FFVIII: The Ache
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall/Zell
Warnings: Crossdressing, smut, sap
Rating: NC17
Summary: All dressed up with nowhere to go. Timeline here.
Okay, so what if casting sleep and awkwardly dressing you myself wasn't the best way to get you in those clothes?
Anyway, I certainly didn't add the make up, didn't put the little clips in your hair, the blush on your cheeks. Your cheekbone is perfect, your face a girl's with the make up on, if you soften just a little and stop glaring. You did the make up yourself, with me there beside you, my arms around you, me pressing against you. And nothing I could've done could've made you walk like that, with just the right tiny sway of your hips.
You're glaring at me, all ice and fire, all at once, but you can't disguise the fact that you're pleased at the effect you're having on me, on Zell. Look at him, look at the way his mouth has dropped open, only partly in surprise. I knew you'd look this good. I knew you'd be perfect.
You didn't expect to.
But oh, you're such a sight to see. Even when you glare, there's something there, something dangerous, in the same way that sharp diamonds can be dangerous, but beautiful.
You could have guys begging on the floor.
But you can't make me beg.
You're looking at Zell now, and we think the same thing while he just stares at you. You step towards him, slowly, and fuck, it's so much better even than my old wet dreams about you looking just like this. You kiss Zell, teasingly light and then hard, biting at his lip until he whimpers. Can you taste it? Iron. Metal. Not very nice, but somehow addictive. You suck gently at the cut on his lip, getting just a little lipstick smeared over you both, and it looks better that way.
Chickenwuss is like a deer in headlights.
You look at me, meeting my eyes again, and I nod. You know what to do. You move smoothly so you're on your knees in front of him (and oh, that sight would be enough to make a lesser man come right there and I'm surprised Zell doesn't), unzipping his pants and shoving them down, shoving away his boxers and then leaning forward to lick and take into your mouth.
I sit back and when you look at me you moan, because I'm stroking myself to the sight of you sucking Zell off. Go on.
Zell wants to clench his hand in your hair -- his hand moves, and then moves back, twitching, nervous, almost not daring to touch you because you're still so beautifully, devastatingly angry. His face twists and you suck harder, taking it all in with ease and still looking like a girl. Like a perfect lady. Down to the trembling arch of one foot as you put your weight on it awkwardly.
It doesn't surprise me that Zell comes quickly, fuck, I couldn't last long under that treatment. You stand up and, for a moment, you stop to be tender, softening, and oh do you know how you make my heart ache?
You cup his cheek, fingers moving along his cheekbone, and it's all there, the love I knew would grow between you.
Then you step away and turn to me.
Mine.
It takes two steps for me to reach you and now you look down, your eyes still on mine but coyly obscured by your lashes. You reach out your hand to me and I take it, kiss your fingers, the inside of your wrist, nip and kiss, rough by the time I reach your shoulder and neck, sucking hard to leave a mark that'll show, just above your collar, tomorrow.
And as much effort as it took me to get you into those clothes, clothes have to come off, and it's easier now anyway. You're eager, shedding the clothes of your own accord, wiping a hand across your face to eradicate lipstick. The blush and the eyeshadow remain, and the mascara that curls your lashes so you're the perfect little girl.
But I won't fuck you like one.
I push you down on the bed, and by now Zell has recollected his wits and he comes to watch us, his eyes a little wide, the blue almost innocent, though he's anything but, by now.
You raise up on your hands and knees, mouth a little open, already dying to have me in you. Giving you the edge, the very edge, beautiful danger. And you look at me with the ache behind your eyes, that same dull ache, that horrible, strong ache of love unvoiced. Sssh.
There's time enough to talk about that later.
I put my fingers over your mouth and you open it, obedient, and suck my fingers, wetting them and tonguing them with a little smirk that gives me no doubt about what you want me to imagine. I pull my fingers out and you moan, and I push one quickly into your entrance to make you writhe and move your hips, urgent, needy. More, you whisper, and then louder; more.
And I give you more.
You whimper again, too eager, wanting to be fucked. Say it. Tell me you want to be fucked into a different kind of ache. Say it louder. Say my name in that breathy, seductive voice.
Do you know that I cannot resist you?
I thrust hard into you and you cry out, moan into Zell's mouth when he cups your cheek and kisses you. I bite your shoulder and your back arches into a perfect curve and Zell watches us with all his longing in his eyes, longing to be the one fucked, the one fucking. He watches while I fuck you, not jealous, exactly, but wanting, sharing the ache with you, with me. You cry out, hands clenching, as I fuck you, hard and fast and desperate, and when I tell you to come you don't feel you have a choice, you just come, brain fizzling into white noise and ecstasy.
We curl together, the three of us, your skin cool, Zell's warm, mine warm. We trap you between us and you smile, contented, even when I reach to wipe lipstick from your mouth that you missed and tell you that you'll do this again.
