FFVIII: Dressed to Impress
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: Crossdressing, smut
Rating: NC17
Summary: There was a little victory in this, but not the one he'd wanted. For fic_on_demand.
"Fuck, you look..."
"Like an idiot?" Squall asked, and Seifer was amused at the way he was trying to hide it -- he knew Squall was turned on, of course; he'd devoted a good chunk of his life to figuring out how the guy worked, after all. He reached out, putting a hand on Squall's hip. He took a moment to appreciate it all, the way the dress made Squall look somehow softer, and yet still hinted at how sharp, how deadly he could be. He especially appreciated the short skirt.
"I was going to say you look good," he said, kissing Squall, nipping at his lip. "But if you're going to be a little bitch about it all, I could just go off and find my evening's entertainment elsewhere."
"Don't be an asshole," Squall hissed, and he kissed Seifer hard, giving as well as he got, matching nip for nip and bite for bite, opening his mouth wide for Seifer's eager tongue and raking his fingers through his hair. Seifer could feel all the tension in his body, all the wanting, even if it wasn't for the fact that he could feel Squall hard against his hip.
"So... did you do everything I asked for, Squally-boy?" he asked. His fingers brushed over Squall's cock through the skirt, slipping down to stroke the skin just beneath the hem. He was pleased by Squall's tiny shudder, and more so by his impatient little growl. "Patience. Not very ladylike, are you?"
"Fuck you."
"Maybe later," Seifer said, with another smirk. He pushed Squall over to the bed, amused to find that he was definitely not as reluctant as he'd like to appear. He pushed Squall down onto the bed, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to fuck you while you've still got that pretty little skirt on, you know."
Squall moaned. Later, Seifer was sure, Squall would deny it, but he knew what he'd heard. Squall moaned at the thought of being fucked by him while he was wearing that pretty little skirt, and it was an ego trip that Seifer felt he deserved, and a thought he wouldn't be forgetting for a long time. He made Squall move onto his hands and knees, reaching for the lube he'd already put on the bed. He'd planned this whole thing from start to finish, of course.
"How d'you want it, Squally-boy?" he asked, pushing Squall's skirt up. He took a moment to admire the little tremour of eagerness running through him, not to mention the way he looked, dressed like a woman, panties and all. "Hard and fast? Slow and sensual?"
Squall didn't say anything. Seifer smirked -- he hardly needed to ask, after all, he just knew that one day he'd make Squall ask for what he wanted. As it was, though, he just slicked his fingers, moving closer. He ran his hand over Squall's chest, teasing at a nipple and making him shiver again, and then he drew back, pulling Squall's panties down and teasing at his entrance. It didn't take him long to make Squall desperate for it, glancing over his shoulder to give him an ice filled glare.
"Seifer. Do it."
"Yes, princess," Seifer said, mockingly, and pushed two fingers at once into him, deep into him, curling them a little. Squall arched his back a little, pushing back impatiently, and Seifer put a hand on his hip to hold him in place. "Patience, remember?"
"You're such an asshole," Squall hissed, and then lost whatever else he might have said in a moan as Seifer twisted his fingers. "Fuck."
Seifer pushed a third finger into him. He wanted Squall mindless with it, breathless and speechless, knowing only him. It was good, to know that he could do and indeed had already done such things to Squall, the commander of Balamb Garden, his adversary, his rival, goddamn hero of the world. It was good to know that even the hero submitted sometimes.
He smirked rather bitterly, looking down at the pretty picture Squall made. It didn't fill the void inside, to be fucking the hero, but then, he supposed nothing ever would. There was a little victory in this, but not the one he'd wanted. He leaned over to whisper into Squall's ear again. "Want it?"
"Yesss," Squall said, drawing it out, arching his back and pushing back against Seifer's fingers. He smirked again, undoing his pants and pushing them down a little, pushing Squall's skirt up and out of the way. He waited until Squall was writhing in anticipation, fists clenched in the bedcovers, before he pushed into him. It still caught him by surprise somehow -- how hot Squall was, how tight. It made his breath catch in his throat as he slid all the way in, rocking his hips a little, not quite giving Squall time to adjust.
It was that little edge of pain, that little burn, that really got Squall off, after all.
"Seifer, damn it," Squall said, his voice husky with pleasure. He was clenching around him, pushing back around him, and Seifer smirked, settling his hands on his hips again.
"Want it hard, do you?"
"Yes," Squall said, and Seifer pulled out and pushed back in hard. Squall cried out, gripping the covers tighter, shuddering under Seifer. His breath was already quick, but now it was faster still, and he closed his eyes tightly. Seifer held back a moan of his own, concentrating on drawing all the little noises out of Squall, feeling him and hearing him alive and wanting because of him.
It wasn't easy to find a rhythm, not like that, not with Squall gasping for breath, writhing under him in that way that made him ache. But he found a rhythm, a good one, one that had Squall crying out or moaning or gasping out Seifer's name without even meaning to at every thrust, every movement bringing him closer. Seifer shifted slightly, shifted his weight, and reached round to wrap his hand around Squall's cock, squeezing, stroking, and Squall writhed under him, and Seifer thought he was even on the verge of begging.
It wasn't hard to finish Squall, wasn't hard to make him come crying his former enemy's name, and Seifer lost himself in it for a minute, thrusting deep into Squall one more time. He came with him, almost in the same moment, breath catching in his throat, and for a moment he let himself close his eyes and really care, care that this was the only way he could have Squall.
He pulled out of him and pulled away, aching with bitterness. He looked down at Squall, already turning over and looking at him, already shedding the facade. It was only a little victory, he thought. But a guy gets by on what he can.
