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For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.	By : KittyMeowMaxwell Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 755 -:- 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
- 14
- 15
Author's Notes: So, right... it's been
forever since I got any of this up, and I'm really sorry about that,
but you know... stuff happens. So since I can't be trusted to do
anything regularly, here is the rest of the fic, right up until the
end. Enjoy, and I do again apologise for the massively massive wait.
~ Kitty.

Chapter 16

Although he’d never admit it
aloud, and barely even to himself, Irvine knew he was becoming more
agreeable to Seifer’s wishes. He still didn’t say yes. He
wouldn’t beg the ego inflated mob boss to take him hot, hard,
fast, and damn good. But he was definitely coming around to the idea
a lot faster than the first time Seifer made a successful move.

It was because of this emerging
agreeability that he found himself heading to the showers once again.
At this rate he was going to be a very clean con. He walked into the
showers and began to remove his clothes, setting them on the bench.

A couple other inmates were leaving as
he headed around the half-wall. He ignored the catcalls, just like he
did everyday and went to the shower he had, after much deliberation,
dubbed the best working.

“Oh, Irvine. You’re in here
too?”

“Seems that way, don’t it?”
The assassin turned on his shower without even looking back to the
dark haired man.

“May I join you?” Javier
asked, placing his towel down on the bench next to Irvine’s
things.

“Communal showers, Skid. Can’t
stop you, can I?” He tipped his head back, running his fingers
through his hair.

“Well, no, but I’d go if
you wanted to be alone.”

“Rather you than most of the
others in here.”

Javier grinned pleasantly and removed
his clothing then headed over to the shower next to Irvine. “So…”

“We’re not talking about
it.”

“Oh, come on,” the younger
man whined. “It’s something we have in common!” He
turned his back to the wall and let the water soak his hair.

“Bein’ fucked by ego
inflated blonds?” the assassin inquired.

“Mhmm, so I take it Jade got you
good last night. Sure sounded like it.” Javier giggled, shaking
his head a little.

“Don’t think I didn’t
hear you last night too.”

Javier giggled more, shampooing his
hair. “So, who’s better? Jade or Ink?”

Irvine just stared at the wall for a
few moments, hands stilling in his hair.

“Well?”

“I’m not going to dignify
that question with an answer.”

Javier pouted cutely and gave a little
whine. “Come on, Irvine. I want to know.”

“They’re… different.
You’d like Ink more.”

“I asked you who you liked
more,” Javier said, rinsing his hair and adding some
conditioner.

“And I’m tryin’ to
not answer you. Javier, stop it. I can practically hear you
poutin’.”

“Then answer meeeee.”

“Jade! I like Jade better. Ink’s
too… sweet.”

“Sweet’s not a bad thing,”
the dark haired inmate said, voice edging towards dreamy.

Irvine made a face at the tone. “Is
if all you want is a fuck.”

“You don’t want more?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Why?”

Irvine was quiet for a long time. He
rinsed and conditioned his hair in silence then sighed. “Drop
it, Jay. Just drop it.”

Javier regarded him another moment,
hurt to not have been confided in although he hadn’t really
expected Irvine to do so. He nodded once before leaving.

The assassin was grateful for that. He
looked over his shoulder to see Javier heading back to his clothes.
He stopped and turned a little more to get a better look. What was
that mark?

- - - - - - -

Irvine sat picking at his lunch,
looking at it hard as if it held the answers he was looking for
somewhere in the potatoes or mixed vegetables. So far he’d had
no luck and the mark he’d seen on Javier’s back still
bothered him.

It tugged at memories he’d long
since tried to bury away and forget. And because of that it was all
the much harder to recall them now. His past had not been a happy
one, which one might assume given his current ex-career. It was
somewhere between his initial devastation and his new life where that
mark lay.

“Eat your goddamn, fucking food,”
Seifer said through clenched teeth. “You’re driving me
insane.”

The assassin glanced up at him,
frowned, then went back to his lunch. He shoved a forkful of potatoes
into his mouth and continued to mull over his thoughts. He’d
have to dig up his demons to remember where that mark was from. If he
didn’t, he was going to go crazy.

When he’d finished his lunch, he
made his way back to his cell. He waved off Seifer’s
“invitation” that he join him in the yard to spot him
while he lifted weights and completely ignored the look he got when
he said he was going back to his cell.

Once there he climbed up onto his bunk,
lay down and crossed his arms behind his head. His lips weighed down
in a frown as he contemplated his past over the backdrop of a plain,
grey ceiling.

Irvine had, a long time ago, been a
privileged little boy. He was the single child of wealthy parents and
had gotten everything that he had ever asked for or wanted. However,
he had always had a feeling he had been a mistake, and that his
parents had never wanted children. This was confirmed one evening
when he was eight.

His parents had started to lose their
money. They put their house up for sale, sold their cars, their
expensive jewelry and possessions trying to get as much as they could
for what they had left.

And on the day the house was sold they
took the check and fled the country. They left behind only one thing;
the most costly they still had. Their son. More than that, they left
him in a park with nothing more than a blanket for the night.

When he’d realized they were gone
it was already too late. He didn’t know of any relatives and
had no way of getting back to a home that was no longer his. He spent
that night alone on the bench, hoping they’d be back in the
morning, and grateful it was summer.

They didn’t come back though. In
fact, Irvine had no idea where they were even now, and he honestly
didn’t care if he ever saw them again. He thought that if he
did, he was liable to kill them.

Instead of ending up in an orphanage,
Irvine had been taken in by a professional hitman, which explained
his career choice. And he hadn’t been the only
assassin-in-training. There had been a slightly younger boy there,
also without parents. That was the boy Javier reminded him so much
of.

That boy had been like a younger
brother, something he’d always wanted as an only child. He
loved him more than he’d ever loved anyone else. They were the
closest of friends, knowing everything of each other’s pasts,
secrets, fears and hopes. They confided in each other about
everything.

When their caretaker deemed them ready
he gave them each an assignment. They were petty compared to Irvine’s
more recent jobs, but as a teenager it had been a big deal. He’d
returned from the task the same evening he’d set out. His
comrade never did come back.

Irvine turned onto his side with a
frown. His parents had abandoned him, and the one other person he
ever cared about suddenly just disappeared. It wasn’t really a
wonder he gave up on the deeper levels of his feelings. He didn’t
want to be hurt again, and on the other hand, it made his job a tad
bit easier.

He’d tried to forget as much
about that day as he could. His friend’s disappearance had
thrown him into deep depression for more than a week. The most likely
outcome would have been that he failed his assignment, and been
captured and killed for the attempt.

A tear pricked at Irvine’s eye
before he brushed it away harshly. He didn’t cry. Not over
something from so far back in his past. That was a whole other
lifetime away, when he was a kid, when he only had that other boy for
companionship.

Now he was a lone wolf. He didn’t
need anybody or anything but what he could get himself. He didn’t
need any help, he didn’t need Zell doing his half-arsed job of
looking out for him, and he certainly didn’t need
Seifer for anything.

