Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Lightning. ❯ Chapter, the Fifty-Fifth: In Which Zell Must Be Dreaming… ( Chapter 55 )

Kitty: -squeals- Yay! I love this chapter! XD It was le fun to write.

Eoko: Yep, I remember you nattering on about it while you were working on this one.

Kitty: I was working on it about four chapters before it was time to write it. -giggles-

Eoko: But really, once you read it, you won't be able to blame her.

Kitty: It is good, even if I do say so myself.

Eoko: So off with you! Go read!

Kitty: Reading is good! Enjoy it, while I melt in ridiculous temperatures. T_T

Chapter, the Fifty-Fifth: In Which Zell Must Be Dreaming…

Dinner with Zell and Irvine had been odd to say the least, but not unenjoyable. Since then, though, the fighter had been busy with lots of little things. Paperwork and a couple of promising hand-to-hand cadets who Squall had sent Quistis to ask him to train. The brunet gunbladist was – wisely – still steering clear of the blond fighter.

It had been two weeks since either he or Irvine had any substantial time with Zell, but tonight, he was to have the fighter to himself until the following morning. Irvine was on a two-day mission. It was, suffice it to say, with a spring in his step that the gunbladist proceeded down the halls to his lover’s room. The prospect of making love to him, then waking up with him was a beautiful one.

He didn’t knock, he just stepped straight inside and looked around for Zell. What he’d walked in on suddenly tipped that memorable vision of Zell touching himself into second place on whatever list it was part of.

He’d not deny entertaining thoughts on just how pretty Irvine was (when he wasn’t moving, touching Zell, or breathing in general) but never before had he considered how Hyne damned fucking gorgeous the sharpshooter was.

He lay on his back on the bed, skin contrasting delightfully with the dark silk sheets. A fine sweat damped his skin from head to foot and shone in the half-light provided by a lamp or two. He was bound like an offering, wrists encircled by a silk scarf that matched the sheets and was tied to the head of the bed. Another ran between his lips and teeth and he panted softly around it, making low whimpering sounds through it every so often at the stroke of Zell’s hand around his arousal. The fighter knelt beside him, a sly smirk showing his fangs.

Seifer licked his lips, then suddenly shook himself out of it and turned to leave. He literally walked into the door when it didn’t automatically open, cursed and tried hitting the manual override. Still, the door remained stubbornly closed and Irvine cried out at something, his panting audible through the scarf and the smell of sex easily discernable. The gunbladist punched in Zell’s code, but got a red light back.

Access denied.

“I changed it,” Zell told him and he twitched, then pressed his forehead against the door, trying not to react. Irvine moaned through the silk again and Seifer tried punching in a random string of numbers.

Access denied.

“Let me out,” he growled.

“No. Turn around.”

“I don’t want to watch this,” he sneered, trying again.

Access denied.

“I don’t expect you to. You’re here to take part… C’mon. Just look at him… Isn’t he the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen…?”

He’d never been able to deny Zell when he sounded like that. He turned and swallowed when his gaze picked up the scene again. Zell pressed a finger to the tip of Irvine’s arousal and wriggled it. The sharpshooter’s hips lifted and he gave a shaking moan, turning his face aside and mouthing at the gag. A blush pinked his cheeks and he wouldn’t look at Seifer. Apparently, the gunbladist’s participation was news to him as well.

Seifer’s fingers worked against the metal door and he pressed towards it like a lifeline. Zell knew him too well, knew what he liked, what made his blood hot and Irvine, bound, gagged and – fuck! – just beautiful was it.

With Zell, it was almost always a mock fight, even though they both knew he would eventually give in. He was pure muscle. Hard. Strong. Fiery. Under Irvine’s skin, muscle did flex, but it wasn’t so prominent. He was built long, elegant, the absolute perfection of submissive. He pressed buttons the fighter didn’t even come close to touching.

Seifer knew, then, he wanted Irvine Kinneas. And what Seifer Almasy wanted, Seifer Almasy got. He took a hesitant few steps closer and there was a soft clink as his boot brushed past a well-worn black leather belt adorned with a buckle that bore a leaping, kicking chocobo – obviously Irvine’s. He ignored it and answered the thrill in his blood at the tiny sounds Irvine was making through the silk.

Zell slipped off the bed – to the sharpshooter’s vocal displeasure – and went to Seifer, aware of the two stunning pairs of eyes that tracked his every movement. His belly fluttered with nerves and he was praying harder than he’d ever prayed before… It seemed to be working.

