Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Afterwards ❯ Afterwards ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Afterwards.
KittyMeowMaxwell.

Warnings: Yaoi. Lemon!! Threesome, infact!!! That means if you don't like it, don't read it. Language. The usual stuff that makes fics good. *smirks*

Pairing (or should that be tripling...?): Not telling. If I do, it'll give it away.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, much as I try to tell myself I do. Irvine just lives in my head. I don't do this to make money, and all that stuff.

Author's Notes: Wow... It's been, like, forever, since I uploaded... anything. Blood-Wild is just not working for me. I keep staring at it, but it's not happening. I'm hoping I'll be inspired soon, but it's been a year. This is, like, my first foray back into actually posting anything for a year. Geepers... Anyway, this is a bit of smut, which is fun. *grins*

~ ~ ~

Afterwards, Irvine wouldn’t be able to explain what had happened, because he just wasn’t sure. He didn’t think he would ever be sure, no matter how long he spent sitting thinking, trying to put some order to what had happened. There simply hadn’t been any order that he could discern, only… mindlessness.

And he really couldn’t blame it all on the alcohol, no matter that the temptation to do just that was certainly there. The fact of the matter was; he hadn’t been all that drunk. So there was nothing to excuse his behaviour.

Damn…

Selphie was going to kill him.

Too bad he hadn’t been drunk enough to forget everything that had happened. If he had been, he wouldn’t have to keep it from her, because he wouldn’t know what he’d done. He ran his fingers through his hair, turning his face up to the warm fall of water, and cast his mind back over the night.

~ ~ ~

“I’m not goin’.”

“What do you mean you’re not going?”

“What does ‘I’m not goin’’ usually mean, Selph?”

“You’re going.”

“Not like this, I’m not.”

“Sure you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“Are.”

“Not.”

“Are!”

“Not!”

 220;Irvine Kinneas, if you don’t go to this party with me, I’ll never spread my legs for you again!”

Irvine groaned, running a hand through his hair. His hat was missing for once, set safely aside on the bedside table. Selphie had bribed him into skin-tight black leather pants that rode low on his hips, so low he was almost certain if they even slid half an inch down, someone was going to see the proof that he was a natural redhead. His nipple piercings (usually kept a complete secret from everyone) had been switched from the usual small gold hoops to a silver bar through the left, and a heavier silver hoop through the right, from which a chain hung down, only to curve up and back to a silver hoop in his right ear. There was a black leather armband, about four inches in width, around each bicep, and a studded band about each wrist. His nails were painted black, as were his lips, and he had black eye shadow on as well. To top it all off (and the real bone of contention, if Irvine dared admit it) he wore a spiked leather collar, attached to which was a chain, far heavier than the one from nipple to ear, which Selphie held the end of.

Selphie wore a tight black cat-suit, whose sleeves went right to her wrists and whose legs went right to her ankles, though that was impossible to tell, due to the knee-high leather boots. Around her petite waist was a wide black belt, gold-studded and buckled. Her nails, like his, were painted black, but tipped in silver. Her ears were bedecked from lobe to top with fake earrings, and her face was made up in much the same way as Irvine’s, though she had painted a blood-red tear beneath her left eye. In her right hand, she held his chain, in her left, an old whip of Quistis’. Anyone with half a brain would be able to tell what they were supposed to be.

“It’ll be fun! Everyone else’ll be dressed up too!”

“Not like this…” he muttered.

She rolled her eyes at him and tugged lightly on his chain.

“Behave.”

“Fuck…” he mouthed silently when she turned away. The others would never let him live this down. Why had he agreed? Granted, Selphie was cute and endearing when she pleaded with him, and he would agree to anything when she touched him like that, but surely he could have kept enough brains to know better than to agree to letting her decide their costumes for this thing. No. He hadn’t. And of course the final threat – that she wouldn’t sleep with him anymore if he didn’t go – sealed the argument in her favour. He would go. And he would go as her slave.

Damn. Fuckshitdamn.

Selphie lead him through the Garden along with the throng of costumed SeeDs and cadets also heading that way. There were several glances and snickering comments, and Irvine was forced to keep his head bowed just to watch his bare feet and make sure no one stood on them. Of course, his bowed head was taken in an entirely different manner.

Fuck!

Irvine decided he hated Halloween. From this Halloween forth, he would hate all Halloweens, just on principle. And Squall. Oh yes, he would hate Squall for at least a week for allowing the damned party. For if there wasn’t a party, he wouldn’t be in this costume!

“Selphie!”

It was Rinoa, her girlish squeal excited and painful, if the wince the young SeeD dressed as a nurse who stood beside her gave was anything to go by. She came dashing over, in a long, dark green velvet dress that hugged her in all the right places. She grinned, showing fangs – not the best vampire Irvine had ever seen.

“Rinoa!” Selphie’s scream was equally as painful, Irvine’s abused eardrum could attest to that.

“You look so good!” Rinoa enthused, throwing her arms around Selphie in a tight hug, which consequently tugged on Irvine’s chain, causing him to stumble a step forward and grunt in pain. They didn’t hear it over the music.

“You too!” Selphie replied. “That dress is gorgeous!”

