Hang Your Hat (FFVIII, Seifer/Irvine)
Title: Hang your Hat
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairings included: Seifer/Irvine. Or Irvine/Seifer. I forget what’s the 'right' order, and I also don’t give a damn.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Definite man-on-man; bondage; misuse of a cowboy hat as an ignored metaphor? Am I incapable of writing normal smut?
Summary: It’s hard to still be in control when you’re cuffed to his bed and wearing his hat.
Seifer slips him a note during the day that says, simply, ‘handcuffs’, like an order; Irvine crumples it and throws it away, but he doesn’t forget. He and Seifer leave their only shared class (both are completing unfinished SeeD training) barely looking at each other. No one knows. Irvine meets Selphie and this week’s boyfriend in the cafeteria, where he flirts shamelessly with her because he doesn’t like her taste in men this time. The boy is sulking, and Irvine considers flirting with him too, to scare him off: his Sefie is better than this. He can’t bring himself to do it, though; not while Seifer’s eyes are so dutifully not watching.
Another class, and Irvine’s suitably distracted, so he kicks his feet up on the desk next to him and lets his eyes glaze over. It’s not often that Seifer ties him down - they both like when the cowboy uses his hands - but it’s always hot. Irvine has no problem sharing himself, letting Seifer take the control he so badly enjoys: Irvine likes giving. He also likes knowing how badly someone wants him. He’d have no problem telling everybody in Garden just what was goin’ on, either, but Seifer likes knowing something that no one knows.
The day runs, and Irvine finally gets home - gives Sefie a big whopping kiss on her forehead and packs her off to bed - and opens his door, ready to stealthily pack a bag and slip off to Seifer’s dorm. He’s not expecting the rustling in the other room, but it’s a pleasant surprise. He’s happy that Seifer is so eager; Irvine’s room is much cleaner and therefore more comfortable to spend long periods of nakedness in.
He shucks his bag into the corner and hangs his precious coat on the hook; “No,” Seifer calls from the room, “leave the hat on.”
Irvine chuckles. “I ain’t gettin’ my hat dirty with the likes of you,” he drawls amiably, but he obediently leaves it on, resolving to remove it before his arms are chained to the bedposts.
He enters the bedroom and freezes for a second, startled beyond belief. Seifer’s lying in his bed, shirtless, and he’s chained himself to the headboard. This has never happened before. Seifer is never the one in the restraints.
He opens his mouth to say something, probably something stupid, and Seifer smirks at him and says, “Get over here.”
Irvine gladly sheds his own shirt and tentatively climbs on the bed. Seifer’s looking at him a little funny, lust and the need for validation all at once. “This time, you’re gonna fuck me, cowboy,” Seifer says huskily, and Irvine shudders a little but makes an attempt to smirk back.
“You think you’re the boss now, eh?” He leans forward, pulling a long drawn-out kiss from Seifer. “You’re the one tied up.”
“We’ll see,” Seifer replies, hitching himself upwards to kiss Irvine back angrily. There’s something different in his bossiness tonight. “Show me.”
Irvine proceeds to do just that for a while, dipping down to suck on Seifer’s neck and nipples; even his groans are manly, almost angry. He’s a little nervous. It’s kind of nice, being tied up and at the mercy of someone else’s whims: how is he supposed to know what Seifer’s whims are? Well, Irvine admits hazily, he’s already got a decent idea. But he’s only …a couple times. He’s usually content to let Seifer…
Seifer bites his lip, hard, and Irvine is dragged back to the scene. “What, cowboy, you don’t want me?” His voice is hard and angry and hot, and it almost hides the tone of insult behind it. But Irvine’s a little more perceptive than most. He shakes his head to hide the smile.
“’m just takin’ my time,” Irvine says, leaning down to suck at Seifer’s nipple again, hard. He’s so easy-going that sometimes he forgets not everyone else is. It’s getting unbearably warm, and his neck is sweaty; he takes off the hat.
“No,” Seifer growls.
But by now Irvine knows - what Seifer wants, today, is to feel owned. He shakes his head, smirking more easily now, and places the hat on Seifer’s head.
“I don’t want your ugly hat,” Seifer mutters.
Irvine reaches down to undo Seifer’s belt and unbutton his jeans. “If it’s such an ugly hat, why d’ya want me t’ keep it on?” Seifer’s already hard against his nimble sniper’s fingers, and Irvine has to struggle a little to pull his jeans and boxers off. Seifer jerks a little as Irvine’s fingers brush against his cock, and the handcuffs clink as a reminder.
“Because I figured you’d cry if I made you take it off,” Seifer says breathily, and Irvine finishes divesting him of clothing.
