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GF 101	By : Xax Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4417 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have no legal ownership of the Final Fantasy series, nor am I selling this work for profit. So there.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Author's Note: So here, at long last, is the second chapter of GF 101! I hope you enjoy your filthy pornography! Man, and now I have to get to work on writing the next chapter, unless I want to have another five month delay. The worst part is, that's actually pretty fast for me. sigh. I'd say "you should review if you want me to update faster", except that would be a total lie. Reviews will make me feel a lot better, though! And as always, if you see any formatting errors or typos or surreal grammar, please let me know.
After the mad clamor of the SeeD exam at Dollet and the equally wracking SeeD ball, Squall'd felt a little harried and stressed out. Seifer had been moronic; there had been a gigantic mechanical spider... it wasn't something he wanted to reminisce about. The graduation ball had been worse; he'd been constantly aware that there were social rules and regulations in play that were all interacting with each other, and he knew just enough about it all to know he was messing it all up.
And then Prof. Trepe— Quistis, now, he supposed— had dragged him out to makeout point or whatever, just to tell him she'd been removed from teaching duty. That had been awkward. He had no clue how she'd expected that particular part of the evening to go down, but the memory of leaning against one of the cold railings, Quistis beside him, the Garden spread out below, and he having absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say was still perfectly, horribly clear in his head even the next morning.
His thoughts then were a jumbled mix of hoping— really hoping— she didn't have any romantic interest and sudden awareness of how even under the residual aches of the Dollet exam he could still feel the rough stretch in his ass and legs from when Ifrit had fucked him.
A night's sleep had helped with some of the building stress and panic, but he was still feeling a little overwhelmed when he woke the next morning. He was almost immediately called out to the Garden entrance via a Garden-wide announcement, which was a great start to his day.
Having Cid tell him that he'd be going on a SeeD mission did not help. As the squad leader, too. Admittedly, it was a very low-key mission, hence why he got no notice and why his entire squad was two other new SeeDs. Still, it was a big weight and he really did not know how to process all this in a timely manner, considering they were expected to be in Timber by this afternoon. His hands itched to get on a train schedule.
Cid was still talking about the mission, in fact— he'd told him everything of note already, and this really just seemed like he'd like to keep talking forever, about smaller and smaller details until he'd missed every train for sure. But eventually he finished talking and focused expectantly at him, like he was hoping Squall would have some moving words to say after being told he was being sent out on what was apparently a glorified personal favour.
Squall nodded, saluted, and turned wordlessly away, toward the car Cid had ready. Zell and Selphie fell in line behind him after mimicking his motions. After just a few paces, though, Cid cleared his throat anxiously. Squall turned, and Cid made a kind of flapping gesture with his hands that he took to mean he should come back. Zell and Selphie, meanwhile, kept walking out to the parking lot. Squall sighed inwardly, but headed back to Cid.
"Squall!" Cid said warmly, like he'd already been gone months. "I forgot to give you this." He reached into his sweater vest and pulled out a crude bronze object from an inner pocket. It took Squall a few seconds to identify it as an oil lamp, and another few awkward moments to take it from Cid's outstretched hand. Cid smiled at him when he did. "It's a cursed item, but if one with enough power uses it, it should be a great help."
Squall blinked and nodded, like he had any capacity to do anything whatsoever with cursed magic items.
"I have the utmost trust in you, Squall. Best of luck on your first mission."
Squall nodded slightly and saluted again (transferring the lamp to his off hand, first). "Yes, sir."
Cid kind of blanched at him for some reason, but after another awkward pause he nodded amiably and waved goodbye. Squall turned and left again. He tucked the lamp into a jacket pocket, unsure of what, if anything, he could do with it. He headed out to the parking lot, where Zell and Selphie were waiting for him, both leaning against a wall chatting. As Squall came closer they fell silent and stood up, again falling in line beside him.
"So what did he want?" Selphie said and Zell nodded, curious.
Squall shrugged. "Just wanted to wish us luck, I guess." On impulse, he pulled the old lamp from his jacket. "He also gave me this," he said, and brandished the lamp out, "He said it was cursed, but that it could be useful." He rolled his shoulders and made to put it back in his jacket when Zell grabbed it out of his hand.
"Woah! So you figure it's got, like, a genie inside it?" Zell rubbed the lamp excitedly, but his eager expression fell instantly when absolutely nothing happened. Squall rolled his eyes and reached out for the lamp, but Zell snatched it away as his fingertips grazed the surface. "No, hold on, I got an idea!"
"Zell...," Squall said tiredly, rubbing his forehead with a hand. Zell raised the lamp above his head and shook it around near his ear, like he was listening for something inside. Then he tried to pull the cover off of the large pouring hole at the center, frowning in concentration as it failed to come out while Squall and Selphie frowned at him.
"Zell Dincht," Selphie said, her hands on her hips, but Zell was waving her off before she even got to "don't be a meanie, Squall is—" but she stopped abruptly when Zell tipped the lamp over, like he was pouring something out of the nozzle. At first nothing happened, but after a half-second a billowing black cloud of... something poured out and pooled around Zell's feet. The cloud grew, spreading out a little but mostly climbing up, enveloping his legs in darkness.
"Zell!" Squall cried, echoed by Selphie's loud gasp. He lunged forward, body-checking Zell backwards, out of the cloud. The lamp flew out of his hands, flipping end-over-end into the air, still spouting dark smoke in loops. Squall caught it out of the air as it started to arc downwards. He could see Zell's shocked expression, hear Selphie as she lunged towards him from behind, but then the black smoke surged upward and covered his head. He coughed on the oily smoke and covered his mouth with a jacket sleeve in an attempt to avoid inhaling any more, while he cast around in the darkening grey-black haze for either of them.
