FIC: Three Hits [1/3] (Final Fantasy VIII; Irvine/Seifer; NC-17)
Title: Three Hits (1/3)
Author: darkrosetiger
Fandom:Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Irvine/Seifer
Archive: Please ask.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When they meet for the first time since childhood, Seifer doesn't remember that Irvine always plays to win.
Warnings: For the series: rough sex, coerced consent, breathplay, knifeplay, gunplay, humiliation, spanking, references to teacher/student sex...what?
Disclaimer: Irvine and Seifer belong to SquareSoft/Enix and are used completely and utterly without permission.
Notes: 100% pure PWP, featuring Slut!Irvine. If you're looking for plot and profound social commentary, look somewhere else.
three hits to the heart son
and it's poetry in motion
one could send you down the river
three's a strange way to be delivered
would you trade your words for freedom
that's a barter for a blind man
three hits to the heart son
and it's poetry in motion
--"Three Hits", Indigo Girls
"Chicken!" Seifer yells at Zell's retreating back "Wait 'til I catch you!" Irvine squirms in the older boy's grip, trying to position himself so he can give Seifer a hard kick in the shins.
"Oh no you don't--" Seifer lets go of Irvine and shoves, sending Irvine sprawling onto his back on the sandy beach. Seifer straddles him quickly and draws his fist back. "I'mma beat you up twice as hard now, 'cause he got away!"
"I bet you don't!" Irvine retorts. "Quisty's gonna get Matron, and then you're gonna be in biiiiiiiiiig trouble!"
For a moment, Seifer hesitates, and that's when Irvine strikes. Lifting up he presses his mouth against Seifer's, like they've all seen Matron doing with Cid when she thinks they're not watching. Seifer had been firm in his opinion that it was completely and utterly gross. Irvine had privately thought that it looked kind of nice--but knowing that Seifer won't agree gives him the advantage.
Sure enough, Seifer jumps up and back, his face contorted in an expression of pure horror. Never one to waste an opportunity, Irvine hops up and starts running back toward the house as fast as his short legs will carry him--
--straight into Matron, who smiles down at him. Quistis is right behind her, with Selphie at her side like always and Zell trailing them. A strange boy and girl are holding onto each of Matron's hands. Irvine glances at Seifer, who is staring intently at the dark-haired boy.
"Children?" Matron says in her rich, musical voice, "I'd like you all to meet Ellone and Squall. They'll be joining us here for a while."
I've always hated sleeping alone. Having other people in the room helps, but it's best when there's another warm, solid body to curl up against and to cling to when the nightmares start. In the orphanage we'd all had them, and we'd learned to find comfort in Matron's benevolent presence, and in each other. At first, we would pull the blankets and pillows onto the stone floors and sleep in a big pile, but as we got older we tended to pair off. Quistis and Selphie had been inseparable--at least, until they were both adopted by different families on the same day--and since Zell and Squall both fought with Seifer every chance they got, I would usually climb into Seifer's bed after Matron turned out the lights.
The Galbadian couple who adopted me when I was six had never understood. They'd been horrified the first time I tried to crawl in bed with them; after explaining to me that my behavior was unacceptable, they sent me back to bed alone and locked the door. I learned to sleep with my face buried in my pillow so that the cries and whimpers I made during my nightmares wouldn't wake them. I think I was probably more relieved than they were when they enrolled me in G-Garden to "learn discipline."
At Garden, I had roommates--three of them initially, though I never even tried to get as close to them as I had with Squall, Zell and Seifer. The spring after my thirteenth birthday we had the first round of cuts, and half the kids in my year didn't come back in the fall. I got reassigned to a double room, which wasn't so bad since I'd gotten my first weapon and I had my rifle for company. Some of the other students thought I was weird for sleeping with my gun, but none of them were dumb enough to argue with a kid who could already take a thrustaevis out of the air with a single shot.
