Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Strings Attached ❯ Sexcapades ( Chapter 5 )

Warning: This chapter contains explicit content. Nothing necessarily too graphic, but it pretty much sums up to one big lemon. So, if that isn't your cup o' tea, then I'm sorry but you've chosen the wrong story to read.

 

Chapter Five

Sexcapades

 

With a final cry of ecstasy, Squall arched his back and came into the pumping fist on his member. Muscles contracted as he strained in final release and warm liquid shot into him as the blond knight grunted with his own sating end.

 

Squall rested his forehead against a broad shoulder while he continued to catch his breath and wallow in the euphoric feel. Still filled by the knight's cock, he stayed in place on the man's lap.

 

“Fucking Hyne,” Seifer hissed. As the brunet rest against his shoulder, he shifted one of his hands from around the slim waist and eased his fingers along the center of the Commander's back. Following the small cleft where the toned muscles ran over the spine, he ran his fingers lower until he was brushing against the base of his penis embedded in the tight entrance.

 

To the knight's dismay, there was more than his own fluid seeping in a messy pool. There were trace amounts of blood. “You okay?” he questioned, trying not to sound too concerned lest he anger the kitten.

 

Nodding, Squall wrapped his arms around the other's neck, hugging him close, hunched awkwardly to compensate for their joining.

 

They'd spared little time for preparation, making for a rather premature penetration. Well, it had actually been Squall who couldn't wait. The moment the clothes were off, the brunet had straddled the larger blond and made haste with the foreplay, skipping right to the best part. Against Seifer's initial protests, Squall bit the bullet and didn't even seem to wait very long for the adjustment. The second the Commander had begun to move, rocking up and then down to push the knight's cock deeper, Seifer had been silenced. The knight's hands had automatically gone to the younger man's hips to aide in the thrusting movements.

 

There was no way it had not been painful. But the contorted expression of pained perseverance had quickly altered to pleasured arousal.

 

After a prolonged moment, which was made unusual by Squall's hugging, Seifer set his hands at the younger man's hips to ease him off. The brunet's tightening grip led the ex-knight to think that something might be wrong.

 

“Squall?” he questioned, “Not that I'm complaining, but I don't think it's going to be easy to sleep with my dick in your ass.”

 

“I want more,” Squall stated simply.

 

Going stiff for a moment, the blond shot a look of uncertain hopefulness to the wall at the other end of the room. “More as in-” cut off by a set of swollen red lips, Seifer grinned while enjoying the feel of an aggressive Squall. “I see,” he acknowledged impishly, momentarily breaking the kiss. He'd learned by now not to set too many limits. And for whatever reason, his corrupted pet was feeling rather frisky.

 

All further ideas of what he'd do for round two were banished as the little sex demon began to rock against him.

 

**

 

Sporting both a bruised ego and eye, Irvine strode through Balamb Garden with an absent mind. His brain didn't seem to register his actions until he was raping his knuckles against his own door. Looking around himself, momentarily stunned by no longer being in town, he almost didn't realize where he was. Keying in the code, he walked inside.

 

Instinctively, he reached a hand up to remove his hat. With a frown, he realized that it was at Selphie's place. It just stood as a reminder of how screwed up his day had been. Not even wearing his black hat, he was practically walking backwards. Although, as much as he liked the new one, he wasn't nearly as attached to it as the one The Reaper's Angel had ruined.

 

Flipping the lights on, he entered the living room. Between always being at Selphie's apartment and never hosting any dinner parties, he had little need for luxuries. There was no television or couch, no coffee table or shelf with all his favorite movies.

 

The walls were adorned with his most prized possessions, his guns. On the largest wall, where a nice plasma screen could hang, a case for Exeter was mounted. It was in this that he stored his most cherished weapon. Where a couch could have been was a plain wooden table. A few odds and ends littered the top, an oiled rag, a rusty metal box in the center, and various smaller gun parts.

 

It wasn't exactly appealing to the eye, but it served his purposes.

 

Selecting a gun at random, he set it down with a soft thud on the table. Pulling out one of four chairs around the rectangular seating area, he plopped down. Reaching out, he drew the bulky metal box over. It creaked as it opened, in need of a tune up itself. Inside this unpolished, ancient tackle box were his cleaning supplies.

 

With deft hands he took the gun apart, the sounds of metal almost patterned. There seemed a rough handling that belied a frustration he couldn't hide in even the most caring of actions.

