead of someone else. If it was Aerith...no, he doesn't want to think about her right now.

His grip on his thighs tightens, the air hitching quietly in his chest. He wants this feeling gone, but if anything, denial just seems to make it worse. Distracted, he doesn't even notice Sephiroth has approached him until the other kneels and speaks to him.

Bright, almost feverish blue eyes snap open, focusing on the General. He stares at the other, almost dumbfounded by the offer. ]

I...

[ How is he even supposed to answer that? This is Sephiroth, his commanding officer, and...

There's no one else.

A brief shiver moves up his spine, and Zack shifts a little, uncomfortably, in the chair. His tongues flicks out briefly over his lips, wetting them, as he tries to find his voice. ]

I need....these off....

[ His pants, though not exactly stiff material, are getting...well. Confining. ]

[Sephiroth does not shy away from eye contact as a rule; usually it is others turning away from his gaze, the bright Mako eyes and slip pupils too unnerving, especially combined with the whole air of control he exhibits. But now he feels nothing of control in this situation; now, he feels... Well, he feels many things, rage and disgust and yes, arousal too, but he also feels responsibility, and it is because of that last that he does not hide the conflict in his own gaze as it meets Zack's.

He hopes the other man will understand. Or, at the least, forgive him.]

I understand.

[Hands join Zack's on his thighs; Sephiroth is almost never without his gloves and this is no exception. He rests his palms atop Zack's for just a moment before they move higher, tracing a short path to where thighs meets hips, then— and with a long moment of hesitation— letting both thumbs stroke along that hard bulge in the front of Zack's pants. There's nothing for it; they have to do this, Sephiroth has do to this for Zack. He'll repeat the action once, twice, eyes on Zack's the whole time before hands move again, to find the fastenings of his belts and slip leather through buckles.

His own...situation is getting rather uncomfortable as well; he is struggling to reign himself in. It is not easy. He's hoping that taking care of Zack will help, because he cannot make himself ask Zack to help him.]

[ Forgiveness doesn't enter into it. He asked, or at the very least gave his consent, so it's no more Sephiroth's fault than it is his own.

A light shudder wracks his shoulder when the others hands trace a path over his thighs. He feels tense and overly sensitive, though it does help that Sephiroth is holding himself steady for this (at least thus far). A soft whimper escaping him, the sound melts into a low moan when the other strokes him that second time.

It's all new (very new, in fact), but he has enough presence of mind to shift his hips so Sephiroth can actually loose his restraints and pull down his pants. The shock of cool air is refreshing, the pressure diminished, but the want his feels hasn't faded in the slightest.

When it's done, Zack takes a breath (so far, so good) and starts to reach...tentatively for the other. Gloved fingers brush against the exposed part of Sephiroth's chest, and after a bit of exploration, his hands find the other's belt. He gives it a light tug, a request for the other to come closer.

He can see Sephiroth is uncomfortable too so he'll help as he's able. ]

[Sephiroth is careful, moving slowly, keeping his eyes on Zack. To say that this is something new, unfamiliar territory is an understatement. Sephiroth is not a sexual creature, and does not enjoy being touched under normal circumstances. To endure this—

No. He cannot think of it as enduring; that is not fair to Zack. He pushes fabric aside instead, lets the back of his knuckles run along Zack's cock. He doesn't know what to say so words have been largely abandoned, communication left to touch and sight.

And he is focused so intently on Zack's face that Sephiroth misses the motion of the younger man's arm. There's a low sound as Zack's hand finds Sephiroth's skin; he cannot hold it entirely in. It's not a sound of protest though, but something else entirely, something that wants Zack to touch, even if he can't vocalize it as such; he's having a hard enough time trying to reconcile it in his own mind. Instead he follows that tug, rising to his feet but not standing quite upright. One hand goes over Zack's shoulder, gripping the back of his chair while the other lingers between his legs, slowly tracing the shape of his arousal. Head and shoulders are bowed; silver hair falls in a curtain around them.