Eventually I grew up enough to discover that my fellow students had certain advantages over my beloved Valiant when it came to sharing a bed. It wasn't long before most of Galbadia Garden knew that if you wanted a quick blowjob under the hockey bleachers or a handjob in a supply closet or a nice, uncomplicated fuck, look for the tall guy in the duster and cowboy hat with a rifle slung over his shoulder. Of course, the Garden codes of conduct strictly forbid inappropriate fraternization among students, but I was well-versed by this time in exactly how far any given set of rules could be bent. When I was finally hauled in front of the Headmaster, I just smiled, edged a little closer and looked up at Martine through strategically lowered lashes.
Between preparing for the SeeD exam and keeping the Headmaster and my other partners happy, I didn't have much time to follow politics during my final cadet year. I didn't recognize the tall blond in the silver trenchcoat as the guy who'd tried to assassinate President Deling on camera a week earlier. In fact, I didn't recognize him at all--and I knew more than half of G-Garden in the intimate sense by now--except for an odd prickling at the back of my neck.
"Lookin' for something?" I asked, giving the other man a thorough, obvious once-over.
"Where's the headmaster?" he demanded, lifting his chin a little as if to emphasize his two-inch height advantage over me.
I narrowed my eyes. Trust me--I didn't have any affection for Martine, the sick fuck--but I'd spent too much time working that connection to give up the perks I'd gotten by being his pet, and I didn't want any competition."Who's asking and why?"
The guy stared at me a minute like he was trying to decide if he wanted to kiss me or kill me. Then he laughed. "Official Garden business," he said, "And it's Seifer Almasy."
I stared at him, completely at a loss for words--rare for me. Seifer sure had grown up nicely, tall and lean; even the scar running across the bridge of his nose only added to his cool blond good looks. One black-gloved hand was wrapped around the hilt of a gunblade, judging from the shape of the sheath. I would have said something smartassed about him overcompensating for something if he hadn't been looking at me with polite interest and nothing more. "And you are...?"
"Irvine Kinneas, at your service." I tipped my hat in his direction, watching for some spark of recognition in his green eyes.
Nothing. "Nice to meet you. Where can I find the headmaster?"
"Follow me," I told him. Putting the extra wiggle in my hips as we walked was pure habit; I was actually doing a lot of thinking. Zell had gotten adopted not long after Quisty and Selphie. I'd been the next to go, staring back at Squall and Seifer as my new parents drove away from the orphanage and wondering who'd keep them from killing each other now. With both of them being the way they were, it wouldn't have surprised me that no one wanted to adopt them.
"So you said it's Garden business, but I don't remember seeing you around here before...?"
He gave me a look, green eyes cold as the ocean off Centra, always unexpected that far south. "Balamb," he said shortly before turning away.
That explained everything. G-Garden taught magic the Galbadian Army way, with limited junctions to a common stock of spells. Only those of us who were going for SeeD did anything with Guardian Forces, and then it was only theory--the instructors always sounded disapproving when the explained that if we made it to the field trials, we'd get the practicals from Balamb. I'd always assumed that the real reason was that they didn't want a bunch of 17- and 18-year-old kids running around with that much raw magical power, but the complete lack of recognition from the first guy I'd ever kissed was making me think that maybe there was something to the official G-Garden line about how GF's made you lose your memory.
We stopped outside Martine's door. "Here you go; just knock. He's always in there. And if you're not heading back to Balamb right away, my room's 321." I winked at him, trying to seem casual when I felt anything but, and sauntered back down the hall.
Four hours later, I was stretched out on my stomach drooling over the rifles in the latest issue of Weapons Monthly when I heard the knock.
"It's open," I called. I always figured that if it was someone I didn't want to deal with, my Valiant was always within reach.
"So I asked around," I heard Seifer say, "because I was wondering if you always came on so strong. The general consensus seems to be that you'll fuck anything that moves--and if it doesn't move, you'll shake it a couple of times to make sure."
"What can I say--I'm a friendly guy," I told him, rolling over onto my back and spreading my legs just a little.
"Just call you the G-Garden Welcoming Committee, huh?" He shrugged out of his trenchcoat and draped it over one of my chairs. "You're still dressed--why is that?"
I grinned and stood up. "Didn't want to make assumptions. Maybe you just wanted to chat about weapons techniques," I told him as I undid my vest.