Still, the foggy memories tugged at his
heart. He hadn’t felt emotional hurt for a long time. Maybe it
hadn’t been such a good idea to contemplate the past. It was
just a mark, not anything special. But…

Javier’s mark wasn’t just
some creative little tattoo. The younger inmate didn’t even
seem like the type that would willingly have his skin abused in the
name of art. Though, Irvine supposed, he’d probably get one if
that tattoo-obsessed guard wanted him to.

But Javier’s mark wasn’t
colored ink. It was raised, white skin. The only two things Irvine
could imagine making a mark like that were a hot brand or a sharp
blade. He gave a little shudder at the thought. He was all well and
fine with a fast, easy kill, but the idea of causing that much pain,
especially to someone like Javier made him cringe.

- - - - - - -

“Have you been in here the whole
time?” Seifer asked, lifting a brow as the cell doors closed
behind him. “Most of us like to spend the time we’re
allowed out of the cells out of the cells.”

Irvine shifted a little on the top
bunk, then turned to look over the side at his blond cellmate. “I’ve
been thinkin’. And I still am so fuck off.”

“Can’t. Got lock up for a
bit, so you’re stuck with me. Not that you mind, right
fucktoy?” Seifer grinned and patted Irvine’s elbow before
dropping down onto his bunk.

“Ever call me that again and
you’ll be fuckin’ sorry, Jade.”

“Oh, I’m shaking in my
boots. What’s kept you occupied since lunch?” Seifer
lifted one leg and crossed it over his raised knee. “Needed
some “alone” time, hm? Guess I’m not doing a good
enough job.”

“Fuck you, you big, blond,
egotistical, sex driven prick. I were just thinkin’,
like I said. And I ain’t needin’ anything from either of
your ego inflated heads.” He shifted to the side of his bunk
nearest the wall when Seifer gave a halfhearted kick to the bottom of
his mattress.

“Thinking about all the things
you’d just love me to do to you? I know I’m
irresitable-”

“Oh shut up! You’re
drivin’ me crazy! Just shut your mouth. I don’t know how
to make it any clearer to you.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what
to do, Paris. I’m the big gun in here, not you. Why don’t
you give me some incentive to leave you alone?”

Irvine glared at the wall. “Like
what, Jade? You want me to suck you off for a couple hours of
silence? Fuck you. You shut the fuck up and maybe I won’t be
quite so averse to your advances later.”

Seifer was quiet for a short while,
thinking over the offer. A slightly more willing Irvine would mean
more pleasure for him in the long run. Though, annoying the hitman
until he was about to lose it was its own pleasure. However, his body
took precedence over his mind when it came to Irvine Kinneas.

“Alright. I’ll shut up and
read. But tonight you’re mine and you won’t be
complaining.”

“Much,” Irvine added. He
was grateful for the quiet that followed; only the flipping of pages
below him. He could turn his mind back to the past.

- - - - - - - - -

Irvine was younger, probably early
teens, sitting with another boy on his bed. It was dark, only the
lamp from the bedside table shedding light on the two of them. They
spoke in whispers; the younger boy’s shirt raised on one side
and the hem of his pants pulled down just enough to display the mark
on his lower back.

Irvine reached out one hand to brush
his fingertips over the raised skin; a snake winding around what
looked like an egg. “How? Who?”

The other boy bowed his head slightly,
sad smile tugging at his lips. “My father used a knife.”

His father… The words hung in
the air and rang in Irvine’s ears. How could his own father do
that? He didn’t even have a very high opinion of parents, but
the actions of the younger boy’s father still stunned him.
“Why…?”

“I don’t really know. He
said a lot of things… About rituals and binding blood,
rebirth… darkness. It hurt… so much.”

Irvine stood with his back against a
wall. The room felt chilly, the floors plain cement and no sign of a
window. In front of him was his friend on his stomach, arms wrapped
around the bench he was laying on and wrists bound. His ankles were
tied to the legs of the bench, preventing any escape.

To his side sat a man who Irvine
guessed was his father. He had a wild look about him, messy hair and
eyes that didn’t look quite right. He sat calmly on his stool,
holding a knife over the flame of a red candle.

He turned it over, moved it back and
forth so the fire licked the entire length of the blade. Another
turn, then he drew the sterilized knife from the flame and made the
first cut into the boy’s back.

He screamed. Irvine jolted up, giving a
desperate cry of the boy’s name to the sleeping prison.
“Damon!”

Across the main aisle and just a few
cells to the left of his own, Javier shifted in Zell’s arms.

Chapter 17.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks for that. I’m
really fucking charmed by your observations…”

“Now, now, Paris. Be nice.”

Irvine glared as Illo settled himself
across the table, running his fingers through his hair.

“I ain’t nice, Prof.
I’m a fucking assassin.”

“Actually you’re a
fucking-toy. Fucktoy, yeah?”

Irvine was smart enough not to tell
Illo where to go and what the hell he could do when he got there, but
he did glare.

“I ain’t nothin’ of
the sort,” he said, in what passed for a polite tone for him.

“Oh, come on. He fucks you
at least once a day…”

“Why is my sex life a topic of
conversation for every bugger and his cellmate…?” Irvine
wondered airily, poking his food around his plate.

“Well, I didn’t come over
here to discuss that, I came over to discuss the fact that you look
like shit, but you gave me the perfect opening.”

Irvine just stared at him, looking
displeased at best.

“Anyway,” Illo continued.
“Who’s Damon? I bet Jade was pissed.”

Pissed was an understatement. For once,
they’d both been too exhausted to move when they were done, so
they’d fallen asleep together. For Irvine to wake up
crying someone else’s name had actually provoked Seifer to the
point of pushing him out of the bunk and onto the cold floor. Irvine
was thankful they hadn’t been sleeping in his bunk.

“Just some guy I knew,”
Irvine replied noncommittally, eyes lifting over Illo’s head as
Zell and Javier entered for breakfast. The young inmate’s eyes
met his own briefly, and he grinned, but it slipped away at the look
on Irvine’s face and he dropped his gaze again, hands fisting
at his sides. Zell bent a concerned head towards him, but he only
smiled unconvincingly, and hurried to join the end of the breakfast
queue.

Illo was staring at him when his eyes
came back to the other man.

“What?” he asked when no
comment was forthcoming from the prison-proclaimed professor.

“Something going on with you and
Ink’s bitch?”

“What?!” Irvine said again
in an entirely different tone. “No! Fuck! I ain’t no wolf
and he sure ain’t. What the hell would we do? Plait each
other’s hair?”

Illo gave a snort of amusement and
shook his head, taking a spoonful of his breakfast and chewing
thoughtfully. After a long few moments of companionable silence, in
which Irvine poked at his toast and Illo devoured half his cereal,
the latter finally spoke.

“Well, that or do each other’s
nails.”

“Who’s doing who’s
nails?” Zell wondered, plonking himself down beside Illo and
dragging Javier down beside him. Once again the younger man smiled to
Irvine, and this time the assassin at least managed a vague twitch of
his lips in return.

