Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Mine. ❯ Needy. ( Chapter 9 )

Warnings: A lot. If you're still reading this fic, you should be used to it all by now.

 

Pairings: No brainer.

 

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't make money off it.

 

Author's Notes: Sorry it's been a while. I went on holiday! Lucky me. Being without the internet sucked, though. This chapter is a little short, but the next one will make up for it, I promise.

 

/Native speak./

 

Mine.- KittyMeowMaxwell.

 

Chapter Nine - Needy.

 

Irvine awoke from a dream of sweat-slick skin and whispering moans, groaning when he came to the awareness of a powerful thigh between his own legs, against the growing heat that resided there. He tried to draw away, but Zell's leg only came higher, rubbing slowly against him.

 

He let out a tiny whimper, closing his eyes tight, and stilled, a tremble running through him that he hoped wouldn't wake the native.

 

He was reminded all over again of how many times stronger than himself Zell was. Even sleeping, nothing about him was soft. Well… Irvine amended after a moment, blushing. One thing was. But that would, of course, change if the native woke up.

 

He hoped the native wouldn't wake up…

 

But that dream. He couldn't remember it, but it was enough to make him hot and… tingly. What a stupid word. But that was how he felt, as though a million teeny, tiny spiders were running around under his skin. He took a few deep breaths then tried to shift away again. Zell groused in his sleep, but his leg withdrew and Irvine sighed, ignoring the part of him that was disappointed.

 

He squirmed a little, because the warm ache between his legs was still there, and, near as he could figure, the only female for miles around was Shir'nis, and even he wasn't that desperate. …Yuck. No, he would definitely leave that little delicacy to Whipcrack.

 

He sighed and glanced warily at Zell, then he rolled over so his back was to the native and slid a hand down under the loincloth, closing his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so desperate he'd had to… do this. His own tapered fingers wrapped around his length and he bit his lower lip, taking a moment to settle into a rhythm that satisfied him. He twitched with the effort of remaining still and quiet, ducking his head and giving a gentle sigh.

 

His hips bucked just a little and Zell stirred, making him still, trembling with a nervous swallow. When nothing else happened for a long heartbeat, he could resist no longer and he began to stroke again, biting even harder at his lower lip.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Zell opened his eyes and knew by the curve of Irvine's back and the tremble beneath his skin exactly what he was doing. Well, he certainly wasn't one to interrupt a… natural bodily function…

 

Evidently, his cowboy thought him still fast asleep, and it would certainly be best, he was sure, if he didn't disavow Irvine of that idea. He tensed, every dominant urge in him screaming for him to reach out and help his companion, but he knew what the reaction would be this morning at least.

 

A tiny whimper came from the cowboy and Zell longed to be able to see his face, but the fall of his hair around his shoulders and the way his body shivered with a desperate need to just move caused that oh-so-familiar heat between the native's legs. Nevertheless, he had better control than Irvine must have and simply willed it away, refusing to let imaginings and the wonderful sight before him get the better of his body.

 

But he knew with a sharp clarity when Irvine groaned and shuddered head to foot with his release that he would not be able to wait much longer. He had promised the night before that today he would have Irvine, and he was going to. That the cowboy had resorted to such an action bare inches from his own supposed sleeping frame could only mean he was desperate to be touched, and touch him the native would. It was, after all, his right, and he had given Irvine enough freedom and leeway as it was.

 

Besides, there was no way the cowboy would be unsatisfied. He was a good lover, taken had told him so before, had come back begging for him to Feather their hair. Ah, yes. When he returned, he must remember to take his Feathering back. There would be no dallying with other men. Also, the cowboy would have to be Marked as soon as possible, or his ownership would be undermined. Irvine was a sexual being and many men and women would want him. There would be nothing to stop the cowboy choosing or being made to lay down for them until he was properly marked. One, Zell would not have his ownership so challenged. Two, he would not have his prize hurt by a brave who forced the issue. Three, he would not give Irvine the chance to possibly discover someone else and argue the Marking.

 

Oh, yes. Despite their inability to decide to say no if a taker chose to have them, taken could still argue it if the step of Marking was requested. It was up to the HeartSeer to say yae or nae, in the end, and if the taken argued, they were given a chance to tell their reasons. Zell would, however, prefer if Irvine didn't discover that.

 

Wonderful as Zell was, choice was a novel thing. Given the choice, Irvine might decide to take his time to try various men and women, and Zell didn't want to wait for the cowboy to realise there would be none to match his prowess and tender care.