Seifer rolled his eyes. "Something tells me Hyperion isn't the weapon you're interested in."
Actually, he was wrong. I still remembered him and Squall dueling on the beach with chunks of driftwood; even then, the two of them had been breathtaking in combat. Thinking of that long, gleaming blade in his gloved hands made me squirm. I decided to try an experiment.
"Say, I think I may know someone else at Balamb...guy I grew up with. Dark brown hair, grey eyes, doesn't talk much. Name's Sq--" I went very still as I felt something sharp on my chest. Looking down, I saw the tip of a gunblade resting against my sternum.
"Don't mention Squall Leonhart's name to me; not if you plan on getting laid," Seifer snarled.
I fought to keep from smiling. Oh Seifer...still the same buttons, and still so easy to push them. "Sorry...didn't mean to bring up the competition."
Seifer must have been junctioned, because he moved faster than anyone I'd ever seen, grabbing my hair and pulling me against him with the gunblade between us, this time pressed under my chin. He stared into my eyes, and slowly the rage faded, replaced by amusement.
"Why do I think you're just trying to wind me up?" he said, smirking as he slid his free hand down to cup the bulge in my jeans. "Like to play rough, huh?"
"Only when I can find someone who's up to it," I told him. Hyne knows, it was true then and it's true now. Given then chance, I'll push hard until I find someone who's willing to push back just as hard. The problem, of course, is that a lot of guys like that are crazier than a Berzerked imp...but I'm good at playing the odds, even under Random rules.
Seifer's grin was positively feral. He stepped back. "Get naked, cowboy. I'm ready to ride." Not like I hadn't heard a hundred variations on that one before, but in Seifer's smoky growl, it made me even harder than I already was. I stripped down quickly and went to sprawl on my back again.
"No--I want you on your hands and knees," he said. I frowned a little at that--I've run into too many guys who're too ashamed or too vicious to want to look you in the eye when they're fucking you--but I did as I was told. A few seconds later I was rewarded by a stinging smack across the ass with something hard, flat, and cold.
"I wouldn't twitch too much if I were you," Seifer drawled. I couldn't have moved even if I wanted to. I was frozen to the spot because Seifer was spanking me with his gunblade...and fuck, it was hot. By the third stroke, I was arching my back and thrusting my ass at him and moaning for more. Seifer gave me a total of twelve smacks, and when he finished, I was so hard I was almost sobbing.
"Look at you," he muttered, "Fucking whore." He said it with the same mix of admiration and contempt that I've heard from so many--men and women alike--so often before. It doesn't really bother me anymore; I'm not pretending to be anything other than what I am.
He evidently found the condoms and lube I always leave within easy reach, because the next thing I knew he had shoved a couple of slick fingers into me, twisting his hand and not being especially gentle about it. I wasn't complaining--at least not until he took his hand away. I couldn't stop the whimpering noise I made. Seifer chuckled.
"Don't worry, slut--I've got something better for you," he told me. Again: not original, but hearing it in Seifer's voice made me shiver all over, in a good way.
I was surprised when he didn't just ram into me. Instead, he pushed in slowly and stayed motionless untill I shoved my hips back, squirming on his cock and trying to get him to move.
"Impatient..." He bent down and licked the back of my neck. "Ask me nicely, slut, and I might give you what you want."
"C'mon, Seifer, please..." There was an eerie echo in my voice of the boy I had been as I begged Seifer to play with me. "Please...fuck, I need it, fuck me, Seifer..." And make it hurt enough for me to forget that you don't remember me.
"Oh, now that's what I like to hear, pretty whore," he crooned. He started moving, still taking his time, one hand on my hip and the other tangled in my hair. As I rocked back against him, he yanked on my hair, using it as leverage so he could slam into me hard--and oh, Sweet Holy Hyne, it felt good. I was whimpering and moaning, completely incoherent except for words like "please" and "more". It seemed that Seifer was happy to oblige, right up to the point where I reached down to jerk myself off. He stopped moving.
"I don't remember saying you could do that." Seifer's voice was low and deadly, his breath hot against my ear. I tried shifting to get him in deeper; he responded by pulling my head back so far I thought he was gonna break my neck. For the first time since we'd started, I felt a chill of real, honest fear that Seifer wouldn't know when to stop.
