Help (FF8, R) - for irish_ais
Help
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairing: Quistis/Seifer
Rating: R for pornz
Summary: Quistis doesn't need help. Seifer's not helping.
Notes: Quistis/Seifer, snippets. For irish_ais's birthday! HAPPY YOU ARE 21 AND CAN DRINK A TON DAY!!!
The third time Seifer shows up in the TC during one of her classes, Quistis gets angry. As punishment, she acknowledges his presence in front of all her students, which she knows will embarrass him - although he’ll never admit it, which only makes it worse. Nevertheless, Quistis has been his Instructor long enough that she recognizes these sort of things. She introduces him as her helper and sends him the students who are having the most problems; she knows Almasy would never really hurt a student, and this is her way of getting back at him.
Muffled anti-Quistis slurs echo through the TC as Seifer attempts to explain gunblades to a student with nunchucks. Quistis gives him the evil eye, which fails to work. She finally dismisses the class with a pointed note about homework and brushes her uniform clean.
Their eyes lock over the empty TC. Seifer’s got a cut over his left eye, she notices with satisfaction, mentally counting her own bruises.
“I don’t need your help,” she says.
Seifer looks her up and down. “You need all the help you can get, Trepe.”
She tries to swallow the sting; she knows he’s wrong and he’s bluffing, but it still hurts, even after all these years. “All you know is gunblading. Why are you here?”
“Bored.” Strangely enough, she believes him. Seifer’s a ward of BG now, despite the fact that he’s too old to ever make SeeD. He’s here mostly so that the Galbadians don’t kill him.
“Well,” she says, cracking her whip sharply in satisfaction. “If you’re going to help, don’t skulk around the corners. If you’re going to skulk, leave us alone.”
He shows up for the class tomorrow, bearing not only a gunblade but a beginner’s staff, which he uses to spar.
- - -
Quistis spins on her heel, fast, and swipes sweaty hair from her eyes with dirty fingers. She grits her teeth on actual grit as she stares Seifer down. Whatever bloody half-witted cadet suggested that the two of them duel …well, she was stupid enough to accept. She knows what that light in Seifer’s eyes really meant.
Seifer’s been sparring with his staff, and she’s kept to using the handle of her whip to block. Neither one wants to retreat into actual weaponry, not just yet. The match has thus descended into a contest of Limit Breaks. Her Blue Magic is powerful, but Seifer’s spells hurt her every time.
He’s coming at her again, and it’s all she can do to brace herself as the Fire Cross rips through her; the students gasp, but she’s already got Haste on and she spits out the White Wind almost faster than her hair can singe. Her arm hurts like hell but she doesn’t need it; she holds up the brace-end of her whip like a casting staff, ever mindful of the watching students, and sinks Bad Breath on Seifer.
Surprisingly, he’s at least slightly Junctioned; he comes at her dripping with poisonous ooze almost faster than she can track with her eyes. He’s almost spent, but then again, so is she; she lifts her dead arm as if it’s going to stop him--
And a roar from behind him startles them all. To his credit, Seifer barely blinks; he’s spun on the heel of his boot and driven his Burning Sky into the T-Rexaur before half of the students have turned around.
Quistis automatically leaps between the students and the Rexaur, spitting out a Mighty Guard on herself and Seifer, and then there’s a fierce loud ricochet as the report from his gunblade and her Degenerator collide in the Rexaur’s heart.
The silence in the Training Center has never been so loud as she and Seifer look at each other.
“Class dismissed,” Quistis says, her voice calm and steady through her rushed breath and pounding heart.
- - -
“I’m just doing this because it’ll piss Squall off,” Seifer murmurs against her lips as he kisses her again, pushed up against the wall of the Training Center, sweaty and covered in dust.
“Don’t be so - conceited,” Quistis gasps, her head spinning; regaining her center, she nips at his lip. Seifer crooks his head back, letting her nip at his neck. “Why do you think - I’m doing this?”
Seifer shoves her back up against the wall, his fingers deftly teasing at her neck as they dip lower down her front. “Nice try,” he says, and they brush against her nipple. Her back arches despite her attempts to quell it. “You want it.”
“Obviously, you do too,” she says breathlessly, her hands dipping dangerously low down his front, and Seifer hisses.
There’s another long moment of silence, and before her brain can present her with an organized list of reasons why this is a horrible idea, Quistis decides to act. “My room,” she says, and hopes against hope that she won’t regret it.
She doesn’t.
Seifer undresses her with all the force of his Limit Breaks, all fire and holding nothing back. She takes her time, deliberate and more than a little nervous. Seifer is eager to take her - her mouth first, which she gives him eagerly, because it’s the first time she’s seen Seifer Almasy close his eyes.
He backs up and moves between her legs; she’s ready and yet not ready. A long look passes between them.
Seifer smirks at her. “I knew you needed help, Trepe,” he says rakishly, and as he bows his mouth down to her she can’t think of anything more witty to say than: ”Oh.”
- - -
The shower is almost unbearably hot, but it’s shearing all the dust and ache out of her muscles. Seifer’s long hard fingers trace down her back with force, and she moans - this time, gently. The pressure behind it is like a masseuse. She’s always been weak to neckrubs.
He steps forward, lowering his tongue to her nipple again, and she can feel the hard length of him pressing against her. “Not here,” she murmurs, the last sensible portion of her brain noting slippery tile and burning water.
“Yes,” Seifer murmurs against her throat; “here.”
"Seifer," she says, her voice cutting sharply as he does something with his tongue and suction that makes her eyes flicker. "You are not helping."
