Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Jail Cell Blues ❯ Jail Cell Blues ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII. Having two copies of the game is as far as I come to owning anything. I do not profit financially from any of my fanfiction, though I think that'd be awesome.
Warning: This is basically a PWP. It's one big sexually graphic lemon between Seifer and Squall. If you are not into yaoi or if you're not old enough to be reading mature stories, then please turn back.

Jail Cell Blues
“Tight as ever baby,” Seifer hissed through clenched teeth. Already panting, he wasn't sure how long he'd hold out. While they didn't have much time together, he wanted to make the best of it.
Squall didn't reply. Battling his own inner demons, he concluded that a little physical pain never hurt anybody.
“A few good ones oughtta loosen it up,” Seifer suggested, jade green eyes glancing at the fare-skinned brunet with a hopeful gleam.
Head resting on the cold floor of his cell in D-district prison, Squall gave a faint nod. He braced himself by holding the backs of his knees and spreading his legs a bit more.
Practically shaking with need, Seifer held slim hips with an iron grip. Battered and bruised as Leonhart already was, he wished he could have procured something more than a potion for the boy to take, especially since he was about to do some more damage. He couldn't help it though, rough was how they both liked it.
Squall breathed deeply, unable to do more than relax and remember to breath through the initial pain. Limited time and a dingy setting left him with no lubricant other than the saliva on the fingers that had prepared him.
All at once, Seifer slammed into his willing partner. Pulling the brunet's body to meet his thrust, he pushed against tight muscles and buried himself inside clamping heat. Though it was heaven, he didn't remain sheathed. Drawing back out, he repeated the harsh action several times, until he met less resistance.
Trembling, Squall struggled to relax. Biting his lip, he wasn't certain if he'd drawn fresh blood or if the coppery tang was from another injury. Sharp pain seared his lower back. The blond knight had always been big, filling him to the brink and then swelling even more as each thrust rushed blood to the throbbing organ.
Seifer rolled his hips gently, trying to let the boy's entrance stretch to fit the girth of his manhood. That rosy little hole clamped around the thick base of his buried length in a tantalizing view of their connection. He knew Leonhart could handle it, but he wasn't so sure about himself. It might be the last time he'd ever see the boy's beautifully effeminate face or kiss petal soft lips. He loved his little lion more than anything. He'd proven how far his devotion stretched by becoming Edea's knight, taking the place of the original model for a steely-eyed brunet.
Unable to take it any longer, overpowered by desire, need, and pain, Squall released the hold on his knees and wrapped his legs around the knight's waist. Reaching out, he pulled the blond down to him and kissed the man fiercely. It had been far too long since he'd last been in the presence of Seifer without the knight being controlled by a sorceress.
Responding, Seifer lay down atop the lithe body, awkwardly posed to keep his leaking manhood buried. Meeting the brunet's stabbing tongue, he opened his mouth and let the wet appendage dance with his own.
Back and forth, they tasted each other with every bit of burning desire they could express. Like an open floodgate, they poured themselves into the exchange, delving deeply and frantically.
“Hyne,” Seifer groaned against pout lips. Rocking in and out, he began a slow rut to satisfy the begging need in his loins. “I love you, you know that right?”
“I never doubted,” Squall assured, legs tightening to push the older boy deeper inside of himself. He could feel it, reaching deeply and breeching a part of him no one else would ever touch. Joined as they were, living in such a chaotic time with such soul splitting battles against each other was made bearable.
“Yes,” the knight hissed, giving a tentative thrust.
Arching up, chest pressed flush against the blond's Squall gave an exulting moan of pain and pleasure. It hurt, but it also felt too damn good to stop.
“Say you love me,” Seifer urged, suckling on a rapidly beating pulse, wishing his marks didn't disappear with each potion taken. Save for the scar he'd given little over a month ago, every claim he staked on the boy vanished as though it had never been there.
“I love you,” Squall said in compliance. Arms twining around the knight's neck, his fingers quickly found placement in disheveled strands of golden blond hair. “I'm not made of glass,” he whispered longingly, urging the man's head up from his neck.
Refusing to leave his place, lips trailing and teeth nipping all along a slender neck, Seifer found his chest hurt with the heart wrenching realization that it was probably the last time they'd make love. Not even a quick fuck against a nearby wall, they were finished after this.