"If I decide you deserve it, then you come when I tell you to--got that, slut?" he hissed, tugging on my hair for emphasis.
"Yes--" I gasped. "Fuck, Seifer--that fucking hurts!"
"Thought you liked it that way," he said. He did let go of my hair, holding onto my hips instead as he started thrusting into me again. I growled and fisted my hands into the sheets, just trying to hang on. After what seemed like forever, he groaned and relaxed against me.
"Mmm...that was nice. Sweet little ass you got there, cowboy." He gave said ass a bare-handed swat as he pulled out; I was gonna need to stay on my feet for the rest of the day. I didn't turn around. I figured we could play this out, and if he was gonna be a shit about it, then I'd finish off after he left.
"Turn around, slut," he ordered. When I did, I saw him sprawled out in my desk chair like it was his room and I was the one visiting. He grinned and waved a hand at me. "Go on, then--show me how much you liked that."
Easy enough. I sat back on my heels, legs spread wide, and wrapped my hand around my dick, stroking myself hard. I tossed my head a little so that my hair fell in my face and kept my eyes on Seifer's--hey, I knew how to give a good show. Close as I'd been to start, it only took a couple of strokes before I was throwing my head back and panting as I came.
Seifer just smiled. "You're a piece of work, cowboy," he said, getting up and shoving me onto my back. I reached up to pull him down for a kiss, but he turned his face so that my lips brushed against his ear.
"Don't." He straightened up again and started doing up his pants. I lay there and watched him, trying to see if I could catch any traces of the boy I used to share a bed with in this sensual, deadly stranger.
"So how long you gonna be around?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Not sure yet. Depends..."
"I wouldn't mind another go, if you're interested."
"Maybe when I get back." He smiled, and I shivered. "If you're still interested. You may change your mind." I stared after him as he left, closing the door quietly behind him.
I sat there for a long time, trying to figure out what he'd meant by that last, but eventually I gave up. By the next week, when Martine summoned me for a mission, I'd completely forgotten about it.
Author: darkrosetiger
Fandom:Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Irvine/Seifer
Archive: Please ask.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When they meet for the first time since childhood, Seifer doesn't remember that Irvine always plays to win.
Warnings: For the series: rough sex, coerced consent, breathplay, knifeplay, gunplay, humiliation, spanking, references to teacher/student sex...what?
Disclaimer: Irvine and Seifer belong to SquareSoft/Enix and are used completely and utterly without permission.
Notes: 100% pure PWP, featuring Slut!Irvine. If you're looking for plot and profound social commentary, look somewhere else.
three hits to the heart son
and it's poetry in motion
one could send you down the river
three's a strange way to be delivered
would you trade your words for freedom
that's a barter for a blind man
three hits to the heart son
and it's poetry in motion
--"Three Hits", Indigo Girls
"Chicken!" Seifer yells at Zell's retreating back "Wait 'til I catch you!" Irvine squirms in the older boy's grip, trying to position himself so he can give Seifer a hard kick in the shins.
"Oh no you don't--" Seifer lets go of Irvine and shoves, sending Irvine sprawling onto his back on the sandy beach. Seifer straddles him quickly and draws his fist back. "I'mma beat you up twice as hard now, 'cause he got away!"
"I bet you don't!" Irvine retorts. "Quisty's gonna get Matron, and then you're gonna be in biiiiiiiiiig trouble!"
For a moment, Seifer hesitates, and that's when Irvine strikes. Lifting up he presses his mouth against Seifer's, like they've all seen Matron doing with Cid when she thinks they're not watching. Seifer had been firm in his opinion that it was completely and utterly gross. Irvine had privately thought that it looked kind of nice--but knowing that Seifer won't agree gives him the advantage.
Sure enough, Seifer jumps up and back, his face contorted in an expression of pure horror. Never one to waste an opportunity, Irvine hops up and starts running back toward the house as fast as his short legs will carry him--
--straight into Matron, who smiles down at him. Quistis is right behind her, with Selphie at her side like always and Zell trailing them. A strange boy and girl are holding onto each of Matron's hands. Irvine glances at Seifer, who is staring intently at the dark-haired boy.