“Thanks!” Rinoa looked around. “I haven’t seen the others. What-” She cut herself off suddenly as she noticed Irvine. She blinked, and blinked again, mouth opening and closing in stunned surprise before she gave a breathless “Oh…”

Irvine smirked. That wasn’t such a bad reaction.

“Evenin’,” he drawled.

“Hi…” She dragged her eyes back to Selphie, smiling sheepishly. “You both look… just… wow.”

“Thanks!” Selphie beamed. “Let’s find the others.”

Rinoa nodded and they threaded their way through the crowd, the once-sorceress sneaking glances at Irvine when she thought no one was watching.

They came upon Zell next, silently leaning against a wall watching the crowd. He’d changed, Irvine thought, in the couple of years since Ultimecia. That exuberance was still there, but not 24/7. Zell still had a perky grin for them when he caught sight of them, and he pushed off the wall, sweeping a white top hat off his head and bowing from the waist.

“Ladies.”

He, too, had apparently failed to catch sight of Irvine yet.

He was dressed in white from head to toe, a suit with tails, a white cane, shoes, gloves and the hat. His face, too, was painted white, his tattoo showing through a pale, ghostly grey. Even his bangs, for once un-spiked and falling into his eyes, had powder through them, so they weren’t golden-blonde, but white-blonde. He smirked when he realised the girls couldn’t work out what he was, though Irvine was fairly sure he knew.

“He’s a ghost,” he supplied softly, and saw Zell start, blue eyes flicking up to meet blue. “Evenin’,” he said again.

“Holy fuck, Kinneas!” Zell blurted before taking the time to consider how that would sound.

Selphie giggled.

“Cute!” she said, referring to Zell’s costume.

The fighter, meanwhile, was still staring at Irvine, and the sharpshooter thought he would have killed to be able to read Zell’s thoughts. He knew he was shocked, but beyond that, he couldn’t tell what the staring was for.

“W-what…” Zell managed.

“Slave,” Selphie informed him, and tugged on Irvine’s chain.

Zell snickered.

“Shut up,” Irvine warned him, dearly wishing for Exeter.

The fighter did his best to straighten out his face, but the grin kept breaking through. Oh no, he would never ever live this down! He was going to suffer for this for the rest of his life! Damn Selphie and her persuasion.

“Have you seen Squall?” Rinoa wondered hopefully, then added as an afterthought. “Or Quistis?”

Irvine suppressed the urge to shake his head. Poor girl. He could see Squall just wasn’t ready, still. Everything that had happened between he and Rinoa was just a result of Ultimecia and circumstance. He didn’t want a relationship, with anyone. It was strange, Irvine thought, that such a serious, mature seeming man still had growing up to do. Rinoa could wait, Irvine thought, but she didn’t see that she had to.

“Nah, and yeah,” Zell said, teeth flashing a grin.

“Well?” Selphie prompted, waving her hands excitedly and tugging on the chain in the process.

“Selph!” Irvine protested and Zell snickered again.

“Oo… Sorry, Irvy.” She gave a sheepish grin and Rinoa glanced at Irvine again, making Zell’s amused smirk widen. Selphie looked at Zell again, repeating herself. “Well?”

“Well what?” the fighter wondered, scratching an ear.

“What’s Quisty?”

“Oh! Right. Cat.”

“How cute!” she squealed.

Zell shrugged a bit.

“C’mon!” Rinoa put in, taking Selphie’s wrist with one hand and Zell’s with other. “Let’s go find them.”

Irvine wasn’t surprised when Zell fell into step beside him, not bothering to even try and hide his great amusement.

“You dress up nice,” the ghost commented snidely.

“I’ll shoot you if you don’t shut up,” Irvine said lowly, reaching up to brush his hair back.

“What? It was a compliment!” Zell protested, but the snicker made it unconvincing.

“She’s persuasive.”
“Obviously. Never thought I’d see you decked out as pussy-whipped.”

“Oh, I’m so goin’ to, like, shoot you next time I’ve got my hands on Exeter.”

“Really now, I think you look-”However Zell thought Irvine looked was lost in a cry from the girls.

“Squall!”

The gunbladist winced, looking about as happy to see the two women as he would be to see a Mesmerize curled up at the bottom of his bed.

“Hey. At least you’re not a fairy…” Zell said out the side of his mouth to Irvine, who snickered.

Squall was hardly that. He was draped in white robes, brushing the floor gently and showing a peek of toes every so often. Atop his head was a silver halo, set on wires so it hovered there. Upon his back was a small pair of feathered wings. He was an angel.

“Who the hell got him to wear that?” Irvine wondered.

“I did.” Quistis’ voice made both Irvine and Zell jump. The latter turned, the former tried, but was brought up short by the chain and cursed lowly, making Zell, again, snicker.

She was dressed as an alley cat, fur all mottled and patched, one ear cocked at an odd angle. She’d painted her face to match the white/tan/black fur, her nose a rosy pink. She grinned, pressing against Irvine’s back and sliding a hand across his stomach.

Zell’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, and Irvine was fairly certain he probably looked the same.

“Not bad, Kinneas. Not bad at all,” she murmured, then backed off, glancing at Zell.

“Don’t touch me,” he muttered.

“Aww… Well, all right. You’re cute in that suit.” That said, she slipped up to stand beside Selphie, gaining oo’s and ah’s for her costume and explaining how she’d threatened to sack Squall if he didn’t dress up.