Stilling his movements, Seifer sat back and took the smaller fighter with him. Holding the brunet to himself, somewhat aware that they were still joined, he hugged the boy fiercely. “I don't want this to end,” he admitted, hating how he'd prepared himself the moment he'd left that television station in Timber, yet he felt like a child unable to let go. He couldn't lose Leonhart.
“You're killing the mood,” Squall chastised, fearing the knight would begin crying. He could handle the man's anger, but tears made him uncomfortable. If at all possible, he preferred to avoid any consolation altogether.
“Fuck the mood,” Seifer returned. “Look around Leonhart. This isn't exactly what I'd call our honeymoon sweet.”
Scoffing, Squall agreed. Though far from complaining, their secretive relationship had never been destined for anything better than their dorm rooms and the few anniversaries they'd spent in hotel rooms. “We don't get a honeymoon,” he reminded quietly, a heavy note of solemn regret.
“There you go again,” Seifer complained, hand gripping lengthy tresses of silky brown hair. “Don't diminish us. We both knew where we were going for a long time.”
“War,” Squall mumbled against a broad shoulder. Breathing deeply, he inhaled the scent of sweat and blood. Whether or not it was the most appealing smell didn't matter. It was likely the last time he'd see, hear, touch, taste, or smell his lover.
“No,” Seifer refuted. “The day I met you, I knew I wanted to be with you. I couldn't take my eyes off you for a second.”
“You had a funny way of showing it,” Squall commented.
“That was your own fault,” the knight informed. “You wouldn't stop thinking about your damn sister, even when you had me right in front of you.”
Squall was both endeared and annoyed by the blond's possessive need to consume both his thoughts and body. “I'm thinking about you now,” he stated.
Groaning with need, Seifer squeezed the form in his lap tighter. “Don't say anything to get me going,” he reprimanded. If Squall kept making his heart swell, he wouldn't be able to hold back, and then it'd all over.
“Seifer,” Squall whispered against the man's ear, “hold me after.”
Relenting his crushing hold, Seifer toppled the brunet back and initiated a bruising kiss. He'd never understood why he'd been so drawn to the boy. His attraction and desire for Leonhart's body was no longer such a big mystery, not like the first time he'd felt a stirring in his groin and climbed into bed with the young teen to fool around. Lithely muscled with subtle curves that were wholly androgynous, his eyes were only captivated by the sight of one person. But, before he'd hit puberty, he'd loved Squall in a way that he'd never loved anyone else.
“Move,” Squall urged, the pain having receded enough that he only felt aroused. The man seemed incapable of ending their kiss. Time permitting, he'd never complain about kissing Seifer, but he was in need of attention elsewhere and knew they didn't have all day.
To his disgrace, Seifer couldn't control himself any longer. Breaking away from soft lips, he pushed lean legs back. With a flexible body, Leonhart became entirely exposed to his focus of physical lust.
“Ahhn!” Squall cried out unintelligibly as the knight thrust deep and hard. A stream of similar cries echoed through the small holding cell as the man repeatedly tortured him with such spearing pleasure.
Rolling his hips to make certain he wasn't just ghosting over the boy's prostate gland, Seifer struck that sweet spot repeatedly. The exulting cries of pleasure were enough to satisfy him, but the tight heat his cock kept delving into was a nice bonus.
Over and over, Seifer thrust with the carnal need for release. The entire room seemed to heat up, and the friction their bodies created seemed enough to melt through the titanium flooring. His pelvis was sore from the slapping, and Leonhart's ass was no doubt bruised.
Feeling his climax approaching, Squall gasped and moaned with each thrust that brought him closer. “Seifer,” he managed to gasp, “I'm close.”
“Me too baby,” Seifer grunted. Needing better leverage, he released his hold on the brunet's legs and set his arms on either side of Leonhart's head. Hunching over, he pounded into the lithe body beneath him.
Squall held on to the man above him, the force behind each thrust too much to handle. Not certain he could tell the difference between up or down, he writhed in ecstasy. Then, all at once, he climaxed. His orgasm hit him hard, threads of pearly white fluid coating his stomach. The knight's continued thrusting stimulated him from within while his length was caught in satisfying friction between their rubbing bodies.
