Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. ❯ Threats. ( Chapter 3 )

For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.

~ A Kitty and Eoko Fanfiction.

 

Warnings: Swearing - they are in prison afterall. Horny boys. Horny boys kissing. Horny boys getting busy. Etc etc.

 

Pairings: OC/OC. XD

 

Disclaimer: Eoko and I do not own the FF8 characters, however we do own everyone else. So there. :P We also own the plotline. We do not make any money off this fic, but only write for our enjoyment and the enjoyment of all the hentai fans out there. XD

 

Author's Notes:

Kitty: Eoko, I thought I told you to note the date, and a fortnight from it. The update is late. DX

 

Eoko: I blame work, and school, and WoW, and RP and.. more RP.

 

Kitty: Yay for RP! -squee- RP is win.

 

Eoko: It is. But not when your characters are being stupid.

 

Kitty: Who's characters are being stupid?

 

Eoko: My Saix incarnate is being stupid. But I'm ignoring him right now.

 

Kitty: Oh, okay. As you do. Speaking of characters... There is a character in this fic who was originally a built, macho seme who molested Irvine in the corridor in another fic of mine, and is now a complete uke thanks to someone who shall not be named, EOKO.

 

Eoko: His name is also a fun topic of debate.

 

Kitty: Yes. It is a good demonstration of why you should not pick a name for a char from credits on a movie. I am very phoenetic with my names, so I spell them exactly like I want people to say them. But I guess it's stupid of me to think everyone else does too.

 

Eoko: Especially when people who have no connection to a certain race of people pick the name to begin with. It's like how people say jalapeño when they don't know it's suppose to be hala-peeneeyo.

 

Kitty: I know how to say that word. But I just thought "Javier" sounded cool... since I pronounced it "Jay-vee-ah." When Irvine called him "Jay" later on, Eoko was like "I'm sorreh, whut?"

 

Eoko: I was confused cause I have Spanish connections, and know the name as the Spanish Hav-ee-air. Which is why I suppose we are telling you now to fly in the face of Spanish culture and sound it out like and Aussie in grade school. <3

 

Kitty: Actually, we're not allowed to tell them to sound it out anymore. We have to try other strategies, so there.

 

Eoko: Kitty. They are at least twelve years old. They ain't gonna try something new now.

 

Kitty: -jumps on Eoko- Shh. They're older than that. They're all legal, okay?!

 

Eoko: I was reading NC-17s when I was 12 and I expect some of them are 12-14 as well.

 

Kitty: THEY'RE LEGAL! -covers ears- Lalala!

 

Eoko: Okay. For you they're legal, and for me I don't care. Huzzah.

 

Chapter 3. - Threats.

 

“I've never seen a fish behave quite that badly,” Joseph commented, seated on a chair with his side to the bars while Zell sat cross-legged outside.

 

“Neither've I, Grandpa,” Zell replied, drumming his fingers on his knee.

 

“They usually do their best to stay on everyone's good side until they figure who they should and shouldn't be palling up with. He honestly pulled all Jade's shit off the top and threw it down the bottom?”

 

“Yeah. Little shit was probably lucky I was there to at least straighten everything out before Jade saw it. If he'd walked in on his stuff in one big fucking pile in the middle of the bottom bed, I don't think he'd've wasted time bitching about it.”

 

“No, I don't suppose he would have. But what do you suppose Caraway's thinking?”

 

“I'd hazard a guess our illustrious warden wasn't thinking. Probably too busy clearing up another one of Angel's fuck-ups and just put Paris in whatever free slot was apparent.”

 

Joseph chuckled, running a hand through his mostly-grey hair.

 

“And in the process probably made Paris into a `free slot' within Jade's reach.”

 

“If he's got any sense, he'll jump at the chance to bend over for Jade…”

 

“Like you do?” Joseph wondered slyly with an arched brow.

 

Zell shrugged.

 

“What can I say? He's pretty good to me, but if Paris isn't careful he'll find out just how vicious Jade can be.”

 

Joseph made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat.

