Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII doesn't belong to me... Sue me.
Warning: YAOI, crossdressing, a horny gunman, and a rapidly growing pile of stripped clothing...
Irvine looked up from his food and licked his lips. He didn't do this to taste the nauseating remnants of Garden food, but because standing before him was the most delectable man he had ever known. And by licking his lips he fantasized about how the man would taste.
His broad shoulders, resolute eyes, and brown tufts separated him from the others as superior. The fact that he was president of Garden was another advantage.
Squall sat down at their table with a tray of food in hand; Zell, next to him, complained about the sudden shortage of hot dogs, which happened to be whenever he was next in line.
The swordsman didn't seem to notice Irvine looking at him as if he were a foreign delicacy, no, he was too busy silently chewing, typical of him. Although, this silence was not a voluntary one, for he was deep in thought. It seemed like everyone was against him: being named president of Garden, Rinoa breaking up with him, having to instruct the new students who were the most loutish beings on the planet, and suddenly being in charge of Laguna's bar.
That morning he had called the SeeD and requested that he take over the self-employed business, due to an insurgence in the staff. It didn't make sense, but whatever the reason and due to exhaustion from the phone call and not wanting to argue, he was now operating a bar.
"Hey," Irvine said, breaking the contemplating thoughts, "anyone here have any good recipes?" Irvine asked very randomly. The group looked at him in question; such an odd question.
"Well," he continued noting everyone's perplexed gaze, "the thing is: Selphie's friend asked her to find a recipe for cooking class; Selphie passed the job onto me." A sly grin appeared, accompanied by a wink, "If I get this right, who knows what we'll be doin' this weekend…" Thank Hyne neither of the girls shared that lunch block with them.
Zell shook his head repeatedly. Dincht probably did have recipes, but found it undignified for a martial artist such as himself to have.
Seifer waved his hand aggravated. It had been days from his last "visit" from Zell; after having such an active week, Zell decided it wasn't for him. Ever since, both have acted awkwardly around each other. It was rather humorous to Irvine.
"Hm? Oh, ya. I suppose the bar would have a few." Squall normally wouldn't answer such a stupid question, so this startled everyone at the table. An ember glimmered in Irvine's eyes; Squall was only stoking the fire.
"Bar? Now you're speakin' my language!" the gunman gave an uncanny smile. Drinking was one of his many feats. One of the others was getting what he wanted. "How about I stop by tonight and have a few drinks?"
"You're underage." Squall replied, becoming quite grumpy.
"B-but! You get to work there!" Irvy complained, however, noticing Squall's growing temper he subsided. "All right… Either way, expect to see me tonight…"
How wonderful. Squall thought astringently. Talking to Irvine sometimes made him annoyed, like now. A knot began to form in his stomach- though not due to the school food. Too much stress. He could feel a forthcoming calamitous event, whether it was being Irvine getting drunk and burning down the bar with his own urine, or Irvine being cornered and murdered by a certain someone.
Those minor ideas were what split Rinoa from him. He was supposed to be "thinking more positively".
That damn bastard.
Too late.
There they go again, shooting off like a meteor shower. Damn that gunman.
A loud crash followed Irvine's arrival. The peace, now shattered b the worthless bell on top of the door frame, had lulled Squall into a relaxing yet productive silence. The few hours he was working was spent waiting on people hand-and-foot, in a uniform Laguna had left for him.
"Uniform" sounded like a good thing. Fitting in with the usual atmosphere, but one look and he instantly thought otherwise. The uniform consisted of a black leather skirt, which barely covered the appropriate areas when standing, and a white frilly apron.
It was "mandatory" to wear, as Laguna had adamantly stated after Squall called him on the telephone, fuming. "I'm not wearing it." The conversation began, with Squall seething.
"Oh, but it's mandatory!" muffled laughter was heard on the receiving end.
"No."
"You're being paid! What more do you want?" Laguna had asked once realizing the other was serious.
"No, I'm not. I'm doing this to help. However, I will take back that offer if I have to wear such a ludicrous thing!"
Thus, he found himself looking at the approaching Irvine wearing a tight miniskirt and frilly, white apron.
Blood raced to Irvine's face, among other places, although concealed they were. He wished to grab Squall in many ways, consume him in all. Somehow, he issued self-control and let a meager wink out. "I like the new look.'
Squall ignored this comment, as it would only disturb him, despite Irvine's usual behavior. He finished wiping off a counter. Both he and said counter had been used a lot that day, although the furniture had more events to look forward too, being cleaned and then left alone in the dark for the rest of the night.
