Afterwards.

BY : KittyMeowMaxwell
Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 564
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.





Disclaimer: It has been so long since I’ve
done this. I think I need to get working on a fic fics… Anyway, I don’t own any
of the FF8 characters – dammit! – or any of the affiliates. I do, however, own
the plotline and the costumes. Yes, costumes. *smirks*

 

Pairing: Yeah, and I’m so going to tell you
this… Honestly. Ruins the suspense!

 

Warnings: Yaoi/Slash – duh. Lemon! Lemon!
Lemon I say!!
The whole damn thing is pretty much a lemon.
Threesome, even. I find it exceedingly hot, but if you don’t like it, go away.
Don’t read it and then go flaming me… That’s just not nice! Language. Very bad
language.

 

Author’s Notes: This = an excuse for hot
sex stemming from the fact that my lengthy fic is taking an age to get to the
sex. I had to do this to keep from rushing the other one. I think it turned out
pretty well. *smirks*

 

Afterwards.

 

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 thinkinryinrying 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 thght.ght.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“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!”

 

“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’. An
wi
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.”

 p>

“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 wouo aso 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.

 

“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 fac 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, turniand 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. (See Note at End.)

 

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 mannerd kid 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…”
p>

 

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 addict kis 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…”

< !su !supportEmptyParas]> 

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.

 

n lan lang=EN-AU>“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!”

 

“Please… 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 tem

“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 that 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.”

 p>

“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…”

 

< lan lang=EN-AU>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: Firstly an extra
disclaimer. The concept of Zell having more than the tattoo on his face is, I’m
sure, probably not a new one. However, this particular inspiration isn’t mine,
it belongs to my RP buddy, Hicky. Her stuff is on FF.Net under Yams and Hicky.
Go read it I tell you! And ask her, if you wish to use this idea.

 

Secondly, was that not hot?! I thought so. *grins*



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