"Children?" Matron says in her rich, musical voice, "I'd like you all to meet Ellone and Squall. They'll be joining us here for a while."
I've always hated sleeping alone. Having other people in the room helps, but it's best when there's another warm, solid body to curl up against and to cling to when the nightmares start. In the orphanage we'd all had them, and we'd learned to find comfort in Matron's benevolent presence, and in each other. At first, we would pull the blankets and pillows onto the stone floors and sleep in a big pile, but as we got older we tended to pair off. Quistis and Selphie had been inseparable--at least, until they were both adopted by different families on the same day--and since Zell and Squall both fought with Seifer every chance they got, I would usually climb into Seifer's bed after Matron turned out the lights.
The Galbadian couple who adopted me when I was six had never understood. They'd been horrified the first time I tried to crawl in bed with them; after explaining to me that my behavior was unacceptable, they sent me back to bed alone and locked the door. I learned to sleep with my face buried in my pillow so that the cries and whimpers I made during my nightmares wouldn't wake them. I think I was probably more relieved than they were when they enrolled me in G-Garden to "learn discipline."
At Garden, I had roommates--three of them initially, though I never even tried to get as close to them as I had with Squall, Zell and Seifer. The spring after my thirteenth birthday we had the first round of cuts, and half the kids in my year didn't come back in the fall. I got reassigned to a double room, which wasn't so bad since I'd gotten my first weapon and I had my rifle for company. Some of the other students thought I was weird for sleeping with my gun, but none of them were dumb enough to argue with a kid who could already take a thrustaevis out of the air with a single shot.
Eventually I grew up enough to discover that my fellow students had certain advantages over my beloved Valiant when it came to sharing a bed. It wasn't long before most of Galbadia Garden knew that if you wanted a quick blowjob under the hockey bleachers or a handjob in a supply closet or a nice, uncomplicated fuck, look for the tall guy in the duster and cowboy hat with a rifle slung over his shoulder. Of course, the Garden codes of conduct strictly forbid inappropriate fraternization among students, but I was well-versed by this time in exactly how far any given set of rules could be bent. When I was finally hauled in front of the Headmaster, I just smiled, edged a little closer and looked up at Martine through strategically lowered lashes.
Between preparing for the SeeD exam and keeping the Headmaster and my other partners happy, I didn't have much time to follow politics during my final cadet year. I didn't recognize the tall blond in the silver trenchcoat as the guy who'd tried to assassinate President Deling on camera a week earlier. In fact, I didn't recognize him at all--and I knew more than half of G-Garden in the intimate sense by now--except for an odd prickling at the back of my neck.
"Lookin' for something?" I asked, giving the other man a thorough, obvious once-over.
"Where's the headmaster?" he demanded, lifting his chin a little as if to emphasize his two-inch height advantage over me.
I narrowed my eyes. Trust me--I didn't have any affection for Martine, the sick fuck--but I'd spent too much time working that connection to give up the perks I'd gotten by being his pet, and I didn't want any competition."Who's asking and why?"
The guy stared at me a minute like he was trying to decide if he wanted to kiss me or kill me. Then he laughed. "Official Garden business," he said, "And it's Seifer Almasy."
I stared at him, completely at a loss for words--rare for me. Seifer sure had grown up nicely, tall and lean; even the scar running across the bridge of his nose only added to his cool blond good looks. One black-gloved hand was wrapped around the hilt of a gunblade, judging from the shape of the sheath. I would have said something smartassed about him overcompensating for something if he hadn't been looking at me with polite interest and nothing more. "And you are...?"
"Irvine Kinneas, at your service." I tipped my hat in his direction, watching for some spark of recognition in his green eyes.
Nothing. "Nice to meet you. Where can I find the headmaster?"
"Follow me," I told him. Putting the extra wiggle in my hips as we walked was pure habit; I was actually doing a lot of thinking. Zell had gotten adopted not long after Quisty and Selphie. I'd been the next to go, staring back at Squall and Seifer as my new parents drove away from the orphanage and wondering who'd keep them from killing each other now. With both of them being the way they were, it wouldn't have surprised me that no one wanted to adopt them.