He took a step forward, trying to get out of the cloud, but when his foot came down it was on a smooth, hard surface— definitely not the grass or pavement of the Balamb Garden entryway. The smoke itself seemed to fade away as well, leaving him in darkness. The lamp, too, noticeable only as a weight in his hand, seemed to be... thinning out, becoming lighter and less substantial, until it vanished altogether and his fingers closed around nothing.
He took another step forward in the cool darkness, hands outstretched in an attempt to find anything in the dark. Abruptly, a hazy spotlight shone down around him. Past that, there was a vague penumbral region of haze and mist before the light faded completely. The shadowy area was completely empty, with a matte black floor and not even a pinpoint of light above to denote where the cone of light was coming from. The area had an eerie silence to it; his footsteps sounded muted, like the noise dissipated into infinite space, endless and dark.
This rather ominous mood was not improved when he did catch a sound: a rough flapping noise, like that of massive wings, coming from above. He pulled his gunblade from his side just as he caught sight of a clawed foot, descending. The rest of the creature was still just a dark shape; the only feature he could make out was a sweeping pair of silhouette wings.
It descended further at the same leisurely pace, until the light bled some shape and hue into it— it was mostly humanoid, its skin red and gunmetal grey and covered in places with flat plates of shiny armor, across the outside of its hips and along the back of its arms. Its wings were like a bat's, hooked and demonic, and it was wearing something like a helm or mask, with pointed horns that swept out behind. To complete the picture it had a thin tail, tipped with a fat spade point, which swept in restless cycles beneath it. It was definitely bigger than a human, but it was hard to tell by how much, or how far away it was, in the featureless darkness.
He waited for what seemed like an eternity, watching the figure descend. The muscles in his arm spasmed minutely from the tension of keeping his sword aligned out in perfect combat form. But eventually it stopped, hovering above the ground, its clawed toes— alarmingly long and with an opposed digit— and tail scraping across the ground occasionally with a soft skittering sound that rose goosebumps on the back of his neck.
"Who dares disturb my sleep?" the thing said with an inhumanly deep voice, its rich timbre reverberating through Squall's bones.
He already had a terrible sinking feeling— what else would be in a cursed magical artifact?— but that just cinched it. Guardian Forces were really getting to be more trouble than they were worth.
"Uh, me?" Squall said, trying and mostly failing to not make it a question. The huge monster glared down at him from behind its metallic mask, like it hadn't seen him until he spoke. "There was a lamp, and—" Squall started, explaining probably needlessly, but the GF cut him off.
"Yes— my trap. Cursed to remain here in this slumber until I am defeated by some great hero or villain— but certainly by someone more imposing than a youth like you." The GF paused, arms hanging from its sides, hands tracing huge arcs in the air. "A pity, a life cut so short— but that is the way of the world, and I, Diablos, must obey it." And then it— Diablos, he supposed, although the name didn't ring any bells whatsoever— grinned, showing a set of long, needle-like teeth. "It is a burden, but I have learned to enjoy it."
And then it attacked.
Diablos was fast, that was definitely for sure. It was all he could do to roll back from the first disemboweling strike, its long clawed fingers catching against his jacket zipper and throwing them both off balance. He managed to get his bearings, if not actually get up pretty quickly, and he figured the SeeD rulebook was a good guide to fall back on: when engaged against unknown magical forces, analyze their para-magical energy field and attempt to Draw their power.
Diablos' energy signature was... extremely strange, although admittedly he hadn't ever tried drawing magic from a Guardian Force before. It had parts he was pretty sure were speed effects, but those were just wispy fragments circling around a huge, black core. Where had Cid found this thing?
He Drew, and the energy sizzled across the gap between them. Diablos' energy pulled strongly back towards him and he lost himself for a second, focusing on reeling the tangle of energy towards him. Thankfully, his draw alone seemed to have surprised Diablos, and he managed to scramble to his feet as Diablos fluttered back, wings flaring out.
"I see I have misjudged you," Diablos spoke, a different but equally inscrutable tone in his voice. "You must be a young Summoner, to command the divine energies."
Which, okay. He was pretty sure that was a Centra term for... something. How long had Diablos been stuck in the lamp, anyway? Although, Squall thought, dodging another one of Diablos' swipes, he still had a fight yet to win, so he ought to focus on that instead of trying to recall his first year Centra classes.
Diablos shifted backwards, buffeting him to the ground with a blast of wind from his wings. He stumbled to his feet just in time to see the final motes of a spell surge from his long, clawed fingertips. He dived to one side, but it exploded into a burst of light before it even hit him. There was a tiny fraction of a second when he thought he'd avoided Diablos' spell, but then everything started to blur.
It felt like space itself was warping around him. His vision bent outwards like his head was inflating like a balloon, which then abruptly popped, snapping everything back into shape. He staggered backwards, legs suddenly trembling with the weight of supporting his own body.
Diablos dove towards him and he dodged practically by accident— his tearing claws seemed to be moving so slowly for a moment, and his wobbling legs were already taking him out of range. In the heartbeat after his claws had swung past, tearing through part of his jacket, he remembered about the spell he had Drawn.
It was the same strange warping spell, of course; he could see Diablos' own form bent like he was encased inside a melting glass globe. He could feel the pull of the spell even outside its effect— like it was crushing everything down inside and ravenously pulling anything nearby into its radius.
