FFVIII: Dare You
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Main characters: Seifer, Squall, Zell
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: Seifer/Squall/Zell
Contains: Breathplay, crossdressing, spanking, voyeurism
Rating: NC17
Summary: Squall had, to start with, been wearing a skirt. For feywood, because she got up on time yesterday.
Squall had been wearing a skirt. In actual fact, he's still wearing a skirt, but now it's been hiked up and the backs of his thighs are reddened and, in places, bitten, so the fact that he's still nominally wearing clothes doesn't really mean much. Seifer has one of his hands pinned up against the wall, though he's neglected to keep hold of the other, and Squall's neck is bared to the nip of teeth and press of lips, the flicker of his tongue.
Zell has just noticed that the little noises someone is making in actual fact were coming out of his mouth. He doesn't really care, even if he can see a small amused smile on Squall's face -- hell, it's good to see Squall smile at all, for any reason. Not that he regrets it when the smile fades and Squall's mouth opens for an almost soundless groan as Seifer pushes deep into him.
"Fuck," Zell whispers, squeezing himself through his pants. Seifer looks over his shoulder at him, strands of hair falling all sweat-damp onto his forehead, his cheeks just faintly flushed -- looking so freakin' beautiful, damn him, in that totally masculine way of his -- and he grins.
"We're doing that already," he says, and moves just a little bit -- rocking in deeper to Squall and making him gasp and moan again. "Aren't we, Squally?"
"Seifer," Squall groans, sounding lost and dazed, hot and desperate, and Zell knows just exactly how he feels.
"Give him what he wants," he says, and he -- he really can't stand it, he just can't. He gets up, kicking his shoes off, undoing his pants and getting them off, tries not to trip over them as he goes to the two of them. Seifer pauses, obviously deliberately, opens his mouth to retort. Zell's there by now though, just behind him, and he reaches up and fits his hand around Seifer's throat, pressing the warm silver of his choker into it, constricting just a little. "Now, Seifer."
If they didn't know each other so well, if they weren't all so good at observation, maybe Squall and Zell would miss the shudder that runs through Seifer. But they do, they are, and they don't. Zell grins, leans up to place his lips against Seifer's ear.
"Go on," he whispers, "fuck him hard. Just how he likes."
Seifer makes this little noise, sort of a growl, and then moves sharply, so that Squall arches and cries out. Zell keeps his hand over his throat, watching him, ignoring the race of his own heart, the throb of his cock, for the sight of the two of them -- Squall's head thrown back now, Seifer burying his face in his shoulder, both of them shaking with it now... Zell increases the pressure, whispers again.
"Jerk him off," he says, knowing a touch will get Squall there, knowing that Seifer's trembling on the edge too. "Go on. Do it." A familiar taunt, between the three of them. Go on. Do it.
"I dare you," Seifer whispers, barely any air now, and Zell grins and keeps his hand there, keeps firm, though now he's supporting some of Seifer's weight and Seifer's movements are much less focused. Squall cries out again, though it's low and soft, and that sound -- just that sound, a sound he knows so well -- makes his knees buckle, just a little. "God, Squall," Seifer whispers, and then groans and jerks and Zell knows he's come too, both of them, and he loosens his grip on Seifer and takes more of his weight, grins at Squall whose smile is slow and lazy and pleased like the proverbial cat.
"You don't get to pass out," Zell tells Seifer, very firmly. "It's my turn."
Zell's turn to shudder, with the way they both look at him.
Main characters: Seifer, Squall, Zell
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: Seifer/Squall/Zell
Contains: Breathplay, crossdressing, spanking, voyeurism
Rating: NC17
Summary: Squall had, to start with, been wearing a skirt. For feywood, because she got up on time yesterday.
Squall had been wearing a skirt. In actual fact, he's still wearing a skirt, but now it's been hiked up and the backs of his thighs are reddened and, in places, bitten, so the fact that he's still nominally wearing clothes doesn't really mean much. Seifer has one of his hands pinned up against the wall, though he's neglected to keep hold of the other, and Squall's neck is bared to the nip of teeth and press of lips, the flicker of his tongue.
Zell has just noticed that the little noises someone is making in actual fact were coming out of his mouth. He doesn't really care, even if he can see a small amused smile on Squall's face -- hell, it's good to see Squall smile at all, for any reason. Not that he regrets it when the smile fades and Squall's mouth opens for an almost soundless groan as Seifer pushes deep into him.
"Fuck," Zell whispers, squeezing himself through his pants. Seifer looks over his shoulder at him, strands of hair falling all sweat-damp onto his forehead, his cheeks just faintly flushed -- looking so freakin' beautiful, damn him, in that totally masculine way of his -- and he grins.
"We're doing that already," he says, and moves just a little bit -- rocking in deeper to Squall and making him gasp and moan again. "Aren't we, Squally?"
"Seifer," Squall groans, sounding lost and dazed, hot and desperate, and Zell knows just exactly how he feels.
"Give him what he wants," he says, and he -- he really can't stand it, he just can't. He gets up, kicking his shoes off, undoing his pants and getting them off, tries not to trip over them as he goes to the two of them. Seifer pauses, obviously deliberately, opens his mouth to retort. Zell's there by now though, just behind him, and he reaches up and fits his hand around Seifer's throat, pressing the warm silver of his choker into it, constricting just a little. "Now, Seifer."
If they didn't know each other so well, if they weren't all so good at observation, maybe Squall and Zell would miss the shudder that runs through Seifer. But they do, they are, and they don't. Zell grins, leans up to place his lips against Seifer's ear.
"Go on," he whispers, "fuck him hard. Just how he likes."
Seifer makes this little noise, sort of a growl, and then moves sharply, so that Squall arches and cries out. Zell keeps his hand over his throat, watching him, ignoring the race of his own heart, the throb of his cock, for the sight of the two of them -- Squall's head thrown back now, Seifer burying his face in his shoulder, both of them shaking with it now... Zell increases the pressure, whispers again.
"Jerk him off," he says, knowing a touch will get Squall there, knowing that Seifer's trembling on the edge too. "Go on. Do it." A familiar taunt, between the three of them. Go on. Do it.
"I dare you," Seifer whispers, barely any air now, and Zell grins and keeps his hand there, keeps firm, though now he's supporting some of Seifer's weight and Seifer's movements are much less focused. Squall cries out again, though it's low and soft, and that sound -- just that sound, a sound he knows so well -- makes his knees buckle, just a little. "God, Squall," Seifer whispers, and then groans and jerks and Zell knows he's come too, both of them, and he loosens his grip on Seifer and takes more of his weight, grins at Squall whose smile is slow and lazy and pleased like the proverbial cat.
"You don't get to pass out," Zell tells Seifer, very firmly. "It's my turn."
Zell's turn to shudder, with the way they both look at him.