Final Fantasy VIII: Irvine Kinneas/Squall Leonhart, couch
Title: Repaid
Author: twilightsrain/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Couch
Rating: NC17
Irvine is pretty sure he's never seen anything as absolutely captivating as this: Squall Leonhart on his knees, between his legs, sucking him off. He leans back into the couch, trying not to thrust up into the glorious heat of Squall's mouth, whimpering as he feels Squall's teeth lightly graze over his cock, leaving him shivering, shaking. "Squall, god," he whispers, tangling his fingers in Squall's brown hair, thrusting his hips up just a little. He could swear Squall is smirking around his cock, teasing, swallowing, making him whimper again, making him close his eyes and just savour it; pleasure and pressure and eager hungry need.
Squall's hand caresses his hip lightly as he pulls back a little, teasing with tongue and teeth at the very tip of his cock and making him pant, making him toss his head back to rest against the back of the couch. "You look so good," Squall whispers, and Irvine would reciprocate if he could remember where he left the part of his brain that forms coherent sentences.
"God, Squall," he whimpers again as Squall takes him all the way in again, making him spread his legs a little more and teasing at his entrance with one finger. Irvine pushes up into that hot mouth, pushes for more of that teasingly soft touch, groaning in a way that makes Squall shiver with lust when one finger pushes into him. He arches his back as Squall pushes in deep, moving his hands from Squall's hair to hold onto the couch.
Squall looks up at him again, pulling away for a moment and licking his lips, making Irvine shiver more than the finger inside him does -- and he watches the look on Irvine's face as he pushes a second finger into him, twisting his fingers gently and pressing lightly against a spot that makes Irvine's hips buck, makes him cry out hoarsely.
"How the hell am I supposed to last more than a minute with you, darlin'?" Irvine asks, trying to catch his breath, biting his lip hard as Squall pulls his fingers out and thrusts them back in hard.
"You're not," Squall says, smiling, and leans in again to take Irvine's cock into his mouth, sucking hard.
It's like being drunk, but better, the spinning of his head purely pleasant and without the knowledge of an oncoming hangover. It's like being high, except no drug could compare. It's like the rush of fighting, of winning, but sharper, hotter, fiercer. Irvine cries out when he comes -- thrusting up into Squall's mouth and reaching for him again, tangling his fingers in his hair and tugging gently. Squall swallows, cleans him up, lingering over his sensitive cock as he tries to catch his breath, making him whimper and shiver again.
He drags Squall up and into his lap, presses against him, reaches to brush his fingers over Squall's clothed cock -- applies light pressure to make him shiver. Squall will get repaid for all of that: the teasing, the taunting, the sheer heady wonderful pleasure of it.
He'll be screaming by the end.
Author: twilightsrain/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Couch
Rating: NC17
Irvine is pretty sure he's never seen anything as absolutely captivating as this: Squall Leonhart on his knees, between his legs, sucking him off. He leans back into the couch, trying not to thrust up into the glorious heat of Squall's mouth, whimpering as he feels Squall's teeth lightly graze over his cock, leaving him shivering, shaking. "Squall, god," he whispers, tangling his fingers in Squall's brown hair, thrusting his hips up just a little. He could swear Squall is smirking around his cock, teasing, swallowing, making him whimper again, making him close his eyes and just savour it; pleasure and pressure and eager hungry need.
Squall's hand caresses his hip lightly as he pulls back a little, teasing with tongue and teeth at the very tip of his cock and making him pant, making him toss his head back to rest against the back of the couch. "You look so good," Squall whispers, and Irvine would reciprocate if he could remember where he left the part of his brain that forms coherent sentences.
"God, Squall," he whimpers again as Squall takes him all the way in again, making him spread his legs a little more and teasing at his entrance with one finger. Irvine pushes up into that hot mouth, pushes for more of that teasingly soft touch, groaning in a way that makes Squall shiver with lust when one finger pushes into him. He arches his back as Squall pushes in deep, moving his hands from Squall's hair to hold onto the couch.
Squall looks up at him again, pulling away for a moment and licking his lips, making Irvine shiver more than the finger inside him does -- and he watches the look on Irvine's face as he pushes a second finger into him, twisting his fingers gently and pressing lightly against a spot that makes Irvine's hips buck, makes him cry out hoarsely.
"How the hell am I supposed to last more than a minute with you, darlin'?" Irvine asks, trying to catch his breath, biting his lip hard as Squall pulls his fingers out and thrusts them back in hard.
"You're not," Squall says, smiling, and leans in again to take Irvine's cock into his mouth, sucking hard.
It's like being drunk, but better, the spinning of his head purely pleasant and without the knowledge of an oncoming hangover. It's like being high, except no drug could compare. It's like the rush of fighting, of winning, but sharper, hotter, fiercer. Irvine cries out when he comes -- thrusting up into Squall's mouth and reaching for him again, tangling his fingers in his hair and tugging gently. Squall swallows, cleans him up, lingering over his sensitive cock as he tries to catch his breath, making him whimper and shiver again.
He drags Squall up and into his lap, presses against him, reaches to brush his fingers over Squall's clothed cock -- applies light pressure to make him shiver. Squall will get repaid for all of that: the teasing, the taunting, the sheer heady wonderful pleasure of it.
He'll be screaming by the end.