Diablos spread his wings to their full span, straining upwards against the magic. His supracoracoideus pulled out sharply, a thick cord of muscle from his chest across his shoulders to the junction of his wings.
The spell faded almost as rapidly as it had appeared and Squall rocked backward, unaware until it suddenly vanished how strongly the spell had been pulling at him. Diablos flapped his leathery wings, slowly gaining height until he was looming over Squall again. His arm shot into the air, his hand grasping like he was pulling at invisible strands above, and a telltale glimmer of energy ran across his body to his other hand, which he pointed at Squall.
Squall brought up his blade and attempted a feint again, but Diablos' pointed finger tracked Squall perfectly, and the haloing spiral of magical energy he let loose leapt across the gap, hitting him square on the chest. It took him a panicked half-second to match the feeling spreading across his body with known magical effects, but the sight of the gouge Diablos had cut on his shoulder closing up (his jacket was still a lost cause, though) made it undeniable: Diablos had healed him.
He looked back at Diablos, confused, and followed without comprehending as Diablos pulled back his arm, like a wind-up, and lunged at what had to be slow-motion for him, considering how fast he'd moved before. Still, his mind only caught up with his body in time to stumble backwards, tripping over his own feet to dodge the strike. Diablos pulled back in a flash, becoming a red and black blur for a half-second as he resumed his position in front of Squall, his face split open in a rather alarming grin.
For a second he was utterly bewildered, until with a cascading jolt he connected Diablos' bored musings of his entrapment with his surprise that he could cast paramagic. Diablos wanted him to win; wanted to get out of the lamp and into the world, in the service of someone who actually knew how to junction.
Which was all very good, except even obviously telegraphing his blows he was still fast, and one painful tear across his chest was enough to show that he wasn't pulling the strikes that actually connected at all.
Squall Drew again, looping the magic around to release it instantly against Diablos, who countered by healing him again and then hitting him with another pulling, gravitational spell, leaving him drained and weak. All the high-level magic was definitely affecting him; he felt like he ought to have a headache but instead felt a little giddy and eager, like they were just playing.
His rational mind reminded him that was a well-known side-effects of high-level curing magic, an altered mental state that magnified his sensory responses; the cool wash of Diablos' Curaga left him flushed and breathless and the pounding crush of the Gravija made him feel like he was going to float away afterwards. The magics constantly flying back and forth didn't help, their usually barely visible glow seeming bright and vivid in the darkness; their low fizzling sounding like whooshing firecrackers.
Squall felt like each Demi was pulling him up into the air, in counter to Diablos as he sunk lower and lower with each spell exchange. His body was tilted forward, listing to one side. He wasn't even trying to keep up the illusion that his wings were keeping him aloft. They flapped slowly, creating a breeze that swept over him on the downstroke every few seconds.
They were practically within arm's length— he realized abruptly that yes, given Diablos' long, lanky arms he was definitely within range of his arms— and barely moving; they both were pretty much out of energy.
Squall's final Demi caught them both up in it, the tug of it now hardly greater than the breeze from Diablos' wings. After the spell released them both it took him a tired second to realize Diablos was toppling forward like a felled tree, his clawed toes scraping against the ground as he fell against him.
Squall swung his gunblade to one side to avoid impaling Diablos as he fell, then dropped it as Diablos collapsed completely, his hands automatically coming up to try and take some of his weight. He struggled to stay upright, shuffling backwards as he slipped further down, until his legs gave out on him and he sprawled out on his back, Diablos lying limp on top of him.
Diablos was heavy, and as they both settled to the ground he tried to push against his chest to get out of the pin, but Diablos was immobile against him.
He hadn't expected his skin to be warm, but he felt like any normal living thing. His skin, a rough raw red, was striated like muscles, a minor thing he hadn't noticed when they'd been fighting. There were patches of black mottled skin, on the sides of his chest and hips, spanning across his back. He had the urge to reach across his body, feel how it was shaped. His armor looked more like a partial carapace up close; the glossy black plates grown out of his skin, with tiny ridges of flesh at the edges.
Squall felt something slide across his ankle, parts of it pressing above the cuff of his pants, and jerked his leg away ineffectually, unmoving under Diablos' bulk. He saw, though, his purple-black tail arcing behind him to curl down near his legs. Diablos twitched and he felt the movement against his foot; could now discern the spade-shaped tip against his calf.
"Um," Squall said, flushed and tired from the fight and really unsure of what, precisely, was happening.
Diablos rumbled, the noise making a physical buzz across Squall's body as he chest reverberated. It took until after he'd started to talk before he realized it'd been a drawn-out "hmm", not a growl. "I have slept for a long time, I see." he said, and his voice was surprisingly pleasant close-up, even if watching his chitinous face plating move was extremely unnerving. "The skills used by the Summoners have remained, although... those who use them have changed."
"Um," Squall said again. "I don't actually know what 'Summoner' means."
Diablos rumbled again, and this time Squall took it as a laugh. "I suppose Time carries all in its stream, even if I have been left behind. Yet soon, I shall rejoin its flow." He looked down, at Squall lying practically squashed under him. "It is no surprise I lost to one like you. I can feel the Esper inside you— can smell his conquest." Diablos looked down at him, and he realized anew just how close together their faces were, and how much the expression on Diablos' face could be considered a leer. "It has been a long time since I have enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh with a human."
Squall went red, then flushed deeper as he felt Diablos wing his tail higher up, working the dull tip around and around until the tip was pushing against the back of his knee and the long, flexible cord of his tail was wound all across his calf and ankle.