Unlike Squall who was always with someone due to dorms. It was a pain, really. Why did people need to depend on him, it was as if everyone thought he could do everything for them. Life wasn't like that. As he had learned in his childhood, he could barely take care of himself.
Irvine put one hand on the counter and swung over the short door barring his path. "So, where are these recipes? Or did you just bring me here to stare at you in that tight lil' skirt of yours?" Irvine smiled that smile he gave to women when expecting something in return. And, it always worked. "Either way, I'm satisfied."
The swordsman threw a thick book at him in response to that suggestion. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to harm him in any way; next time, I'll use something bigger… Squall noted in his mind. He was just trying to exercise his social skills, why did he deserve to be sexually harassed?
Irvine placed the book on the cleaned surface of the counter. Flipping through the pages without even looking at what was shown on the page; Irvine persistently glanced at Squall, who was locking the alcohol cabinet. He only had two things on his mind.
Squall.
Skirt.
It was becoming problematic for the gunman, shifting his position uncomfortably as rather graphic sex scenes raced rampantly through his brain- all of which had Squall playing some maid role.
"All right, I'll make this one." A random page showed a fascinating picture of some sort of cake. Squall glimpsed at the man over his should and found that he was red, like he was blushing. He had never seen Irvine blush in his whole life, and that was remarkable.
"Angel Food Cake…" Squall informed the other, as he inspected it closely. "You have to make it too?"
"Correction: We have to make it."
Squall sighed and went to a room in the back; Irvy supposed it lead to culinary materials. He had to look away from the man as he walked away, not wanting to galvanize himself even more.
After a few moments, the swordsman returned carrying various things: milk, eggs, flour, and such. He set them in front of Irvine and sat in a bar stool next to alcohol cabinet. Irvine wasn't getting in it, not tonight at least.
"I'll read the directions, you make it."
"Fine." Irvy replied, disappointed that Squall wouldn't be getting messy with him.
"Step one, preheat oven to 375°. It requires heat before it enters."
Irvine set the oven to preheat while thinking body-provoking subjects, 'I'll make you hot, if that's all it takes to enter you…. I'll make it hotter than hell.'
"Sift 1 cup of flour and ¼ teaspoon of salt four times into a bowl. Merge them thoroughly," Squall continued to ramble to himself as Irvine mixed the two ingredients, hormones controlling every thought. "or else this homogenate will taste horrible…"
Only one word caught the cowboy's attention "homo". Was Squall aware that he was torturing him? His word choice seemed unusual; maybe he was trying to get him aroused. It began to worry Irvine when he realized he was heating up faster than the oven.
Out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed Squall sitting very freely, legs spread apart enough to tease even the straightest man. If he would only move a couple inches it would be the perfect view, however the chance that Squall went nude under the skirt was impossible to know.
Irvine didn't notice that he was staring at the other's lower portion so intently, until the blades man pulled his legs together lackadaisically, ending the one sided staring contest.
"O-oh… All right, step three," Irvy mumbled incoherently.
Squall cleared his throat nervously and continued reiterating the written directions, "Beat egg whites with cream of tartar- it's in that small container, in a separate bowl until soft peaks form." As Irvine did so, Squall observed the trouble he was having. "They shouldn't be so hard, just mix it until it's soft to the touch."
Once again Irvine was taken aback by the imagery in his mind. 'Peak…. Hard…. Soft... Touch….' Words were racing feverishly through his mind with very illustrative ideas attached to them, all relating back to the first and foremost thought.
As he mixed the ingredients, the white of the eggs and tartar blended together, the stickiness making it difficult to stir. Finally, the peaks formed, at least things that resembled 'peaks'.
"Add 1 ½ of sugar and beat once more, and then put 1 ¼ teaspoon of almond extract."
'There was nothing perverted about that, thank Hyne. I won't be able to endure this abuse any more', the gunman thought too early, as Squall regained his earlier position; although this time revealing a bit of flesh.
Irvine was absolutely intoxicated. Squall decided to go commando. In a skirt. Irvine chuckled, attempting to relieve a certain pressure in his pants. Making sure not to stare, he resumed stirring.
"What's so funny?" Squall asked a bit irate from being out of a one man circle, completely oblivious to the latest discovery.
"You." It didn't end the other's tense expression, so he elucidated a bit, "I'll tell you after we finish this."
"Fine." Squall returned to the book, "Combine the two and fold gently."
Irvine laughed aloud once more, perversion taking its toll by forcing him to stand angled away from Squall, lest be detected.
"Pour the batter into a pan and put in the oven." When Irvine finished he pressed on, "Now what was so funny?"
"Nuh-uh," Irvy wagged his finger, "we're not done yet."
