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New York Minute	By : KNW Category: Final Fantasy VIII > General Views: 604 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 1-New York Minute
- 1
A/N & Disclaimer: As usual they aren�t
mine so don�t sue. I also acknowledge freely that mine isn�t the best smut out
there so I�d adore feedback on what you like, what you don�t like and so forth.
Hopefully I�ll improve as a result. Title is due to listening to the song as I
wrote the fic, I don�t own the song either.

New York Minute
That was the second time I saw him.
He was laying on his back in the dark of
the cell, head and shoulders propped against the wall with a threadbare pillow
for cushioning. I doubted the silk of his unruly hair protected him from the
barren concrete at all though. The barred window allowed for the faintest glint
of moonlight, all we might get in such a city, and it lit on mercury eyes letting
me know he didn�t sleep. As far as I could tell he was simply staring unseeing
at the ceiling, too lost in thought, or absorbed in ignoring us, to show any
real recognition of his surroundings.
He seemed quite the enigma to my mind. You
mightn�t believe me, but he looked almost fragile as the lights of a squad car
outside danced across his alabaster cheeks. His beauty was such that I might�ve
termed it girlish. It would be easy to believe he hadn�t held me hostage, a
standard kitchen knife to my throat mere hours before. That had been the first
time I saw him.
And yet there I was intending to take him
home that night. I�m quite insane.
I don�t know why I wanted to� But I�d never
been through anything quite like what had occurred previously that afternoon.
The metallic tang of fear, the bitter adrenaline in my mouth, the racing of my
heart as I�d fought not to breath too deeply in case the blade nicked my skin�
I�d felt entirely exposed, entirely vulnerable to a man younger than myself,
shorter than myself, encased in leather with an attitude and the weapon to
match. I�d liked it, and I was risking my life because I thought I might just
get to experience it again.
I�m not just insane. I should be
institutionalised; for record setting stupidity if nothing else.
Still I was there, I was watching as they
called his name; summoned him from his sprawl as they unlocked the cell door with
that echoing metal clank you�d think was only in the movies. I blushed and looked
away from the intensity of his gaze as he emerged, scrutinising me with� I
can�t tell what �as they undid the cuffs and told him he was free to go because
Mr. Kinneas explained the extenuating circumstances.
The cop�s tone was enough to indicate what
kind of situation I must have outlined and my face heated again in confirmation
at the almost amused look that graced my would-be assailant�s deceivingly
delicate features when I glanced up. It was a dangerous kind of amusement
though; a wicked smile that�s no smile at all, but it made my cock twitch all
the same.
I guess the ruse was a rather unsubtle
message and I was paying for it then.
I�m pushing twenty-five, which most would
argue was no age at all, but I felt like I was fifty, both then and before it
happened. Settled in my job, with any woman I wanted, and getting into any
party, any night. I was tired of it. I felt like a middle-aged housewife
looking for a thrill and I thought he was it. Talk about a fucked up midlife
crisis; a premature one at that.
I�d never felt such a lack of poise before
in my life as I did when I lead the way out of the station. They were all
smiling knowingly, the police. At least I don�t have to deal with them on a
regular basis. It was a stupid lie to tell, but I had hoped�
I stopped at my car, raising my gaze almost
hesitantly to meet his and trying to infuse some of my lauded confidence into
one of my trademark charming smiles, with an added lift of the eyebrow;
querying if he intended to join me. I�m not sure the self-assurance worked, but
a smirk danced over pink lips, and one elegant brow arched over a beautiful
silver eye as he folded his arms across his chest; a pointed indication to
hurry up and unlock.
I fumbled the keys though; they rattled a
shrill noise in the dark parking lot. My usually gun sure hand was shaking with
some childish excitement. Except there was nothing childish about it, not about
any of it, because in reality I was taking an armed man who already attacked me
once home; that was the blunt truth. And I was desperately hoping he�d fuck me
so hard I couldn�t walk for a week. The huff of air as he exhaled an impatient
sigh didn�t help me any in my attempt to retain my cool.
I felt ridiculous. And
yet, so very horny.
Then in no time we were at my apartment.