 

How could he have been such an idiot? It wasn't that he'd had any idea of how to go about informing the dear Commander of his affections. Still, he was pretty sure that among the absolute wrongs was directly confessing and trying to make out with the boy. Hyne knew he'd been lucky not to be castrated for such actions. Though there was a good chance that he'd made out alive with naught but a black eye because the inexperienced man had been so shocked. The look to those steely eyes had truly been a priceless moment of unguarded emotion.

 

Somehow, Irvine found it hard to believe that anyone could not have known about it all from the start. Was anyone ever so oblivious? He hadn't exactly kept his entranced stares hidden. Watching the soft sway of hips, acutely staring at the delicately cut features of the man's face. There was also the less than secretive dislike for Seifer.

 

How could Squall not have pieced it all together? Was it some balanced compensation for being good at everything else, that the Commander was beyond inept socially? No one was that oblivious, except the most desirable man alive. It was just cruel to have such a beautifully constructed body, delicate yet strong features, and a fucking minx in the sack controlled by some million to one chance of complete innocence.

 

Squall would make the perfect lover. He doubted he'd ever tire of coming back at night and finding that piece of artwork laying in bed waiting. Surely, if Seifer could fix those working habits with a bit of sex, then he could manage to get Squall to take a year long vacation. After being around the allusive young man he was already accustomed to that introverted and silent behavior.

 

Silence was something he'd probably appreciate in the long run. No words left more time for other things. Things such as kissing those soft lips and running his hands over that lithe body.

 

It seemed like their time in town had both sped up and slowed down. Following his remark about being in Seifer's place, the tension had grown. Naturally, the dear innocent young man had still been miles from understanding. So, like a true friend would, he'd given Squall a little help.

 

**

 

With an attempt to sit back up, Squall shifted to his elbows. Never breaking from the amethyst gaze, his mind was almost numb as it recessed to process the implied meaning behind the gunman's words. It was due to this uncertain and uneasy shock that the pale Commander fell entirely susceptible to Irvine's actions.

 

Swiftly moving before the stormy eyed brunet could manage to gain any leverage, Irvine turned and leaned over the man. It seemed as though the Commander had every intention of saying something, but when the words seemed delayed, Irvine moved closer. Before Squall could either lie back down or sit further up, he set his arms on each side of a slim waist. In a quick and smooth movement, Irvine pressed his lips to Squall's.

 

The sliver of a gap between the Commander's stunned lips gave him the smallest of openings. Well practiced, he moved his lips against surprisingly soft and plush ones. When he'd taken the briefest of tastes, licking just inside Squall's mouth, he abruptly found himself flat on his back.

 

“Squall,” the gunman immediately spoke with concern, not wanting the Commander to misunderstand too much.

 

“You kissed me?” the brunet remarked with a questioning tone. Gray-blue eyes seemed to fluctuate between shock and sheer confusion.

 

“Yeah,” Irvine agreed while making to stand up.

 

Standing with an affronted stance, Squall stared in disbelief. As if questioning the existence of his lips in the first, he tentatively reached a hand to them. “You kissed me,” he repeated, this time in accusation.

 

“You don't really love him. I can be that for you.”

 

It was a fast blur of hard knuckles that Irvine probably should have been able to dodge, but Squall could hit as swiftly and powerfully as Zell at times. Receiving the painful punch, the auburn haired man found himself once again on his back, sprawled out after being leveled by the impact.

 

“Fuck, what was that for?” he cursed out in immediate reprimand.

 

This seemed to confuse the pale brunet, suddenly making it seem like the physical retaliation was uncalled for. “You didn't ask,” Squall defended, reverting to an almost childlike form of reasoning whilst treading such unfamiliar territory.

 

Jaw clenched, the gunman struggled to his feet with a hand clamed to his left eye. His head was pounding, but that was minimal in comparison to the ache his cheekbone and eye socket gave. It was out of an instinctive reaction of witty sarcasm that he responded, “So, if I ask, does that make it okay?”

 

With a noise of indignation that almost sounded like a growl, Squall folded his arms uncomfortably and glared down toward the courtyard below.

 

To Irvine it was an obvious stance of someone awaiting both an explanation and apology. Finding that persistence was often rewarded, the violet-eyed cowboy pressed further. Taking a gentle step closer while lowering his hand, Irvine said, “I want you.”

 

Flustered, Squall backed away. Like a caged lion searching for an escape, the Commander glanced around. Hyne knew he needed time to think about it all before even understanding it, let alone figuring out the correct course of action.

 

“Squall,” Irvine spoke softly, his voice carrying longing.

 

“No,” was all the edgy brunet said before gracefully dropping off the wooden platform.

 

**

 

Squall wondered if they might end up breaking the bed, or at least dislodging it from its bolted place against the wall. Seifer was thrusting madly into him, pounding deeply with audible slaps against him. It was overwhelming, the feel of the knight inside of him, impaling him over and over again, constantly hitting him in just the right spot.