Seifer half-closed his eyes and ducked his head to breathe in the scent of Zell’s hair when the fighter came close and began undoing his belt. It was gone in moments, followed by his pants and boxers and he kicked off boots and socks, then the garments pooled around his ankles. Zell went for the gunbladist’s gloves, then, but fumbled when Seifer kissed him, gentle and passionate. He returned it gladly, but soon went back to his work, Seifer’s gloves going one after the other. A strong hand wrapped around Seifer’s length and began to stroke, drawing a groan. A muffled moan from the bed answered and Zell smiled slightly, his free hand nimbly undoing and pushing off Seifer’s vest to leave him as naked as the other two.

Seifer’s focus shifted, jade eyes tracing the lines of Irvine’s form and he licked his lips, then groaned again as Zell twisted a little.

“He’s waiting for you…” the fighter whispered. “Be gentle.”

Gentle…? Seifer thought as he left Zell and went to kneel on the bed. Irvine’s gaze met his with a mixture of fear and excitement How could I be anything else with this… How could I have been…? He ran a hand down the center of the sharpshooter’s body. He twitched.

Irvine’s breath kept catching in the back of his throat, and despite his brain’s insistence that he really didn’t want Seifer touching him, his body said otherwise. The submissive reactions that Zell had trained so well in him responded just as eagerly to the gunbladist as they did to the fighter.

He was human and he was young and used, now, to welcoming the pleasures of a man’s touch. When Seifer’s fingers wrapped around his length, he tried to bite back any sound he might make, but a strangled whine broke through and he looked embarrassedly away, a flush coming to his cheeks. He swallowed and his hands fisted and released three times where they were bound.

“No, Irvine…” Zell whispered and Seifer glanced up as Irvine’s eyes caught the fighter’s. His hands moved again, three times. “Let it happen, Baby…” the fighter said in reply, voice almost desperate.

It’s like a safety word… Seifer realised. His jaw clenched.

“I won’t force him,” he grated and reached up to free the sharpshooter’s wrists. “I’d never force anyone. You know that.”

“I know that,” Zell affirmed in a whisper, a smile tugging at his lips as the gunbladist’s hands went one to untie the silk binding Irvine’s mouth, the other into his hair for gentle, soothing strokes.

Zell closed his eyes, and thanked Selphie.

They need to see what you see. Seifer needs to understand how beautiful, how willing to please and how gorgeous Irvine is. Irvine needs to see Seifer isn’t really the arsehole he makes out. They need to realise they can stand each other and more… They can please each other, just like they please you. You have to force them to show their better sides to each other and the rest, I think, will follow. Here’s what I think you oughtta do…

He smiled a little, and quietly stood.

Irvine slipped a hand around the back of Seifer’s neck and the gunbladist’s hands stilled in his hair and at his waist. The sharpshooter gave him a smile that teetered between sweet and seductive and it was he who initiated the kiss, mouth opening in silent begging beneath Seifer’s. The gunbladist gladly responded, tongue speaking dominance within Irvine’s mouth and the sharpshooter submitted in a way that made him growl approvingly.

The door pinged softly and they both looked up to see Zell in his shorts, tip-toeing out.

“Zell,” they said together, drawing matching grins. He turned, plainly not having meant them to hear his exit.

“Shut the door,” Irvine said.

“And get your arse back here,” Seifer added, feeling Irvine’s long fingers curl around his bicep.

Zell shook his head, hands clenched around his clothes.

“This is for you,” he said. “The two of you.”

Irvine glanced at Seifer, then back to Zell.

“Well, the two of us want you right here with us, Darlin’,” he said.

“Your accent’s actually pretty damn sexy when you’re like this, Cowboy…” Seifer said suddenly and Zell snorted softly while a slight blush pinked Irvine’s cheeks.

“I’ve been told that before,” he said lowly.

Seifer chuckled, then looked at Zell still standing by the door.

“A Junior Classmen just walked by,” he said, and the fighter jumped to shut the door, eyes going wide.

Irvine laughed softly beneath him and it was a low, throaty sound that made his skin tingle.

“Anyway,” the sharpshooter said lightly, eyes dropping to the front of Zell’s shorts. “Think either of us’d be so cruel as to make you leave like that…?”