“You just like bossin’ me around,” Irvine replies, positioning himself between Seifer’s legs, his hand wrapped around Seifer’s cock, and before the blond can answer Irvine’s already taken him fully in his mouth.
Seifer groans loudly, and Irvine feels a heady rush of heat: he’s never started off this directly with Seifer, and the response is almost overwhelming. There’s no warming up, no real foreplay, just directly into and out of his mouth as fast as he can move. He uses his hand, too, running up and down Seifer’s length along with his tight lips - just to rub it in. Seifer’s actually thrashing against the handcuffs. Irvine pauses to look up at him; Seifer’s face is a little red with exertion and pure desire. His eyes are gleaming.
Irvine stands up suddenly, and the gleam in Seifer’s eyes hardens in surprise a little bit; Irvine neatly undoes his own belt and lets his remaining clothing fall to the floor. Seifer’s eyes are following his erection. “What, d’ya think I was gonna leave?” Irvine asks, smirking. He climbs back onto the bed, straddling Seifer’s chest. “Don’t answer that.”
He’s positioned himself well, and Seifer leans up and forward; his movement is a little limited, so Irvine braces himself against the wall and pushes himself into Seifer’s mouth. He goes slow at first, since Seifer literally has no control - not even his hands, and Irvine certainly doesn’t want anybody chokin’ in his bed. Seifer’s lips are taut and, as Irvine glances down, his eyes are closed. Damn, but that feels good, sliding in and out of Seifer’s mouth loosely, while Seifer’s hands strain at the handcuffs.
Irvine pauses, pulling himself out of Seifer’s mouth. The man beneath him opens his eyes, and they’re bright and hot and demanding, as usual. “Right,” Irvine murmurs.
The challenge lights up in Seifer’s eyes. “Do it,” he orders, and his voice says the please his lips never will.
Irvine complies. A quick stop in the bedside drawer for preparation and then his fingers are inside Seifer, again without preamble. There’s something raw about Seifer tonight as he moans out, loudly, again tugging at his bound hands. Irvine pumps his fingers slowly, his other hand lightly teasing Seifer’s cock. Seifer’s hips jerk upwards at the sensations, and Irvine firmly puts them back into place, and hushes him.
Seifer freezes suddenly, and his face is bright red and his eyes are burning with desire. “That’s right,” Irvine orders experimentally, intrigued with the intensity of Seifer’s response. “Don’t move.”
Seifer’s panting at this point, and Irvine’s never seen him this aroused; he wraps his slick fingers around Seifer and is surprised to hear the whine from Seifer as he attempts not to jerk his hips again. Irvine realizes how close Seifer is, so he removes his other hand from its former position and, pausing only briefly to grab the bottle again, shifts himself until his own cock brushes up against Seifer’s arse.
This time Seifer groans, loudly. “Just - already,” he hisses.
Irvine does. He pushes himself inside Seifer, slow enough to not hurt but fast enough to keep Seifer on the edge. He starts thrusting his hips, not gentle but not painfully rough. Seifer’s tugging at the handcuffs again and making some rough noise deep in his throat and it’s so fuckin’ hot. Irvine slows himself; he reaches down to bend Seifer’s thighs back a bit for better access. Seifer meets his eyes for one burning moment and it’s so intense Irvine almost comes right there.
But - for now Seifer wants him to have control, so he does, pacing his thrusts. He can’t hold back the grunts, though; Irvine is usually vocal during his sex, and Seifer’s groaning now that his hips are at just that right angle and Irvine’s hitting him right in that spot and -
Seifer shudders deeply, and Irvine realizes that he’s fighting for control too. He reaches down and takes a hold of Seifer’s cock in his still-slick hand, pumping it between their bodies as he slows his own pace to an excruciatingly deep thrusting. Seifer pulls at the handcuffs again, his head craned back, and then he shudders - Irvine speeds up - and Seifer comes with a loud biting shout Irvine’s never heard from him before.
Irvine can’t stop himself, burying his dirty hand in the sheets as he braces himself better. Seifer never comes first, and the thought that it was him who got him there has turned Irvine on so badly; he’s so close, and Seifer’s still groaning now in his aftermath as Irvine thrusts harder and harder and oh hells he’s so aroused, Seifer’s shuddering underneath him and oh he can’t help it, he’s pounding now and it comes all at once in a rush as he orgasms. Irvine moans out loud, feeling himself pulse inside Seifer, and Seifer’s watching from the bed with his eyes half-glazed over, looking intent and pleased.