 

Irvine shifted then, and rolled to his feet, padding silently out of the cave, presumably to find himself somewhere to clean up. There was a little stream nearby Zell was certain the cowboy would be able to hunt out.

 

He rolled into the warmth where Irvine's body had lay, closed his eyes briefly, then sat up, stretched, and climbed out of the furs. His mind flickered briefly to the man he had killed, but he felt no guilt or remorse. It was a just punishment for trying to steal away what was rightfully his, and he had picked off one of the weakest members instead of taking their leader, as he well could have.

 

Zell smirked. Tall-and-Blond would likely think twice about trying to shoot him again.

 

It occurred to Zell after a little while of following that amusing train of thought that Irvine had been gone quite a while. He frowned a little, and got to his feet, stepping over Jirrah and heading out of the cave.

 

Whipcrack was there, preening Shir'nis' feathers, at which he arched a brow. Well, at least their chicks would be interesting…

 

He made his way silently through the trees and red-gold tinge of sunrise, attuned to the waking forest. Soon, he came upon the cowboy, and his golden brows drew together in confusion.

 

Irvine was crying.

 

He was on his knees in the water, and it lapped up around his hips, lifting the loincloth, then plastering it back against him. His hands curled over his face and tears ran between them. His sobs tore at Zell's heart.

 

“Irvine…” he said softly, coming out of the trees.

 

The cowboy looked up, eyes wide like a scared baby Iguion. He looked so vulnerable, so innocent. He needed Zell to look after him. It was the way things should be, the native knew.

 

Irvine dipped his hands in the cold water, splashing it on his face to try and hide the tears, but Zell had seen it all. He strode forward and into the calf-deep water, going to his knees beside his taken and drawing him into his arms.

 

“No…” Irvine whispered. “/No! It… Everything's… bad. It's bad!/”

 

Zell ignored the way Irvine fought to get free and held him until he stopped. His hands fisted against the native's chest and he panted, now fighting the recurring tears, but they ignored him too, clinging briefly to his eyelashes before spilling free to trail down his cheeks.

 

“Shh… /I know. I know…/”

 

And he did know. He remembered how torn apart he'd been, how confused and disgusted with himself, when he realised he reacted to men far more strongly than women. He stroked the cowboy's back and made wordless sounds of comfort until he had no tears left to cry. Irvine shivered, now, and it was partly from the chilled mountain water around their legs and hips.

 

Zell got him to his feet and took him back to the cave, drying him with one of the furs, which he hung out to dry before breathing the fire back to life.

 

Irvine sat in silence, hands lightly fisted against his thighs and eyes fixed on some point at the edge of the sleeping furs. Zell moved back to his side and brought the Snow-Lion pelt gently around his shoulders. He said nothing for a long while, watching the cowboy closely with a cocked head.

 

He didn't particularly like the look in the sky-coloured gaze, but Irvine was still so beautiful. He had seen it from the moment he first laid eyes on the cowboy so, so long ago. Ai… from that moment, Zell had wanted him, and he swore nothing would stand in his way.

 

“/Not all bad…/” he said eventually, and Irvine flinched, blinking a few times as though waking from a deep sleep.

 

He looked at Zell, then away again, clutching at the Snow-Lion pelt.

 

The native looked sadly at him, then shifted closer and caught his chin gently with two fingertips, turning his face back to him. Irvine's eyes squeezed shut, elegant brows drawing low over the bridge of his long nose. Zell smoothed his thumb lightly across one crinkled cheek and it was enough to bring the cowboy's eyes open again.

 

“/Believe me. It's not all bad. I will show you… later. Breakfast first, and hunting./”

 

Irvine nodded silently, and Zell didn't ask him to cook for them. He prepared their breakfast, they ate, and headed out of the cave.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Irvine wondered how Zell would go about showing him. He had some pretty good ideas,

and they made him flush with excitement as much as shame.

 

He didn't know what had brought on that sudden feeling. He could remember letting himself imagine with no guilt, but now… Maybe it was that he'd had to resort to so base and lonely an action as… touching himself, (1) that he had so little restraint. Maybe it was that he was finally coming to his senses. Maybe… He didn't know.

 

He did know he couldn't let Zell touch him.

 

Shir'nis and Whipcrack were waiting for them when they came out and Irvine blinked in surprise when Whipcrack bent his legs and offered his wing, mimicking Shir'nis. Zell smiled in that cocky way of his, but waved away the birds.

 

“/Whipcrack learns his place,/” Zell said, patting the gold bird heartily on the shoulder.