"Okay," Squall said, because he felt like he had to say something in response to a statement like that, and when Diablos looked at him he felt like he had to follow up with something, so he said "roll over," and pushed vainly at Diablos' chest.
And, somewhat surprisingly, Diablos did. Their legs were tangled together, more the fault of Diablos than him, and so he carried Squall with him, ending up astride his hips.
His gunblade was off to one side, flat on the black ground of this strange place, but he lost sight of all of it when Diablos arched his wings up, snapping them out to their full span with a soft leathery creaking he hadn't noticed before.
Diablos' tail was still winding up his leg, inside his pants, the tip high enough to brush against his inner thigh. Squall was suddenly extremely aware that their hips were flush together, his cock half-hard in his pants and apparently matched by Diablos; something hard and hot pushing against his hips. He ground forward, his cock sliding against his pants and Diablos rumbled again. Then Diablos arched his hips, his slick, stiffening cock sliding against the front of his pants.
Squall splayed his hands out across Diablos' stomach as he bucked upwards, palms sliding across the striated surface of his skin. He gave in to the desire to feel across his body, slowly moving up across the rough red muscle until he reached the edge, his darker skin pebbled and thick under his fingertips.
He slowly slumped forwards as he extended his arms, until he was lying flat on Diablos' chest and his hands were up across his shoulders, fingers curled around the glossy armored plates growing out of his skin.
What really brought him back up was the growing dampness across his stomach, Diablos' cock jutting hard up against his stomach, grinding against his dick. Diablos' tail was probably a close second; Diablos had wound it all the way up his leg and the spade tip was sliding roughly against his trapped cock, trashing back and forth in the tight confines of his pants.
As he sat up, his first thought was a kind of general relief that Diablos wasn't as big as Ifrit. In retrospect, he considered himself pretty lucky to avoid hospitalization after getting fucked by Ifrit's titanic cock, although Ifrit's own magics might have had something to do with that. But now... Zell and Selphie would definitely notice something was up if he reappeared in the parking lot limping with come leaking from his ass.
Diablos was still... large, of course. Inhumanly huge, Squall thought dimly as he sidled down, freeing Diablos' cock to jut up against his stomach and incidently bunching up the crotch of his pants enough for Diablos to attempt to wind his tail around Squall's hips, the thin whipcord length of it slithering along his leg. His cock was almost as long as his forearm and roughly as thick as his wrist, Squall thought as he slid his hands along the length to compare. Ifrit— well, Ifrit had been closer to his leg. And Ifrit had been hung like a person— or a human, at least, but Diablos' cock emerged slick and red from a kind of... slit, or opening.
Diablos' cock was human-shaped, at least. Not really 'cut' in his case, but the head was exposed without the bunched skin of a foreskin, like Ifrit's had been. And his whole cock was reddish, almost the same color as his skin. But otherwise it was humanoid, although monstrously oversized.
He slid his fingers, wet with Diablos' thick fluids, around the edges of the slit. His skin here was just as leathery as anywhere else on his body, but judging from Diablos' low groan, it was a lot more sensitive. Below the slit, almost between his thighs, he could just barely feel a bulge beneath his skin, what had to be his balls held inside his body.
Squall finally broke his gaze with Diablos' cock and looked up, locking eyes with Diablos himself as he realized that he'd been watching him stare at his cock. Of course, where else would he have been looking, Squall thought, but that didn't stop a red flush from creeping up his cheeks as Diablos leered down at him. He looked down, away, his hands still fixed around the base of his cock.
"Hold on," he said, flushing even redder but feeling like he ought to say something. His jacket was a little shredded on the front and at the shoulders (GF sex was hard on clothes, he was learning), but he shrugged out of it easily enough, only smearing the cuffs a little with Diablos' precome. He started a little as Diablos clasped his huge hands across his hips just as he pulled his undershirt over his head, but the momently expression of surprise thankfully gone by the time he cast off his undershirt.
Diablos had apparently realized what he was up to by then; his claws clacked against the metal on his belts as he unbuckled them with surprising dexterity, even managing to unbutton his pants without shredding the leather or slicing the button off altogether. The zipper seemed to stump him, though, so Squall had to reach down and unzip it himself. He stared down at Diablos' huge hands wrapped around his waist, his comparatively narrow wrist pressing against Diablos' thumbs as he pulled the zipper down.
That left him with his underwear bulging out from the spread-open fly, his cock straining against the fabric, the cord length of his tail lashing back and forth against it as he pulled the spade tip away from his ass, the coils slowly winding back down his leg. Diablos ran his fingers against his trapped length and Squall bit back a groan, breath catching in his throat.
He pulled back, regretfully, knowing that left to his own Diablos would probably end up shredding his underwear and ripping up his pants. Thankfully Diablos let him slide back, down into the valley formed by his long, spread legs, his wings fluttering slowly against his back. He pulled his boots off, tossing them down along with his socks, and arched his hips up to slide his pants and underwear off in one tangled bundle.
Diablos pulled him forward, creepy grin on his face as he cupped Squall's ass in his hands, long nimble fingers pressing up against his asshole as he came to rest astride his hips again. He flushed and looked down, at his dick, hard, and the red flesh of Diablos' cock, as he relaxed his asshole, letting Diablos slowly probe inside him. His claws clacked against each other as he slid a finger inside, thankfully being careful to crook his fingertip; keep the sharp point from piercing him.
He actually felt like Ifrit had, for lack of any better term, given his ass a workout. He opened easily this time, Diablos sinking two long fingers to the second joint. He could feel his claws pressing against some inner wall, the long blunt side sliding back and forth, coaxing out a series of little groans as his breathing got more and more ragged.