 

Seifer wondered if he'd end up breaking Squall. His thrusts were so needy and fierce that he was certain no person could take such rough penetration. But for all his worries, the ecstatic moans of pleasure and unbidden cries of his name assuaged all doubts. Squall was loving it, finding it absolutely orgasmic.

 

The brunet was prostrated on the bed, chest near flat against the tangled sheets and mattress. The ex-knight's hands kept a firm grip on slim hips, making sure the Commander's knees didn't carry too much burden whilst propping that sweet ass aloft for his plundering.

 

A thin sheen of sweat glistened on the blond knight's brow. The continued festivities were far too enjoyable to possibly complain about, but it was still proving a workout. His kitten seemed insatiable. In thirty years, he feared he might need to start taking some aphrodisiacs to get it up in time for a second or third round.

 

As it was, he was youthful and Squall was too hot not to grow immediately hard over. This being their third act of debauchery, rutting furiously without care or want save for each other, Seifer was certain they'd be sleeping long into the following morning. There also stood a good chance that Squall wouldn't be capable of walking at all, not even a heavily hunched and slow paced stagger. But Hyne help him if he couldn't stop pounding as deeply into that tight hole as possible.

 

“Seif-er, haahh, I'm-ahh!” the stream of coherent words forming any warning were lost as Seifer violently pulled out nearly all the way and crashed back in. Just when it seemed like his body would collapse, his arms no longer able to give resistance against the headboard, he came for at least the third time that night.

 

Not a moment later, Seifer leaned over the lithe form. Pressing against the pale back and pushing in deep, he ceased his thrusts as he spurt cum into Squall's gripping channel. “Squall,” he hissed out huskily as he gave a few final thrusts to finish the deed.

 

Passed panting, Squall gasped for air as he blinked and tried to rid himself of the spots dancing along his vision. Although it went against his very nature as a dutiful leader, it was times like these that he seriously considered simply retiring and spending his days having sex. If it was true that some men started as early as fourteen, perhaps even younger, then he'd wasted several years of his life. Perhaps the insatiable lust he felt for the blond knight was his body's way of making up for lost time.

 

With little grace the two forms sunk to the bed, exhausted and ready for sleep. Not wanting to squash the smaller man, Seifer eased out of the slick hole, his recently deposited ejaculation trailing out. They'd have to change the sheets again, too caught up in the moment to take care with not making a mess.

 

Rolling to his side, he haphazardly tore at the mussed sheets and turned them down.

 

Squall knew what Seifer had in mind, but he took an extended moment of stillness, laying atop the bed and catching his breath. Gently, knowing that his body was going to protest, he sluggishly pushed up. He needed to clean himself up. There was no way he could sleep comfortably with so much semen covering his thighs and trickling from his ass.

 

“Where you goin'?” the blond asked, afraid to see Squall walking around. It was one thing to tell his conscience that a rough sexcapades session was exactly what Squall wanted while he was fucking the man. Afterwards, when his conscience spoke with a more clear-headed logic, he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. At this point, Squall was far from the virgin, but as a man, he was pretty sure the male body was not meant to be thrust into so harshly and repeatedly, no matter how good it might feel.

 

Humoring the concerned husband with an explanation, Squall mumbled, “Bathroom.”

 

Seifer was torn between guilt and amusement. Part of him wanted to see the stubborn man try and walk at this point, but at the same time he knew he was responsible. Then again, how responsible could one person be with a pale body riding him like his dick was the greatest fucking pleasure giving source in the world?

 

A small grin spread across his face as the Commander swung one leg off the edge of the bed. If Squall flopped to the ground, then he'd be obligated to carry the younger man. What a prime opportunity. Avidly, he watched and waited, not wanting to give himself away.

 

Jade eyes followed the naked form, quite enjoying the moment of watching as much as the prospect of carrying the less than cuddly Commander.

 

And Squall went down, cursing furiously upon colliding with the floor. Seifer was at his side a little too eagerly, but the brunet seemed a bit too preoccupied to take notice.

 

Gingerly, Seifer kneeled down and hooked an arm under slightly bent knees. Just as he slipped his other arm around the man's back, Squall jerked away.

 

“Seifer,” the brunet hissed in warning, the message clear.

 

With a roll of his stark green eyes, Seifer bowed his head so that disheveled golden locks hid expressive eyes. “Calm down princess, it's just to the bathroom.” Not waiting for any show of acceptance, he tightened his hold and pulled the lighter framed brunet up to his chest. With ease, he stood up, taking the tense princess with him.