 

Irvine smiled a little, nodding, then they headed off into the trees, leaving Jirrah to keep guard over the cave.

 

Watching Zell was an interesting way to pass the time, especially once the cowboy realised he had left the cave unarmed. He discovered why when they came upon a flock (2) of Cockatrice. He was rather pleased with himself for having been silent enough that the bird-like creatures didn't hear him. The native was as well.

 

“Shh…” Zell whispered, crouching low with his fists bared.

 

Irvine blinked, tugging absently on the Cockatrice feather in his own hair. The ones by Zell's cheek shifted, clacking lightly together in a soft imitation of the way the creatures themselves sounded whenever they moved.

 

With a suddenness that made Irvine jump, the native sprang from cover, sending the Cockatrice squawking and flapping their useless wings. Feathers flew everywhere and the brainless birds went in all directions. It made it all the easier to pluck one from the flock. Zell was on one in seconds, his fists as fast and deadly a weapon as any shotgun Irvine might carry.

 

He stood over his kill, the last of the Cockatrice vanishing from sight and hearing. Blood flecked his hands, his wrists, and a single drop clung to end of a lock hair which had come free from the upward spike to fall over one sapphire eye. Irvine caught his breath, thinking that he had never wanted anyone the way he wanted Zell right then. The native lifted his chin, giving him an arrogant look, and held out a hand.

 

The cowboy found himself powerless to resist the silent summons.

 

You are mine, and mine you will remain. Come to me.

 

He went, moving into Zell's body in such a way that the native's arm stroked along his side. That arm curved around his waist and Zell leaned forward a little, nuzzling into his hair and inhaling deeply. Irvine shivered and the native kissed his jaw, then licked at his neck. Another shiver ran through the cowboy's body and Zell's mouth opened against the soft skin, suckling softly before he sank those little fangs of his in and really sucked. Irvine squirmed, whimpering.

 

It hurt, but only a little, and mostly, it felt good.

 

Zell's free hand went to Irvine's thigh and stroked upward under the loincloth to cup his arse, pulling his hips close. The cowboy knew there was no way he could hide his reaction, and the native's matched it, he could feel it.

 

“Zell…” he whispered, torn. “Zell.”

 

“Shh…” the native purred against his throat. “/It's alright. I understand. We will go back, now./”

 

Irvine stood in silence while Zell pulled a knife from the bag at his hip and took what they needed from the Cockatrice, wrapping it all in several large leaves pulled down from a tree the cowboy didn't recognise.

 

“/Cockatrice bleed more than Grats, but they taste better too./” (3)

 

“/I've had Cockatrice before…/”

 

“/I know./”

 

Irvine didn't bother to ask how he knew, he just followed as Zell headed off, flicking blood free of his hands. There was blood on his own skin as well now, where Zell had touched him and he shivered as he watched muscle flex under lightly-tanned skin.

 

- - - - - - -

 

“Hyne's fucking balls on a stagecoach!” Seifer snarled and Squall's lips twitched slightly - that was the most inventive one yet.

 

This was the fifth trail they'd followed and found nothing but an end to it, Seifer growing steadily more irritated with each passing hour. They were both adept trackers, but apparently, the native was more adept at his laying of false trails - they couldn't tell the difference.

 

Knightly and Dot were stumbling with weariness at the merciless pace Seifer had set for them, never once letting them drop their heads to fossick for greens and bugs, or even for a mouthful of water. Even Squall was starting to fray at the edges, his own indomitable temper beginning to spark.

 

“Seifer.”

 

The Sheriff wheeled his bird around and started heading back along the false track, face tight and jaw set. Squall followed, cursing when Dot made a soft noise of protest and tripped over her own feet, nearly sending them both to the ground. She kept upright, just barely, but her head hung low.

 

“Seifer.”

 

Seifer's back went rigid and Knightly balked at a fallen branch he barely had to lift a foot to step over. He forced the bird forward with a click of his tongue and flick of the reigns, squeezing with his knees.

 

“Sheriff!” Squall snarled. “Stop! This is madness!”

 

“I'm not stopping.”

 

“Until when? Until Dot falls and breaks her leg, or Knightly really gets pissed off at you and throws you, breaking your neck? Or maybe until one of us rides into a low branch? Or maybe until-”

 

“I get it!” Seifer cut in, dragging poor Knightly to an abrupt halt. The bird didn't even protest the pull on his bit, happy just to have stopped.

 

They set up a ragged camp and bedded down as soon as they'd eaten, wanting to rise as early as possible the next morning.