He pressed Squall against the counter, an indiscernible expression stretched across his countenance. Startled, Squall shifted to the side, ignoring Irvine's typical behavior. "Get off of me, Irvine. I'm not in the mood for your games."
"I'm not playing a game." Irvine took hold of Squall's face, "You've been teasing me all night long in that damn skirt… It's time you pay me back."
The blades man smacked Irvine's hand and began walking away into the door from before. However, the same hand that was attacked, held his wrist tenaciously and spun him around. Squall's anger was building, it was possible that he would corner and kill Irvine by the night's cessation. All plans of murdering the man suddenly dissipated, as Irvine forced him into a dominating kiss.
Squall immediately broke the kiss and stared shocked, "Irvine, I said stop."
Irvy kissed him again, this time gaining entry into Squall's mouth- 'he should really watch his guard when he speaks', Irvine thought, relatively amused. He shoved his tongue into the other's mouth, slightly aware of Squall's frozen state.
He was no longer angry, but confused. Irvine watched Squall's face morph several times, from confused to bewildered and somehow ending at being blank.
This much was to be expected. He was probably expecting some sort of explanation, however, due to Irvine's ambiguous nature; he was bound to wallow in misunderstanding.
"Squall, I want you." Irvine stated, giving his idiosyncratic, alluring smile. Squall seemed too busy trying to grasp the meaning of those words as Irvine took off the apron around the swordsman's chest, and slipped off the shirt underneath.
Still, Squall was locked inside of himself. Irvy gawked over how fine a chest the man had. He was built; a flat, taught stomach, slightly tanned, but still modeling an average man, save for the fitness. 'Damn… I need one of those gun-blades…' Irvy sighed.
His cowboy hat slid off his head as he began licking Squall's chest fervently. Since he obviously wasn't going to say anything of his own free will, Irvy would make him say something, particularly in the form of a moan. Squall gasped as the gunner's tongue lavished his chest, dipping in and out of his naval to rise and encircle his left nipple, moving to the other.
The sniper's hands progressed down, curving with hips and stopping at a band of belts. Still Squall was expressionless, trying to decipher the very blunt words. A nipple was enveloped by Irvine's mouth, tongue tracing around and around. His ministrations made it very, very difficult for Squall to create an opinion on the matter. However, his body quickly made one for him.
A soft, quiet moan escaped his lips; Irvine, on his knees licking the waist band of Squall's skirt, smirked thoughtfully. The gunner's hands slowly stroked the man's torso descending to his pants, and attempted to remove the belts restricting him from his desire, though the puzzles confounded him.
Surrendering to the deceitful buckles, amd oblivious to the fact that it was a skirt, he slowly stood up and met Squall's face, it was stern and cold- as if he was about to corner and slaughter him. Irvine refused to accept that. He was going out of his way to prove his sincerity.
"Well…" Irvy inquired irritated. 'He should at least say something…'
"What… do you expect me to do?" Squall finally replied also a bit frustrated, "You suddenly do something like this out of impulse…"
"Is it because I'm a guy? C'mon Squall, give it to me straight!" Irvy mentally chuckled at his conflicting words.
"Yea, you're a man, but I don't care what you are…" he replied choosing his words precariously, "I'm not ready for a relationship right now…"
"Just because that slut dumped you, I'm punished for it?"
"You're a slut, too! You whore around with anything that moves! Do you even take the time to even see the person you're screwing?" Squall was so irritated he was shaking – though if it was with anger, desire, or both, he didn't know. He realized he might be projecting the latter one, but decided not to care..
"For the past six months I haven't fucked anyone- man or woman!" Irvine took in a deep breath and calmed his blood. "Ever since I noticed you… I've been faithful… Please, trust me."
It was definitely an amazing feat; however, Squall realized that Irvine would have had to relieve his sexual desires by other means- masturbation. And, seeing as how he was the origin of this sudden abstinence, Squall was lead to believe that he played a role in the majority of fantasies that helped in this method of gratification. A shiver ran down his back, "That's hard to believe. What about Selphie? This whole thing is for her."
"…" Irvine seemed reluctant and embarrassed, "I… wanted to see if you would get jealous…"
"You can't be trusted. Who knows how many diseases you have? I don't want to do one stupid thing and suffer for the rest of my life because of it."
"Squall!" Irvine roared, "Would you fuckin' listen to me?!"
Irvine threw Squall to the wall and efficiently got the other's attention by forcing their mouths together. The swordsman fought back, struggling against the wall for freedom, though he didn't achieve that; he was suppressed by Irvine's hands on his shoulders in a violent rush for accordance.