"So you said it's Garden business, but I don't remember seeing you around here before...?"
He gave me a look, green eyes cold as the ocean off Centra, always unexpected that far south. "Balamb," he said shortly before turning away.
That explained everything. G-Garden taught magic the Galbadian Army way, with limited junctions to a common stock of spells. Only those of us who were going for SeeD did anything with Guardian Forces, and then it was only theory--the instructors always sounded disapproving when the explained that if we made it to the field trials, we'd get the practicals from Balamb. I'd always assumed that the real reason was that they didn't want a bunch of 17- and 18-year-old kids running around with that much raw magical power, but the complete lack of recognition from the first guy I'd ever kissed was making me think that maybe there was something to the official G-Garden line about how GF's made you lose your memory.
We stopped outside Martine's door. "Here you go; just knock. He's always in there. And if you're not heading back to Balamb right away, my room's 321." I winked at him, trying to seem casual when I felt anything but, and sauntered back down the hall.
Four hours later, I was stretched out on my stomach drooling over the rifles in the latest issue of Weapons Monthly when I heard the knock.
"It's open," I called. I always figured that if it was someone I didn't want to deal with, my Valiant was always within reach.
"So I asked around," I heard Seifer say, "because I was wondering if you always came on so strong. The general consensus seems to be that you'll fuck anything that moves--and if it doesn't move, you'll shake it a couple of times to make sure."
"What can I say--I'm a friendly guy," I told him, rolling over onto my back and spreading my legs just a little.
"Just call you the G-Garden Welcoming Committee, huh?" He shrugged out of his trenchcoat and draped it over one of my chairs. "You're still dressed--why is that?"
I grinned and stood up. "Didn't want to make assumptions. Maybe you just wanted to chat about weapons techniques," I told him as I undid my vest.
Seifer rolled his eyes. "Something tells me Hyperion isn't the weapon you're interested in."
Actually, he was wrong. I still remembered him and Squall dueling on the beach with chunks of driftwood; even then, the two of them had been breathtaking in combat. Thinking of that long, gleaming blade in his gloved hands made me squirm. I decided to try an experiment.
"Say, I think I may know someone else at Balamb...guy I grew up with. Dark brown hair, grey eyes, doesn't talk much. Name's Sq--" I went very still as I felt something sharp on my chest. Looking down, I saw the tip of a gunblade resting against my sternum.
"Don't mention Squall Leonhart's name to me; not if you plan on getting laid," Seifer snarled.
I fought to keep from smiling. Oh Seifer...still the same buttons, and still so easy to push them. "Sorry...didn't mean to bring up the competition."
Seifer must have been junctioned, because he moved faster than anyone I'd ever seen, grabbing my hair and pulling me against him with the gunblade between us, this time pressed under my chin. He stared into my eyes, and slowly the rage faded, replaced by amusement.
"Why do I think you're just trying to wind me up?" he said, smirking as he slid his free hand down to cup the bulge in my jeans. "Like to play rough, huh?"
"Only when I can find someone who's up to it," I told him. Hyne knows, it was true then and it's true now. Given then chance, I'll push hard until I find someone who's willing to push back just as hard. The problem, of course, is that a lot of guys like that are crazier than a Berzerked imp...but I'm good at playing the odds, even under Random rules.
Seifer's grin was positively feral. He stepped back. "Get naked, cowboy. I'm ready to ride." Not like I hadn't heard a hundred variations on that one before, but in Seifer's smoky growl, it made me even harder than I already was. I stripped down quickly and went to sprawl on my back again.
"No--I want you on your hands and knees," he said. I frowned a little at that--I've run into too many guys who're too ashamed or too vicious to want to look you in the eye when they're fucking you--but I did as I was told. A few seconds later I was rewarded by a stinging smack across the ass with something hard, flat, and cold.