“Well, I… was going to take care of that…”

“I’ve seen that before,” Seifer put in nonchalantly and Irvine gave a bark of laughter.

“So I heard,” he said, then murmured softly, as though afraid of suggesting it; “You could always stay here and take care of it… while Seifer…” He trailed off, swallowing.

“I think there’s an exhibitionist in your delicate little lover, Chicken…”

Zell could only stare and he sat down with a thud, biting his lip.

“I ain’t delicate or little, Almasy!”

Seifer dropped his eyes pointedly to between Irvine’s legs.

“I see you’re not little, Cowboy.”

“And don’t you forget it,” was the breathless reply, then he gave a low cry as Seifer’s mouth wrapped around his length, lips teasing at the tip before he took him deep.

The sound ignited the most basic and primal feelings of lust and want within Seifer and the way the sharpshooter squirmed stoked them. The fingers of one hand came into Seifer’s hair and Irvine cried out again.

A hand moved of its own accord to stroke and pluck at the pierced nipples, which he hadn’t forgotten since the day he’d seen Irvine only in a towel.

The sharpshooter really was made to be underneath another man…

“I get what Zell likes so much about you…” he murmured, breath wafting over damp arousal and making Irvine twitch. He dragged his lower lip in a hot sigh back up the lean body to the softly panting lips.

“My ability to ride…” was the husky reply, inhibitions totally out the window.

Seifer chuckled and heard Zell moan lowly. His shorts were off again.

“Aside from that,” Seifer chuckled. “Sensitivity. Responsiveness. The way you react.”

“Yes,” Zell said from the sidelines.

Irvine just made an agreeable sound, but Seifer had a feeling he would have done the same if they’d said Funguars could fly and were mounting an aerial attack on Garden. He was so there, so completely (1) involved that nothing else seemed to matter to him. It was just beautiful.

He grew suddenly impatient with Seifer’s idleness and wormed a hand between them to stroke the gunbladist, making his hips buck and a short groan break free of him. The sharpshoter’s smirk was a thing of R-rated fantasies.

“Eager?” Seifer wondered haltingly, shuddering.

“You talk too much,” was the reply, along with a knowing squeeze. Seifer’s hips bucked again and he growled, eliciting a shiver from his companion. He grabbed the slender wrist and guided Irvine’s hand back up to rest on the pillows. He stroked the sharpshooter’s long thighs, watching him shift and sigh, then opened his mouth to speak, but Irvine beat him to it.

“Second drawer.”

Seifer cocked a brow and gave his trademark smirk, then reached for the drawer and its contents. There were several different tubes.

“Quite a stash,” he commented dryly as he uncapped one and liberally coated his fingers.

“Zell gets bored easy… Ah!” The short cry came as Seifer eased a finger within him, covering the indignant snort from Zell’s direction at the comment.

The sharpshooter’s eyes squeezed shut and his lips peeled back briefly from his teeth in a hiss of pleasure before they parted for a low moan at the addition of a second finger. One hand clung to the back of Seifer’s neck, the other twisted in silk sheets.

He squirmed.

“Damn…” Seifer breathed, watching him.

“I know,” Zell murmured back, his voice slightly strained.

When Seifer took his hand away, Irvine whined, clinging more tightly to him, and he chuckled.

“Soon, Sweetheart. Soon.”

“P-lease… Seifer…” he begged softly while the gunbladist coated his arousal, making it difficult to think about anything but having him.

“Shh… Irvine… Shh…”

“He never does,” Zell put in, swallowing audibly.

Seifer adjusted his weight and slipped his hands gently around Irvine’s hips, afraid of hurting him, but desperate to take him. He positioned himself, made a low sound of warning, then carefully entered the sharpshooter, who gave a soft, pleased cry. There was no indication of any pain, and when those long legs wrapped eagerly around his waist, Seifer groaned. So did Zell.

Fingers stroked down his spine and buried themselves in his hair, silent encouragement and reassurance. Irvine made a needy sound, and Seifer began a deep, hard rhythm, to which the sharpshooter responded beautifully, lifting his hips and licking at the gunbladist’s shoulder and neck.

“Oh, Seifer…” It was hot against his ear and sent a shiver coursing down his spine. His pace quickened a little and Irvine’s breath caught, then came harsher, harder, peppered with moans and tiny cries.

“Hyne…” Seifer managed, hand fisting in the pillows beside Irvine’s head.