Finally Irvine can move and he does, pulling himself out and flopping down onto the bed beside Seifer. He lies there, feeling his body dissolve in the heat and sweat and residue. There’s a strange clattering noise, and then Seifer curses under his breath.
“Let me out,” he says hoarsely.
Irvine raises himself up on one elbow, lazily looking down at Seifer. His body is taut and fitted, more muscular than Irvine’s own, all of his wiry muscles curled as if he could attack at any moment. He’s gorgeous. “Why?” Irvine drawls.
Seifer scowls in actual anger. “Let me out,” he demands. More of his voice has returned. “The key is over there.”
Irvine reaches to the nightstand, putting the potion back into it, and deftly snags the key. With one last smoldering look at Seifer, he reaches up to undo the cuffs. Seifer’s arms are gone before he can even blink, and Seifer grabs the key from him with trembling fingers and releases his other wrist.
“So,” Irvine says, flopping back onto the bed. “How was it?” He's casual. Seifer doesn't need to be told how important this just was: trust, and the gift of being the wanted one. Besides, they ain't girls.
Seifer leans back, blowing out a long slow breath of air. Irvine can see the tremors still in his hands and legs. “Not bad,” he says, his voice attempting to be cocky once again. “I’ll expect better next time.”
“So will I,” Irvine replies lazily, rolling himself over. It’s the kind of statement that infuriates Seifer, which only amuses Irvine. “Where the hell’s my hat at?”
“Fell off.” Seifer waves a hand in the air, attempting nonchalance. “Over there.”
“You’re such an ass,” Irvine says. He stands up slowly and stretches; the wet spots on his skin are slightly chilled. “You come in here demandin’ a fuckin’, and then you ruin m' best hat.” He lets his natural accent roll off his tongue - the one they tried to train out of him at Galbadia.
Seifer rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t care. “The hat’s not ruined.”
“Better not be.” Irvine picks it up; it looks as good as always. “It’s salvageable,” he admits. “You’re lucky.”
“I’m lucky you’re not whining like a baby.” Seifer rolls over, sprawling, such that Irvine will be forced to physically rearrange his limbs to fit back into the bed.
“Shaddup,” Irvine chuckles, and hangs the hat back on the wall.
Notes: THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS PORN-Y. WHAT THE HELL, PLOTBUNNY. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A NICE LITTLE CHARACTERIZATION STUDY, YOU BITCH. WAY FOR THE COCK TO RUN AWAY WITH ME. UM.
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairings included: Seifer/Irvine. Or Irvine/Seifer. I forget what’s the 'right' order, and I also don’t give a damn.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Definite man-on-man; bondage; misuse of a cowboy hat as an ignored metaphor? Am I incapable of writing normal smut?
Summary: It’s hard to still be in control when you’re cuffed to his bed and wearing his hat.
Seifer slips him a note during the day that says, simply, ‘handcuffs’, like an order; Irvine crumples it and throws it away, but he doesn’t forget. He and Seifer leave their only shared class (both are completing unfinished SeeD training) barely looking at each other. No one knows. Irvine meets Selphie and this week’s boyfriend in the cafeteria, where he flirts shamelessly with her because he doesn’t like her taste in men this time. The boy is sulking, and Irvine considers flirting with him too, to scare him off: his Sefie is better than this. He can’t bring himself to do it, though; not while Seifer’s eyes are so dutifully not watching.
Another class, and Irvine’s suitably distracted, so he kicks his feet up on the desk next to him and lets his eyes glaze over. It’s not often that Seifer ties him down - they both like when the cowboy uses his hands - but it’s always hot. Irvine has no problem sharing himself, letting Seifer take the control he so badly enjoys: Irvine likes giving. He also likes knowing how badly someone wants him. He’d have no problem telling everybody in Garden just what was goin’ on, either, but Seifer likes knowing something that no one knows.
The day runs, and Irvine finally gets home - gives Sefie a big whopping kiss on her forehead and packs her off to bed - and opens his door, ready to stealthily pack a bag and slip off to Seifer’s dorm. He’s not expecting the rustling in the other room, but it’s a pleasant surprise. He’s happy that Seifer is so eager; Irvine’s room is much cleaner and therefore more comfortable to spend long periods of nakedness in.
He shucks his bag into the corner and hangs his precious coat on the hook; “No,” Seifer calls from the room, “leave the hat on.”
Irvine chuckles. “I ain’t gettin’ my hat dirty with the likes of you,” he drawls amiably, but he obediently leaves it on, resolving to remove it before his arms are chained to the bedposts.
He enters the bedroom and freezes for a second, startled beyond belief. Seifer’s lying in his bed, shirtless, and he’s chained himself to the headboard. This has never happened before. Seifer is never the one in the restraints.