Irvy's tongue mellifluously glided against Squall's in an innovation for further permission. Nothing was going to happen past this point if Squall didn't want it. But, Irvine was getting rash, who knew what he would do to gain Squall's consent?
It surprised Irvy when Squall began kissing him back, matching the rhythm Irvine arranged. Saliva was exchanged and dripped from their mouths from the sheer exhilaration. Squall hesitantly placed his hands on the gunner's hips, as he loosened Irvine's grip on the swordsman's shoulders.
He tasted more exquisite than anything the gunner had ever had contact with before, the smell was intoxicating, and the pure adrenaline was frightening. It was heaven.
Both men felt the need to breath at the same time, both hesitantly breaking the mouth sex.
"Thanks, I really needed that…" Irvine breathed heavily, clutching Squall's shoulders for support. The bladesman remained silent, mentally debating with his moral side about how it felt. It did feel good. Compared to the few chaste kisses from Rinoa, it was outstanding.
"…Me too…" he finally agreed, surprised by how much he really did want it.
Irvine saw this as a critical moment to prove his potential significance, and sought Squall's lips again. This time, he fumbled with his belts- although once again, failing to remove them.
He wanted Squall to take note, so he thrust his hips into the other's, whilst effectively using his tongue to his advantage. The kiss was immediately truncated, and the men were gasping and moaning for more friction. Panting and leaning on one of Squall's shoulders, Irvy asked lewdly, "Would you take those damn things off?"
"If I don't, would you rape me?" Squall laughed humorlessly.
Irvine stared at him incredibly, "#1, you could kick my ass if I tried anything you didn't like…so you have a better chance of raping me. #2, I still wouldn't be able to get the belts off, and I would probably try to shoot them off, miss, and kill you." He changed to a more serious tone and brought his hand to rest on Squall's face, "And, #3, I could never do that. This is all up to you."
The swordsman seemed to be thinking it over, and hesitantly answered, "Fine." He looked towards the wall ahead of him, breaking eye contact. "But take care of yourself first."
Irvine looked down at his large protuberance suffocated by his pants, aghast. "Why would I want to do that?"
Squall shook his head and shuffled tensely.
"I meant your shirt… Take your shirt off…" he was blushing. Squall. Blushing.
That aroused Irvine even more.
"Oh! I thought you meant…" he trailed off, eagerly stripping off the long tan trench-coat, purple vest, and white shirt underneath. Such a bother really, after anticipating such a wondrous moment he was forced to remove such petty things.
The materials were quickly removed and thrown into the pile of other exiled clothing in less than a couple seconds. As promised, Squall unbuckled two belts and they all simultaneously fell in a pile by his feet.
"So the side ones unlock the prize…" Irvy muttered bewildered. He was on his knees again with a sparkled in his eyes. Slowly- very slowly- Irvine unzipped the skirt. Squall looked to the side as if he were committing a grave crime.
Finally, the desire of all of Irvy's dreams came true. Placing his hands gently on Squall's hips, he prudently slid the skirt off, curving around the hips to the firm legs. The skirt was shunned from Irvine's grip and thrown into the ever growing pile.
A wide grin formed on the gunner's face showing his apparent countenance, for two reasons. One, Squall was bigger than anyone he had ever seen, and the only one he was bound to have sexual encounters with. 'He must have fun with that…'
And two, he was correct when he saw bare flesh underneath. Irvine had never heard of anything as scandalous.
"I take it you don't prefer boxers or briefs…" Irvy chuckled lowly.
Squall cringed from the moist breath, "No… Laguna wouldn't let me, he said it would make the skirt less appealing…I would be wearing Rinoa's thongs but … we're not together, as you all ready know." Irvine automatically looked up with a mixed expression .
"What?" Squall responded, finding nothing wrong with what was just said.
"You never cease to amaze me."
Irvine, without warning, wrapped his mouth around Squall's whole member- stunning both by how wide his mouth really was. The swordsman immediately grunted and threw his head back vehemently.
"Warn... me… next time…"
'Next time?' Irvy deep throated him again, imbued with elation by those two meager words. Next time meant either going into a steady relationship, or being fuck buddies- either sounded so inviting, he nearly stopped what he was doing to embrace Squall.
Irvine dipped his head and surfaced to repeat the action, creating a calm starting pace; however, as Irvine looked up he saw Squall rigidly leaning against the wall panting expressively.
His head turned, eyes closed shut, hair loosely slipping out of place, and his face distorted as if suffering from some inexplicable force. Sweat dripped down his chest as his hands gripped at the wall for some means of support.
It was definitely his first time.