Pairing: Seifer/Squall/Zell
Warnings: Crossdressing, smut, sap
Rating: NC17
Summary: All dressed up with nowhere to go. Timeline here.
Okay, so what if casting sleep and awkwardly dressing you myself wasn't the best way to get you in those clothes?
Anyway, I certainly didn't add the make up, didn't put the little clips in your hair, the blush on your cheeks. Your cheekbone is perfect, your face a girl's with the make up on, if you soften just a little and stop glaring. You did the make up yourself, with me there beside you, my arms around you, me pressing against you. And nothing I could've done could've made you walk like that, with just the right tiny sway of your hips.
You're glaring at me, all ice and fire, all at once, but you can't disguise the fact that you're pleased at the effect you're having on me, on Zell. Look at him, look at the way his mouth has dropped open, only partly in surprise. I knew you'd look this good. I knew you'd be perfect.
You didn't expect to.
But oh, you're such a sight to see. Even when you glare, there's something there, something dangerous, in the same way that sharp diamonds can be dangerous, but beautiful.
You could have guys begging on the floor.
But you can't make me beg.
You're looking at Zell now, and we think the same thing while he just stares at you. You step towards him, slowly, and fuck, it's so much better even than my old wet dreams about you looking just like this. You kiss Zell, teasingly light and then hard, biting at his lip until he whimpers. Can you taste it? Iron. Metal. Not very nice, but somehow addictive. You suck gently at the cut on his lip, getting just a little lipstick smeared over you both, and it looks better that way.
Chickenwuss is like a deer in headlights.
You look at me, meeting my eyes again, and I nod. You know what to do. You move smoothly so you're on your knees in front of him (and oh, that sight would be enough to make a lesser man come right there and I'm surprised Zell doesn't), unzipping his pants and shoving them down, shoving away his boxers and then leaning forward to lick and take into your mouth.
I sit back and when you look at me you moan, because I'm stroking myself to the sight of you sucking Zell off. Go on.
Zell wants to clench his hand in your hair -- his hand moves, and then moves back, twitching, nervous, almost not daring to touch you because you're still so beautifully, devastatingly angry. His face twists and you suck harder, taking it all in with ease and still looking like a girl. Like a perfect lady. Down to the trembling arch of one foot as you put your weight on it awkwardly.
It doesn't surprise me that Zell comes quickly, fuck, I couldn't last long under that treatment. You stand up and, for a moment, you stop to be tender, softening, and oh do you know how you make my heart ache?
You cup his cheek, fingers moving along his cheekbone, and it's all there, the love I knew would grow between you.
Then you step away and turn to me.
Mine.
It takes two steps for me to reach you and now you look down, your eyes still on mine but coyly obscured by your lashes. You reach out your hand to me and I take it, kiss your fingers, the inside of your wrist, nip and kiss, rough by the time I reach your shoulder and neck, sucking hard to leave a mark that'll show, just above your collar, tomorrow.
And as much effort as it took me to get you into those clothes, clothes have to come off, and it's easier now anyway. You're eager, shedding the clothes of your own accord, wiping a hand across your face to eradicate lipstick. The blush and the eyeshadow remain, and the mascara that curls your lashes so you're the perfect little girl.
But I won't fuck you like one.
I push you down on the bed, and by now Zell has recollected his wits and he comes to watch us, his eyes a little wide, the blue almost innocent, though he's anything but, by now.
You raise up on your hands and knees, mouth a little open, already dying to have me in you. Giving you the edge, the very edge, beautiful danger. And you look at me with the ache behind your eyes, that same dull ache, that horrible, strong ache of love unvoiced. Sssh.
There's time enough to talk about that later.
I put my fingers over your mouth and you open it, obedient, and suck my fingers, wetting them and tonguing them with a little smirk that gives me no doubt about what you want me to imagine. I pull my fingers out and you moan, and I push one quickly into your entrance to make you writhe and move your hips, urgent, needy. More, you whisper, and then louder; more.
And I give you more.
You whimper again, too eager, wanting to be fucked. Say it. Tell me you want to be fucked into a different kind of ache. Say it louder. Say my name in that breathy, seductive voice.
Do you know that I cannot resist you?
I thrust hard into you and you cry out, moan into Zell's mouth when he cups your cheek and kisses you. I bite your shoulder and your back arches into a perfect curve and Zell watches us with all his longing in his eyes, longing to be the one fucked, the one fucking. He watches while I fuck you, not jealous, exactly, but wanting, sharing the ache with you, with me. You cry out, hands clenching, as I fuck you, hard and fast and desperate, and when I tell you to come you don't feel you have a choice, you just come, brain fizzling into white noise and ecstasy.
We curl together, the three of us, your skin cool, Zell's warm, mine warm. We trap you between us and you smile, contented, even when I reach to wipe lipstick from your mouth that you missed and tell you that you'll do this again.