“Paris’s doing Skid’s,”
Illo said with a smirk. Irvine rolled his eyes.

“He thought I been fuckin’
your bitch,” he said to Zell.

Zell barely managed to swallow his
mouthful of breakfast before he burst into a helpless fit of
laughter, clinging to his spoon with one hand and pounding the table
with the other until tears came to his eyes and Seifer appeared,
bacon and eggs in hand.

“What’s tickled his fancy?”
he wondered with an arched brow, taking a seat beside Irvine and
draping a possessive leg over one of the assassin’s. Irvine
gave a half-hearted glare, but that was all.

“The idea of Paris fucking Skid,
apparently,” Illo said.

Seifer stared at him for a moment, then
he joined Zell in the uproarious laughter. Just when it seemed one of
them might stop, he heard the other, and began again, until they
could barely breathe, and tears ran in rivulets down their faces.

Illo’s lips twitched at the look
on Irvine’s face – it was pissed off, crystallised and
refined until it could virtually strip paint.

“What’s so fuckin’
funny ‘bout the idea of me fuckin’ Skid?!” he
finally snapped, which only sent the blondes howling the louder and
harder. The assassin moved to stand, but Seifer’s leg tensed
where it was, forcing him to remain seated. So he had to sit there
and stew while the blondes got themselves under control.

“Yeah, right. Paris fucking my
Skid. I’m really worried about that,” Zell said
with a smirk, eliciting another snicker from Seifer.

“It ain’t that damn
funny, you fucks!” Irvine snarled. “It’s only a
choice that I don’t do the fuckin’.”

“Right,” Seifer scoffed,
lifting his hands and moving them down either side of Irvine’s
body in a classic ‘hourglass’ movement. “You’re
built to be fucked…” he purred as he did so.

“By Jade,” Illo, Zell and
Javier added almost in complete unison, then burst out laughing
together at Irvine’s thunderous scowl.

“Fuck you all,” he snapped,
and moved to leave again. The strong leg was still locked across his
own. He scowled even harder at Seifer, who just smiled sweetly at him
in return. Then a hand dropped to his leg just above where Seifer’s
thigh lay and smoothed up prison-issue denim, dipping between
Irvine’s own thighs and flicking a pinkie against the front of
the jeans. “Jade,” he hissed, but the mob boss was eating
with his other hand and conversing with Illo in a completely normal
tone about getting a fresh supply of smokes into the prison.

Irvine bit his lower lip when the hand
turned, pressing full against the front of his pants and slowly
shifting the fingers back and forth. Seifer’s eyes slid from
Illo’s to Zell’s and he showed his perfect teeth in a sly
smirk before he slipped back into the conversation with Illo. Zell
arched a single brow and Javier gave a sudden squeak.

Both of Illo’s brows lifted and,
after a few moments, despite the fact that Seifer was keeping up his
end of the conversation, he stood.

“I think I’ll go speak to
Boss and the others about this, Jade,” he said with a roll of
his eyes. Seifer just grinned and nodded and as Illo marched across
the room, he could clearly be heard saying; “Fucking pissing
contests…”

“I am not a pissin’
contest, Jade!” Irvine snarled at that, but then his hands
fisted and a whine eased from his throat as Seifer pressed a little
harder, still smirking at Zell.

“Zell…” Javier
whispered, shaking his head furiously. “Not here. Don’t.
Please. I can’t!”

Please. I can’t! I’m not
ready! Even the heat of Seifer’s touch faded a little at
the pleading memory and Irvine tried to pull away.

“Skid…” he said in a
desperate effort to bring his thoughts back into line. “Skid,
we need to talk.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cowboy…”
Seifer hissed suddenly, breath hot against Irvine’s ear. “No
way is that little fuck gonna get his bitch off before me.”

“I ain’t your bitch!”
Irvine muttered, but the shiver down his spine when Seifer gave a
dark chuckle and a knowing wriggle of his fingers belied it. “I
hate you.”

“Liar…” Seifer’s
voice was a murmur now, and it wasn’t about beating Zell
anymore. “You’re a fucking liar. Tell me you want me.”

“I’m sick of you. I want
you to piss off and, like, leave me alo-one…” The
stutter came when Seifer got his hand inside of Irvine’s pants,
fingertips easing along twitching flesh.

“You want me to fuck you…”
Seifer replied with arrogant certainty. “You want me to strip
you naked, pin you against the nearest wall and make you burn.
You want me to make you scream my name and beg for more. You are
my bitch and you love it…”

“Jade…” Irvine
whispered, his stomach in knots. He did want that, and he’d
let Seifer do it right here, even with fifty other inmates looking
on. But he would never admit that. “Jade, stop it.”

“No. I never start something I
don’t intend to finish.”

Seifer’s eyes slid back to the
other pair. Zell’s little fangs were locked against Javier’s
neck now and the smaller man’s arms were folded on the table,
his burning face buried in them as he nuzzled helplessly at them,
whimpering.

“You’re a thousand times
sexier and more beautiful than that pre-pubescent little baby, and
I’ll make you do what I want, when I want, whether you like it
or not…”

“Javier ain’t a baby!”
Irvine snapped suddenly, shocking both blondes enough to make them
stop what they were doing. That gave Irvine the chance to push
Seifer’s leg off and he stood, storming out of the room.
Seifer, Zell and Javier stared after him.

Javier broke the silence eventually,
but only with a confused; “Er…”

Zell shrugged and stood, smirking at
Seifer.

“That mean I win…?”
he wondered sweetly, then before Seifer could answer, he hoisted the
little raven-haired inmate into his arms and marched off with him to
take care of the problem he’d caused with his hand.

Seifer scowled and also marched off,
intent on finding Irvine.

- - - - - - -

Three hours later when he had not found
Irvine, and had in fact missed turning up for his job (a bad mark for
him), he was royally pissed off. He was the kind of pissed off that
made even Zell seriously think about ducking for cover. The assassin
was going to get it at lock-down…

Seifer ended up waiting there for him
until the bars began to roll shut and Irvine slipped in, a look of
deep thought on his face. He didn’t even acknowledge Seifer,
which sent the boiling rage into supernova. As he was climbing up
onto his bunk, the blonde lashed out and snatched his ankle, jerking
him off the slender ladder. He fell to the floor with a thud and
narrowly avoided smacking his skull on the hard surface.

“Fuck, Jade! What the hell?!”

Seifer crouched over him, a hand fisted
in his shirt and pulled him up a little from the floor, making the
muscles in the assassin’s stomach twitch in protest against the
odd position.

“You’re pissing me off,
fish,” Seifer growled.

“Fish?” Irvine replied
coolly with an arched brow. “That the best you can do, Jade? I
ain’t no fish these days.”

Seifer raised a hand and Irvine tensed
in anticipation of the backhand he was sure was coming, knowing he
could dodge it with just a twist of his body and arch of his neck.
But he was caught of guard when instead of hitting him, Seifer
pressed him back to the floor, jerked his collar down and bit hard at
the curve of neck into shoulder. He ignored the assassin’s
thrashing, rode every buck of his protesting body with ease, and
remained latched on, sucking with single-minded determination.