“She’s off her tot already…” Irvine managed after a few moments of stunned silence.

“Hell, yes,” Zell hissed.

“I think we need to catch up.”

“Agreed.”

“…I can’t go anywhere.”

Zell snickered.

“Fuck you, Dincht!”

* * *

Some five or six hours later, Selphie was ready to call it a night, but Irvine was far from it. He and Zell were considering a drinking game, but they weren’t sure on that score, because they didn’t want to get so pissed they couldn’t dance.

“C’mon, Irvy…” Selphie whined. “I wanna go…”

“So go,” Irvine said, the drink he’d already had making him less than diplomatic. “I’m stayin’.”

“You didn’t even want to come in the first place!”

Zell made a dirty comment under his breath about “coming” only with a “u” and Irvine snickered at him.

Selphie huffed, and tugged on the chain.

“Ow! Quit it! You can go, I’m not stoppin’ you. But I want to stay.”

“Oh all right,” Selphie huffed. “G’night.”

“Night!” Irvine said cheerfully, delighted when she dropped the chain and he was finally left to his own devices.

“How do you put up with her…?” Zell wondered when Selphie was gone.

“When I’m half-cut like this, I wonder myself,” Irvine replied. “I think… it must have somethin’ to do with the way she squirms when I fuck her…”

Zell stared at him, and snickered.

“You’re pissed, Kinneas.”

“I’m gettin’ pretty damn close,” the sharpshooter agreed. “Let’s dance.”

Zell didn’t protest, and they danced, black leather against white suit against creamy skin. Somewhere in the back of his slightly fogged mind, when Zell got close enough that he could feel the fighter’s attributes through their pants, Irvine realised there were thousands of reasons why he should leave the party. But he didn’t care. When Zell leaned up on tiptoe, curling white-gloved fingers into his hair to tug him down into a kiss of pornographic proportions, there was another to add to the list. But he didn’t care. When the fighter’s strong hands cupped his behind, drawing him closer, there was yet another to add. But… he didn’t care.

However, when Zell murmured that he had to leave, he cared. He whined, in fact. Zell just rolled his eyes, told the sharpshooter to get over it, and sauntered off through the thinning crowd, swinging his white cane.

Irvine was rather at a loss for a moment. He didn’t want to leave, but he now had no one to drink with, which was a sad thing, because he wasn’t drunk enough that Zell’s rejection didn’t hurt. He tapped his lip in thought with a black-nailed finger, and wondered what he had done wrong. He certainly wasn’t in the dark when it came to men and what they wanted, so what exactly happened just then? He ran through it in his fuzzy mind. Dancing… closeness… kissing… Zell’s hands on his butt – Hyne! Did Zell not like his butt?

Now that was a terrifying thought, at least in his current near-drunk state it was.

He was just thinking he ought to go find Zell and discover if that really was the truth, when there came a hard, vicious tug on the chain that made him yelp, and he had no choice but to stumble the way he was pulled.

“Selphie! For Hyne’s sake, I asked you quit-”

Irvine cut off when there was another tug, this one pulling him against a hard body that just couldn’t be Selphie’s. It was too tall to start with.

“For those pants to be any tighter, cowboy, they’d have to be painted on,” came a low purr in his ear and his eyes widened.

“Seifer…?”

“Got it in one.”

Irvine took a reflexive step backward, blinking at the gunbladist. Seifer was dressed in a short, Greek-style tunic, belted at his waist. He wore sandals, the laces working their way elaborately up his legs, halfway up his calves. Just below the edge of the tunic, around his right thigh, was a fake (Irvine assumed) tattooed band of stylised moons. There was one around each bicep as well, one of stylised suns, the other of stylised sunrises. About his golden hair sat a leafy Greek laurel and at his hip was a sword instead of his gunblade.

“What the hell’re you supposed to be?” Irvine asked, mostly because his mind could compute nothing else.

“Hyperion.”

“Your gunblade…?”

“The Titan.”

“What Titan?”

Seifer laughed.

“Hyperion isn’t just the name of my gunblade, pretty boy. It’s also the name of one of the Greek Titans. One who fathered Helios, god of the Sun, Eos, goddess of the Dawn, and Selene, goddess of the moon.”

“I’m astounded by your intelligence,” Irvine remarked sarcastically, and knew he saw a smirk before Seifer jerked the chain again, making him grunt and stumble forward. This time, an arm came around his shoulders, preventing him from moving back.

“I’m astounded you can come up with such big words after so many vodkas.”

“I can hold my drink.”

“Evidently, cowboy.”

“Irvine.”

“Hm?”

“I have a name. It’s Irvine.”

Seifer snickered.

“Whatever you say… pretty… boy…”

Irvine sighed.

“What do you want, Seifer?”

Seifer smirked and ducked his head, breath warm against Irvine’s ear, suddenly hotter when he spoke in a low, husky whisper.

“You. I never knew you were so fucking hot. But this outfit…” Seifer lifted a hand, tugging gently on the loop in Irvine’s right nipple, which made the sharpshooter gasp softly. “Made me see it.”

“Seifer, Selphie-”

“Will be fast asleep by now. And I know you want it. You were practically begging chicken wuss for it.”