 

- - - - - - -

 

They took their dinner back to the cave, then Zell made Irvine take off the loincloth and did the same himself, taking the cowboy's hand and leading him out and across to the little stream. He would have preferred if they were in the original cave, and the water warm. Water was an amazing help when it came to pleasure… But the sun was lowering and the water, when they put their feet in, was freezing.

 

Irvine shivered and pressed against his side, so he slid an arm around his cowboy's body, rubbing vigorously at goosepimpled skin. Irvine turned into him, though his breathing quickened with nervousness, and Zell could feel his heart pounding through his skin.

 

The native dearly wished to simply drive him down into the water, and take him, with tender touches and knowing licks and nips, but they would both be so busy shivering, neither would enjoy it as fully as possible. They would wash, he would awaken Irvine's desire for him, then lead him back to the cave, and fulfill it. For both of them. Ai, how he wanted his taken… His love.

 

It sang through his blood and whispered in his heart, danced low in his belly and lit fires between his legs. He had never felt so perfectly out of control and wanting of anyone. He knew why, even if his cowboy had forgotten. Oh, he did love Irvine.

 

Even though it was cold, and they both hissed and grumbled and shivered, Zell forced himself and Irvine to kneel in the water. The cowboy pressed insistently closer, shivering, and he certainly wasn't complaining. It was his duty to keep his taken comfortable, and he wrapped a gentle hand around Irvine's length, stroking slowly to try and keep the cowboy's mind off the cold. He flushed and buried his face in Zell's neck, but he didn't protest. Instead, he whimpered, and the native shivered at the sound.

 

“/You are so beautiful…/” he murmured and he felt Irvine smile shakily against his neck. He used his free hand to rinse the blood free of their skins, then he had to let go of Irvine to wash it out of his blond hair.

 

“Zell…” Irvine whispered, teeth chattering as he squinted through the near-darkness.

 

“/Go back. Put wood on the fire. Prepare yourself for me. I'll wash my hair and come to you./”

 

Irvine nodded silently, then disappeared back through the trees.

 

Zell groaned and ran his hand through his hair. He wanted his taken so desperately, he was actually worried he would have no restraint. He didn't want to hurt or scare Irvine, not now. Not ever. He dropped a hand to the bottom of the stream, supporting his weight as he lifted himself onto his knees, wrapping his other hand around his arousal. He did not doubt his ability to please Irvine in every way, even if he did this now. He was virile. Strong. Male. Dominant. And being with his cowboy would quickly arouse him again.

 

His strong body arched, hips flexing, and he imagined how it was going to feel to enter his cowboy, to take him, claim him… He groaned, and began to stroke himself, whispering Irvine's name to the burble of the stream. His hand could never match the heat his taken would possess, but it was enough for now. He let the forest hear his pleasure, moaning from the back of his throat, and it didn't take him long to bring himself to completion. (4)

 

He knelt there, panting for a long moment, then bent his head to the water, rinsing out the blood, and washing away the evidence of his pleasure. Now he could be leisurely. Now he could be restrained. Now he could treat Irvine the way he deserved to be treated…

 

Zell stood, water streaming off his body, and gave himself a shake, then stepped out of the stream.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Author's Notes: Oh, aren't I evil? I promise I won't make you wait sooo long for the next chapter. But the anticipation will keep you looking for the next one. ;)

 

Author's Notes Take Two: Eoko/Hicky was right… I forgot to copy and paste the footnotes in… Eheh. Here they are.

 

(1) Irvine: What?! It's a natural thing!

Zell: You're the one having issues with it. Don't complain to me.

Irvine: I hate this fic-me.

Zell: I love this fic-me.

Irvine: …You always get the better end of the deal. I'm always the one who's the nancy virgin. Why is that?!

Zell: *smirk* …Do you really want me to answer that…?

Irvine: Fuck. You.

Zell: *smirks more and pounces on Irvine* You asked for it.

 

(2) Because I couldn't think of a collective noun for these guys… Stupid Cockatrice…

 

(3) Cockatrice = chicken = Zell. Zell's eating himself. *snort* (It's 1:30 in the morning and Hicky is two meters away from me. I'm allowed to be stupid. She's visiting from Canada for crying out loud…
Hicky: *with Aust accent* Sai-fuh.

Me: *dies*)

- This part of the fic was written in July last year, when Hicky/Eoko came to visit. Just goes to show you how long I've been writing this thing…

 

(4) Zell: See? I don't mind pleasuring myself…
Irvine: I hate this fic-me…
Zell: *snickers*