“You’re mine, Paris…
Irvine. I don’t like being showed up like that. And I don’t
like not being able to find you when I fucking want you. You will
do what you’re told, when you’re told to do it, and if I
want to jerk you off after breakfast, I damnwell will.”

Irvine just lifted his nose and looked
down it as though he were sitting on a throne, towering above Seifer,
and not pinned beneath him. It dripped with arrogance and tempted the
blond to just kill him where he lay. He might have flown completely
off the handle, if it weren’t for the niggling voice in the
back of his mind that told him he probably wouldn’t win,
because Irvine could probably kill him ten ways without needing a
weapon. The assassin saw the conflict in the green eyes and smirked.

“That’s right, baby…
back off…” he murmured.

Seifer did, but only as far as letting
go of his shirt and sitting up. He still remained straddling the slim
hips. Irvine folded his hands behind his head and arched a brow in
question.

“You piss me off,” Seifer
growled.

“Oh, I know. And it’s hot
as all get out…” was Irvine’s curling reply. “Why
else you think I try so hard to piss you off…?”

The older inmate blinked, surprised by
that. He’d never considered that every press of his buttons was
purposeful and calculated. His eyes narrowed a little
and he leant over Irvine, hands flat against the cold floor to either
side of his head.

“You’re fucked up, cowboy…”
he said lowly, almost nose-to-nose with the other man.

“I know…” Irvine
whispered back, a hand lifting and slipping into the short golden
hair. “And you stroke every fucked up nerve I got… No
one’s ever made me so hot…” he admitted, heart a
little quickened just by having Seifer over him. He knew why he felt
suddenly vulnerable, why the words were coming when he’d rather
they not.

Javier.

Oh, he was going to cry… Why did
Seifer have the ability to crumble all his walls?

Sure enough, tears welled in his eyes
as he gazed up into the pair above him, confusion written in the jade
depths. And he was surprised when, instead of taunting him, or
telling him to stop, Seifer’s arms slid hesitantly around him
and drew him up against the broad chest. He took a hitching breath as
the blond slid gentle fingers into auburn hair and when Seifer
whispered; “What… what’s wrong…?” in
an uncertain, curious voice, all he could do was cry. He clutched at
the back of Seifer’s shirt and virtually sobbed, though he kept
the sounds low, so as not to alert any of the other inmates to his
outbreak.

Seifer frowned and gathered Irvine a
little closer, then carefully lifted him from the cold floor and
carried him over to their bunks, sliding onto the lower one and
pulling the assassin with him. He didn’t know what was wrong,
but the fact that he cared scared him. Why did this infuriating man
suddenly matter so much to him…?

“Irvine…” he
murmured when the man’s crying had faded to ragged breathing.
“What is it?”

“I… thought he was dead…”
Irvine murmured, eyes faraway. He sat with his right side leaning
against Seifer, right arm slung around the man’s lower back and
the left curled in the front of his shirt, head resting against a
rounded shoulder. His voice was a little vague as he spoke. “He
never came back, and we thought… either he died or got caught…
There was no news about him from the prisons, so in the end…
well… we assumed he must be dead…”

“Who…?” Seifer
asked, not quite caring or patient enough to indulge too much
rambling when his curiosity gnawed at him.

“Damon…”

- - - - - - -

“Irvine,
this is your new little brother. It’s your job to look after
him, and make sure he studies as hard as you do.”

The
ten year old sniffs aloofly, regarding the younger boy with distaste
and hard arrogance. It’s been a long time since he’s seen
another child, longer still since he thought of them as anything but
nuisances or obstacles or something to be wary of. But Father is
presenting him with this boy, and saying he must take care of him. He
always does what Father says.

Even
when it means something has to die.

Irvine still says nothing, even as
Father leaves the room, and only he and the raven-haired Little Boy
remain. Little Boy shuffles his feet a little and small whimpers
reach Irvine’s ears. He’s crying. Irvine is
disgusted.

“Stop
that…” he mutters, hopping off his bed and sauntering
over to Little Boy. He’s much taller, he notices, and likes the
fact. “Father doesn’t like it.”

Little
Boy continues to snivel and Irvine sighs, planting his hands on his
hips. Eventually, he puts an arm around Little Boy’s shoulders.

“I’m
Irvine,” he says impatiently.

“I’m
Damon…” the other replies eventually, and turns bright
green eyes up to Irvine, a little smile finally breaking across his
little face. “So… you’re my new brother?”

-
- - - - - - -

They
are like brothers from that moment. Damon doesn’t take so well
to their studies as Irvine – but Father says Irvine is a
natural. Often, Irvine does his work for him, so he won’t be
punished. But he has to be a little sloppier, more hesitant than
usual, because otherwise Father would know he did it, and Damon
didn’t. Luckily, he’s smarter than Father, and luckily,
Father doesn’t realise he’s smarter.

They share secrets, the stories of
their lives before Father, and Irvine learns some people deserve
to fall to their work. He would gladly kill Damon’s dad, given
half a chance. The thought of the symbol scarred into his little
brother’s skin makes him shiver with anger. The snake around
the egg. His own dad did that to him… Irvine’s
dad never did anything like that, and Father never beat them. Though…
there were worse punishments.

He
will never forget that mark. He couldn’t.

“I
bet I get back first,” Irvine says on that special day, his
grin white in the darkness of his black-painted face. “And I
bet I get a bigger headline than you.”

Damon
gives a smaller smile.

“No way,” he says, but
they both know Irvine will get back first, and if there are
headlines, his will be bigger. But then, the trick is making them
think it was an accident. Father doesn’t like it if there’s
any suspicion at all.

“Alright,
boys,” he says, coming up behind them. “You have your
marks, and you don’t need my help this time. Soon, you’ll
both be able to start working for yourselves.”

Irvine’s
grin doubles, but Damon only shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Father doesn’t seem to notice. He gives them both a little
push, and they disappear into the night, alone for the first time
since they began working with Father.

-
- - - - - -

“He… he never came back. I
took my mark out in under a half hour, but Father gave Damon three
days. When he still didn’t come back, we had to move on, and we
never heard anythin’ more ‘bout him. We thought he
must’ve been killed, and it was hushed up, because his mark was
very high-profile and they wouldn’t have wanted news to get out
that an attempt at his life was made. That were the end of it for me.
Carin’ for someone, needin’ someone… it only gets
you hurt. My parents abandoned me, Damon was gone, and in the end,
Father turned on me as well, because I was better than he was, and he
weren’t makin’ money anymore.”

Irvine trailed off and Seifer frowned
in confusion.

“But… why are you suddenly
calling out this boy’s name in the middle of the night?”
he asked, relieved the owner of that name couldn’t possibly be
a rival.

“‘Cause… Javier…
Skid’s got that same damn mark in that same damn place. At
first… when I met him… I thought he just reminded me of
Damon… They both had black hair and them green eyes, but…
What are the chances… of someone lookin’ just like him,
only older, havin’ that same mark, and it not bein’ him?”