Another sound, soft, tinged with a thread of need. It is as much permission as he can vocalize.]

[ There are a lot of things flitting across Zack's face at the moment. He's always been expressive, especially when being faced with something new and this is no different.

His brows creases, his face wrinkling in varying degrees with different sensations. Confusion, discomfort, uncertainty, curiosity...all of these touch his face, but there's nothing there that really objects to this, either.

The quiet attention Sephiroth shows his budding arousal does more than Zack thought it would. Shifting a little under those fingers, soft little grunts and moans tangle in his throat. It's distracting, but he manages the buckle at Sephiroth's waist and releases it. Pulling carefully, he tries not to snag the other's clothing as he tugs down the pants.

That done, gloved hands settle gently over Sephiroth's hips. He's not...exactly sure what to do at this point -- besides his own lack of experience, he remembers that Sephiroth...isn't really that big a fan of being touched. He didn't object to his early explorations, of course, but if they have to do this, they might as well try to be comfortable with it.

Circling his fingers a little, he gives another gentle little pull -- another silent request though it becomes clearer what he means by it a moment later. Head tilted back, he leans up, catching the other in a soft kiss. It's a test more than anything else -- how far can he push? how much does the General want? -- but if it's well-received, he'll do it again as his hands move in a quiet, easy rhythm.

He hasn't touched Sephiroth's arousal yet, but he will when he's sure the other will be comfortable with it. ]

Edited 2013-06-24 05:40 (UTC)

[Zack's sounds are satisfying; Sephiroth does not know much of how to— to please the other man, to relieve this pressure. He hasn't even really moved beyond soft brushes, sometimes knuckles and sometimes fingertips, the drag of well-worn leather against skin kept light. But it seems enough for now, enough to quell some of the discomfort from Zack's bright eyes.

At that second tug, Sephiroth isn't entirely sure where Zack wants him to go, but that's answered soon enough when Zack leans up. And oh— oh. As far as kisses go it's a little clumsy and probably not the best one Zack's had, but there is a response, the moving of lips against lips and something that might be a soft sigh between them, Sephiroth's arm coming off the back of the chair and hand finding— very hesitantly— the side of Zack's throat. It's... pleasant actually; Sephiroth isn't sure if that's because of the potion running through their systems or something else, but when Zack tries again, he'll find Sephiroth more actively responding, even learning from him.

And he's finding something else that's curious: while there's still a pressing need, it's not nearly as painful, as crushing as it was a moment ago. It's as if having his hands on Zack, feeling Zack's tentative touches against his skin are cooling that burn. Sephiroth isn't quite sure of what to think about that. Zack's touch is... different. It's not like the clinical detachment he's used to from the labs, it's not the fear from coworkers and enemies alike, and it's not like the desperation from his fans. It's something else, something that doesn't trigger his automatic response to move away. And is that not strange?

And is it not strange to feel almost as if he would want to explore why, to know what makes this so different? He shifts a little, just once, into the rhythm of Zack's hands; it's a small movement, but it's there.

He's really not entirely sure what he's doing anymore.]

Edited (html ;;) 2013-06-24 06:26 (UTC)

[ Tentative and unsure as it is, the exchange of light, feathery touches helps him relax a little. The effect of the drug or potion (whatever the Sciene Department gave them) seems less virulent now that they acting upon their impulses.

Making a quiet noise against Sephiroth's lips (kissing, at least, he knows how to do), he continues to move his hands, fingers questing gently over the Sephiroth's skin. The line of Sephiroth's form is sharp and defined (powerful), and for whatever reason, the newness of it intrigues him more than anything else.

He doesn't rush, nipping a little at Sephiroth's lower lip -- a prompt, of sorts. Taking the quiet pressure against his hands as a cue, Zack pauses, briefly, before gently tracing a path down Sephiroth's hips and thighs. Leaving a hand on his hip, Zack waits a moment before brushing a gloved finger along the breadth of Sephiroth's length. It's a light, feathery touch and little more -- another test.