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: Crossdressing, smut
Rating: NC17
Summary: There was a little victory in this, but not the one he'd wanted. For fic_on_demand.
"Fuck, you look..."
"Like an idiot?" Squall asked, and Seifer was amused at the way he was trying to hide it -- he knew Squall was turned on, of course; he'd devoted a good chunk of his life to figuring out how the guy worked, after all. He reached out, putting a hand on Squall's hip. He took a moment to appreciate it all, the way the dress made Squall look somehow softer, and yet still hinted at how sharp, how deadly he could be. He especially appreciated the short skirt.
"I was going to say you look good," he said, kissing Squall, nipping at his lip. "But if you're going to be a little bitch about it all, I could just go off and find my evening's entertainment elsewhere."
"Don't be an asshole," Squall hissed, and he kissed Seifer hard, giving as well as he got, matching nip for nip and bite for bite, opening his mouth wide for Seifer's eager tongue and raking his fingers through his hair. Seifer could feel all the tension in his body, all the wanting, even if it wasn't for the fact that he could feel Squall hard against his hip.
"So... did you do everything I asked for, Squally-boy?" he asked. His fingers brushed over Squall's cock through the skirt, slipping down to stroke the skin just beneath the hem. He was pleased by Squall's tiny shudder, and more so by his impatient little growl. "Patience. Not very ladylike, are you?"
"Fuck you."
"Maybe later," Seifer said, with another smirk. He pushed Squall over to the bed, amused to find that he was definitely not as reluctant as he'd like to appear. He pushed Squall down onto the bed, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to fuck you while you've still got that pretty little skirt on, you know."
Squall moaned. Later, Seifer was sure, Squall would deny it, but he knew what he'd heard. Squall moaned at the thought of being fucked by him while he was wearing that pretty little skirt, and it was an ego trip that Seifer felt he deserved, and a thought he wouldn't be forgetting for a long time. He made Squall move onto his hands and knees, reaching for the lube he'd already put on the bed. He'd planned this whole thing from start to finish, of course.
"How d'you want it, Squally-boy?" he asked, pushing Squall's skirt up. He took a moment to admire the little tremour of eagerness running through him, not to mention the way he looked, dressed like a woman, panties and all. "Hard and fast? Slow and sensual?"
Squall didn't say anything. Seifer smirked -- he hardly needed to ask, after all, he just knew that one day he'd make Squall ask for what he wanted. As it was, though, he just slicked his fingers, moving closer. He ran his hand over Squall's chest, teasing at a nipple and making him shiver again, and then he drew back, pulling Squall's panties down and teasing at his entrance. It didn't take him long to make Squall desperate for it, glancing over his shoulder to give him an ice filled glare.
"Seifer. Do it."
"Yes, princess," Seifer said, mockingly, and pushed two fingers at once into him, deep into him, curling them a little. Squall arched his back a little, pushing back impatiently, and Seifer put a hand on his hip to hold him in place. "Patience, remember?"
"You're such an asshole," Squall hissed, and then lost whatever else he might have said in a moan as Seifer twisted his fingers. "Fuck."
Seifer pushed a third finger into him. He wanted Squall mindless with it, breathless and speechless, knowing only him. It was good, to know that he could do and indeed had already done such things to Squall, the commander of Balamb Garden, his adversary, his rival, goddamn hero of the world. It was good to know that even the hero submitted sometimes.
He smirked rather bitterly, looking down at the pretty picture Squall made. It didn't fill the void inside, to be fucking the hero, but then, he supposed nothing ever would. There was a little victory in this, but not the one he'd wanted. He leaned over to whisper into Squall's ear again. "Want it?"
"Yesss," Squall said, drawing it out, arching his back and pushing back against Seifer's fingers. He smirked again, undoing his pants and pushing them down a little, pushing Squall's skirt up and out of the way. He waited until Squall was writhing in anticipation, fists clenched in the bedcovers, before he pushed into him. It still caught him by surprise somehow -- how hot Squall was, how tight. It made his breath catch in his throat as he slid all the way in, rocking his hips a little, not quite giving Squall time to adjust.
It was that little edge of pain, that little burn, that really got Squall off, after all.
"Seifer, damn it," Squall said, his voice husky with pleasure. He was clenching around him, pushing back around him, and Seifer smirked, settling his hands on his hips again.
"Want it hard, do you?"
"Yes," Squall said, and Seifer pulled out and pushed back in hard. Squall cried out, gripping the covers tighter, shuddering under Seifer. His breath was already quick, but now it was faster still, and he closed his eyes tightly. Seifer held back a moan of his own, concentrating on drawing all the little noises out of Squall, feeling him and hearing him alive and wanting because of him.
It wasn't easy to find a rhythm, not like that, not with Squall gasping for breath, writhing under him in that way that made him ache. But he found a rhythm, a good one, one that had Squall crying out or moaning or gasping out Seifer's name without even meaning to at every thrust, every movement bringing him closer. Seifer shifted slightly, shifted his weight, and reached round to wrap his hand around Squall's cock, squeezing, stroking, and Squall writhed under him, and Seifer thought he was even on the verge of begging.
It wasn't hard to finish Squall, wasn't hard to make him come crying his former enemy's name, and Seifer lost himself in it for a minute, thrusting deep into Squall one more time. He came with him, almost in the same moment, breath catching in his throat, and for a moment he let himself close his eyes and really care, care that this was the only way he could have Squall.
He pulled out of him and pulled away, aching with bitterness. He looked down at Squall, already turning over and looking at him, already shedding the facade. It was only a little victory, he thought. But a guy gets by on what he can.