 

“I'd almost be willing to bend my preferences for this one. He's pretty enough to be a girl.”

 

Zell laughed and shook his head, getting to his feet.

 

“I don't think you ought to say that to him. If there's nothing else…?”

 

“No, no. Go. And I'd suggest you leave Prof and Blaze alone for the moment. They're arguing again.”

 

“Right,” Zell said with a roll of his eyes and a grin. Every so often, Illo and Raphael, or Blaze, would forgo other fuck-toys in favour of each other. It was easy for everyone else to tell when this was going to occur, because they would argue all day over the smallest things whenever they saw each other. These arguments were just a veil for the real argument, which was who would get to be on top this time. No one had yet cracked the code of how they ended up deciding, because the argument-loss rate for the day didn't always correlate with whomever was doing the screaming from their cell after lights-out.

 

Zell bypassed their cell -

 

“…hate it when you leave your books by the fucking loo!”

 

“Well, they're there so if you get the urge to set them on fire, I can put them out again!”

 

“Oh, fuck off, Prof! I don't just light anything on fire!”

 

- with a shake of his head and went to visit the Boss.

 

- - - - - - -

 

“Maybe I like trouble.”

 

Seifer looked up from where he lay on his `new and improved' bottom bunk as Irvine leaned over, ponytail hanging down. With the red mark from the slap Seifer had given him earlier and the split lip, he certainly looked like the kind of guy who liked more trouble than he could handle.

 

“Yeah, well, you must if you tried to sneak a knife past Captain Hardarse…”

 

“Try? What try? I did sneak a knife past Captain Hardarse.”

 

“Yeah…” Seifer sat up, careful not to hit his head, so his eyes were mostly level with Irvine's. “How did you do that…?”

 

“Me to know, you to find out, Blondie.”

 

“Jade.”

 

“Or maybe Seifer?”

 

“Don't even go there.”

 

Irvine smirked and swung back up onto his bunk, because the blood was running to his head and that just wasn't comfortable. As anticipated, Seifer was there in bare moments, arms folded over the edge of the low rail and feet planted on his own mattress to keep him from falling.

 

“You really do like to push your luck, don't you?”

 

“Naw, just figure since Ink ain't too far away, he'd come `n' stop you before you actually, like, killed me.”

 

“He'd let me beat you to within an inch of your life first.”

 

“What makes you think I wouldn't even put up a fight?”

 

Seifer looked him over, then snorted.

 

“I don't care how fast you are, there's no room to move in here and it wouldn't be long before I pinned you down and beat you stupid.”

 

“I ain't fuckin' defenceless, you know! I'm an assassin, for fuck's sake!”

 

“Assassin?” Seifer repeated, blinking in surprise.

 

“Yeah, assassin, hit-man, whatever. I'm it. Or I were `til - what'd you call him? Detective Ice-Cock…?”

 

“Yeah,” Seifer chuckled.

 

“ `Til he come along. I still got no fuckin' idea how he tracked me down. I been coverin' my tracks for damn near seven years, and ain't never had a sniff of suspicion, then up rocks Detective fucking Ice-Cock and pounds down my hotel door! Right in the middle of the best sex I've, like, ever had, if you please! Sexiest twin women I ever did see…”

 

Seifer made a face at the visual.

 

“I don't need all the damn details…”

 

“Well, isn't this cozy…?”

 

They both turned to see Zell at the bars, a smirk curving his lips and his arms through the bars, resting on a flat horizontal re-enforcing one.

 

“Oh, yeah. We're sharin' life stories and swappin' girl-scout cookies…” Irvine muttered.

 

“I see someone still needs an attitude adjustment.”

 

Irvine just rolled onto his side, facing the wall and Seifer threw a glare at Zell.

 

“What? I told you I'd be back to discuss details, or anything else you wanted to talk about, did I not? Did you write in your journal like I told you to?”

 

Seifer growled and hopped off the bunks, Irvine snickering behind him.

 

“No, I didn't. And you can't tell me what to do, either.”

 

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Zell murmured, eyes sliding past Seifer to Irvine. He licked his lips, then blinked when Seifer suddenly came to the bars, blocking his field of vision.