He's not trying to be invasive; he's just honestly curious about what he's doing. This is, after all, someone he counts as a friend, not a stranger, so he's not going to be detached or impersonal. Commanding officer or no, it's the man himself Zack considers most important. ]

[If this was anything but what it is, Sephiroth would likely be across the room— or through the wall by now and uncaring of the repair fees. But Zack's touch, hesitant, light... the way he seeks permission without actually asking...

Sephiroth tries to return it in his own touch, soft movements— learning the line of his hips, the shape of his arousal, not seeking for too much at once. It's strange but (and he is both surprised and not to admit it) he trusts Zack. And he has Zack's trust in return, this he knows.

And perhaps there is a little less of responsibility in this now, and a little more of something else.

That nip causes him to part his lips— in surprise yes, but also because he wants to, because it feels somehow right. The hand at the side of his throat slides into Zack's hair as Sephiroth's head tips a little, experimenting with angle. It's funny, how with the slightest shift their mouths can fit together better, how he would want them to.

But then there's movement, leather against skin and against skin, and the shock of it causes a small surprised sound to fall into the kiss (and oh, that is interesting too, the way sound transmits and vibrates in direct contact). But the touch causes another twitch of Sephiroth's hips and a slight tightening of the hand in Zack's hair and really, what are they doing...

...and why doesn't he want to stop it?]

...Zack?

[That soft, questioning murmur... that wasn't Sephiroth's voice, was it?]

Edited 2013-06-25 06:16 (UTC)

[ He does trust Sephiroth. Though it's always been easy for him to meet people and make friends, there aren't very many he's especially close to. Part of it is due to his rank (1st Class SOLDIERS, though privileged, shoulder a heavier burden), but that's not the only reason. The loss of Angeal and the circumstances surrounding said loss has left him less inclined to open himself to being hurt like that again.

Sephiroth, he knows, is one of the few who understand that and why.

The fingers in his hair elicit a quiet moan, and he tilts his head a little, pressing against that hand. It feels...nice, as does everything else, and he sees no reason not to let Sephiroth know it.

Nipping a little again, the quiet murmur takes him by surprise. The tone is different from what he's heard before, but the question in it...he understands.

Lips poised, he takes a quiet breath. ]

...I know.

[ They really shouldn't be doing this -- not here, not now (probably not ever) -- but strangely, he finds he honestly doesn't want to stop. Resting a gloved hand lightly against Sephiroth's cheek, his kisses him again, longer and more involved than any of the others.

It's okay. ]

Edited 2013-06-26 03:00 (UTC)

[Sephiroth does not need to surround himself with people; he prefers keeping them to that arms' distance because he will always be different. The boy in the lab, the teenager on the battlefield, the first— and best— SOLDIER. It's simply the way things are: everyone knows the General, but the man is what Sephiroth keeps for himself.

Until two cadets from Banora had come into his life. And Sephiroth forcefully (and perhaps cruelly) pushes those thoughts away; it is uncharitable to Zack to let his mind linger on others. (And, crueler still, there is a part of his mind that points out how Angeal and Genesis had left him, but how Zack had only grown somehow closer.)

The mind is a cruel master, it seems, to try to pull his thoughts in such directions when there is plenty on which to focus here. There is the way that Zack presses against his hand, the teeth that tease at his lip, and those two quiet words. Zack is telling him that he knows, but Sephiroth is not quite sure how, or how to phrase the question to ask it...]

...

[So he doesn't say anything. Maybe he doesn't have to. Maybe instead it's okay to simply trade touch for touch, to take the subtle cues Zack is trying to give him and Sephiroth is trying to read. Maybe— just maybe— this is okay.