“Pretty fuckin’ slim…”
Seifer acknowledged with a nod of his head.

“Right… but I don’t
think he remembers. He don’t seem to recognise me… He
must have forgot…” That sounded a little sad and Seifer
stroked a hand down his hair.

“Some people aren’t cut out
to kill. I’d say Skid is definitely one of those people. He
probably blocked it all out, if it is him. You know… re…
uh… Fuck, what’s that word?”

“Repression.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Thanks,
Giggles. Repr- Giggles?!”

The guard grinned at him as he looked
over to the bars, and her partner stood behind her, also grinning.

“Getting cosy there, aren’t
you?” Perv said with a positively evil grin.

“So what if we are?” Seifer
growled, having no wish to let go of Irvine, no matter what the two
idiots might say. “Don’t you have rounds to make?”

“Hmm… good point…”
the shorter of the two said, and she bounced off, her taller partner
in tow.

“Do you ever get the feelin’
Giggles only manages to stay employed because Perv is her partner and
looks after her…?” Irvine wondered.

“Ever since the first damn day
they set foot in here, baby,” Seifer replied with a chuckle.

Chapter 18.

After Irvine’s moment of weakness
had passed Seifer contemplated how this new information could benefit
him. If it did nothing else he could hold it above Zell’s head
that he knew something about the blond’s bitch that said blond
didn’t. Granted, it wasn’t difficult to hold anything
above Zell’s head.

Seifer snickered to himself. Perhaps
bothering the tattooed guard was the best idea anyway. He couldn’t
bring himself to use the feelings of loneliness and abandonment
against Irvine, though it almost bothered him that he couldn’t.
Nor would he let such information become public.

But pestering Zell, with the intent to
eventually tell him the truth would inevitably be better for the four
men involved. If Javier and Irvine could rekindle their brotherly
friendship perhaps the assassin would warm up a little more. And that
prospect pleased Seifer’s imagination greatly.

Once he had decided on his plan of
action he set off to find his little, blond comrade. Some ten minutes
later he found Zell lifting weights in the yard. The mobster moved
over to him, and stepped up behind the guard’s head to take up
the unnecessary – in Zell’s case – position as
spotter.

The shorter blond cocked a brow,
completed his set, then set the bar down. He sat up and turned,
resting his arm across the bar and looking at Seifer. “What ya
want, Jade?”

A wide grin spread across the older
man’s lips. “I know something you don’t know.”

Zell’s brow lifted higher. “I
don’t doubt that.”

“About your little Skiddles.”

“Bullshit!”

“Oh, but I do.”

Zell lifted his legs and swung them
around so he could face Seifer fully. “No way! Javier tells me
everything!”

Seifer couldn’t help the growing
smirk. “Not if it’s something he doesn’t know- or
should I say ‘remember’.”

The guard blinked before narrowing his
eyes, glaring into perfect jades. “What are you talking about?”

“Hm? Did I say I was going to
tell you what it wa- ah!”

Zell sat, eyes glaring daggers and
fingers now dangerously firm around Seifer’s.. package. Several
cat calls and an ever so mature ‘get a room’ later, the
elder blond relented, promising to tell Zell what he knew so long as
he could still get it up after that little manoeuvre.
Note to self: don’t tease people who are directly in front of
your crotch and have no qualms over grabbing it.

“But not here.” Siefer
stepped back when Zell made another grab at him. “It’s
personal.”

The shorter man rose from the bench and
gave Seifer a hard look before walking off. The mob boss was quick to
follow, the pair ending in his cell, with Irvine thankfully absent.

“What’s all this about?
What do you know about Javier?”

“I know a whole damn lot. Say,
childhood to early teens.” Seifer couldn’t shake the
little grin that still spread across his lips.

“That’s impossible! Javier
was in a coma for a month when he was thirteen He didn’t
remember anything, no one claimed him, and he got put into the
system.”

“Such a little skeptic. Let’s
see… Now how did it go again? Oh yes. Javier was an
assassin-in-training.”

Zell lunged at him, hand going for his
throat. “Liar! You liar! Javier can’t even get over the
accidental death he caus- Irvine…”

“Air…”

“Oh, right.” The guard
unwound his fingers and stepped back, allowing the hard punch to his
shoulder.

“Little fuck. And yes, Irvine.
You’ll be pleased to know Skid never actually killed anyone.
And frankly, from the sound of it, he didn’t kill anything
either.”

“He was never born to kill…”
Zell’s eyes moved to the bars, looking through to the other
side of the aisle where Javier’s cell was. “What else do
you know?”

“His name is Damon, He was
orphaned as a child and taken in by the man Irvine calls ‘Father’.
He and Irvine were like brothers and Irvine protected him. I guess it
was some kind of mission of passage where the two of them had a job
to do solo. Skid disappeared, his mark lived, and Irvine never knew
what happened to him. That would have been when he was found and in
the coma.”

Zell sat silently, absorbing the
information. And holy fuck, what a load to absorb. “No wonder
Javier’s so drawn to Irvine. He wants to be his friend so
much.”

“I think it hurts Irvine, and he
won’t admit it.”

“That Javier doesn’t
remember- And he’s sure Javier is Damon?”

“Yeah, and yeah he’s sure.
As soon as he saw the mark on his back-”

“It’s from a knife, isn’t
it? Javier could never tell me- Did this ‘Father’ guy do
it to him?!” Zell’s rage grew quickly at that string of
thought. The idea of someone cutting his lover’s skin made his
blood boil.

“Calm, Zell. It was a knife, but
it was his actual father that did it.”

The younger blond’s eyes grew
wide. “His own father? For fuck’s sake.
That’s probably best left forgotten. But, Javier has the right
to know. Would Irvine talk to him about it?”

“I don’t see why not now.”
Seifer shrugged. “I’m sure he wants to get it off his
chest to the one person it really would matter to.”

“Well, then you go talk to Irvine
about it, and I’ll try to prepare Javier-”

“That is one of your talents.”
Seifer grinned.

Zell rolled his eyes and shook his
head. “Not that kind of prep. Give me until tomorrow.”

“Sure, afternoonish?”

“Probably.”

- - - - - - -

Zell had offered to stay with Javier
while Irvine told him about their past together, but the younger man
had assured him he would be fine. Instead Seifer played personal
guard to the “long lost brothers” while Zell made himself
scarce at a guard’s meeting.

Javier crying in his cell wasn’t
exactly a terribly rare occurrence, and these days the inmates didn’t
even comment on it. Which could have had something to do with what
happened to the last couple who tried to make fun of the dark haired
man.

Things would only cause suspicion if
they saw it was the cold hearted, asshole, Irvine Kinneas who was
comforting the distraught young man. So, despite Zell’s
objection he was to stay out of inmate sight so that they would
assume it was Zell in Javier’s cell with him. And Seifer would
glare at everyone that passed hard enough to send their gaze
elsewhere.