He opens his mouth to say something, probably something stupid, and Seifer smirks at him and says, “Get over here.”
Irvine gladly sheds his own shirt and tentatively climbs on the bed. Seifer’s looking at him a little funny, lust and the need for validation all at once. “This time, you’re gonna fuck me, cowboy,” Seifer says huskily, and Irvine shudders a little but makes an attempt to smirk back.
“You think you’re the boss now, eh?” He leans forward, pulling a long drawn-out kiss from Seifer. “You’re the one tied up.”
“We’ll see,” Seifer replies, hitching himself upwards to kiss Irvine back angrily. There’s something different in his bossiness tonight. “Show me.”
Irvine proceeds to do just that for a while, dipping down to suck on Seifer’s neck and nipples; even his groans are manly, almost angry. He’s a little nervous. It’s kind of nice, being tied up and at the mercy of someone else’s whims: how is he supposed to know what Seifer’s whims are? Well, Irvine admits hazily, he’s already got a decent idea. But he’s only …a couple times. He’s usually content to let Seifer…
Seifer bites his lip, hard, and Irvine is dragged back to the scene. “What, cowboy, you don’t want me?” His voice is hard and angry and hot, and it almost hides the tone of insult behind it. But Irvine’s a little more perceptive than most. He shakes his head to hide the smile.
“’m just takin’ my time,” Irvine says, leaning down to suck at Seifer’s nipple again, hard. He’s so easy-going that sometimes he forgets not everyone else is. It’s getting unbearably warm, and his neck is sweaty; he takes off the hat.
“No,” Seifer growls.
But by now Irvine knows - what Seifer wants, today, is to feel owned. He shakes his head, smirking more easily now, and places the hat on Seifer’s head.
“I don’t want your ugly hat,” Seifer mutters.
Irvine reaches down to undo Seifer’s belt and unbutton his jeans. “If it’s such an ugly hat, why d’ya want me t’ keep it on?” Seifer’s already hard against his nimble sniper’s fingers, and Irvine has to struggle a little to pull his jeans and boxers off. Seifer jerks a little as Irvine’s fingers brush against his cock, and the handcuffs clink as a reminder.
“Because I figured you’d cry if I made you take it off,” Seifer says breathily, and Irvine finishes divesting him of clothing.
“You just like bossin’ me around,” Irvine replies, positioning himself between Seifer’s legs, his hand wrapped around Seifer’s cock, and before the blond can answer Irvine’s already taken him fully in his mouth.
Seifer groans loudly, and Irvine feels a heady rush of heat: he’s never started off this directly with Seifer, and the response is almost overwhelming. There’s no warming up, no real foreplay, just directly into and out of his mouth as fast as he can move. He uses his hand, too, running up and down Seifer’s length along with his tight lips - just to rub it in. Seifer’s actually thrashing against the handcuffs. Irvine pauses to look up at him; Seifer’s face is a little red with exertion and pure desire. His eyes are gleaming.
Irvine stands up suddenly, and the gleam in Seifer’s eyes hardens in surprise a little bit; Irvine neatly undoes his own belt and lets his remaining clothing fall to the floor. Seifer’s eyes are following his erection. “What, d’ya think I was gonna leave?” Irvine asks, smirking. He climbs back onto the bed, straddling Seifer’s chest. “Don’t answer that.”
He’s positioned himself well, and Seifer leans up and forward; his movement is a little limited, so Irvine braces himself against the wall and pushes himself into Seifer’s mouth. He goes slow at first, since Seifer literally has no control - not even his hands, and Irvine certainly doesn’t want anybody chokin’ in his bed. Seifer’s lips are taut and, as Irvine glances down, his eyes are closed. Damn, but that feels good, sliding in and out of Seifer’s mouth loosely, while Seifer’s hands strain at the handcuffs.
Irvine pauses, pulling himself out of Seifer’s mouth. The man beneath him opens his eyes, and they’re bright and hot and demanding, as usual. “Right,” Irvine murmurs.
The challenge lights up in Seifer’s eyes. “Do it,” he orders, and his voice says the please his lips never will.
Irvine complies. A quick stop in the bedside drawer for preparation and then his fingers are inside Seifer, again without preamble. There’s something raw about Seifer tonight as he moans out, loudly, again tugging at his bound hands. Irvine pumps his fingers slowly, his other hand lightly teasing Seifer’s cock. Seifer’s hips jerk upwards at the sensations, and Irvine firmly puts them back into place, and hushes him.
Seifer freezes suddenly, and his face is bright red and his eyes are burning with desire. “That’s right,” Irvine orders experimentally, intrigued with the intensity of Seifer’s response. “Don’t move.”