Sephiroth's cheek tilts into Zack's gloved palm, and this kiss is different from the others, deeper and— hotter, for lack of better wording. A soft sound falls into it and Sephiroth lingers there, learning Zack's taste and the plush texture of his lips, the way he likes to move them against Sephiroth's own. He lingers there long enough that eventually they must break for breath; when they do he tries what Zack had done, to nip at the other man's lower lip, to see what kind of response it elicits.]

[ It shouldn't feel right, but it does.

There are a million things that should be on his mind right now -- the potion, how this happened, Aerith, whether they're being watched, and more -- but he really can't bring himself to. He's comfortable, and though painful immediacy of that all-encompassing need has faded, he still...wants. To know the General (his friend) better than he ever has.

Grazing his lips against Sephiroth's teeth, Zack makes a low noise in his throat, soft and pleased. The other is catching on, to this part at least, and though he's not exactly experienced, he does have a sense of what he wants.

Sliding his hand from Sephiroth's cheek to his shoulder, Zack presses a little (a warning) before slowly rising from the chair. He can't get closer to the other when he's sitting down, and right now, for whatever reason, it's contact and closeness that he's craving.

He straightens, and though he's a bit shorter than Sephiroth, he's tall enough to continue what he's been doing. Still busy with soft nips and easy kisses, Zack presses himself against the other (the warmth he knows is there), his hands splayed over Sephiroth's chest.

It's a bit forward, more so than he has been, but hopefully, this too will be well-received. ]

[Sephiroth processes that small push a moment before Zack stands. He shifts back a little, but they're still close enough that the only place Zack has to go involves the two of them still invading each other's personal space. Sephiroth doesn't mind though because very faintly it runs through his head that it's comfortable because it's Zack.

It still interests him that the SOLDIER who spoke back in anger those years ago in Wutai could be now one of his most trusted officers.

Zack slides close, pressing gloves-to-skin against Sephiroth's chest and it surprises him. It's... nice. Pleasant. And he doesn't mind it, because it feels better than their previous positioning. It takes him a moment, but his hands find Zack's shoulders, then slowly slide down his sides to his hips. There they rest, holding Zack and holding Zack against himself, because there's something about this that makes it feel so good. He doesn't know if it's the drug or potion or whatever, or if it's simply Zack, but Sephiroth tries to pull him a little closer as they trade kisses, as each one becomes a little more fluid and natural— and a little more involved as well.

There's an idle thought that if Zack's gloves are warm against his skin, his hands could be even warmer.]

[ A lot of things have changed since Wutai. Besides those who have come and gone, Zack's temperament has shifted. Though still as energetic and passionate as he was a few years ago, he's grown more, maturing with loss as well as the passage of time.

There are ideals that he holds to, lessons drilled into him by a man whose shoes he's tried his hardest to fill. It's not easy, and there are times he thinks he's neither good enough nor strong enough to shoulder Angeal's mantle.

These aren't concerns he can voice; he can only give his best and hope it's enough.

His breath hitches in his chest, his hands sliding to Sephiroth's arms. He gives them a gentle squeeze, a little longer than might be necessary. Words aren't preferable at the moment, but if there is one thing he would communicate, via touch and kiss, it's how much he appreciate, needs, and wants consistency in his life. What they're doing now, he knows, may very well be fleeting, but the mutual trust they share is not.

Circling Sephiroth's waist with his hands, Zack echoes the inclination to become closer and tugs, just a little. It's not long before instinct spurs him on. Grinding, just a little against Sephiroth's hip, a muffled sound buzzes against his lips.

Strange and new though this is, he likes it more and more. ]

Yes.

[It's a small sound that passes between them, a murmur soft even to SOLDIER ears and given voice only on a puff of needed breath before their mouths meet again. But it's there, a single syllable that is permission, encouragement, reassurance, and trust: everything he can offer Zack, and he does so freely.