He splayed out across Diablos' chest and reached down to grasp Diablos' cock, slick with thick, stringy fluid that seemed to be emerging just as much from the slit at the base as from his cockhead. He stroked his cock, moving forward until his cock slid into place alongside Diablos', and then took them both in hand, hands quickly webbed with his viscous fluids. He spread his legs further as Diablos slid his fingers further inside him, to the third joint, and he felt every little stretch as he pushed the joint itself in.
Squall ground his hips minutely back and forth, sliding his cock along Diablos' and working his ass around his fingers, his movements slow and careful even with the building pleasure; he'd gotten several stinging slices from those claws across his chest and arms during the fight and he had no desire to find out what one felt like a good ways up his ass. And, as Diablos slid his fingers deeper, he froze as he felt the tip of what had to be his thumb press into him. The claw slid in neatly alongside his other two fingers, the first joint of his thumb pressing inside as he hilted his other fingers to the knuckle.
He whimpered as Diablos twisted his fingers, grinding them against his ass, pulling his thumb out to open his asshole, spreading it wide. His cockhead was slick, droplets of precome forming slowly at the tip, his cock and stomach covered with Diablos' much more copious fluids, tethered together with strings of ropy thick fluid.
"Wait," he said, hardly believing he was saying it. He flushed harder when Diablos actually listened, the slow movements of his hips stilling and his fingers freezing in place inside him. "I can't—" he said, decided that gave a wrong impression, and started again.
"When you send me back, there'll be other people there," he said, and Diablos seemed to understand before he even finished, already sliding his fingers out of him. "so I can't..." he finished, trailing off like he couldn't actually form the words "let you fuck me," much less the explanatory ending of "because they will notice something is up, because I will be sore and limping and probably leaking come, because you're gigantic, because you're a GF and I'm probably not supposed to want you to fuck me to begin with, so if that happens there will be SeeD controversy and psych tests," because even thinking it made his flush spread down his neck.
Whatever powers Diablos had, though, apparently mind-reading wasn't one of them. So he just slowly pulled his fingers out, the withdraw just as pleasurable as the slow push inside had been.
"Uh," Squall said, like he was already flushed and naked and half-ravished so he might as well ask, "can I fuck you?"
Diablos looked down at him, his expression definitely leering. "You have defeated me in combat," he said, "you may do whatever you wish with me."
Squall bit his lip and looked away, so very aware for once in his life that Diablos was saying something with many layers of meaning. "Um," he said, dumbly. "Good."
And so, after a moment, he slid down until he was between Diablos' legs, his legs still spread wide across his waist and his hands still hanging loosely around his waist. Diablos' cock, no longer flattened against his chest, bobbed upwards, jutting out from his crotch.
There had been no possibility of sucking Ifrit off, Squall thought, but Diablos was maybe small enough to try. He leaned forward, folding his legs under him as he did, and clasped his hands around his shaft. He sat up so that his cock pressed against Diablos' pebbly thighs while Diablos' huge cock splayed out across his stomach and chest.
The tip was far larger than he could fit in his mouth, he could see even before he tried. Still, he opened wide to lap across the fat underside of his cockhead, pressing his tongue firmly against the tight connecting flesh between his cockhead and shaft. Diablos shuddered as he ran his tongue across his flesh, licking and slurping, his face already slick with his ropy precome. The stuff was all over the place, but it was so thick it cohered in strings, sliding across his face and leaving damp trails behind.
He thought, dimly, that he ought to have reservations; that it should have felt momentous and erotic (or perverse and degrading, whichever) to suck off a GF, instead of just feeling wet and hot, tasting like salt and meat. But that train of thought made him feel kind of perverse, so he focused on Diablos' cock in front of him, hard and oozing, his hands sliding up and down effortlessly, like the sheer quantity of ropey precome coating his shaft removed all friction. He licked sideways across the rim of his cockhead and Diablos groaned, deep and rumbling, his hands trembling against Squall's sides.
On closer inspection, his face smeared across Diablos' cock, maybe the head was pointed a little more sharply than a human's, or the thick tube of his urethra more pronounced, but it wasn't like he'd seen any normal human cocks aside from his own before, so he really wasn't able to compare. That thought again sent a dirty little thrill through his stomach, that he was lapping across a GF's monstrous cock, the tip splattering precome across his face, threads of it over the bridge of his nose, and he'd never ever done anything at all comparable with a human, man or woman.
He licked again at the side of his shaft, coughing a little as Diablos bucked up and shot a rope of precome against the roof of his mouth. He pulled back a little in surprise and it slid out over his teeth and lips and hung from his cockhead like a fat slug. He slid his hands down to the base, to where the thick shaft emerged from Diablos. The grey skin around the slit was slightly ridged and folded, a minute gap visible between his abdomen and the shaft of his cock. So as he pressed his mouth against the ridge of his cockhead, taking half of it into his mouth, and pushed his fingers down, pressing inside along Diablos' shaft, into his tight hot depths.
Diablos groaned above him, rumbling and surprised, as he curled his fingers along the root of his cock, inside his body. His cock was leaking into his mouth, the slight dip of his cockslit just barely inside his mouth, against his upper lip. Squall swallowed repeatedly, flushing as he pulled off with a wet pop. He slumped down, sucking on the thick tube running along the underside of his cock as he felt along the base of his cock, the tube still there, distending the oval flesh of his shaft outward.
He could have kept it up for a long time. He was focused so strongly on the feel, on the taste of Diablos' cock, on his hands, sliding minutely against Diablos' inner folds. He was dimly aware of his own cock, sliding back and forth against Diablos' thighs, slick with their combined fluids, but everything else was lost in his haze of focus.