Seifer’s panting at this point, and Irvine’s never seen him this aroused; he wraps his slick fingers around Seifer and is surprised to hear the whine from Seifer as he attempts not to jerk his hips again. Irvine realizes how close Seifer is, so he removes his other hand from its former position and, pausing only briefly to grab the bottle again, shifts himself until his own cock brushes up against Seifer’s arse.
This time Seifer groans, loudly. “Just - already,” he hisses.
Irvine does. He pushes himself inside Seifer, slow enough to not hurt but fast enough to keep Seifer on the edge. He starts thrusting his hips, not gentle but not painfully rough. Seifer’s tugging at the handcuffs again and making some rough noise deep in his throat and it’s so fuckin’ hot. Irvine slows himself; he reaches down to bend Seifer’s thighs back a bit for better access. Seifer meets his eyes for one burning moment and it’s so intense Irvine almost comes right there.
But - for now Seifer wants him to have control, so he does, pacing his thrusts. He can’t hold back the grunts, though; Irvine is usually vocal during his sex, and Seifer’s groaning now that his hips are at just that right angle and Irvine’s hitting him right in that spot and -
Seifer shudders deeply, and Irvine realizes that he’s fighting for control too. He reaches down and takes a hold of Seifer’s cock in his still-slick hand, pumping it between their bodies as he slows his own pace to an excruciatingly deep thrusting. Seifer pulls at the handcuffs again, his head craned back, and then he shudders - Irvine speeds up - and Seifer comes with a loud biting shout Irvine’s never heard from him before.
Irvine can’t stop himself, burying his dirty hand in the sheets as he braces himself better. Seifer never comes first, and the thought that it was him who got him there has turned Irvine on so badly; he’s so close, and Seifer’s still groaning now in his aftermath as Irvine thrusts harder and harder and oh hells he’s so aroused, Seifer’s shuddering underneath him and oh he can’t help it, he’s pounding now and it comes all at once in a rush as he orgasms. Irvine moans out loud, feeling himself pulse inside Seifer, and Seifer’s watching from the bed with his eyes half-glazed over, looking intent and pleased.
Finally Irvine can move and he does, pulling himself out and flopping down onto the bed beside Seifer. He lies there, feeling his body dissolve in the heat and sweat and residue. There’s a strange clattering noise, and then Seifer curses under his breath.
“Let me out,” he says hoarsely.
Irvine raises himself up on one elbow, lazily looking down at Seifer. His body is taut and fitted, more muscular than Irvine’s own, all of his wiry muscles curled as if he could attack at any moment. He’s gorgeous. “Why?” Irvine drawls.
Seifer scowls in actual anger. “Let me out,” he demands. More of his voice has returned. “The key is over there.”
Irvine reaches to the nightstand, putting the potion back into it, and deftly snags the key. With one last smoldering look at Seifer, he reaches up to undo the cuffs. Seifer’s arms are gone before he can even blink, and Seifer grabs the key from him with trembling fingers and releases his other wrist.
“So,” Irvine says, flopping back onto the bed. “How was it?” He's casual. Seifer doesn't need to be told how important this just was: trust, and the gift of being the wanted one. Besides, they ain't girls.
Seifer leans back, blowing out a long slow breath of air. Irvine can see the tremors still in his hands and legs. “Not bad,” he says, his voice attempting to be cocky once again. “I’ll expect better next time.”
“So will I,” Irvine replies lazily, rolling himself over. It’s the kind of statement that infuriates Seifer, which only amuses Irvine. “Where the hell’s my hat at?”
“Fell off.” Seifer waves a hand in the air, attempting nonchalance. “Over there.”
“You’re such an ass,” Irvine says. He stands up slowly and stretches; the wet spots on his skin are slightly chilled. “You come in here demandin’ a fuckin’, and then you ruin m' best hat.” He lets his natural accent roll off his tongue - the one they tried to train out of him at Galbadia.
Seifer rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t care. “The hat’s not ruined.”
“Better not be.” Irvine picks it up; it looks as good as always. “It’s salvageable,” he admits. “You’re lucky.”
“I’m lucky you’re not whining like a baby.” Seifer rolls over, sprawling, such that Irvine will be forced to physically rearrange his limbs to fit back into the bed.
“Shaddup,” Irvine chuckles, and hangs the hat back on the wall.
Notes: THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS PORN-Y. WHAT THE HELL, PLOTBUNNY. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A NICE LITTLE CHARACTERIZATION STUDY, YOU BITCH. WAY FOR THE COCK TO RUN AWAY WITH ME. UM.