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Lightning.	By : KittyMeowMaxwell Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 667 -:- 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
- 46
- 47
- 48
Kitty: Hehehe... got distracted from doing author's notes by
Irvine trying on nurse's outfits... hawt... Anyway!
This is a good chapter. You should read it.

Eoko: Of course it's good. Kitty wrote it.

Kitty: And even
if I didn't, it woud be good, because that would mean
Eoko wrote it! XD Also... -shifty eyes- Don't tell
anyone, but I think ff dot net has stopped eating punctuation! SHOCK!

Eoko: Shh! If you say
it it'll stop doing it and be stupid again!

Kitty: -gasp- Oh!
-slaps hands over mouth- Righff.
Al mufft goo reaff nooow...

Eoko: I have... no idea what she said there. Anyway,
read, enjoy. Yay.

Kitty: -takes
hands off- I said; Right. All must go read now.

Chapter, the
Forty-Seventh: In Which a Grat Gets Strangled.

There was nothing difficult about shooting a few Grats, even icing a T-Rexaur was
little difficulty when one was not only in possession of Blizzaga
spells, but junctioned with a hundred Blizzara ones. Irvine's desperate need to kill something,
however, was thoroughly satisfied by the muted roar as said dinosaur keeled
over, and the thunderous thud as it hit the ground. Grats
were fun too. They exploded.

He didn't know why he was so desperate to make
sushi out of whatever crossed his path, but he had a feeling it had something
to do with the fact that every monster gained Seifer Almasy's features before he wiped it from the face of the
Training Center. But then, he didn't know why he was pissed off at Seifer - he had no reason to be. The man had actually been civil
to him lately.

Maybe that was why. There was a sly, sneering edge beneath
the veneer of civility, and the way Seifer smiled way
too... knowingly when Zell was around too was
seriously getting on Irvine's nerves. Not that he had any reason to. He
knew he was probably imagining things, there just seemed to be something
secretive about the gunbladist that Irvine
instinctively knew related to him somehow.

To make things worse, Zell was
late...

He'd been training with Seifer,
Irvine knew. The fighter had let him know that, and told him when their room
booking would expire. They'd agreed to meet for dinner, before heading back to
one of their rooms for a movie. And probably - hopefully, Irvine thought
- more. But he had been waiting around in the Cafeteria for forty-five
minutes before he'd finally given up and come to blow off some steam. It
had even come to the stage where he'd started throwing his gun aside and
beating the shit out of any Grat he saw, courtesy of Zell's hand-to-hand classes.

But that had gotten messy, so his coat and the tight
tank-top he'd been wearing underneath had gone too. Blood soaked his fists and
flecked his hair and torso, and there was something undeniably, carnally satisfying
about killing a Grat with his bare hands.

Zell would be proud of him.

Where was he?!

Irvine tore off a flailing Grat-tenticle
and strangled the thing with it, mostly just to see if Grats
actually needed to breathe. Apparently, they did. It sputtered, jerked,
and died.

"Impressive."

Irvine twitched and gave a roll of his eyes, not turning
around, but instead falling on the next Grat - they
always seemed to attack in packs of two or three. By the time he had disposed
of the second one, the third one had died, screaming, on the end of a silver gunblade.

"What do you want?"

The gunbladist's mere presence
was starting to grate on Irvine's nerves and he was sick of the way he seemed
to appear at the most inopportune moments...

"That isn't polite."

Irvine said nothing, only went for his clothing, but the
other man moved like a cat to block his path, a slow smile crossing perfect
lips.

"What do you want?" Irvine repeated in lieu of
responding, and wished he wasn't standing there topless, nipple rings glinting.

Grey-blue eyes raked his form unashamedly, lingering first
on his nipples, and then between his legs. It didn't scare him anymore, to see
naked desire for him in another man's eyes, but it was seriously starting to
piss him off in the eyes of one Squall Leonhart.

"Irvine. You're not naive enough anymore for there to
be any question about that. You know what I want."

Squall shifted a little and muscles flexed under a black
tank-top and beneath leather pants. A picture flashed through his mind,
straining bodies and belts binding his wrists. Fuck me, Squall...

It sounded wrong. He shook his head to clear it and glared
at the gunbladist, dearly wishing Exeter wasn't behind
Squall. Hand-to-hand classes or not, he knew he would be no match for Squall. Actually,
he thought I should probably practice more with Zell...
It never took his thoughts long to shift back to the fighter.