"Enough!" Diablos eventually roared, and Squall's head snapped up, lips coated with precome, the thick fluid sliding across his lips and chin, running long tethers back and forth between his face and Diablos' cock. Suddenly, in retrospect, he was aware of Diablos' increasingly load grunts and groans, his breath coming in louder pants until he was panting in ragged, stuttering gasps as Squall worked over his cock. At some point he'd even wound his tail around him again, circling around his hips like he was imitating his belts, and he hadn't even really noticed. "Fuck me already," he said, voice as deep and imposing as ever even when he was pleading.
He felt like he ought to flush, but he didn't feel the heat across his face grow as he looked down, to Diablos' dripping cock and spread legs. He pulled his hands back, not even fully aware until he did so that he'd buried both his hands to the knuckle inside Diablos. But his fingers were slick, wet, and he skimmed lightly lower, between his legs, until he pressed against the tight, dark pucker of his asshole.
He sat back just enough for his cock to slip back, away from Diablos' immense shaft. His cockhead was just level with his hands, pointed straight at Diablos' asshole. He pushed against it with his fingertip, fingers slick but perhaps not slick enough as Diablos stiffened and grunted.
He pulled back and slid his hand down Diablos' leaking cock, from the tip all the way to the base, fingers curling inside and scooping out his thick, gel-like precome. He could feel it slither around in his hand as he pulled back, still stuck to Diablos' shaft, but eventually the connecting strands snapped or pulled away from the shaft, leaving his hand heavy and coated in hanging, jiggling ropes, and he figured that was enough. He could feel Diablos relax his ass as he pushed one goopy finger into him, then another when he took it unresisting.
He wondered how much he could take; if his massive frame meant he could keep going, until he had wedged his entire hand up inside him. He had fit most of his hands into the slit his cock went, so who knew how much he could take in his ass.
Just the thought of that made him feel... not guilty, at all, but the increasingly familiar feeling that he ought to be feeling guilty. Instead he just felt... nervous, but excited, with a growing tension in his gut as he worked his fingers into Diablos' ass. He added a third with no difficulty and scissored them apart, then curled them up and pressed his fingertips against the inner walls of his ass, dimpling them slightly. His flesh seemed so pliant and unresisting he couldn't resist working his fingers more, pushing back and forth.
Diablos would probably yell again, anyway, if he kept this up without actually shoving his cock inside him. So he regretfully pulled his fingers out and slid his cock through the thick layer of precome in his palm before he finally arched up to press his cockhead against his asshole.
He pushed in slowly, with Diablos grunting above him and his own breath coming fast and ragged. He could feel the stretch of penetration, Diablos' asshole tense and tight around his cock but opening with no difficulty as the head pushed inside with something like a pop. They both groaned, Squall shudderingly and Diablos low and drawn-out. Diablos raised a hand from across Squall's hips, like he was stroking it across his legs, and took his cock in hand, the immense length of it fitting neatly in his huge, wide hand.
Squall forgot to even thrust as he watched Diablos start jerking off, his fingers curled loosely around the shaft, hips shifting as he ground the heel of his palm against the base of his cock, along the side of his slit. Then he swallowed, eyes wide.
It was probably incredibly perverse to think that it was amazingly hot, watching his monstrous, inhuman fingers curl up, pump slowly across his huge cock, steadily spewing thick, slug-like ropes of his pungent precome. But he felt like he could come just from looking at it; ropy webs of precome slid across his hand and tethered his hand to his cock as he stroked. His hand made a low wet squishing, splashing noise as he stroked himself, the sound seeming to resonate in his ears.
He honestly had no clue how Ifrit had apparently lasted fifteen, twenty-some minutes. He felt like he was going to come before he could even push the rest of his cock inside; like he was already just a hair's breadth away from coming. Diablos' ass was hot and wet, tight, around his cock; he could feel the heat radiating off his thighs through the small space between their bodies. His tail was limp across his hips, the tip lying across his thigh, but even the weight of it felt incredibly good.
He pushed forward, shuddering as Diablos scraped the claws of his other hand lightly across the small of his back and his ass. His cock pushed deeper, the tight clench of his asshole sliding further on his shaft, past that the hot, muscular walls of his ass itself slid against his cock. He cried out, hips shooting forwards to bury his cock all the way inside Diablos.
He could feel his pulse through his entire body, from the tips of his toes curled up under him; definitely in his cock, the whole thing seeming to throb in time with it; hammering in his chest and beating in his ears. It took a half-second for the sensation to crash over him, so much like reaching out with a finger to touch swiftly across something burning hot. But then it was there, Diablos' tight asshole around the base of his cock, his stomach sliding, rough with friction, against Diablos spread thighs, his balls nestled tight up against his ass cheeks.
He was amazed he didn't come just from that, although he could feel the tension of it in his gut, winding tighter with every little groan Diablos made, every tiny twitch of his ass around his cock. Even thinking about it, about his cock inside him, made the feeling rise inside him. He looked away from the tight, thick muscle of his ass to see that Diablos had certainly enjoyed the penetration; he'd shot thick strings of precome up across his stomach and chest, some still taut, strung out in midair between the tip of his cock and his muscled abdomen. The sight did not help him in his struggle to contain his orgasm.
Squall pulled back, the feeling of his cock sliding out, Diablos' walls clenching tightly, trying to pull him back in, again feeling like it was so much more than it took for him to come. He bit his lower lip, mouth parted as he panted, pulling what had to be a bizarre face as he fought to keep himself from coming already.