 

“He's mine first,” the taller blond growled.

 

Zell arched a brow, tattoo shifting.

 

“What, you're gonna force him now? What if he doesn't want you?”

 

“Oh, he'll want me.”

 

“Cocky bastard.”

 

“Damn right. If he's going to share my cell, he's going to pay for the privilege, and it won't take me long to make him realise that.”

 

“Oh, no?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, good luck Helen. Paris's fast asleep.”

 

“You're pushing it tonight, Ink,” Seifer growled, but the other man was right. Irvine was fast asleep.

 

“I could take care've you in the meantime…” Zell murmured, a hand coming between the bars against the front of Seifer's pants.

 

“Whore…” Seifer grunted, but he was smiling.

 

“You know it. What d'you say?”

 

After a moment's contemplation, Seifer shook his head.

 

“No. Not tonight. I'm not in the mood…”

 

“You…? Not in the mood…? Is that even scientifically possible?!”

 

“Oh, piss off, Ink.”

 

Zell grinned and leaned up on tiptoes, fisting a hand in Seifer's shirt and pulling him close so he could kiss him through the bars. The taller blonde instantly plunged his tongue into the shorter's mouth, kissing him for all he was worth. He broke away in a moment, however, and walked back to his bed, perching on the edge.

 

“See you tomorrow, Ink.”

 

“Yeah, tomorrow. Don't do anyone I wouldn't do.”

 

Seifer snorted as Zell disappeared, then lay down to get some sleep himself. Not long after, the lights were turned out and Raphael and Illo made it evident they'd finally decided who was topping tonight.

 

It was a shame neither of them would come to the party as far as Jade went. It seemed they'd only forgo their predominantly dominant natures for each other, and no one else. They really were both very sexy…

 

Seifer muttered to himself, then buried his head under the pillow and put himself to sleep telling stories in his head about what he was going to do to Irvine when he made the little fish realise how bad he wanted Seifer.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Seifer woke the next morning to Irvine standing by the bars, brushing out his glorious hair. He propped himself up on an elbow to watch, and realised the self-proclaimed assassin gained some sort of almost ritualistic calm from the activity.

 

When he had it completely smooth and straight, he drew it back into the familiar pony tail, but then went one step further, fingers flashing expertly in and out as he plaited the long waves. Seifer licked his lips at the thought of those dextrous fingers at entirely different activities.

 

“I can almost hear you leerin',” Irvine said without even having to look. He tied off the end of his plait, then flicked it back over his shoulder and turned to face Seifer.

 

“I don't leer,” Seifer muttered, though he was well aware that was probably the best word to describe what he had been doing.

 

Irvine just laughed.

 

“Fuck, I'm hungry…”

 

“Nearly breakfast time,” Seifer said, standing and stretching right up onto his toes. Then he dropped to the floor and began to do some push-ups.

 

A guard came past, rapping their bars twice.

 

“Kinneas, you've got a session with Councillor Trepe today. Any bad behaviour will be punished with solitary. Same goes for you, Almasy. You've got your three-month check up with the Doctors.” The guard smirked. “Gotta make sure you haven't been sticking your dick in anything… diseased…”

 

Seifer just ignored him and continued with his push-ups, but Irvine put a hand on a hip and arched a brow. He made sure the guard was watching, then ran his eyes unsubtly down the man's body, licking his lips.

 

“Baby…” he purred. “You can stick your dick in me any day…”

 

The guard's eyes widened and Seifer paused to watch the exchange, highly amused. Irvine smirked, pressing himself up against the bars, and stroked his hand slowly up and down one of them.

 

“C'mon in here, won't you…? Promise I won't, like, show you a bad time…”

 

The man turned and virtually sprinted away. Seifer burst into fits of laughter and Irvine grinned, backing away from the bars.

 

“Guess I need to work on my pickup lines… I thought that were a pretty good come-on…”

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I would have jumped you.”