Squall stepped closer, but Irvine stood his ground,
watching those grey-blue eyes. A hand came up, and Irvine deflected it and
ducked around the gunbladist. Surprise almost got him
his gun, but he was careless and as he lunged he left a wrist, vulnerable, out
behind him. Squall's hand wrapped around it and brought him up short, tugging
him against a hard, lean body.

"You're good, but not that good. Irvine..."
Squall's voice dropped to a sultry purr and his arms snaked around the
sharpshooter's waist, pulling his back flush against him. "Irvine... Zell doesn't deserve you..."

"Get the hell off, motherfucker!"

The first inane thought that flickered through Irvine's
head was that Zell saying "motherfucker"
was really hot. Then Squall's arms tightened around him and his training
kicked in. He drove a foot into Squall's instep and was rewarded by a hissed
curse - not as hot as Zell - and a release. He darted
out of the gunbladist's arms and away.

"Zell," Squall said
calmly, with a polite hello nod as though nothing had happened.

"Don't fucking Zell
me! Who do you think you are?! You're supposed to be my friend! You've
got your hands all over my boyfriend! That's not okay!"

"And where have you been...?" Squall
wondered with an arching eyebrow, still infuriatingly calm.

"Training!" was Zell's
sharp reply. "Irvine, get your stuff, and go back
to my room. I've got some shit to deal with..."

"You just want him to go so he doesn't find out what
your 'training' entails..."

Zell's eyes narrowed and he
moved closer. Irvine froze, clothing and gun in hand.

"The hell you talking about?!" the fighter
snarled, hands tight fists.

"I know what you've been doing with Seifer."

Irvine twitched and Zell showed
his teeth like a feral animal.

"Yeah. Training.
Irvine, go."

The sharpshooter hesitated, but then he turned. He didn't want
to hear anymore, anyway. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. And anyway,
Squall hadn't said anything yet, and it couldn't be... that. Zell wouldn't hurt him like that. Ever.
Squall was lying. Had to be.

"Training for what?" Squall scoffed. "Porn?"

Zell was on him in seconds, a
fist driving into his gut and the other grabbing and jerking a wrist outward.
Bone snapped - Irvine heard it clear across the open ground - and Squall cried
out as the fist landed again.

"Zell!"
Irvine cried, terrified the fighter would go too far. "Zell, let him go!"

The fighter either didn't hear him, or chose to ignore
him, because he rammed Squall into the ground, and this time, a foot connected
with kidneys.

"Zell!"

Irvine dropped his armload and leapt forward, grabbing two
fistfuls of Zell's shirt and dragging him backward.
He could only hope the fighter registered him and realised
what he was doing, because there was no way he could physically drag him off
the gunbladist.

Zell whirled, wrenching his
shirt free, and his fist was barely an inch from Irvine's own side before he
went completely rigid. Seconds ticked past, in which there was only silence save for Squall's sobbing breaths. Then Zell gave a shuddering gasp and his eyes went wide, his
fist snapping back to his side so fast, it was as though he were burned.

"Oh, Hyne...
Irvine... I nearly... I almost..."

The terror in Zell's eyes calmed
Irvine's own tight-strung nerves and he touched his lover's cheek.

"But you didn't. You didn't, like, touch me. It's
alright. I gotta help Squall. Take my stuff and go on
back to my room. I'll come soon."

Zell nodded mutely, in utter
shock, and went, movements slow and shuffling.

Irvine went to his knees beside the gunbladist
and efficiently sent a couple of Curaga spells under
his skin.

"Maybe that will teach you not to, like, bait
someone who can pick up a Ruby Dragon," Irvine muttered.

"I wasn't baiting him," Squall insisted as
Irvine stood up. "It's true. I've got-"

"I don't want to hear it, Squall. I know he loves me.
He wouldn't do anythin' like that. Go
home."

And with that, Irvine left and went to deal with his
lover.

- - -

Zell was pacing restlessly when
Irvine arrived back at his room, the blood drying on his skin really starting
to irritate him, as was the way his hair clung in limp strings to his
sweat-sticky body. But it didn�t seem to bother the fighter, because Zell was on him the second he stepped in the door, crooning
and apologising.