“I… no, I… um…”

Damn. Damn! Seifer smelled so good and it felt so good to be in his arms. Irvine swallowed. But he loved Selphie! He couldn’t… but then, Seifer was right. Selphie would be sleeping by now and he did want…

“I can’t…”

Seifer shook his head slightly, manoeuvring Irvine around so he could press the sharpshooter against a wall, inching a knee between his legs. He lifted Irvine’s arms, pinned them above his head with one hand, the other ghosting down a slender side to rest on a leather-clad hip.

“You can. You want to.” Seifer pressed a kiss to Irvine’s sweat-damp throat, nipped the skin, teased at it with his tongue.

“Hnn… n-no… Seifer…”

Seifer’s mouth pressed a kiss to his ear, then purred in a voice all sex and forbidden pleasures.

“Don’t even try to fight me… Irvine…”

“Oh, Hyne!”

It was there, that moment, that voice purring his name, his name, those lips shaping those syllables, that turned the tables. He didn’t want to fight anymore. The attraction was powerful and sudden, driving Irvine’s entire body to arch against Seifer’s, arms fighting a grip they couldn’t hope to break.

And Seifer… smirked.

He backed off, turning, and gave the chain a far more gentle tug, leading Irvine through the party and out, into the quiet of the Balamb Garden corridors.

I shouldn’t be doin’ this. I shouldn’t be doin’ this. I should not be doin’ this… Fuck, he’s sexy… I always did think he was sexy – I shouldn’t be doin’ this. All tall, strong lines and long legs and power and danger and, oh, I so shouldn’t be doin’ this.

He mostly ignored the rational part, and paid attention to the other parts, as well as Seifer’s parts, watching the muscles flex across powerful shoulders, and in legs with each stride.

“Who’d’ve thought there was such a hot body under that cowboy crap?” Seifer remarked into the silence, making Irvine start out of his daydreaming.

“It’s not crap. And haven’t I always said I was hot?”

Seifer snorted inelegantly.

“Saying and being are two very different things.”

Irvine made a noise of agreement at that, and paused when Seifer did to put the code into the digital pad beside the door to his room. The door hissed quietly open with a computerized “Wel-come, Se-fe.” Seifer grimaced.

Irvine snickered.

“It can’t pronounce your name?”

“No. Stupid thing.”

“I turned mine off,” Irvine said as the door hissed shut behind him.

“You can do that?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you how some time.”

“Do that. But not now,” Seifer advised him, and before he could work out what had happened, he found himself on his back on Seifer’s bed, the gunbladist perched above him. He smirked, jade eyes catching what little moonlight shone in the window, and reached over to flick a lamp on, then brought his hand back, forefinger and thumb sliding along the chain from nipple to ear. He tugged lightly, and Irvine gasped, biting his lip.

“Much as I find this an amazing turn-on, I don’t want you getting hurt,” Seifer said, carefully unhooking the chain from the two rings and putting it aside, beneath the lamp. That done, he brought his mouth to the loop, closing his lips around Irvine’s nipple.

Irvine murmured a soft, incoherent encouragement, fingers going into short blonde hair and knocking the laurel free.

Seifer tugged gently on the loop with his teeth, then curled his tongue around Irvine’s nipple, gaining a low, throaty moan for his efforts, and a slow undulation of the sharpshooter’s body. He glanced up at Irvine, then shifted to the other nipple, toying with the rod.

“O-oh… S-Seifer…” Irvine whispered, a leg bending at the knee and sliding up Seifer’s side.

Seifer left off his work and slid up Irvine’s body, lips hovering a mere inch from Irvine’s face.

“You’re really quite the pretty boy, aren’t you pretty boy?” Seifer purred.

Irvine whimpered a little, stroking his free hand up Seifer’s arm to his shoulder.

“Kiss me…” he asked softly.

Seifer cocked an eyebrow.

“Making demands now?” He tapped the collar. “You’re in the wrong outfit for demands.”

“Please…” Irvine breathed.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” Seifer suggested, glancing to Irvine’s right.

The sharpshooter followed his gaze, jerked in surprise when he saw what Seifer was looking at. A ghost. Or rather, what was left of one. Zell had lost hat, cane, jacket, gloves, shirt, shoes and socks, washed his face clean and brushed the powder out of his hair.

“I… I-I… I…”

“Shh…” Seifer advised Irvine gently as Zell padded on silent feet over to the bed. The gunbladist sat up, straddling Irvine’s hips still, and pressing careful hands to his chest, assuring he wouldn’t be able to sit up as well. Irvine’s hands fell to the sheets, twisting there with a touch of nervousness.

“But I… didn’t…”

“Shh…” Zell echoed the gunbladist, kneeling beside Irvine’s head and washing his face clean with a warm, damp cloth. The fingers of his free hand snaked beneath the sharpshooter’s neck to free his hair from its tie. “Done,” Zell informed Seifer with a gentle smile for Irvine. The fighter hopped off the bed again, and when he turned his back to them, Irvine blinked. Apparently, the dark lines adorning the side of Zell’s face weren’t all. His back was laced with tribal patterns akin to the one upon his face.

Seifer smirked, lying along Irvine’s body again as Zell disappeared into what was presumably the bathroom.

“We keep to ourselves. Figure no one needs to know what we do behind closed doors. You should consider yourself privileged, cowboy. You’re the first to find out we’re lovers.”