Javier had indeed cried; clung to
Irvine tightly, just as he had when they were little, and curled up
in his arms. The assassin told him everything he thought the younger
man should know, and the rest when he begged. He needed to know his
past, know who he had been and where he had come from. The
information about his father was one of the things that made him
break down, and Irvine had paused in his story to hold him close and
soothe him.

The dark haired man had been worried
when Irvine brought up their childhood together; worried that he’d
killed animals, planned murders. But he was thankful for the fact he
did not excel at planning the end of someone’s life, nor had he
the stomach to kill anything. Irvine had worked twice as hard, for
him. Even though he said Javier’s work had been easier, the
younger man was still more than grateful.

He still couldn’t remember any of
his past himself, but he had always felt a bond between himself and
Irvine since the day he’d come to the prison, and hearing of
their past together only solidified his feelings towards the hitman.

They had been closer than brothers,
living together through a twisted childhood. And going to prison had
brought them back together. It had also given Javier back his past
and given him the love of his life.

When the two had wrapped things up it
was time to head to dinner. The bustle of moving inmates made it
easier for the three to slip into the mass with no one he wiser to
what had transpired. Javier walked next to Irvine, light smile on his
face and feeling luckier than he had in a long, long while.

Chapter 19.

There was a routine to prison life,
both the obvious – eat, exercise, eat, work, eat, sleep –
and the not so obvious – gamble, smoke, sex, smoke, read,
sex... – and Irvine found himself moving quite easily to this
routine.

He didn’t like when something
different happened – and neither did Seifer. There had been a
quality to the sex that was about to happen that Irvine couldn’t
name, but he was desperate to define it, and knew his wolf had been
too. But they’d been interrupted, by 'Captain Hardarse' no
less, who had unceremoniously dragged the assassin off Seifer, where
he had been happily stretched, luxuriating in the way the mob boss
was stroking and petting his hair and back, laying kisses to his
brows, the bridge of his nose, his jawline...

Off balance and unsuspecting, Irvine
had ended up face-down on the concrete floor – not a happy
place to be when he had been getting, to put it lightly, a bit
excited. He smacked his forehead, too, hard enough to see stars, and
he heard Seifer lunging off the bed, but of course Kinley hadn’t
come alone, and his cronies put a stop to any idea of retaliation,
catching hold of the blond’s arms and preventing him from doing
anything. That Seifer would try so heartily to leap to his defence
did please the assassin, though.

“Fuck...” Irvine hissed,
pushing himself up a little, but he composed his face and didn’t
give the arsehole the satisfaction of seeing how much that had really
hurt. A boot pressed between his shoulderblades forced him to the
floor again and Kinley leant forward, folding his arms across his
knee and putting most of his weight on the boot, forcing the breath
from Irvine’s slowly compacted lungs.

“Mornin’, cowboy...”
he growled in a pathetic imitation of Irvine’s drawl. “Sorry
if I... innerrupted anythin’...”

Irvine took very shallow breaths –
he’d suffered so much worse during his training, and still kept
himself supremely disciplined. If the idiot thought this scared him,
he had another thing coming. He didn’t even squirm.

In the end, one of the other guards,
cleared his throat nervously and muttered something about bruises and
inmates dying and Kinley took the hint. He backed off and dragged
Irvine to his feet. Both the assassin and Seifer were pleased to see
the boiling irritation in the man’s face at the fact that
Irvine’s own expression was impassive – he even lifted
his head in that way he had, and looked down his elegant nose at the
guard.

“Mornin’, Kinley...”
the assassin replied calmly. “Of course we wouldn’t
begrudge you interruptin’ us. We do so adore your
visits...” He dropped his voice, to a dangerous murmur that
sent shivers of desire down Seifer’s spine and an icy finger of
fear down Kinley’s; “You should, like, watch who you push
around, partner... Never know where it might land you...”

Seifer snickered as Kinley paled at
least three shades and the two holding him swallowed.

“What’re you doin’
here, anyway...?” Irvine wondered after a long moment of
silence from them all.

“You’ve got an appointment
with Miss. Trepe,” Kinley said sharply, a hand going to the
cuffs hanging at his duty belt.

Irvine smirked and offered his
wrists.

“Lead on,” he purred. “I
ain’t gonna say no to a meetin’ with such a pretty li’l
thing...”

Seifer’s lip curled, but Irvine
just winked at him and blew him a kiss as Kinley lead him off.

“Later...” the blond
growled. Irvine nodded slightly, and then he was gone.

- - - - - - -

“So... there’s nothing
important you wish to discuss?”

Irvine reguarded the bespectacled
psychologist quietly, his expression granite – as it had been
for the last half hour – and shook his head. There was too much
in his mind, too many things going on and he had no desire to spill
it to her, so he had blathered on about insignificant things,
distracting her and keeping her away from the topics that were really
on his mind.

But she had just worked out that was
what he was doing, and so he had fallen completely silent when she
started asking more direct, probing questions.

She didn’t need to know about
Damon. She didn’t need to know about his own past. And she most
certainly didn’t need to know about some of the other things
he’d been thinking on.

“Nothing?” she repeated
more firmly.

He smiled sweetly and shook his head.

“Nothin’...” he
drawled back at her.

She pushed her glasses up her nose.

“What about your original...
displeasure with this place...?” she prompted, but he only
shrugged his shoulders.

“Even the worst situations get
better, right?” he replied, smiling sweetly at her. “I’ve
adjusted.”

“And Mr. Almasy has helped you
with that?”

Irvine looked blank.

“Who...?”

“Mr. Almasy.”

He shook his head and lifted his hands
in a classic ‘no idea’ gesture.

“Seifer.”

“I don’t know who you might
be meanin’,” he said infuriatingly.

“Jade!” she clarified in
sudden exasperation and he smirked, all too pleased with having force
her to use his lover’s prison tag.

“Oh. Him. He’s okay.”

“Okay?” she echoed. “I
was under the impression you... rather like him...”

Was she blushing? Did the idea
of Seifer fucking him actually embarrass her, when she had
spoken so easily of Zell’s possible issues the first time he’d
met with her...? Oh, that was too rich. And no way was he going to
let her escape without playing on that for all it was worth.

“Rather...? Hmm...” He
shifted a little, leaning back in his chair and letting his legs fall
apart, one hand dropping ‘casually’ to rest on the inner
curve of one thigh, close to his fly. “Yeah, I guess you could
say I, like, rather enjoy his company... especially the way he
fucks me...”

Oh, yes, she really was blushing!

“Mr. Kinneas, I don’t think
that’s-”

“But you asked. Don’t you
wanna know... how good it feels to have him insida me...? How strong
and amazin’ he is and how big ‘n’ hard his cock
gets...?” Irvine licked his upper lip and shifted a little. He
wasn’t even really faking. Talking about it made him tingle all
over. “How ‘bout-”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kinneas!
I’m afraid your time is over for today!” she cried
suddenly, standing quickly. He blinked languidly up at her.

“But I ain’t finished... I
mean, he-”

“Guard!” Miss. Trepe
called. “Guard, we’re finished in here. You can take him
back.”