Somewhere I�d found the ability to both get into and drive my mustang. Highly
likely the concentration stemmed mostly from my fear I�d look like some dorky
schoolgirl if I kept shooting glances at him the whole trip home.
I don�t really remember much of making my
way up to the flat. I do remember being slammed against the wall and a burning
mouth claiming my own as his hands fisted in my clothes preventing my moving
away. I�d been trying to say something, trying to make an excuse as to why I�d
behaved the way I had, but in truth, there wasn�t any excuse and when he
demanded no talking, I was happy to comply.
Kissing him was like nothing I�d
experienced before. Usually, I was the aggressor, but all I could do was grasp
at his shoulders and whimper as he raped my mouth with his tongue, bruising my
lips with his kiss and pinching my skin beneath the violent hold he had. It
went straight to my head. I was high on the utter thrill of having someone else
in charge, someone manipulating me as he liked and being unable, unwilling
even, to say or do anything to prevent it.
The low moan wrenched from my throat as his
leg slid between mine, pressing against my rapidly hardening cock almost
surprised me. It was so unlike me to let go so easily, usually I was more in
control� but then the whole point of this was that it was different and I was
giving up all control. He�d pulled away smirking at it, the needy moan, rubbing
against me with his lower body as he watched my reaction. He kept teasing until
even biting my lip wouldn�t stifle another sound; I was husky with desire and
whimpering in need. I was his entirely at that moment. He�d looked like the
devil right then, his chocolate hair wild, his lips twisted in an almost
malevolent grin and that penetrating gaze sparkling with a wicked amusement at
my predicament.
It made me moan again.
And gasp in the next instant as that
dangerous little knife returned to my throat, making my breath hitch and my
skull bang against the wall in my attempt to escape.
I must have looked a sight right then, my
auburn hair escaping the tie I always held it back with, my eyes glazed with
some kind of terrified lust, darkened from their everyday turquoise, and my lips
bruised with his passage. Sucked and licked and bitten without prejudice until
I was a quivering mess. A mess held against the wall with sweat beading upon
his forehead as shining steel forced adrenaline through his blood and the
buttons of his vest and shirt were ripped off one by one until the material
could be pushed away and smooth tanned skin lay exposed.
Perhaps before he shoved the shirt open to
tangle my wrists I could have made some attempt to escape, but all I�d managed
was to clutch at his biceps, an effort to stay upright until the material�s
pull prevented my grip lasting longer.
My breathing was shaky. Arousal and fear
had made a battle ground of my mind. I was equally aware of the cool sharpness
at my neck and the solid thigh between my legs. My body was as conflicted, my
sex hard against him as goose bumps spread down my arms. He got off on my fear
I think, increasing the pressure just lightly as he licked up the centre of my
chest, tonguing a nipple until I shuddered for the reward of pinprick pain
where he held the blade.
It was an insane situation. I was an insane
person for taking him home. But no matter how acutely I felt that, I don�t
think anything would�ve made me say stop.
Even as he pulled my belt slowly through
its loops, leaning up to bite at my lips and tongue so viciously I expected
he�d draw blood� Even then I didn�t want him to stop. Nor any time later. Somehow
the idea of my standing before him naked, clothes trapping my wrists and ankles
as he pressed against me fully dressed, forcing me to bend my knees in
acknowledgement of his height� Somehow all of it just aroused me further.
A dull flush infused my cheeks once more as
he exposed my cock, fully erect and weeping with need. I shuddered again as he
cradled me in a leather clad grip, pain be damned, it felt so good.
From the warmth slipping down my neck, I
suspected I was bleeding, but I could deal with that when he left, I was sure.
It complimented the salty tang left by his brutal kisses. And all I wanted at
that moment was for him not to stop. He�d taken his glove off and begun
stroking me. He had an undeniable talent, an ability to apply just the right
amount of pressure, to graze exactly the right place with his thumb nail� And
even if he hadn�t, his surety, his air of someone who was completely in command
had me hot� Together, it was making me buck and writhe in his grasp
uncontrollably, independent of any message my blood deprived brain might
attempt to supply.
I was sure to slit my throat mid-orgasm if
I carried on.