 

“Darlin', you wanted to jump me without me havin' to say anythin'. It don't make me feel any better,” Irvine replied, but he gave a little wink, then slipped out of the cell as the bars began to slide open, literally following his nose to where breakfast was.

 

Zell came up alongside him as he walked.

 

“Hey, Paris. Sleep well?”

 

“Like a log. And my name ain't Paris.”

 

“It is now.” Zell smirked as they joined the breakfast line.

 

“I hate it here…” Irvine decided morosely, gathering up a tray and glaring at the meal that was placed on it, as though it were to blame.

 

“Oh, it grows on you.”

 

“I can't believe you're in here by choice…”

 

Zell chuckled, then glanced over as Seifer entered, and the steady line of inmates all moved for him so he could jump the queue and stand with Zell and Irvine.

 

“You know, you should get out of my way, Paris,” Seifer said over Zell's head as he took his meal.

 

Irvine just snorted and looked away, groaned at the sight of the thick coffee he got next, then went to find a table.

 

“Smooth, Casanova.”

 

“Fuck up, Ink. You should get out of my way as well.”

 

“Ha. As if.”

 

Zell collected the rest of his breakfast, then went to sit with Irvine, ignoring the `piss off' glare the assassin gave him. Moments later, Seifer joined them, then Illo, and one by one, four men Irvine didn't know. One stuck out his hand.

 

“Name's Skid. Well, used to be Javier… but…” He shrugged and grinned. He had black hair to his shoulders, a vivid electric-blue streak behind his right ear, and his demeanour and build screamed bitch. So did the way he was glued to Zell's side.

 

Irvine looked down his nose at the hand, but at a nudge from Zell, he reached across and shook it.

 

Another man, this one sitting beside Illo, also offered a hand. He was well-built and had a laconic sort of smile that only seemed to be half there. His hair was shortish and tousled, curling over his ears and was almost fire-engine red. Zell almost kicked Irvine this time and he took the hand.

 

“Blaze,” the man told him shortly. Irvine wondered if that was because of his hair.

 

“Raphael…” Illo said with a curling smile.

 

“Fuck off, Prof…”

 

“That's not what you said last night.”

 

Raphael hit him upside the head, but Illo only laughed.

 

It suddenly dawned on Irvine, by the looks of the other inmates in the room and the wide berth they gave the table, that he was sitting with the kingpins. Or rather, the kingpins had sat with him. Except for Javier, who was apparently just cute enough to have wormed his way into the inner-circle. Wait… Irvine thought. Me too.

 

“This is Grandpa and the Boss,” Seifer said respectfully. “Boss, Grandpa this is Paris.”

 

Irvine was smart enough to nod politely and the two older men acknowledged him with a slight inclination of their heads as well. He was also smart enough to keep his mouth shut when they started discussing the goings-on of the prison.

 

“Paris's got Miss. Lens today, boys,” Seifer said towards the end of their meal.

 

“Yeah, and I hear you got the Doc and Angel-cakes,” Raphael put in, smirking.

 

“Yeah, don't remind me, Blaze…” Seifer muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Angel poking and prodding my privates is just the highlight of my day…”

 

Illo put his hand out in a cupping motion and affected a high, annoying girly voice.

 

“Please, Mr. Almasy, would you cough, sir? I'm sorry, I was only paying attention to your big, strong dick. Could you do it again?”

 

The table erupted in gales of laughter and even Seifer chuckled, rolling his eyes.

 

“Anyway, I'm sure Paris' day will be far more interesting than mine. I remember my first session with Miss. Lens. I thought she'd never fucking shut up!”

 

“She doesn't. Ever…” Joseph put in.

 

Another round of snickers went around the table.

 

“Just wait `til she gets started on your childhood, Paris,” Illo said, grinning. “That one goes on for hours.”

 

“Yay. Rehabilitation…” Irvine said sarcastically and they all laughed.

 

Is it even possible to rehabilitate an assassin…? Seifer wondered to himself, gaze slipping yet again to the new inmate.

 

Truthfully, he found the image of Irvine silently, coldly striking out of the shadows an amazing turn-on.

 

- - - - - - -