Irvine grinned as Kinley returned,
catching hold of the chain between his cuffs and pulling him to his
feet by them. He toyed with the idea of telling the man that actually
kind of turned him on, but he didn’t need another black eye. He
largely ignored the man and his flunkeys as he was lead back to the
cell block, and even dared to give a huge yawn as he was released.
The guard curled his lip and stalked off as the bars rolled shut, and
Irvine finally couldn’t resist. He hung through the bars, and
called; “Oh, Hardarse, I do love it when you’re
rough...”

He saw the man shudder and smirked,
then he shuddered in an entirely different manner when Seifer’s
warmth came against his back. Strong fingers wrapped around his
wrists and lifted his arms, coaxing his own fingers around the bars
and covering them with broader hands.

“I would love to watch you kill
him...” Seifer purred in Irvine’s ear and the assassin’s
eyes slid shut, his teeth catching his lower lip. “I can just
imagine how you’d do it... fuck, it’s hot...”

“You know it, baby...”
Irvine whispered back, turning his head a little and brushing his
lips through the soft blond hair he could reach, Seifer’s own
lips now pressing kisses to his shoulder. “I’d put on
such a show for you...”

Seifer chuckled, deep and throaty, the
sound ending around his tongue when it slid out to taste the curve of
Irvine’s shoulder.

“I bet you'd like the audience,
too. Show off...” he whispered, nosing the assassin's ponytail
to one side so he could bite gently at the first bone of his spine.

“Sure I'd like you to see what
I'm best at...”

“Irvine... I see what you're best
at every time I fuck you...”

“Please...” came the
delicate whisper, the word that Seifer usually struggled to extract
from the controlled killer. Both blond brows arched.

“Eager...” he observed,
sliding a hand down between the cold bars and the warmth at the front
of prison-issue jeans.

“From before,” Irvine
explained. “And... I were describin' how good you feel to Miss.
Lens... Turned me on.”

“And Hardarse dragging you around
on those cuffs...?” Seifer hazarded, curling his fingers around
the auburn ponytail and pulling Irvine's head back, now nipping at
his jawline.

“Yeah. And that...” he
admitted.

“You're a bigger kink than Ink.”

“Hey... that rhymes.”

“What do you know? It does. Shut
up and let me make love to you.”

Irvine made an agreeable sound and then
it became a soft moan as Seifer dipped his fingertips below the
waistband of his pants. He was soon drawing Irvine back to the bunks
and they returned to where they had been, Irvine stretched out atop
Seifer and the latter running a broad hand down the assassin's spine.

“Tell me again...” Irvine
whispered right against Seifer's ear, lipping at the skin in between
words. “What do you want me to let you do...?”

Seifer was silent for what Irvine
judged to be at least a full minute, even his hands stilled and the
assassin wondered if he shouldn't have pushed it. The blond wasn't
the type to be affectionate. He could be gentler,
but not gentle, attentive, but not affectionate.

Never
affectionate.

And
yet... the way Seifer had touched him before he had to leave. There
was gentleness, and
there was affection,
and Irvine wanted to clear it up right now. He couldn't exist in a
grey area, it wasn't how he worked. He had to know where he stood,
what the rules were, and, his lover being the unpredictable being he
was, that only made it even more imperitive.

“You
heard what I said,” Seifer asserted lowly after that time had
passed, and the fingers of his free hand twisted into the back of
Irvine's singlet, daring him to disagree. He knew better.

“I
heard what you said,” he agreed, and didn't fight when the hand
in his ponytail drew him back so Seifer could meet his eyes.

“So
why ask me to repeat it?”

Irvine
hesitated, hating his own weaknesses, his insecurity, his need.
All those things he had locked away for so long, all those things he
never wanted to have ever again. He realised they were all back, they
were all there, those feelings that lead to the greatest of hurts.
But he had asked the question of Seifer, he had pushed for the
redefinition of their relationship, and he couldn't back out. He
couldn't get away.

Unless
I kill him.

Oh,
it came so easily. That thought. An automatic reaction, but he knew
the moment he had it that he couldn't do it. Well, he could,
physically at least. He was atop Seifer right now, the blond in the
more vulnerable position, and there were so many potential weapons,
even beyond the press of his own thumbs to an easily-located
windpipe. But he just wouldn't. The need wouldn't let him.

“I
asked... I...” Irvine cleared his throat and took a moment to
play out exactly what he wanted to say in his head, so that he
wouldn't stutter again, because he hated that too. “I asked
because I need to hear it again. It scares me, but I want to hear
it... from you.”

His
life was playing out like the worst kind of romance novel in
existance, and he couldn't believe the words coming out of his own
mouth. It was pathetic, and he wouldn't blame Seifer if he threw him
out of the cell right now and demanded that he grow a pair.

The
blond was silent a moment, then he rolled them both over and settled
above Irvine, fingers coiling with those of assassin to either side
of his head.

“Let
me make love to you,” he repeated with the same unflinching
strength as he approached everything in his life. There was no
question for Seifer. Irvine wondered how long he had felt that way.
He had honestly never expected it.

“I
never thought I'd hear you say somethin' like that, Almasy,” he
replied, meeting the green eyes.

“I
never thought I'd say it. Ever. To anyone.” There was a long
pause, then Seifer's brows drew together in a frown. “And you
better not let anyone else hear I did, either.”

Irvine
laughed softly.

“Wouldn't
dream of it.”

“Damn right.”

Irvine's laughter turned into a sly
smirk and he slid the fingers of one hand into Seifer's hair.

“Well, as long as you say it to
me all the time.”

“That I want to make love to
you?”

“Naw. 'Cause I know you won't
always want to. I know you, like, enjoy other things as well. I just
wanna hear that you love me.”

That was one step further, and Irvine
licked his lower lip, momentarily nervous. But the mob boss didn't
even hesitate.

“I love you.”

Irvine smiled a little.

“I love you, too.”

“...We're making me sick,”
Seifer decided, but he was grinning and Irvine laughed again.

“You started it,” he
pointed out.

“Shut up,” was all Seifer
deigned to say, and then he kissed the assassin, and there was no
argument whatsoever from the mouth he claimed.

Irvine wouldn't have dreamed of it.

- - - - - - -

They sat down to breakfast the next day
without any ceremony or any different behaviour, but when Zell sat
across from them, he was peering closely at them. It didn't take long
for it to get on Seifer's nerves.

“What the hell are you staring
at, Ink?!” he growled.

“You,” the tattooed blonde
replied and Irvine snorted in amusement.

“No duh, Ink, really. You know
that wasn't what I meant.”

“There's something weird about
you...” the guard muttered, looking between them. “I mean
really weird.”

“There ain't nothin' weird 'bout
us when compared with you,”
Irvine replied smoothly and Seifer smirked.

“Shut
up,” Zell muttered, running his fingers through the softer hair
behind his ear. “I'm serious.”

“Whatever,
Zell. You're imagining things...” Seifer said in a
'that's-the-end-of-that-or-else' voice. Wisely, Zell left it alone...
for the moment anyway.