Irvine managed to make a small, shocked sound, but that was about it and Seifer chuckled.

“This has got to be a first. You, speechless? I’m stunned, Irvine.”

Seifer deliberately put a purr in the clear annunciation of his name and it sent electricity arcing across his skin, a shiver down his spine.

“I’m… uh… s-surprised I guess…” he managed, fingers flexing against Seifer’s shoulder.

“At what?” Seifer wondered, almost, almost touching his lips to Irvine’s.

“Uum… Th-that you and he…”

“Yeah, so was I,” Zell commented, making Irvine jump.

“Damn, Kinneas, you’re as twitchy as a rabid Behelmel!” Seifer commented, smirking.

Irvine’s eyes flicked to Zell, then back to Seifer and he swallowed. Bad enough that he was doing something he knew he shouldn’t be doing. Worse that he was going to be doing it with not one man, but two. He hadn’t agreed to that…

“Skittish for someone with such a huge sexual reputation,” Zell murmured, joining them on the bed.

Irvine opened his mouth to speak, but Seifer didn’t give him the chance. The gunbladist kissed him, firm and strong, asserting his dominance in no time flat. Irvine wouldn’t have dreamed of fighting it, he gladly accepted Seifer’s tongue into his mouth with a soft, kittenish sound. The sharpshooter’s hands lifted again, one to short blonde hair, the fingers of the other sliding down the line of Seifer’s spine. He didn’t notice Zell move to unlace “Hyperion’s” sandals, tossing them off the bed in two gentle arcs.

Irvine’s fingers encountered the rope belt, searched first one way, then the other for the bow. He found it and made a small noise of triumph into the kiss as he tugged it undone. He felt the lips against his own smirk and the kiss deepened. He felt claimed, tasted, taken by just the sure movements of Seifer’s tongue, and he found he couldn’t find any piece of him that didn’t like that feeling.

“S-Seifer…” he tried when Seifer drew away to remove the tunic and the tight shorts he wore beneath. “Seifer, I can’t-”

“Give it a rest,” Zell murmured, taking Seifer’s place, now without any clothing left. “You’re not fooling anyone.” He smirked, showing his teeth in an impish manner, and kissed his way down the centre of Irvine’s body. Irvine forgot quite quickly why he was protesting, giving small, bitten-off sounds at the touch of Zell’s lips to his heated skin. The little blonde unzipped the leather pants, and gave a delighted “ah!” when he found there was nothing underneath. He sat up, taking his time to peel the material back.

“Damn,” came Seifer’s deeper tones, plainly awed at the sight Zell slowly revealed. “Damn, he really is something else.”

Zell grinned, running his hands back up long, smooth legs.

“Pretty enough to be a girl,” he teased.

“Fuck you, Dincht…” Irvine muttered, but it lacked conviction. And he forgot to be annoyed when Zell’s mouth carefully wrapped around him, at the very tip, tongue flickering down to tease him mercilessly.

Seifer smirked, typically enough, and crawled onto the bed beside them, bringing his mouth down to a nipple.

Irvine moaned, hips bucking until Zell laid a strong hand on them, holding them still, and upper body lifting into Seifer’s mouth until he, too, held the sharpshooter down. They were both a lot stronger than he, and he had no choice but to do what they wished. The thought went straight to his groin and he whimpered.

“He sounds like a puppy,” Zell paused long enough to murmur before going back to his work, now taking Irvine as deep as he could manage.

Seifer chuckled against Irvine’s chest and kissed a path up to his ear, nibbling on the lobe a moment. His fingers replaced his mouth at the nipple and Irvine groaned through his teeth, twisting on the sheets.

“Irvine…”

He shuddered at the purred name.

“We’re going to make you forget your own name… You won’t be able to stop thinking about us after tonight. And you’ll want us so bad…” Seifer whispered into his ear.

“Nnn…” was all Irvine could manage, body shifting slowly on the bed, then he gasped as Zell raked his teeth lightly along his length.

Seifer reached down, cupping Zell’s chin, and urged him up and away, making Irvine whine pitifully. The gunbladist smirked and kissed Zell, a slow, easy, long kiss that made the fighter growl approvingly in the back of his throat. Irvine had no choice but to watch them, as each had planted a hand on one of his shoulders, pinning him down. And really, he didn’t want to close his eyes, because watching them was unbelievably hot.

He hesitated for only a moment, then slid a hand up each of their fronts until he could tease at a nipple. The response he got was quite gratifying. Seifer sucked in his breath in a gasp and Zell moaned softly, both their bodies pressing forward slightly into his touch. Their kiss became a little more hurried. Irvine felt a smirk curve his lips and he dared still further, sliding his hands back down again to curl one around each arousal, stroking slowly. Seifer was the better of the two at controlling his reaction. His eyes slid shut and he bit his lip, but Zell’s back arched, eyes squeezing shut and lips parting in another low moan. And yes, Irvine thought, the stocky little fighter was as sexy as Seifer, if a different kind of sexy. Certainly, having his hair free from those spikes helped.

Seifer swallowed and backed away from Irvine’s hand, catching hold of his wrists and pinning them above his head, much to Zell’s disappointment. The fighter grumbled something under his breath that Irvine didn’t catch but which made Seifer snicker. The gunbladist leant over and whispered against Zell’s ear. Zell, for his part, smirked and slung a leg over Irvine’s hips, straddling him. He smoothed his hands up the sharpshooter’s body.