If the brunet's abandoned cries of pleasure weren't enough to send him over the edge, Seifer easily got off on clamping muscles. Cock jerking, he released deep inside of Squall. Groaning, he exerted himself to keep rocking in and out. Milking himself dry, he was assured that the defender of the free world would be carrying around a bit of himself for a little while. It wasn't every day that he got to do it without a condom.
Arching back, Squall rode the numbing pleasure out. He could feel hot release filling him. As wave after wave of spiking pleasure rolled through him, he wallowed in euphoric bliss.
Shuddering with pleasure, Seifer collapsed atop the commander. “I don't need to fuck anyone else to know it feels best fucking you,” he declared breathily.
Squall scowled at the sentiment. Accustomed to the knight's crude phrasing, he was annoyed by the mental image of Seifer sleeping with someone else. They'd been together for three years as lovers, and ten years before that as childhood rivals. Whether it was a secret rendezvous or longing glance across the classroom, they'd always wound up with each other. The curiosity involved in seeing other people had struck them both at one time or another, but boring dinner conversations and kisses lacking all passion had lead them back into the other's bed.
Giving an exaggerated groan, Seifer hovered above the brunet and gazed down adoringly. With a wry smirk, he accepted that they'd likely never meet again. “I wish I'd held out longer,” he admitted, beginning to pull out.
“Wait,” Squall said, suddenly dreading the loss. Pulling the knight back down, he muttered, “Don't pull out yet.”
“You don't have to ask me twice,” Seifer reassured.
“Again,” Squall requested, impressing his fear of loss into the single word.
Nuzzling thick chestnut colored hair, Seifer soothed, “It won't matter how many times we do it.”
“Again,” Squall reiterated, stubbornly refusing to let go.
Grinning sadly, Seifer rolled over and took the younger man with him. With Squall set atop him, he slapped the brunet's bare ass. “Your turn,” he said, shifting around uncomfortably until he was settled in enough to enjoy the show.
With a ghost of a smile, Squall nodded. Unable to ride the knight when the man's length was flaccid, his first task was to give Seifer an erection. Leaning down, he grazed his teeth over a dusky nipple.
Chuckling darkly, Seifer commented, “I'm going to miss this.”
Laving his tongue over the pert nub, Squall continued to tease it until he felt the knight growing hard. Switching his attention to the other nipple, he didn't relent until drawing an audible groan from the man.
Seifer couldn't help but groan. Leonhart knew exactly what felt good and could rocket his body towards orgasm or draw it out for hours. “Start moving baby,” he urged.
Defiant against being told what to do, Squall slowly trailed his lips upwards. Sucking at the knight's neck, he moved higher along a stubble ridden jaw line. Such strong and powerful features could only be Seifer's. The knight could lead an army straight into hell and every soldier would follow if the charismatic fighter said it was a good idea.
Procrastinating further, Squall nipped at the shell of an ear, tongue running over it. Ghosting warm air along, he whispered, “If you don't make it, I'll follow you.”
It took a moment for the commander's meaning to set in. Grabbing narrow shoulders, Seifer pushed the brunet back and stared into stormy blue eyes incredulously. “I'm here so you can live freely.”
Knowing why Seifer had become a knight to an enemy sorceress, Squall didn't mean to belittle such a sacrifice. Though he'd been angry at first, he knew he'd have tried doing the same thing if Seifer had been Ultimecia's intended. “Live freely?” he questioned solemnly, staring into mesmerizing green eyes. “To what avail?”
“If you're just going to off yourself, then what the hell are we going through here?” the knight bit out angrily. After so much bloodshed and hard work, if they were both going to wind up dead, what would be the point?
Squall regarded the blond forlornly. Leaning close, he pressed his lips to Seifer's. Over and over, he kissed the man, pulling back each time the other tried to deepen it. “There's a chance we'll both make it,” he murmured, grinning when the knight's tongue tried to sneak into his mouth while he spoke. “And if you die, there's a chance I can help everyone else live freely before joining you.”
“I don't like the idea of you dying,” Seifer stated, raising his hands and holding the brunet's head in place so he could give a proper kiss.
Squall kept his mouth closed, even when his bottom lip was sucked on in a begging manner. Speaking awkwardly without moving his jaw, he asked, “Do you want me to be with someone else?”
Not catching the words clearly at first, Seifer did a double take when his brain finished filtering the mumbled sounds. Ceasing all ministrations, he growled, “What?”