For
some reason, he came to the conclusion that, of the pair of
cold-hearted, buisiness-minded egomaniacs, Irvine was the more likely
to explain to him what it was about them that was 'weird' as he put
it. And so, when Seifer left for a visit with the doctor, he went to
pester the assassin, who was stripping just about everyone of their
cigarettes with his stony pokerface.

“Hey,
Paaaris...”

“Busy.”

“Paaariiis.”

“Fuck
off, Ink. 'M busy.”

Zell
dropped his eyes to Irvine's cards and both brows arched as the
assassin raised his oppenents by ten cigarettes, but his hand was all
odd cards and different suits, and of low numbers too. The next
player groaned and folded, the next raised another five, and the next
hesitated, but raised again. Once more, Irvine pushed another ten
cigarettes into the pile.

“I
thought you were supposed to have cards that match, Paris...”
Zell said innocently, and watched the assassin twitch violently as
his opponents smirked and proceeded to see him, forcing him to show
his mismatched cards, and give over the pot.

The
assassin turned fast as a striking snake, but Zell was ready for him
and just as fast. He dodged back, laughing, and the killer lunged
again. Again, the guard dodged, and in this way, lead Irvine all the
way back to his cell.

Then,
when Irvine's final lunge brought him inside the cell, Zell caught
his wrists and wouldn't let go, no matter how much he flailed and
twisted. And in the end he fell silent and met the guard's manic grin
with impassive eyes.

“The hell, Ink? Really.”

“What's
going on?” the blond asked without preamble.

“I'm
tryin' to play poker,” Irvine replied, poker face still in
place.

“That
isn't what I meant and you know it.”

“Nothin's
goin' on. Business as usual,” Irvine said lazily. “Seifer's
fuckin' me, you're fuckin' Skid, all's right in the world.”

Zell
frowned a little, squinting hard at Irvine.

“Seifer?”
he echoed.

There
was a minute pause, almost so small as to not be there at all, but
Zell noticed it, and it spoke volumes when it came to the assassin he
held.

“Jade,
Seifer, whatever, right?”

“No.
Not 'whatever'. 'Less you're screaming it, I've never heard you call
him by his name.”

“Ain't
been listenin' hard enough,” Irvine asserted, trying once more
to pull away.

“Uh-uh.
Believe me, cowboy, I'm all ears when you
speak.” He half-closed his eyes. “Your voice is the
hottest thing out.”

“Mind
letting the fuck go of my
lover?” Seifer's hand fisted in the back of Zell's singlet.
“And stop looking at him like you're undressing him with your
eyes.”

Zell
laughed softly.

“I
am undressing him with
my eyes...” he said, but he let go of the assassin's wrists.

Seifer
reached past him and pulled Irvine to himself by way of a hand around
his singlet strap. He curled an arm around the slim shoulders and
glared at Zell like an unhappy mountain lion over its kill.

“I'm
gone for five minutes, and you're pawing my stuff,” he growled.

“Is
it just me, or have you gotten even more
possessive lately?” Zell muttered, running a hand through the
side of his hair, above his ear so as not to disturb his upswept
bangs. “Chill out. He isn't going to let me do anything
anyway.”

“Damn
right he isn't,” Seifer said lowly, then lowered his head to
suck and bite hard at the junction of Irvine's neck and shoulder,
just to prove his point. Irvine melted in his arms and murmured
wordless encouragements while Zell shifted a little where he stood.

“Can
you... stop that, please?” Zell muttered through his teeth.
“And tell me why the hell you two are all... well... lovey
dovey...” He stilled
suddenly, though neither of the pair before him had even reacted to
his words. When he was silent for so long, however, Seifer eventually
looked up to find him gaping like a fish.

“...What...?”
the taller blond asked quickly.

“You're
in love,” Zell
accused, even going so far as to point at them.

“Don't
be so fuckin' stupid, Ink. As if-” Irvine started, but Seifer
spoke over him with grim determination.

“Yeah,”
he said. “Got a problem with it?”

Irvine's
head whipped around and he stared up at Seifer, eyes going wide
before he blinked a few times.

“Seifer,
I thought-”

“It's
Zell,” Seifer
said, looking at Irvine. “He would have worked it out, and this
way, he won't be so annoying.”

The
assassin stared at him for a moment, then gave a snort of laughter
and shook his head.

“Right.
Whatever you reckon. I, like, actually think he might be more
annoyin'...”

Sure
enough, Zell had finished staring open-mouthed and was grinning and
in the next moment, he was firing questions at them and teasing them
in equal parts.

“Zell,
I swear, if you don't shut up...” Seifer growled after a bit.

“Okay,
okay,” Zell said with a laugh. “I just can't get over the
pair of you. In love.”

“You,
like, shouldn't be so happy, Ink. Don't it mean you're even less
likely to get fucked by him...?” Irvine pointed out.

“Meh,
hasn't happened for weeks anyway. At least maybe this way he'll stop
being a possessive jerk.”

Seifer
tightened his arm.

“...Well,
maybe not,” Zell decided, then he shrugged. “But
whatever. This is awesome. When are you getting married?”

Irvine
glared at him.

“Oh,
please. As if we're doin' that,” he muttered.

“I
dunno. You'd look pretty good in a little white dress...”
Seifer smirked.

“...Forget
it.”

“Yeah,
where would you get one of those in here?” Zell asked, matching
Seifer's smirk.

“Well,
I'm sure Giggles and Perv would oblige. And probably preside over the
ceremony...”

“Seifer!”
Irvine smacked him and stalked out of the cell.

Zell
grinned.

“Who'd've
thought. You, of all people,” he said, smiling at Seifer.

“Oh,
don't look at me like that...”

“Like
what?”

“Like
a proud father. It's sickening.” Seifer paused, then he grabbed
Zell's singlet. “And if you say anything
to anyone about
this...”

“Relax,
Jade. I promise I won't ruin your reputation... What about Skid?”

“Yeah,
okay, you can tell your little boy, but that's it.”

“He's
not a-”

“I
know, Ink. I know.”

-
- - - - - -

“You
know... I hate to say it, Seifer, but... when you told Zell... that
made me real happy,” Irvine murmured that night, when they lay
curled up together on the top bunk, both sleepy and happily sated.

“Why
do you hate to say that?” Seifer wondered with a chuckle.

“Because
it's so fuckin' sappy,” the assassin replied, grinning against
Seifer's throat.

“That's
alright. I swear I won't tell anyone...” Seifer ran his fingers
through Irvine's hair, sighing happily. “I love you.”

“I
love you, too...” Irvine replied, happily draped over Seifer,
nose tucked against the man's neck.

“It's a lucky
thing,” Seifer murmured.

“Why's
that?” Irvine wondered, eyes half-closed as he enjoyed the
movement of Seifer's fingers through his hair.

“Because
we're stuck here together for a long, long time.”

-
- - - - - -

AK:
And here endeth the tail. XD
- 14
- 15
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For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.