Instinct guides him to slip a leg between Zack's own, giving him a muscular thigh against which to grind. It feels good to have Zack against him; Zack who is a constant in his life, Zack who has become the only person in whom Sephiroth places almost complete trust. He holds Zack firmly against himself, an anchor not only in the physical sense, even as he learns from and shapes his responses to the younger man.

Dimly his mind thinks that maybe this might be better with more than just opened pants, than just standing against each other and pressed close, but the thought is hardly noticed under the immediacy of finding all the ways he can fit his mouth against Zack's.]

[ Yes.

That one word, soft and simple as it is, shakes something inside him. A brief tremor moves up his spine, and a sharp note of surprise (a whimper) escapes him when he feels a thigh slide between his legs.

It's unexpected, it's intrusive, but it only takes a moment for him to figure out why it's actually there. His fingers drawing taut against Sephiroth's skin, Zack rubs himself against the other that much harder. The sounds comes more frequently as he moans unashamedly into Sephiroth's mouth, hunger and longing evident in even the softer of his kisses.

He needs this, and as fuzzy as his thoughts are becoming, he thinks, maybe, Sephiroth does too. ]

[The noises Zack makes are taken greedily, swallowed into each kiss and Sephiroth (tentatively) runs his tongue along Zack's lip, trying to draw out even more. Like in the rest of their lives, even here Zack is the vocal one, Sephiroth quieter, and somehow they manage to complement each other nicely.

Of course, the way Zack grinds unashamedly against Sephiroth chases away any stray thread of thought that this is in any way unwanted. It just feels so good to have Zack moving against him like this, that very little matters outside of encouraging more.

If Zack's mind is on his surroundings at all, he will dimly notice the faint sounds (plip, plop) of leather hitting the floor. If not it matters very little, especially in light of what comes next, of Sephiroth's bare hands (bare!) skating along the sliver of skin between rumpled shirt and opened pants. He lets his fingertips drag, relishing the friction of skin against skin. It's different to touch someone like this, to want to touch someone like this, but Sephiroth does want, and he wants for Zack to want it as well.

They are not going to be able to continue simply standing for much longer.]

[ He's not overly aware of much of anything beyond what he's doing right now -- what he's giving an receiving. The tongue against his lips draws out stuttering breath, but in a moment, he's pressing back with him own, the kiss intensifying. It doesn't feel like he's getting enough air, and when they do pause, he drags in long, heavy breaths.

Grinding harder, the moans continue, some soft, others louder. The feel of Sephiroth's hands, however, takes him by surprise. A muffled noise escapes him, surprised more than anything else...but not badly so.

He shudders briefly, leaning into those hands as much as he can. In the meantime, he's fiddling with his own gloves. Once discarded, he'll hesitate, maybe for a moment, before slipping his hands around Sephiroth's waist, under his coat. It's different, but there's something strangely heady and satisfying about dragging his bare fingers down the other man's sides.

Nipping again at Sephiroth's lips, a little harder this time, he moans again as another shock of friction moves up his spine. They're definitely going to need something before too much longer. ]

[Zack's noises are met here and there by a complementary sound from Sephiroth: a sigh here, something of a moan there, small answers to Zack's more vocal tendencies. Words have been left far behind, communication between them transitioning to something else, to desires and impulses expressed through and satisfied with touch.

Without even realizing he'd doing so he pulls Zack against him, the motion almost harsh, grinding against his hip as Zack does his leg. They need more, threads of the sudden onset of need creeping back into their actions. The temporary relief they'd found in their soft explorations seems to quickly fade; the more they touch, the more he needs (and wants) to do. And Zack seems to feel the same, judging from the way his hands move against Sephiroth's skin, the slow trails they trace and he'd like to mentally follow, if he'd not be too distracted from Zack's kissing to do so.

When next they break for breath, it will be to also look for a more suitable surface for certain activities. What activities he's not entirely sure— how much of this can they need?— but Sephiroth knows that he wants to touch more of Zack, to be closer to the other man's skin, to let Zack explore his own.]

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