“How long should I live on without you?” Squall questioned evenly, trying to show how the scales didn't balance evenly between living a free life and living a life without love.
“I see,” Seifer muttered, unable to take the idea of leaving his lion behind in a world full of men and women vying to sneak into bed with the commander. “You'd never let anyone warm my side of the bed,” he stated soundly, secretly fearing that above all else.
“No,” Squall agreed simply. Leaning into the caressing hand at his cheek, he added, “But I'm not strong enough to sleep alone every night.” While he didn't need or want anybody else in his life, falling asleep each night with a cold and vacant spot next to him would plague him with memories of the person the spot belonged to.
Swallowing thickly, Seifer nodded. It was somehow comforting to know that no matter how the war ended, they'd find a way to be together. “Come here,” he said, pulling the boy close and assaulting plush lips. Stabbing his tongue inside Leonhart's mouth, he satisfied his earlier desire. If they were going to kiss, it should be wet and deep and as passionate as possible.
Simpering a note of pleasure, the sound greedily swallowed by his cocky rival, Squall broke away from the messy exchange. Reaching back, he tentatively felt the base of Seifer's cock. Moving his hand lower, he fondled the man's balls while sitting up and letting the entire shaft push inside of him.
“No one's ever understood,” Seifer hissed, hips lifting off the ground as he gave an involuntary buck upwards.
“Us?” Squall questioned the point of reference, only half interested at the moment. He continued to grope previously ignored balls, hand deftly massaging them while he moved very slowly and shallowly atop the knight.
“Yeah,” Seifer said huskily, his tone seeming to be more encouraging of what Leonhart was doing than affirming what he'd been talking about. Shaking his head to clear it, he elaborated, “No one even suspects us.”
Frowning, Squall ceased his massaging torture and braced himself properly. “We fight a lot,” he muttered in explanation, hands finding purchase on the older boy's rigid abs.
Seifer grinned. He loved their fights. He loved goading reactions out of the stoic brunet, especially when it resulted in using his authority on the disciplinary committee to punish the little lion in the most sadistic of ways. Still, the original intent of their childish bickering had been fabricated for one reason. “We fight because beating each other up will get us suspended, whereas losing control and fucking each other's brains out would get us expelled.”
Nodding, Squall agreed. There had been more than one occasion when simply sitting in the same classroom together had lead to near breaking points. If the blond hadn't thrown a few insults his way to diffuse his lust and turn it into anger, he'd have likely bent over the nearest monitor and begged to be fucked. There wouldn't have been an instructor through out all of Garden that could have stopped Seifer from taking him if he'd asked for it. The blond had a terribly weak fetish for submissive requests.
Recalling instances when he'd spent entire lectures staring at the nape of Seifer's neck or struggling to remain composed while the mischievous boy groped his thigh, Squall felt his lust surge. With no room full of cadets as witnesses and no instructors to expel them, they could play with each other as much as they wanted.
Without warning, Squall rose up on bent knees and dropped back down. Throwing his head back and moaning, he continued to impale himself.
“Fuck,” Seifer cursed, bucking up to meeting each downward fall. Closing his eyes, he panted was Leonhart didn't let up in the least.
Squall stroked his arousal in time with each spike of pleasure he received from driving the blond's cock inside himself.
“Let me,” Seifer gasped out, knocking the brunet's hand away and stroking the boy's weeping erection.
Thrust for thrust, Squall and Seifer worked together to bring each other off.
Ejaculating into a pumping fist, Squall tensed and rode it out. Muscles protesting the continued strain, he was grateful Seifer had come at the same time and that he didn't need to continue impaling himself in such a physically draining manner. He collapsed against a broad, heaving chest. Filled beyond capacity, he felt cum leaking from his entrance in a most gratifying manner.
Weakly, Seifer brought his clean hand up to soft chestnut hair and pet it affectionately. “Do you think we can still have sex where ever we go when we die?” he questioned jokingly.
Not replying, Squall shut his eyes and relished the blissful afterglow. He loved Seifer's chest, firmly muscled and always warm. The sound of the man's heartbeat put him to sleep almost instantly.
“Don't nod off yet,” Seifer chided, knowing exactly what the sleepy lion was up to with an ear to his chest.