Fortunately he stopped for me, roughly
turning me about with the steel pressed to the back of my neck instead as I was
forced to face the wall. He kicked my legs as far apart as the pants pooled at
my ankles allowed, and I stumbled forward, the head of my cock smearing
pre-come across the wallpaper before he jerked me upright. I didn�t want to even
think about how I�d explain that to the landlord.
Instead I pressed my forehead to the wall,
eyes closed, and tried to steady my breathing and prepare for what was coming.
Tried to ignore the friction against my needy cock too because humping the wall
was too far from dignified for me to try even in the state I was in.
So I concentrated on relaxing instead, on
not wincing or starting or anything else as the first slick finger pressed into
me. The lube was the only consideration he made, he was swift and ruthless in
his preparation otherwise, ramming his fingers into me and stretching in such a
way I thought it might tear me. I almost wanted him too, wanted the lasting
marks on my body as evidence that it was real, that such a break with reality
had actually occurred. I also near wanted him to stop because it did hurt, a
burning sting that lit up my spine and brought tears to my eyes as much as
moans from my lips.
But then he found my prostate and my knees
buckled.
He snickered at me for it and another line
of fiery pain opened across my shoulder as encouragement not to do it again.
Not an easy request when you have to keep your knees bent anyway. That cut was
deeper though, I was sure. I could feel the slide of a heavy crimson droplet
over my shoulder blade, even as he finger fucked me mercilessly. He surprised
me then, his mouth fastening over the cut and licking and sucking like a baby
at the breast. Tongue teasing the cut, begging a greater flow and stopping the
wound sealing as he drank.
I wasn�t sure whether to be aroused or
sickened, and my musing, the limited amount I was capable of, was cut short by
the abrupt withdrawal of his fingers and their replacement by his cock. It made
me jerk so badly there was no helping the third slice through my flesh, but it
was luckily shallow. I can�t honestly say for sure he�d have stopped if it had
been deep though, but that was the element I loved. The
danger.
I think that night I gained more bruises
than I could at any beating. He�d pounded into me without restraint, giving me
just what I wanted. With my hands tangled in the remnants of my shirt I had no
way to prevent myself from banging into the wall with each thrust. Every time
he breached my body there was pain and pleasure and such a thrill that the ache
as I was shoved again and again against the wall, the vicious jerk of my
erection as it slapped paper covered cement� It was glorious. I loved all of
it.
I know I must have moaned like a whore as
he fucked me, I know I begged because he demanded I do it and right then I�d
have done anything he said, I was so lost in my fantasy-come-reality. Even the
burning paths the knife trailed over my back made my cock twitch, perhaps more
than when he soothed them with his tongue or bit angry red claims over my
golden tanned flesh.
He never once touched my sex, but with the
single minded attack he seemed to be making on my prostate, I couldn�t find it
in myself to care. In the end I came anyway. The coil of heat swelling low in
my belly and my balls tightening were an unheeded warning. My vision went
spotty, and I painted the wall with sticky white that I doubted I�d ever regret,
even if I found myself paying the redecorating bill for the entire block.
He came on the heels of my orgasm. The warm
sensation of his semen filling my channel, of his teeth sinking into my
unharmed shoulder, that was the last I could remember of him before his hand
found a brutal grip on my hair and I was slammed against the wall, forced to
bid consciousness goodbye.
It was a laughable fate really. Looking
back on it now I know I was an idiot, but�
I�m in hospital you see, concussion and
multiple lacerations. All treated now. I woke to find myself handcuffed to my own
bed, blood staining the covers, dried come where I�d not been cleaned up making
me so very uncomfortable. It was a neighbour who found me like that. An old
woman I�ll never look in the eye again. Knowing the state she saw me in, the
state of the wall by my front door� She phoned the police though, assumed from
my state, from the open doorway, that it was an attack, a robbery gone wrong
when I found the intruder�
The police of course didn�t pay much mind,
what with the extenuating circumstances I mentioned when I got Squall, that was his name by the way, when I got Squall out
of his cell for my one night of fun. And really, since I�d said such a thing
the first time there was no way I could take anything to court and think the
jury would find for me; even if I could stand the humiliation, which I can�t.
He took my cash. My Hi-Fi.
The laptop� He took the car.
Yet�
�somehow�
�I don�t regret it one bit.

~Finis~
- 1
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New York Minute