�Zell�� he murmured. �Darlin�, it�s alright. You didn�t mean it, and you didn�t do nothin��

�But I could have! Oh, Hyne, I
almost did! And Squall� he��

�Deserved it. He hasn�t left me
alone since he came onto me while you and� while you were on the mission to Trabia.�

If Zell noticed any hesitation,
he didn�t say anything, in fact he was so silent, Irvine felt prompted to
continue, and started with a question that had plagued him.

�Where were you? I, like, waited forty-five minutes and
then I were in the Trainin� Center a long time before
you, like, came along��

Zell didn�t answer, instead dropping
his head to lick insistently at Irvine�s nipple. He knew the sharpshooter would
be hard pressed to resist him doing that. They were a weak point, and Zell knew it.

Sure enough, the tenseness across Irvine�s shoulders faded
and the rigid way he was holding his arms relaxed, the long limbs coming around
the fighter�s shoulders. He moaned when Zell�s teeth
found and tugged a piercing and nuzzled at his cheek in a way the blond knew
meant he wanted to be kissed.

But he could still taste Seifer.
Irvine wasn�t stupid, nor did he lack knowledge anymore. He was very
well aware of what a man�s release tasted like, and he would taste it on Zell�s tongue.

It had been stupid. Blindingly,
idiotically, achingly, wonderfully stupid. It couldn�t � would not
� happen again, and the fighter refused to hurt Irvine by letting him taste
that.

�I think you need a shower, baby,� he murmured and Irvine
made an agreeing sound, picking at a fleck of blood by his hip. Those jeans
really were sinfully low�

He lead Irvine there and when they were both under the
steaming spray, he knelt before the sharpshooter and took him into his mouth,
eyes slipping shut as those long fingers slid slowly into his hair. His name,
whispered, curled against his ear along with the warm steam, and he growled
softly around Irvine, gaining a low moan in response.

Coming so close on the heels of the self same delight
partaken of with Seifer, it was painfully easy to
hear them both, to love them both, to need them both, and Zell was glad of the hot water that ran down his cheeks,
disguising the tears.

And Squall knew. He knew. There was no question in
the gunbladist�s eyes, no hint that he might be
bluffing. Somehow, he knew, and the fighter didn�t think it would be long
before he convinced Irvine.

Then what?

Irvine moaned, fingers tightening in the fighter�s hair
and he rolled his tongue against the sharpshooter.

Then what will you do?

Seifer shuddered, muscles
twitching, a groan tearing free and deep from his throat.

What? Who will you give up?

Irvine whimpered his name, unbelievably, delightfully
submissive and responsive.

Will you have a choice? Irvine�ll
leave you. It�ll break him.

Seifer held him down, the silent
battle for dominance one he knew he would gladly lose.

It�ll kill him. You�ll kill him.

Irvine�s ragged breathing echoed off the tile and his hips
bucked until Zell laid a hand to them, holding him
still. He actually whined, a primal, needy
sound and the fighter suckled a little harder, wanting more, wanting
everything.

You can�t have everything.

�Zell� Oh, Zell�
Mmm��

It�ll make Seifer happy. He
deserves to be happy.

The fighter put an instinctive arm around Irvine to keep
him standing when his legs might fail him and gently raked his teeth along
sensitive flesh. He teased and suckled at the tip before taking the
sharpshooter deep again and listening to the steadily more desperate moans.

So does Irvine. You have to look after him. That�s your
job.

With a last strangled cry of his name, Irvine released
into his mouth and Zell gladly took every drop then
stood and tugged his lover against him and devoured him, tongue delving into a
soft, willing mouth. If Irvine felt the desperation in his kiss, he didn�t say
anything, and later, when they�d given themselves only a cursory dry off, he
didn�t say anything about the further desperation in the way the fighter made
love to him.

What will you do? What? What?!

�I don�t know�� he whispered helplessly to the darkness
and Irvine�s even, slumbering breathing. �I don�t know��

Ma�s gonna kill you.

- - -

He dreamed of Zell that night,
when he slept, which wasn�t often. He missed the warmth beside him that ought
to be there. The fighter was his, his, dammit!
And fuck the pansy cowboy. Or not. The very idea
turned his stomach.

Seifer tossed beneath the
sheets, plagued by moans and sweat-slick skin and the wrap of the fighter�s
mouth around his length. He wished Trabia had never
happened, but he was glad it had. He wished Zell
hadn�t taken care of his problem today, but he was glad the fighter had. He
knew, now, what he was missing, and that made it harder, but he cherished the
memories, reveled in them, fantasized about them.