 

“I can manage,” Squall protested with a push to the tanned knight's chest. Truthfully, it might take an hour to make it out his bedroom door. Not even resulting from too much pain, his legs just didn't seem to have any strength. His muscles almost felt numb, making it difficult to discern what he should do. Hyne knew he wouldn't be standing straight for a solid couple of days without taking a potion, but he'd be damned if it hadn't felt unbelievably good getting that way.

 

With a grin, Seifer hefted the man in his arms, jostling Squall just enough to prove his point. At the sharp intake of air he knew he'd gotten his point across, causing the pain that came with any abrupt movement.

 

Glaring towards the floor, Squall reluctantly accepted the helping hand. “Bastard,” he growled in concession.

 

Chuckling, Seifer affectionately nuzzled a cheek against Squall's mussed mop of chocolate hair. “You're the one who hates it when I feel bad,” he admonished.

 

One of these days, he was going to keep enough sense about him to teach Squall a lesson, show the Commander exactly what making love was supposed to be. He didn't doubt that the brunet cared about him or that Squall wasn't merely going through any motions, but when was the last time they'd spent their time together simply watching TV or something inane like that? Spending time together that didn't involve fighting of fucking would probably turn out to be the biggest turn of events ever, but he was determined to do everything lovers did together with Squall.

 

Relaxing ever so slightly in the odd hold, Squall commented, “I wanted it.” It was sex, not a walk in the park. It was rough and messy, and he'd never had any glorified perceptions about it. It wasn't awkward, but entirely natural. A month ago he would never have been able to picture himself so much as sleeping in the same room as the ex-knight, but now he couldn't picture himself sleeping without the blond's broad form wrapped around him. Was it unusual to be so attracted to Seifer? Disregarding the fact that it was his childhood rival, the last person in existence that he would have ever pictured himself becoming involved with, he wondered whether it was normal to become so unraveled around the man.

 

He wasn't his usual stoic self, at least not like around the others, but there stood a good chance that he was never himself around Seifer. Quistis, among others, was under the general opinion that he was different around the blond, or that Seifer had always carried some upper-handed influence on him. But none of that explained why he became so emotional. Either angry, content, secretly happy, or completely aroused he never felt so much as when he was with Seifer. And damn the knight for using that against him. Being carried like some incapable child elicited a quick-fired anger that nearly stomped out the sated feel of having just had sex.

 

Seifer reined in his amusement when he felt the urge to laugh at the flare of anger in stormy blue eyes. Once again nuzzling Squall's hair, he hid his face until he felt confident he wouldn't show his utter amusement. He felt like a masochist, falling in love with the brunet's temperamental and angry nature. “We'll sleep in my bed, after a bath,” he whispered heatedly against silky strands.

 

Squall squirmed every so slightly, but gave no verbal or physical protests.

 

 

**

 

Irvine was stirred from a light sleep at the knocking on his door. Groggily casting aside the blanket, he scratched his head while standing up. When the knocking persisted he called out, “I'm comin'.”

 

Running a hand across his face, he started at the pain on the left side. “Damn right hooks,” he complained while striding across the studio like area of his apartment. He nearly ran into the table as his feet strayed from their beeline.

 

The knocking sounded again, the visitor apparently impatient.

 

The gunman raked a hand through loose auburn hair, smoothing out non-existent tangles. Frowning, he wondered what emergency had arisen that demanded his attention without so much as a call ahead of time.

 

“What?” the gunman half growled as the door slid open. The second the caller's form was revealed, violet eyes widened and his mouth nearly fell open. Of all people he was not expecting the Commander.

 

“You never asked me,” the brunet said earnestly, taking an unwarranted step through the door.

 

Suddenly aware that he was wearing nothing but a pair of briefs, violet eyes shifted with an odd feeling of demureness. At the cool touch of gentle fingers just below his left eye the gunman very nearly tripped over his feet as he staggered back.

 

“I'm sorry,” Squall whispered while locking eyes and speaking quietly.

 

Gulping, Irvine had a million questions running through his head. Unable to decide what to ask first regarding what happened earlier that day, he settled on questioning the most immediate topic. “What didn't I ask you?”

 

A small smile pulled naturally red lips upwards. “You never asked to kiss me,” the Commander replied with an almost expectant look.

 

A heated flush washed over Irvine as his mind began to process the general atmosphere. Giving the brunet a once over, he took in the black tank top and baggy jeans with a lick to his lips. There were times when the pale man looked positively sinful, making his mouth literally water in craving. The barest hint of the Commander's midriff was exposed with the dark denim that nearly fell off slim hips. The longish strands of dark brown hair seemed rather kempt for their usual displaced manner.