Vaguely, he heard a soft moan from Zell’s direction, but he paid it no attention, too intent on Irvine’s pleasure, and his own. The sharpshooter’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, touching him, encouraging him, pleading with him, and he was helpless to do anything but obey them. Eventually, his own hand found its way to Irvine’s length.

He cried out, back arching, and the sounds he made became more desperate. Seifer lost all fear of hurting him, and stopped holding back. His hand stroked a counterpoint to the rhythmic thrust of his hips, and Irvine’s voice sang to him in a melody of moans and cries.

Seifer bent and captured the sharpshooter’s lips for a deep, hard kiss, and Irvine returned it, though it lacked a little finesse. The gunbladist felt him tense, his long body arching and pressing closer. His hands dropped to the sheets, clutching there, and he threw his head back, giving a long, low moan of Seifer’s name with his release. It was all Seifer himself needed to push him over the edge, and he bit Irvine’s shoulder as he released himself.

Irvine was panting beneath him when he became aware again, and Zell was moaning. He lifted his head from the sharpshooter’s shoulder and glanced over to where the fighter sat. Irvine shifted beneath him and he carefully moved off, watching a slow smile curve the other man’s lips.

“C’mere, Zell…” Irvine said, and Seifer blinked.

Zell tossed his head a little, flicking sweat-soaked bangs from sapphire eyes and his tongue showed briefly between his teeth. He uncurled his hand with a low, desperate groan and Irvine’s smile widened as he came to the bed and climbed on. The sharpshooter made him lay on his back between them and before Seifer could even think of it, Irvine’s mouth was wrapped around his lover’s needy length. Zell cried out and tossed his head to the side.

Not to be outdone, Seifer ducked his head as well, and when Irvine lifted his head to tease at the tip, he filled the gap, tongue snaking out around and along the base.

“Oh dear, sweet Hyne in Heaven!” Zell cried desperately, his fingers twisting in the sheets. Never had he imagined this could happen. Never. Seifer growled warningly when Irvine tried to take his entire length again and the sharpshooter’s chuckle vibrated down Zell’s length. Then both their tongues were working and the fighter could only pant and whimper.

Seifer paused in brief surprise when Irvine’s hand found his, but their fingers laced so easily together and he soon found a pattern again, listening to the escalating sounds of Zell’s moans. He was already a long way gone, and it didn’t take them long to finish him off. He released with a wordless cry, and Seifer couldn’t believe the look of satisfied seduction on Irvine’s face when he sat back, licking his lips.

Zell groped blindly for them, catching a lock of Irvine’s hair and Seifer’s arm and tugging until they got the hint and laid down beside him. He kissed Seifer, then Irvine, then breathed softly; “I love you so much…”

Irvine gave a slow blink, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“I love you,” he said against the fighter’s ear.

Seifer glanced at Irvine, then back to Zell’s happy face and curled an arm over the broad chest in the same moment as Irvine slung a leg over both their waists. It actually felt kinda good…

“So do I, Zell…” he murmured.

Irvine tucked his head down against Zell’s shoulder and he was the first to drift off to sleep. The fighter lay awake, stroking his auburn hair and he knew Seifer wasn’t asleep yet.

“You’re a devious little thing,” the gunbladist said after a long, peaceful moment.

“It wasn’t even my idea,” Zell said truthfully, a grin curving his lips.

“Selphie,” Seifer realised, then rolled his eyes. “I hope she hasn’t set up cameras…”

Irvine shifted a little and Seifer stroked a hand along his thigh, evoking a gentle sigh. The gunbladist couldn’t help but smile softly.

“So?”

“So what?” Seifer replied.

“What did you think?”

Seifer snorted and took his hand away, stroking it, instead, along Zell’s body.

“He isn’t always so annoying and pansy-like.”

Zell arched a brow.

“That’s all you can say?”

“Yep.”

The fighter rolled his eyes and gave a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re incorrigible, Seifer.”

“Zell… don’t use big words after sex… Go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir. Hey! I outrank you.”

“Shut up.”

Seifer closed his eyes pointedly and his breathing soon evened out into the rhythm of sleep.

Zell still didn’t sleep for a while, only lay there grinning stupidly, listening to the combined breathing of his lovers. It may not be everything, but it was a start. It was a start.

---------------------------------------

1. I wrote a lot of this chapter by hand, because it was when I was on holiday. When I wrote this part, I wrote “completefully”, which highly amused me. Heh.