“Tired,” Squall mumbled softly, stubbornly refusing to move.
Chuckling, Seifer reminded, “I told you before, if you go to sleep with my dick in your ass, you're gonna wake up to me fucking you.”
“Doesn't sound so bad,” Squall commented lazily, wriggling as the blond nudged him in the ribs.
Grinning, Seifer let his fingers dance along the Squall's side, poking and prodding in the most ticklish areas.
“Stop,” Squall protested, not wanting to be reduced to a laughing fool. He hated being tickled, but the overbearing blond had some fixation with making him laugh.
“Get off so we can get dressed,” Seifer ordered lightly. “I'll stay as long as I can, but the mistress won't be unsuspecting forever.” He was one hell of an actor, falsely showing loathing for his rival and burying memories of their nights together while his mind was invaded. Pushing aside his love was impossible, but lucky for him Ultimecia had mistaken such feelings as obsessive hatred. Apparently there was a very fine line between love and hate.
Sighing, Squall slowly crawled off of the knight. He felt hollow and cold without the man filling him. The previously enjoyable feel of hot release was distasteful in its cooled bitterness as it seeped out. Lying on his side, he stretched an arm out towards the single potion Seifer had snuck in for him to take.
Downing the tasteless liquid, refreshed by it, Squall stood with ease. “I need a shower,” he commented, copious amounts of semen leaking from his entrance and coating his thighs.
“There aren't any cells with showers,” Seifer informed, turning the tap of the sink on and washing his hands.
In a tiny cell with a naught but a narrow bed, toilet, and sink, their choice to have sex on the ground had been mandated by lack of room on the bed.
Seifer glanced around the floor. Snatching his pants and underwear, he donned them quickly. Taking his t-shirt, he made a wet rag out of it and approached the seductively posed brunet.
Squall sat on the very edge of the bed, still naked without any inclination to cover himself up. As the knight approached with the caring intent to clean him, he couldn't help but rake his eyes over the man's body in a lustful gaze, sinful thoughts forming.
Seifer gulped when the lithe commander's only move was to spread enticing legs apart and admit him access to the sticky mess he'd left. Going to his knees, he slowly wiped away his semen with the damp shirt. All along smooth thighs, he paused with indecision when the brunet leaned back to let him get it all. Staring at Leonhart's rosy little entrance, he made quick work of his job as his desires began to stir again.
Not pushing for anything more, Squall took the blond's shirt and wiped his stomach off on his own. “Thanks,” he mumbled, standing up to get dressed.
Leather pants and white t-shirt in place, Squall splashed cold water on his face in the hopes that it would substitute for a cold shower. Turning back, he gave a faint smirk at the knight's cocky dominance of the small bed.
“Come here,” Seifer said, patting his chest.
Taking a whole two steps to close the distance, Squall slid into place with practiced ease, straddling the man. Settling down, he ran his hands along the tanned skin of the Seifer's bare torso.
“I can't let you out of this place,” Seifer stated.
“I know,” Squall replied, contently relaxing as strong arms encircled him. “I'll find a way out of here.”
“If anyone can do it, you can,” the knight returned, comforted by the confidence in the commander's voice, but still fearful of what might happen if an escape wasn't made.
“Calm down,” Squall spoke gently, listening to the rapid beat of the blond's heart.
Unable to make his fears of losing Squall go away completely, Seifer informed, “It's a little difficult.”
Raising his head, Squall leaned up to kiss the older boy. Their lips gently meshed, tongues only meeting briefly. Vowing that it wouldn't be their last kiss, he didn't try to make it particularly special. Resting his head back against the blond's chest, he closed his eyes with the hollow certainty that Seifer would be gone when he opened them again. “I'll follow you,” he reminded.
“Let's stick with plan A for now. Promise to keep your head above water and I'll do what I can to stay afloat too,” Seifer compromised. “No matter what, wait a little while before stabbing any daggers into your heart.”
“How long?” Squall questioned.
“Long enough to know whether or not I'm really dead,” Seifer returned, not as keen on the idea of suicide as his stoic partner seemed to be.
“…” Squall wasn't sure what to say. At the stroking feel of fingers in his hair, he realized he didn't need to say anything.
THE END
Author's Note: Please review. The sequel to this piece is called Reunion of Rivals, which is also posted on this site.