The clench, pulling tension of his cockhead emerging made him gasp, the ridge catching against Diablos' ass. They pulled against each other for a fraction of a second before he popped out, sliding more roughly against the muscle of his asshole. Squall gasped, feeling woozy, and stared down at his cock, slick and hard, the tip still dimpling against Diablos' asshole.
He felt like he ought to say something here, maybe, but the only things that came to mind were straight out of terrible porn he'd busted some underclassmen watching and then guiltily kept himself and that was totally out of the question, so instead he thrust back in, bottoming out with ease. He made a drawn out noise, a sound he didn't even know it was possible for him to make, low and surprised, somewhere between a growl and a moan. He couldn't take his eyes off his cock, sliding into Diablos' ass, even with the more and more audible wet splashing, sucking noises as Diablos (apparently) really started jerking himself off.
He lasted two thrusts, coming with a shout on the outstroke, the head of his cock still buried inside as he came. He was pretty sure he was groaning, or rather that the hiss of air through his tight throat was making an audible sound, feeling like all his muscles were locking up as he came.
He slumped forwards, coming down unexpectedly across Diablos' slick cock as he hilted himself inside, pumping back and forth with the last part of his cock as he came. He worked his lips across Diablos' messy stomach, mouth wide open, kissing and licking like he was on autopilot until his cock was pressing wetly across the side of his face, strings of precome splattering down into his hair.
It felt like it took forever to ride out his orgasm, even as he thrust repetitively into him, hands encircling his broad waist, back sweaty as he arched forwards and back. Near the end, the thought occurred to him that he'd spent more time inside Diablos coming than he had fucking him, feeling drawn out and giddy, euphoric after his release.
And... Diablos was still jerking himself off, hand sliding against Squall's stomach as he stroked himself. His stomach and chest were messy, coated in lines of precome that didn't seem to want to disconnect fully from his cock, most still attached to his cock and jiggling back and forth as he stroked, cock arching up on the downstroke, his huge hand bringing the massive length up at a sharper angle. Squall whimpered, he thought, maybe, when he saw.
Diablos' head was thrown back, freakish needle teeth bared in a snarl as he pumped. Squall brought his hands up too, feeling limp and heavy all over, his cock still mired in his ass. They slid down to the base, and on the downstroke Diablos' huge hand closed around them, pressing them tight against his wet, hot flesh. Squall clenched tight, the slippery precome having him absolutely no traction, his hands almost slipping out from between his hand and his cock, even though they were all clenched tightly around each other.
But maybe that was just enough to bring him off, or maybe he'd been keeping himself on edge all through Squall's orgasm, but as his hands brushed against the base of his cock Diablos roared, the same rough sound he'd made when they fought, and snapped his wings out in a sudden buffeting jolt. Every muscle he could see went tense and rigid. He could even feel his asshole clench around his still-hard cock. He looked at his cock, strung out with precome and spasming, his cockhead swelling out larger as Diablos kept stroking frantically.
Diablos squeezed down around the base of his cock, pressing Squall's fingers tight against his shaft. He could feel the first surge of come rush up, emerging as a single thick rope that hooked around the head, slapping down across his shaft as a single thick, viscous rope. But he pumped his cock, still roaring, and the next shot flew out with a powerful spasm, the same thick fluid shooting up across his neck, across his collarbone and the strange anchoring muscles of his wings. Squall was pretty sure he was groaning too as he watched it arc from his cockhead, followed after a half-second with another practically-solid bolt of come, shooting out in thick lines.
Diablos kept pumping his cock, hips working up and down as he came, the first two shots followed by several more, until his chest was a complete mess. It all clumped together in almost-parallel lines, on top of the strings of precome, the whole mess slowly oozing down across his chest.
Squall pulled out, his cock slipping from Diablos' ass more by accident than design, as he watched him come. He kept pumping his cock, shooting more bolts of come across his chest and stomach, each one coming slightly further apart and shooting lower, some pulling out in tethers still attached to his cock or pounding hand.
For his part, Squall slid his hands around the base of his cock, pushing down against his stomach, grinding against his pubic bone. He wondered dimly if he had enough time to jerk off before Diablos stopped coming; his cock half-hard again. Somewhat regrettably, he started stroking himself off, hand covered with rough ropes of come, just as Diablos went limp, the final spurts dribbling in a messy splatter down his cock.
Squall whimpered, jerking himself off quickly, threads of come swinging across the backs of his hand. He reached between his legs, pressing two thick fingers into his ass. He rose up on his knees to spread his ass wide enough for really work his fingers inside and almost tipped forward, across Diablos' cock. He looked up across Diablos' disheveled form as he jerked off, staring with focus at the webby mess across his chest, gaze flicking up to his head as he caught Diablos staring down at him, just barely visible with his head thrown back, relaxed.
Tiredly, like his hand weighed a ton, Diablos raised a hand across his chest and pulled at one of the thick ropes of come across his chest, the stuff thick enough to actually pull up in a line, tugging the main mess up before snapping, leaving him with a thick, short segment dangling from one of his fingers.
Squall bit his lip, eyes flickering across the defined muscles in his lanky arms, the side of his trunk, all of them flexing and shifting ever-so-slightly as he breathed, low and deep. He could feel the coiling tension in his gut again, already, and he kept stroking himself rapidly, trying to get himself off quickly.
Diablos lowered his arm, smearing his come across his side, and then brushed off the come on his chest, all of it smearing in a thick layer across his hand, leaving his skin glossy. And then he extended his arm, holding his smeared, dripping hand out right in front of Squall's face, the pungent smell of it wafting over him and making his cock spasm, wet drops of precome sliding out of the tip.