“I’m sorry I said you were pretty enough to be a girl. I lied. I’ve always thought you were damn fine,” Zell informed him and bent to kiss his lips. Zell’s kiss was very different to Seifer’s. He, too, spoke dominance with his tongue, but in a more gentle, leisurely way, as though he just expected to be obeyed and knew he needn’t bother forcing it. He was slower inside Irvine’s mouth, almost seeming to take an inventory, make absolutely sure he hadn’t missed anything. It made Irvine feel special, as though he were something to be cherished, and he was surprised at the warmth that spread through him as Zell stroked a gentle hand up and down his side. He tried to free his hands from Seifer’s grip to wrap them around Zell’s shoulders, desperate for more of that feeling, but the gunbladist wouldn’t budge, even when Irvine arched his entire body, putting all the weight he could behind the effort to get free.

Zell laughed into his mouth, patting his shoulder sympathetically, then drew back a little, grinning at him.

“Don’t even bother trying, cowboy. You’d be damn lucky to break his grip. Only I can do that.”

Seifer gave a slight snort and Irvine got the impression it was something Zell liked to mention to his lover as often as he could. “His lover”, Hyne, that wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d be using when describing Seifer and Zell’s relationship. He didn’t ponder that long, since he had better things to worry about, like how good it felt when he shifted that way against Zell’s body.

“Impatient…” Seifer chastised gently, the word laced with quiet laughter.

“Then we should stop stringing him along,” Zell suggested, then bent his golden head to bite Irvine’s neck. The sharpshooter yelped in shock, then gave a little moan as Zell licked apologetically at the spot before sucking determinedly at it. By the time Irvine realised what the fighter was doing and that it was the worst idea in a long line of bad ideas, it was done, and he knew he’d have a love-bite of epic proportions.

Oh well.

Zell rolled his hips against Irvine’s drawing moans from them both, so he did it again with the same reaction, and the sharpshooter arched against him, still fighting Seifer’s grip, which seemed to amuse the gunbladist. He bent, tongue teasing along the edge of one of the studded bands, which Irvine had forgotten he was still wearing.

“We should… but I want him to beg…” Seifer purred, and Irvine shivered.

Zell grinned, stroking the side of his face.

“Yeah, I know,” he said to Irvine at the shiver. And then he bent again, gracing Irvine with another of those addictive kisses.

“Zell,” Seifer murmured, and the order was implicit.

The fighter drew back, flicking his tongue out against Irvine’s lips before he sat up, a smirk curving his lips at Irvine’s plaintive whimper. He looked at Seifer, whose jade eyes flicked down towards Irvine, a silent indication that Zell could read because he knew Seifer so well. His smirk widened, and he swooped on a nipple, suckling with formidable skill. Irvine’s lips had just parted for a sigh when Seifer bent over the second nipple and the sigh graduated to a keening cry, his now-free hands remaining where they were as his body twitched beneath the blondes.

Not one, but two hands wrapped around his arousal, Seifer’s first, then Zell’s, his fingers lacing with the gunbladist’s, who set a slow, teasing pace that made Irvine thrash desperately, legs spreading a little in silent encouragement.

“P-please…” Irvine managed, the word riding the back of a long, frantic moan.

Zell lifted his head long enough to breathe a soothing “Shh…” then went back to his work, enjoying himself immensely.

A lone tear squeezed out the corner of tightly shut sky-blue eyes and Irvine groaned, head pressing back into the pillows. He couldn’t take much more of this, he was almost mad with want.

“Stop t-teasin’ me. Please… I… I ne-eed you…”

Zell glanced at Seifer who nodded, and the fighter slid off the bed while Seifer shifted down to kneel between Irvine’s legs, lifting his hips a little.

“You’ve done this before?” Seifer wondered, a finger teasing at Irvine’s entrance.

Irvine could only nod mutely, squirming.

“Like it?”

Another nod.

“Then what are you doing with a woman?”

Irvine forced his eyes open, lips parting, then closing again, then parting again.

“Like that too…” he managed, then his whole body trembled when Seifer’s finger stroked a knowing circle. “Aah…” His eyes slipped shut again, head turning to the side and Seifer licked his lips.

“Tell me,”

Without needing to ask, Irvine knew what the gunbladist wanted to hear.

“I want you…”

“Again.”

“I want you…”

He barely noticed Zell’s return, nor the uncapping of the tube he brought with him, but he noticed when Seifer now carefully slid a slicked finger inside of him. His lips parted in a soft moan and Zell grinned, chin resting on Seifer’s shoulder.

“Again, Kinneas.”

“S-Seifer!” Irvine cried pleadingly, grasping at the sheets. “I want you! I need you! Please, please!”

Zell murmured something into Seifer’s ear and he smirked, then moaned faintly, which Irvine couldn’t explain, simply because he couldn’t think straight. If he could, he would have realised Zell was giving the gunbladist the same treatment he was receiving.

Seifer took pity on Irvine’s twitching body and added a second finger, the third following as soon as possible. Despite Irvine’s pleading that he hurry up, Seifer took his time, not wishing to hurt the sharpshooter. When he was satisfied Irvine was fully prepared for him, Seifer quickly coated his own arousal, then lifted Irvine’s hips a little further, turning his head to look at Zell.