"I wouldn't twitch too much if I were you," Seifer drawled. I couldn't have moved even if I wanted to. I was frozen to the spot because Seifer was spanking me with his gunblade...and fuck, it was hot. By the third stroke, I was arching my back and thrusting my ass at him and moaning for more. Seifer gave me a total of twelve smacks, and when he finished, I was so hard I was almost sobbing.
"Look at you," he muttered, "Fucking whore." He said it with the same mix of admiration and contempt that I've heard from so many--men and women alike--so often before. It doesn't really bother me anymore; I'm not pretending to be anything other than what I am.
He evidently found the condoms and lube I always leave within easy reach, because the next thing I knew he had shoved a couple of slick fingers into me, twisting his hand and not being especially gentle about it. I wasn't complaining--at least not until he took his hand away. I couldn't stop the whimpering noise I made. Seifer chuckled.
"Don't worry, slut--I've got something better for you," he told me. Again: not original, but hearing it in Seifer's voice made me shiver all over, in a good way.
I was surprised when he didn't just ram into me. Instead, he pushed in slowly and stayed motionless untill I shoved my hips back, squirming on his cock and trying to get him to move.
"Impatient..." He bent down and licked the back of my neck. "Ask me nicely, slut, and I might give you what you want."
"C'mon, Seifer, please..." There was an eerie echo in my voice of the boy I had been as I begged Seifer to play with me. "Please...fuck, I need it, fuck me, Seifer..." And make it hurt enough for me to forget that you don't remember me.
"Oh, now that's what I like to hear, pretty whore," he crooned. He started moving, still taking his time, one hand on my hip and the other tangled in my hair. As I rocked back against him, he yanked on my hair, using it as leverage so he could slam into me hard--and oh, Sweet Holy Hyne, it felt good. I was whimpering and moaning, completely incoherent except for words like "please" and "more". It seemed that Seifer was happy to oblige, right up to the point where I reached down to jerk myself off. He stopped moving.
"I don't remember saying you could do that." Seifer's voice was low and deadly, his breath hot against my ear. I tried shifting to get him in deeper; he responded by pulling my head back so far I thought he was gonna break my neck. For the first time since we'd started, I felt a chill of real, honest fear that Seifer wouldn't know when to stop.
"If I decide you deserve it, then you come when I tell you to--got that, slut?" he hissed, tugging on my hair for emphasis.
"Yes--" I gasped. "Fuck, Seifer--that fucking hurts!"
"Thought you liked it that way," he said. He did let go of my hair, holding onto my hips instead as he started thrusting into me again. I growled and fisted my hands into the sheets, just trying to hang on. After what seemed like forever, he groaned and relaxed against me.
"Mmm...that was nice. Sweet little ass you got there, cowboy." He gave said ass a bare-handed swat as he pulled out; I was gonna need to stay on my feet for the rest of the day. I didn't turn around. I figured we could play this out, and if he was gonna be a shit about it, then I'd finish off after he left.
"Turn around, slut," he ordered. When I did, I saw him sprawled out in my desk chair like it was his room and I was the one visiting. He grinned and waved a hand at me. "Go on, then--show me how much you liked that."
Easy enough. I sat back on my heels, legs spread wide, and wrapped my hand around my dick, stroking myself hard. I tossed my head a little so that my hair fell in my face and kept my eyes on Seifer's--hey, I knew how to give a good show. Close as I'd been to start, it only took a couple of strokes before I was throwing my head back and panting as I came.
Seifer just smiled. "You're a piece of work, cowboy," he said, getting up and shoving me onto my back. I reached up to pull him down for a kiss, but he turned his face so that my lips brushed against his ear.
"Don't." He straightened up again and started doing up his pants. I lay there and watched him, trying to see if I could catch any traces of the boy I used to share a bed with in this sensual, deadly stranger.
"So how long you gonna be around?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Not sure yet. Depends..."
"I wouldn't mind another go, if you're interested."
"Maybe when I get back." He smiled, and I shivered. "If you're still interested. You may change your mind." I stared after him as he left, closing the door quietly behind him.
I sat there for a long time, trying to figure out what he'd meant by that last, but eventually I gave up. By the next week, when Martine summoned me for a mission, I'd completely forgotten about it.