He lurched forward, coordination gone, and pressed his lips across the back of his hand, mouth opening to lap at the thick, salty bitter substance. Diablos rumbled, maybe in arousal, as he licked across his hand, sucking the heavy strings of come into his mouth. He swallowed heavily, hand a blur around his cock, lips spread wide across the knuckle of his thumb, licking repeatedly across his skin.
He moaned again, muffled by Diablos' hand, and thrust his hips forward, cock sliding against Diablos' huge length, slowly softening across his abdomen as he came again. He whimpered as he came, throat clenching tight as he shot his second load across Diablos' stomach, still focusing on the taste of his come, on the heat of his hand across his lips, the slide of his cock against his thighs, of the low, musky smell that was just of Diablos, still present under the cloying odor of his come.
He slumped down, smearing the last dribbles across his stomach as he pressed bodily against Diablos' cock, ropy precome pressing against his belly and sliding back and forth, still connected to his dick. He licked across his hand, coating his taste buds in the heavy tang of his come, legs shuddering as he collapsed.
Diablos rumbled again, a long drawn-out "hmmm" as he stared down at Squall, still licking across his dripping hand and swallowing, cock thick and softening as he ground it across his inner thigh. He pulled back before the rush of euphoria had really faded, and he just sagged bonelessly against his stomach, lapping across the mess, eating his come.
What really pulled him out of that exhausted haze was the telltale feel of magic around him, looking up to see Diablos' form fading away at the edges, glimmering into sparkling motes of energy that reflected light from an unknown source. And with it, he could feel the space they were in fade, the light dimming slowly around the edges.
"Wait!" he yelped, and leapt to his feet, legs almost buckling.
Diablos just grinned widely and continued the slow process of junctioning as Squall grabbed at his clothes, trying to collect them all before the light faded completely. He yanked his boxer-briefs up and shoved his slick, half-hard cock inside. One good thing with Diablos' super thick come was that it hadn't splattered across him; even his face was just slick and damp instead of dripping ropes of the stuff. He wiped his goopy hands off on his underwear, figuring it was the only piece of clothing he was wearing that wasn't going to be showing.
He hopped across the darkening surface as he shoved his legs into his pants, managing to pull them up to his waist and button them with one hand, hooking the other through his undershirt. Then he realized it was tangled up, inside-out and backwards, and had to pull it off and try again, Diablos completely gone save for a faint glimmer, the light almost out. He could feel the air turn smoky as he pulled his jacket on, the heavy fabric settling comfortingly across his shoulders.
He coughed as the air thickened, going directly from cool, dark and dry to thick waves of oily smoke with only the briefest of transitions, Squall still hunting across the vanishing surface for his belts. He got one on, only threaded through two of his belt loops, and weaved the other two along it, not even having time to buckle them properly as the first glimmer of sunlight shone through the cloud of smoke.
He could swear he could hear Diablos' low voice laughing at him from inside his head.
And then, abruptly, the oily smoke cleared and left him on the Balamb Garden parking lot, Zell and Selphie looking worried.
"Hey!" Zell yelled, and rushed forward to give him a bone-crushing hug, thankfully not quite in a position to notice his still half-hard cock. "You're okay!" he said as he pulled back, and Squall took the moment to look down and secure his belts so that they weren't dangling quite so overtly, although there was nothing he could do with his pants sagging down around his hips.
"How long was I gone?" he asked, hoping neither of them could tell how his voice had almost stuck in his throat, still a little thick and rough. He felt like he had to cough, to get some of Diablos' come out of his throat, but that would give him away in a heartbeat.
"Just a few minutes," Selphie said, and that meant that time had definitely been flowing slower inside the lamp. No wonder Diablos had spent most of his time sleeping.
"But we were worried sick!" Selphie continued, and elbowed Zell in the side. "This is why you shouldn't mess with weird magic things you don't understand!" she said in a loud whisper.
"Yeah, sorry man," Zell said, scratching the back of his head. "What was that, anyway?"
"A...," Squall started, and paused for just a fraction of a second. "GF, sealed within the lamp," he finished.
"Cool!" Zell said, extending a hand to hi-five Squall and then dropping it when he just crossed his arms. "Was it totally a genie?" he asked, unperturbed.
"...No," Squall said. "Anyway, we still have a train to catch," he said in an attempt to change the subject.
"Yeah, yeah," Zell said, wagging his hand at him.
"I'm driving!" Selphie shouted, punching an arm up into the air, and ran off towards the parked cars.
"Shotgun!" Zell yelled, dashing afterwards.
But that turned out to be a good thing, because as Zell and Selphie bickered in the front he had time to fix his belts. He quietly and carefully pulled them off, muffling their clinking against the seat, face flushed as he kept glancing up at the front seats.
Selphie was driving in a manner that would have gotten her demoted if any instructor saw and Zell was alternately cheering and yelling instructions, so they thankfully weren't paying any attention to him in the back as he slid his belt through the loops on his pants and softly secured the buckle, then fastened his other two belts around that. He could feel himself flush the whole time, his cock inappropriately hard as he thought of Diablos' dark presence in the back of his head.
But then he finished, face still red but fading as he ran his sweaty palms across the knees of his pants, tense spine slowly relaxing as Zell and Selphie continued bickering in the front, completely unaware he'd just hidden the evidence of his (latest) tryst with a GF.
He swallowed hard, fighting the blush that crept back into his cheeks, and looked out of the window for the rest of the drive.
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GF 101