“Uhuh,” was all Zell said and Seifer nodded, then turned his attention back to Irvine.

Irvine’s lips parted in a silent cry as Seifer carefully entered him, care and knowledge bespeaking much practice. His hands held the sharpshooter still and his voice was a low, soothing buzz in the half-light. He paused when he was fully within Irvine, and Zell pressed a kiss to his ear, then entered him in one smooth, fast stroke, not nearly so careful as Seifer had been.

Irvine wasn’t at all surprised that Seifer didn’t seem to mind. Masochist…

Seifer took a shaking breath and guided Irvine’s legs up around his waist and Zell’s.

“Lucky h-his legs are s-so… long,” Zell remarked glibly and Seifer rolled his eyes.

“W-ill you two stop… talkin’ and start… doin’… somethin’?!” Irvine begged softly, shifting on the sheets beneath the two blondes.

“Something like what…?” Seifer wondered, apparently the calmest of the three of them.

“You’re so c-cruel,” Zell muttered.

“Damn straight,” Seifer replied, smirking.

“Please!”

“Please̷ 0; what, Irvine?” The purr made him moan.

“Please… d-do… do it.”

“What?”

“You know what!”

“Tell me.”

“Seifer…” Zell murmured.

“Shh.”

“Hnn… stop teasin’ me.”

“Say it.”

Irvine’s eyes slid shut and he twisted on the sheets, an attractive blush fanning out across his cheeks as he spoke so softly the other two could barely hear it.

“Fuck me…”

“Mmm…” Seifer purred, ever so slowly drawing away from Irvine, then pressing forward again. “Once more. With feeling.”

Irvine actually whined, forcing his eyes open and locking them with Seifer’s as he ground out through his teeth.

“Fuck. Me.”

And he did. Irvine wasn’t disappointed. Seifer’s thrusts were strong and sure, Zell matching his rhythm with surprising skill and grace. The sharpshooter couldn’t stay still, even if he wanted to. His legs tightened around the two blondes and his hands slid down Seifer’s back to his hips, fingers flexing against the smooth skin with every thrust in a silent “yes”.

Seifer smoothed his hand across Irvine’s chest, then down his front to wrap around his arousal, stroking in time with his thrusts. The sharpshooter knew he wouldn’t hold out long, it was just too damn good. And it had been so long since he’d last been with another man. And he hadn’t realised until now just how much he’d missed it.

He didn’t have time to contemplate that thought. It was swamped by building pleasure, silenced by the blending of their three voices with various sounds. There was no time for any thought save that of how good he felt, how his skin was on fire, and his mind knew nothing but the words Seifer and Zell.

Hyne, they were both so powerful. He could feel it between his legs and under his fingers, the flex and relax of muscles capable of handling a gunblade or punching clear through a GIM47N. And he wanted it. He wanted to be possessed by that strength, taken, claimed, marked.

Another moan broke free of his throat, his body lifting to meet each of Seifer’s thrusts, and he moaned their names, the sound of his own falling from their lips a serenade to his ears.

He tensed, giving a long, keening cry and arching clear off the bed with his release, so sudden he was shocked to tears. Seifer followed hard on his heels, Zell bare seconds later, and they lay in a panting heap, just trying to collect their thoughts. Irvine made a muffled noise of discomfort, not nearly strong enough to bear their combined weight, and they shifted one to each side of him. Seifer draped an arm over his shoulder, tangling one of his legs with sharpshooter’s. Zell mimicked his action with his leg, though he put his arm across Irvine’s stomach.

“Sleep well, Irvine,” Seifer murmured, kissing his temple.

“Sweet dreams,” Zell added, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Irvine thought there was little chance of anything else, before sleep claimed him.

~ ~ ~

So now, he stood in the shower, having slipped out from between the two blondes and dropped the four armbands and the collar and chain as he padded across the room – now he wasn’t sure whether it belonged to gunbladist or fighter – to the bathroom. The warm water soothed aches in muscles he hadn’t used for a while, but did nothing to sooth his troubled thoughts.

The memory of last night sent shivers dancing beneath his skin, made him tingle all over. He didn’t know what to do. Selphie’s smiling face kept slipping into his thoughts, then out again, replaced by Seifer or Zell or both. Again his fingers went through his hair, and he sighed.

Seifer… was there really any way to describe the man? No, he didn’t think there was. Seifer was something else, but that strength, the air of danger, the suggestion of innate command didn’t make him nervous as it used to. Now… now, when he thought about it, it made him feel safe.

And Zell! Damn! Who’d have thought? The way a simple kiss had made him feel! What would a switch positions do to him? Having Zell inside of him? The thought of that smiling, mischievous face now made him smile, and he found a niggling want to kiss the fighter again in the back of his mind.

Shit…

He was going to cry. No, forget that. He was crying, tears trailing down his face to mingle with the warm water from the shower. He folded his arms against the tiled wall, pressing his eyes against them. He was so confused. And they… well, they wouldn’t want, wouldn’t need him. Hyne, Seifer had been more right than Irvine had thought possible…

You won’t be able to stop thinking about us after tonight. And you’ll want us so bad…

* * *

Zell woke first, rousing just enough to pull himself more tightly against Irvine, and then waking fully when he realised the sharpshooter was no longer there. He glanced to the open bathroom door, then to Seifer, kicking the gunbladist none to gently in the ankle.