He didn�t think he�d been so desperately turned on by
anything and everything since he was going through puberty.

Fucking cowboy. It all
came back to him. Why couldn�t he just have admitted he was gay from the start
so they wouldn�t have been trying to out him and Zell
wouldn�t have come up with his plan, and he wouldn�t have fallen in love with
Irvine.

Love! Love! Zell loved Irvine.
He, Seifer, loved Zell. Why
hadn�t he seen it before? Why hadn�t he realized and said something before it
was too late? Zell belonged to him. Belonged with him. They were two halves of� Hyne, if he hadn�t been over that a million times
since the Halloween party. Zell had known he was
right.

Hell, Squall had known he was right.

The other gunbladist had been
the only one to pick up on the striking similarities and opposites which made
their costumes match. But then, he had been the only one to figure out
previously that, as he had so delicately put it, Seifer
�wanted to fuck� Zell. That was weird, too, the way
their most illustrious leader � wow, even his thoughts about the man
were sarcastic � was behaving about the whole thing. There was something really
strange going on there that Seifer couldn�t bring
himself to really care about, because he had enough to deal with by himself.

He rolled over onto his belly, huffing out a sigh and
closed his eyes for the millionth time, just trying to go to sleep. It wasn�t
long before his thoughts were drifting to Zell again
and he was desperately glad his body just could not physically respond to the
thoughts anymore, not after one or three previous fantasies following Zell�s little treat.

Damn Zell for doing that anyway.
It wasn�t fair. If it was no, it should just be no!

You know that�s not fair, some traitorous
part of his mind admonished. You didn�t give him much of a choice. You�re
not exactly resistible. You�re the Seifer Almasy, after all, and anyone would have to be mad to say
no.

Okay, so that was arrogant, but it was true. He had
teased Zell, had gotten him to a stage where there
wasn�t much choice but to do something about it. And the fighter had left with
his own painful reaction, without even hinting that Seifer
ought to do something about it. Not that he would have said no. The idea of
having Zell�s cock in his mouth wasn�t one he didn�t
enjoy. The idea of doing mostly anything with Zell
wasn�t one he didn�t enjoy.

He sighed, rolled again, and drifted into a half sleep.

- - -

Later, he found himself outside Zell�s
door, some malicious intent driving him there to tell Irvine � because Irvine would
be there � everything. He keyed in Zell�s code and
strode in wearing nothing but his sheet, confessions on his lip. The dramatic
entrance was somewhat ruined by the fact that the lovers weren�t there.

So he went to Irvine�s room and stood glaring at the door
as though just the need to expose Zell would somehow
make the sharpshooter know. After roughly an hour of that, he realised how ridiculous he was being, and that any
confession or exposing would hurt Zell just as much
as it would hurt Irvine, and would likely lead to the fighter not even wanting
to talk to him any more.

He pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear any
moans or desperate pleas, but there was nothing. When he looked at his watch he
realised that was probably because it was half past
three in the morning. Even the most ambitious of lovers would surely have
passed out by now, unless they had been out late, which Seifer
knew they hadn�t been.

Tears ran down his face, and he wasn�t aware of them until
he was back in bed and the pillow grew damp. Once he started crying, he
couldn�t stop, and the silent tears turned into tearing gasps and sobs that
wracked his entire frame. He curled up around the pillow and eventually,
blessedly fell into a thoroughly exhausted sleep.

- - -

Irvine stirred around three thirty, completely baffled as
to what had woken him. Zell�s breath was warm against
his ear, steady and strong. The sharpshooter smiled and wriggled down further
under the covers, resting his head on his lover�s chest to listen to his
heartbeat. The fighter shifted, wrapping his arms more tightly around the
sharpshooter, protective instincts surfacing even in his sleep.

�I love you�� Irvine whispered with another soft smile,
curling his leg up over Zell�s hips.

Squall�s accusations flickered briefly through his mind,
but they went out just as instantly. Zell would never
do anything like that to him.

He could see the irony in the fact that one of the two men
he had hated so passionately he loved even more passionately now. But then,
they did say the most intense feelings gave birth to one another. He trusted
this man with his life and his heart.

�And Squall Leonhart can shove
his damn gunblade where the sun
don�t shine�� he hissed with a viciously possessive grin as he snuggled
closer still to Zell.

He drifted back to sleep in seconds.
- 46
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- 48
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Lightning.