Final Fantasy VIII: Irvine Kinneas/Squall Leonhart, desk
Title: Pure
Author: twilightsrain/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Desk
Rating: NC17
Squall leans back against his desk, smiling coyly. Irvine has no doubt about what Squall wants, so the pause is almost theatrical, purely a moment for them to share a look -- a look that says everything about what they want, what they need. Irvine smiles, then, and gets up, leaning in to kiss Squall. Softly at first, of course, a mere brush of lips on lips, and then deepening, his lips suddenly hard against Squall's as he presses against him. Squall's fingers are in his hair, his teeth nipping gently at his lip, tugging gently.
When the kiss breaks, Squall is smiling at him again. Irvine slides his hands down Squall's sides, starts to undo his belts, hands steady and sure only because he has done this so many times, is used to dealing with the distraction of Squall's soft, eager kisses. He undoes the button and the zip of Squall's pants, pushing the leather aside a little, pushes his hand inside to slide teasingly over Squall's hard cock. He catches Squall's tiny whimper in his mouth and kisses him harder, pushing his tongue into his mouth, pressing closer to him as he strokes him slowly, gently, little tiny movements hindered by Squall's pants.
"Irvine," Squall says, softly, warningly. Almost a purr, Irvine thinks, smiling slightly as he steps back to help Squall out of his pants, undoing his own and getting his boots off, slipping his hand into Squall's jacket pocket to find the lube he knows will be there.
"I know," he says, smiling a little more and making Squall turn around. He knows what Squall wants. He wants to be breathless, begging, mindless, the pleasure dizzying and intoxicating. He wants to be fucked while bent over his own desk, an interesting memory for nights spent late in the office doing paperwork. And Irvine really can't deny him.
He teases lightly at his entrance for a moment, though, waiting for the tiniest of pleading sounds from Squall, and then he pushes his fingers into him, two at once, sliding them in deep. He knows Squall doesn't need this, but he wants to see him desperate. And if this memory is meant to keep him company when he's working on a week's worth of paperwork, it needs to be, well, stellar. He curls his fingers a little, leaning down to kiss at Squall's neck as his lover braces himself against the desk, nipping lightly as Squall gasps in pleasure, his back arching a little.
He keeps it like that for now, tiny, maddening movements, his fingers firm and relentless until Squall turns his head to glare at him -- that glare the most Squall will do, right now, to beg for what he wants.
Irvine isn't a tease, though. He always, or at least, usually, delivers.
He pulls his fingers out of Squall and moves closer to him, kicking his pants out of the way and pressing himself to Squall, the tip of his cock against his entrance as he tries to push back onto him. He'd chide Squall for impatience but can't resist anyway, pushing into him slowly, biting his lip hard. Squall squeezes tight around him, taking his breath away, and he closes his eyes tightly as he places his hands on Squall's hips -- pulling out slowly, pushing in hard and fast and making Squall cry out. He reaches around Squall, smiling, wrapping his fingers around his cock and teasing gently.
"Irvine," Squall growls, pushing back against him hard. He takes the hint, pulling out of him again, pushing into him harder, faster, squeezing his cock gently and drawing a deep moan from him. He braces himself, thrusts into Squall harder, making him incapable of silence, letting him expect so much and giving him more, so that he is constantly moaning, arching his back, and eventually, pleading.
Irvine keeps his eyes closed, now, sure he's unable to open them, moving with a quick rhythm that speeds up all the time, draws his heartbeat along with it. Squall is perfect, hot and tight and eager, the pleasure gripping him. He pushes harder into him, gasps as he tightens around him. He squeezes Squall's cock again, strokes him as quickly as he can, thrusting deep into him and then both of them holding still, coming, Irvine feeling Squall's cry of pleasure wind like electricity through his veins.
He has to hope that this performance will be a good memory to associate with this desk. And that it might bring Squall to his room a mite earlier each night.
Author: twilightsrain/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Desk
Rating: NC17
Squall leans back against his desk, smiling coyly. Irvine has no doubt about what Squall wants, so the pause is almost theatrical, purely a moment for them to share a look -- a look that says everything about what they want, what they need. Irvine smiles, then, and gets up, leaning in to kiss Squall. Softly at first, of course, a mere brush of lips on lips, and then deepening, his lips suddenly hard against Squall's as he presses against him. Squall's fingers are in his hair, his teeth nipping gently at his lip, tugging gently.
When the kiss breaks, Squall is smiling at him again. Irvine slides his hands down Squall's sides, starts to undo his belts, hands steady and sure only because he has done this so many times, is used to dealing with the distraction of Squall's soft, eager kisses. He undoes the button and the zip of Squall's pants, pushing the leather aside a little, pushes his hand inside to slide teasingly over Squall's hard cock. He catches Squall's tiny whimper in his mouth and kisses him harder, pushing his tongue into his mouth, pressing closer to him as he strokes him slowly, gently, little tiny movements hindered by Squall's pants.
"Irvine," Squall says, softly, warningly. Almost a purr, Irvine thinks, smiling slightly as he steps back to help Squall out of his pants, undoing his own and getting his boots off, slipping his hand into Squall's jacket pocket to find the lube he knows will be there.
"I know," he says, smiling a little more and making Squall turn around. He knows what Squall wants. He wants to be breathless, begging, mindless, the pleasure dizzying and intoxicating. He wants to be fucked while bent over his own desk, an interesting memory for nights spent late in the office doing paperwork. And Irvine really can't deny him.
He teases lightly at his entrance for a moment, though, waiting for the tiniest of pleading sounds from Squall, and then he pushes his fingers into him, two at once, sliding them in deep. He knows Squall doesn't need this, but he wants to see him desperate. And if this memory is meant to keep him company when he's working on a week's worth of paperwork, it needs to be, well, stellar. He curls his fingers a little, leaning down to kiss at Squall's neck as his lover braces himself against the desk, nipping lightly as Squall gasps in pleasure, his back arching a little.
He keeps it like that for now, tiny, maddening movements, his fingers firm and relentless until Squall turns his head to glare at him -- that glare the most Squall will do, right now, to beg for what he wants.
Irvine isn't a tease, though. He always, or at least, usually, delivers.
He pulls his fingers out of Squall and moves closer to him, kicking his pants out of the way and pressing himself to Squall, the tip of his cock against his entrance as he tries to push back onto him. He'd chide Squall for impatience but can't resist anyway, pushing into him slowly, biting his lip hard. Squall squeezes tight around him, taking his breath away, and he closes his eyes tightly as he places his hands on Squall's hips -- pulling out slowly, pushing in hard and fast and making Squall cry out. He reaches around Squall, smiling, wrapping his fingers around his cock and teasing gently.
"Irvine," Squall growls, pushing back against him hard. He takes the hint, pulling out of him again, pushing into him harder, faster, squeezing his cock gently and drawing a deep moan from him. He braces himself, thrusts into Squall harder, making him incapable of silence, letting him expect so much and giving him more, so that he is constantly moaning, arching his back, and eventually, pleading.
Irvine keeps his eyes closed, now, sure he's unable to open them, moving with a quick rhythm that speeds up all the time, draws his heartbeat along with it. Squall is perfect, hot and tight and eager, the pleasure gripping him. He pushes harder into him, gasps as he tightens around him. He squeezes Squall's cock again, strokes him as quickly as he can, thrusting deep into him and then both of them holding still, coming, Irvine feeling Squall's cry of pleasure wind like electricity through his veins.
He has to hope that this performance will be a good memory to associate with this desk. And that it might bring Squall to his room a mite earlier each night.