“Stupid!” he hissed.

“Fucking, what have I told you about call-” Seifer cut himself off, one jade eye cracking open. “Where’s Irvine?”

Zell jerked his head towards the bathroom door where the odd puff of steam issued forth.

“The fuck’s he doing in there?”

“If I knew that, d’you think I’d’ve woken you?” Zell muttered.

Seifer curled his lip at his lover.

“Why didn’t you wake up when he started to go?”

“Why didn’t you?” Zell retorted.

Seifer said nothing.

“I think you upset him,” the fighter ventured after a moment of silence, running his hand through his mussed bangs.

“Me?! How?”

“By making him ask you to fuck him.”

“Oh…” A slight smirk curved Seifer’s lips at that. “That.”

Zell rolled his eyes.

“Seif! Get back on task, would you?!”

Seifer glared at him, then slipped out of bed, Zell following his lead. They went quietly over to the bathroom door, peering through the steam to the shower, where Irvine stood, head pressed into arms resting against the wall.

“Hyne!” Zell whispered, voice breaking with horror. “He’s crying!”

Seifer stared, mouth opening and closing in silent shock. The last thing he intended was to cause tears! Could he have upset Irvine so badly? He hadn’t thought so… But then, he had a habit of misreading and upsetting people.

“Look, you can stand there gawping if you want, Seif, but I’m sure as hell not going to,” Zell hissed, and padded into the bathroom, opening the shower door with a soft, “Irvine…?”

Irvine started like a frightened Cactuar, brushing a hand across his eyes and offering Zell an amazingly unconvincing smile.

“H-hey, Zell,” he said, failing to hide the tremor in his voice.

“You’re not fooling anyone, cowboy,” Seifer informed him as he, too, stepped into the shower, closing the door behind him.

“Foolin’?” Irvine wondered, swallowing nervously as he looked up at Seifer.

“We saw you crying,” Zell said softly, touching Irvine’s hip gently. “What’s wrong?”

“N-”

“Don’t lie to us,” Seifer said, reaching up to stroke his fingers through wet auburn hair.

“I… It’s really nothin’. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re in tears in my shower after a night that was only supposed to make you feel good,” Seifer informed him. “Of course it matters.”

Irvine looked away, and for a long moment, the only sound was the ‘shhhh’ of the shower. Zell’s hand was gently stroking his side again, bringing memories of his kisses, and Seifer was still running his fingers through his hair. Irvine closed his eyes, swallowing. They wouldn’t – couldn’t – understand.

“I just…”

Just what, Kinneas? C’mon, smart guy. Tell them somethin’. Anythin’. Get yourself outta this one. You can’t. Your foolin’ around’s finally caught up with you and you want them so bad it hurts to think you can’t have them. Well suck it up, cowboy. You got Selphie.

“I guess I’m tired.”

Jade and sapphire stared at him and Zell snorted inelegantly.

“Yeah, and I’m a sorceress, did you know?” the fighter wondered lightly.

“Zell,” Seifer muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Well you know I hate lying, Seif, and he’s lying through his teeth.”

Seifer said nothing, but he knew Zell was right. Irvine was lying.

“Really, cowboy… Irvine… after last night, do you really think we’re not going to listen to whatever you have to say? You think we’re going to just shove you out the door laughing at you? Have some faith.”

“Yeah, I won’t let Seifer do that to you,” Zell teased, then ducked a swing from Seifer.

Irvine laughed a little despite himself.

“Talk to us,” Seifer added softly.

A few more tears slid from beneath closed lids and Irvine’s voice, when he spoke, was very soft.

“I don’t know… what to say to you. I… don’t… I don’t want…”

Quick. Think of somethin’ or it’s gonna have to be the truth!

“I don’t want to go…”

Fuck. Stupid.

“Then don’t. We were surprised when you were gone from the bed,” Zell said, smiling.

“No…”

Oh for the love of Hyne! They don’t know what you’re on about! Just. Don’t. Clarify!

“I don’t want to go… ever. I… I-I… I don’t want last night to be a one-off. I want to stay with you. With both of you.”

They’ll never talk to you again. Ever. They’re going to tell you to piss off for good and never speak to them again, tell you you’re an idiot. Stupid. Forming attachments in a one-night stand, like a girl!

Seifer grinned at Zell.

“Hell, and here we thought it’d take a few nights.”

The fighter grinned back.

“Guess we failed to factor in your stunning amazingness,” he teased.

Irvine looked back and forth between the two of them, blinking in confusion.

“W-what…?”

“I told you that you looked fucking hot in that outfit. You think we’re going to let Selphie Tilmitt have something as beautiful as you?” Seifer said.

Zell snorted.

“Yeah, Malboro might fly…”

Irvine blinked again.

“What…?”

Zell rolled his eyes.

“Look, forget telling him. Can’t we just show him?” the fighter muttered.

“Don’t see why not,” Seifer agreed.

So they did. And Irvine moaned their names.

~Fin~

Author's Notes: Woo! *fans self* That was fun.
Converting /tmp/phpLx5mOD to /dev/stdout