 

With an instinctive reading on the situation, the gunman ventured to seduce the pretty boy he'd already been rejected by. “And if I ask?” he questioned, dropping his tone and regaining his usual confidence. Straightening slightly, he stood with his exposed torso proudly, more than aware that his lithe figure and toned body had caused many a woman to become riddled with desire.

 

Not replying, Squall gave Irvine a look that implied the gunman should find out for his own self.

 

Reaching a hand out, the auburn haired man daringly cupped a pale cheek. “And where is your good sir knight?”

 

“I wouldn't know,” Squall replied, subtly leaning into the touch.

 

“Let me kiss you,” Irvine said with urgency. There was a gleam to those bright gray-blue eyes, visible even in the dim light provided by luminous corridor outside.

 

With a sigh that seemed to release a year of tension, the brunet nuzzled the calloused hand at his cheek. Brashly capturing a thumb between parted lips, he gently sucked on the appendage. “Is that all you'll do?” Squall questioned with unhidden want for more.

 

It was nearly a minute of silence before Irvine remembered he should say something, not to mention breath after unknowingly holding his breath. “How `bout that kiss?” he drawled smoothly.

 

Drawing the thumb into his mouth all the way, swirling his tongue around the digit, Squall stepped closer and gazed up in an almost coy manner. The coyness was completely false given the sucking of the thumb, but that was of no consequence.

 

Closing his eyes for a moment, the gunman relished the arousing feel of the pale Commander sucking on his finger. “Hyne,” he spoke as he realized that the brunet had a rather talented knack for the act.

 

At the cool absence of that heated mouth, Irvine opened his eyes again. The concerned look to those stormy eyes grounded him a bit.

 

Almost imploringly, the brunet cocked his head back slightly to better meet the violet gaze. “You're my friend, he was my enemy.”

 

“I know, but you won't be using me. I want you,” Irvine assured.

 

“Selphie,” Squall continued to linger on the wrongs of a relationship between them.

 

“She knows, she understands.”

 

“If….” With a blush, the Commander broke the gaze and lowered his eyes.

 

“What?” the gunman questioned, raising the refined, narrow chin with a nudge from his fingers.

 

Blushing near crimson, Squall spoke in an embarrassedly rushed jumble, “If you want it, I'd be with her too.”

 

Coughing in shock, Irvine questioned incredulously, “A threesome?” At the small nod of consent, he nearly forgot himself and attacked the brunet right there. That was the shit wet dreams were made of.

 

“You can kiss me,” Squall whispered softly, raising his head further in an almost expectant and nervous action.

 

“Thank Hyne,” Irvine proclaimed before grabbing onto the shorter man's slim waist and pulling him closer. Leaning down he kissed those soft lips for the second time.

 

Not unexpected and rather welcomed, Irvine was not pushed away or given another black eye. Instead, he was invited to deepen it, his tongue drawn in to take a better taste of the brunet's mouth.

 

Excited and impatient, Irvine pulled the man along by the belt loop, never breaking the kiss. Making quick work of tearing the thin shirt off the brunet, he distantly acknowledged the thud of boots as the Commander kicked the obstructive footwear away. The pants followed just as fast.

 

Bumping into the wooden table, Irvine lost himself in the feel of pale flesh under his hands. Did all men feel so soft? The only thing the Commander lacked was a pert set of breasts, which he was more than willing to forget all about upon squeezing the brunet's shapely ass.

 

“Nnh,” Squall moaned in reaction to the groping. Arching into the touch, he broke the kiss with a wet trail of saliva between them. “Take me here,” he urged.

 

Pulling away, Squall moved to lean over the tabletop. Bending down and prostrating himself, the brunet glanced back, “Please, take me now.”

 

“Anything you say darlin'”

 

**

 

With a painful thud, Irvine looked about himself in a startled manner. The room was brighter, the lights on.

 

Groaning, the auburn haired man stood up and nearly began shouting aloud in reprimand for his damn runaway mind. He wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that it was a dream or the fact that he hadn't gotten to finish it.

 

If he'd fallen asleep in an armchair or his own bed, then perhaps he would have had a beautiful reel to rerun that involved rather vivid images of the Commander writhing upon the very table he'd been cleaning guns at before falling asleep.

 

Deciding to take a cold shower and then turn in for the night, Irvine left his unfinished task for later. The gun didn't need to be cleaned anyway.

 

 

TBC…

 

A/N >_< Sorry! The place I was staying at didn't have internet, so I couldn't update. I'm sorry for the long wait. Anyways, I hope you liked the new chapter.