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairing: Quistis/Seifer
Rating: R for pornz
Summary: Quistis doesn't need help. Seifer's not helping.
Notes: Quistis/Seifer, snippets. For irish_ais's birthday! HAPPY YOU ARE 21 AND CAN DRINK A TON DAY!!!
The third time Seifer shows up in the TC during one of her classes, Quistis gets angry. As punishment, she acknowledges his presence in front of all her students, which she knows will embarrass him - although he’ll never admit it, which only makes it worse. Nevertheless, Quistis has been his Instructor long enough that she recognizes these sort of things. She introduces him as her helper and sends him the students who are having the most problems; she knows Almasy would never really hurt a student, and this is her way of getting back at him.
Muffled anti-Quistis slurs echo through the TC as Seifer attempts to explain gunblades to a student with nunchucks. Quistis gives him the evil eye, which fails to work. She finally dismisses the class with a pointed note about homework and brushes her uniform clean.
Their eyes lock over the empty TC. Seifer’s got a cut over his left eye, she notices with satisfaction, mentally counting her own bruises.
“I don’t need your help,” she says.
Seifer looks her up and down. “You need all the help you can get, Trepe.”
She tries to swallow the sting; she knows he’s wrong and he’s bluffing, but it still hurts, even after all these years. “All you know is gunblading. Why are you here?”
“Bored.” Strangely enough, she believes him. Seifer’s a ward of BG now, despite the fact that he’s too old to ever make SeeD. He’s here mostly so that the Galbadians don’t kill him.
“Well,” she says, cracking her whip sharply in satisfaction. “If you’re going to help, don’t skulk around the corners. If you’re going to skulk, leave us alone.”
He shows up for the class tomorrow, bearing not only a gunblade but a beginner’s staff, which he uses to spar.
- - -
Quistis spins on her heel, fast, and swipes sweaty hair from her eyes with dirty fingers. She grits her teeth on actual grit as she stares Seifer down. Whatever bloody half-witted cadet suggested that the two of them duel …well, she was stupid enough to accept. She knows what that light in Seifer’s eyes really meant.
Seifer’s been sparring with his staff, and she’s kept to using the handle of her whip to block. Neither one wants to retreat into actual weaponry, not just yet. The match has thus descended into a contest of Limit Breaks. Her Blue Magic is powerful, but Seifer’s spells hurt her every time.
He’s coming at her again, and it’s all she can do to brace herself as the Fire Cross rips through her; the students gasp, but she’s already got Haste on and she spits out the White Wind almost faster than her hair can singe. Her arm hurts like hell but she doesn’t need it; she holds up the brace-end of her whip like a casting staff, ever mindful of the watching students, and sinks Bad Breath on Seifer.
Surprisingly, he’s at least slightly Junctioned; he comes at her dripping with poisonous ooze almost faster than she can track with her eyes. He’s almost spent, but then again, so is she; she lifts her dead arm as if it’s going to stop him--
And a roar from behind him startles them all. To his credit, Seifer barely blinks; he’s spun on the heel of his boot and driven his Burning Sky into the T-Rexaur before half of the students have turned around.
Quistis automatically leaps between the students and the Rexaur, spitting out a Mighty Guard on herself and Seifer, and then there’s a fierce loud ricochet as the report from his gunblade and her Degenerator collide in the Rexaur’s heart.
The silence in the Training Center has never been so loud as she and Seifer look at each other.
“Class dismissed,” Quistis says, her voice calm and steady through her rushed breath and pounding heart.
- - -
“I’m just doing this because it’ll piss Squall off,” Seifer murmurs against her lips as he kisses her again, pushed up against the wall of the Training Center, sweaty and covered in dust.
“Don’t be so - conceited,” Quistis gasps, her head spinning; regaining her center, she nips at his lip. Seifer crooks his head back, letting her nip at his neck. “Why do you think - I’m doing this?”
Seifer shoves her back up against the wall, his fingers deftly teasing at her neck as they dip lower down her front. “Nice try,” he says, and they brush against her nipple. Her back arches despite her attempts to quell it. “You want it.”
“Obviously, you do too,” she says breathlessly, her hands dipping dangerously low down his front, and Seifer hisses.
There’s another long moment of silence, and before her brain can present her with an organized list of reasons why this is a horrible idea, Quistis decides to act. “My room,” she says, and hopes against hope that she won’t regret it.
She doesn’t.
Seifer undresses her with all the force of his Limit Breaks, all fire and holding nothing back. She takes her time, deliberate and more than a little nervous. Seifer is eager to take her - her mouth first, which she gives him eagerly, because it’s the first time she’s seen Seifer Almasy close his eyes.
He backs up and moves between her legs; she’s ready and yet not ready. A long look passes between them.
Seifer smirks at her. “I knew you needed help, Trepe,” he says rakishly, and as he bows his mouth down to her she can’t think of anything more witty to say than: ”Oh.”
- - -
The shower is almost unbearably hot, but it’s shearing all the dust and ache out of her muscles. Seifer’s long hard fingers trace down her back with force, and she moans - this time, gently. The pressure behind it is like a masseuse. She’s always been weak to neckrubs.
He steps forward, lowering his tongue to her nipple again, and she can feel the hard length of him pressing against her. “Not here,” she murmurs, the last sensible portion of her brain noting slippery tile and burning water.
“Yes,” Seifer murmurs against her throat; “here.”
"Seifer," she says, her voice cutting sharply as he does something with his tongue and suction that makes her eyes flicker. "You are not helping."