A part of Irvine felt like he was robbing Squall of something he should be doing with a girl, but another part was insisting that Rinoa treated him cruelly; abstinence through a whole year of dating. No wonder Squall was so aloof.
Irvine abruptly separated himself from the swordsman, looking at the other with such care; he wanted this experience to be as comfortable as possible.
Squall's muscles loosened and his breathing became a stretch from normal. "W-what? I thought…" he spoke weary with confusion.
"Here. Sit down…" Irvine spread his tan coat on the wooden floor and helped Squall sit on it. He still looked puzzled. "You'll enjoy it more, I promise." Irvy took the swordsman's hands and placed them on his shoulders, "Feel free to grab as hard as you want." He winked, smiled, and then went back to his task.
A sharp intake of breath signaled the renewed contact. Squall's legs bent and spread wider, allowing Irvine more room. He found that the cowboy was being gentler than before.
Irvy's tongue traveled the long shaft to the head, carefully sucking as to prevent an immediate climax. Squall gripped the man's shoulders tightly and attempted to limit the twitches. Every time Irvine sucked it felt as if his whole body was being lifted and withdrawn. And that's exactly what happened.
Squall called Irvine's name in more of a growl than scream as he came in Irvine's mouth. Immediately after the repercussions ceased, the swordsman's mouth was breached with Irvine's tongue with a salty taste accompanying it.
'It couldn't be…' he thought as the man detached and white liquid was seen dripping from his mouth. Squall choked down his own semen and was fully engrossed with not purging. It was something he was definitely not accustomed too.
Irvine watched him with amusement, laughing at how he was reacting to that mouthful, "I see Rinoa never did that for you…" He bent down and searched his coat pocket for something.
Irvine took out his hand, revealing some type of unguent. Then, he bent down again, only this time seizing Squall's legs, draping them on his shoulders. Squall curiously observed Irvine coating three fingers with the liniment saying, "And I bet she never did this for you…"
One finger penetrated him, and startled him so much that he shouted some incomprehensible variation of an invective. Squall warily eyed the gunner with mixed emotions. 'What the hell is he doing?' and 'Of course Rinoa never did this to me!' ran through his mind as another digit entered him.
He felt them moving inside him, and deciding Irvine must know what he was doing, allowed them to penetrate deeper. Soon, all three fingers were inside him moving around stretching a very confined area.
It was uncomfortable and awkward, but he found that Irvine was thinking nothing of how discomforting it was but was focusing on the quality of his responsibility.
Slick fingers retreated and Irvine glanced down at Squall feverishly, "Are you sure about this?"
Squall pondered his words, "Since I'm under you right now, I think it would be hard to back out now with a horny gunner on me."
Irvine smiled, never ceasing that 'play with me' look, "I suppose you're right…" he chuckled and then positioned himself at the entrance, after taking a few seconds to fumble with his pants, "I'm serious though, are you sure?"
"Yes. Now would you hurry up?"
Irvine laughed quietly, "Yes suh..."
His face contorted as he pushed into the bladesman. There was no going back now. This was the point of no return.
Squall bit his lip as pain invaded his body; Irvine was much larger than a few petty fingers.
With a grimace, Irvine entered completely, aware that Squall was only hurting himself by being so tense. "Hey, relax… It'll hurt less for you and for me…"
The bladesman attempted to obey, though with a large member in his posterior, he found it very unlikely that he could – let alone would - achieve full relaxation. Irvine realized that Squall was having a hard time with easing the tension, so he grasped between the man's legs and stroked the all ready hard length.
With the recent method working, Irvine began to gently move in and out, diverting lust hazed eyes to his companion- if there was even one sign of pain, he would stop. In all of the desire and anticipation, he was still worried about Squall. That definitely proved something about him.
Squall wrapped his arms loosely around the gunner's neck, only cognizant of the constant pleasure. Clumsily, he met in time with Irvine's thrusts, moaning audaciously.
Attempting to hide his wide grin, Irvine thrust into his newfound lover harder, rapt in the deed of wonders. This was met with sycophantic sounds of approval, which only made the grin morph into utter need.
One hand was still groping Squall while the other meandered towards a very hard nipple. Suddenly, Irvine's tongue was in the swordsman's mouth, coveting release.
The various sensations were all too much, as the gunner discovered quickly, as Squall began moaning profusely, his mind in some other realm. This was most likely due to the fact neither of them could breath, nor wanted to- which, based on all other experiences, turned out not to be the brightest idea.
Dizzy, Irvine breached the mouth contact, and noted precariously that if they were to pass out, Laguna would not appreciate finding the unconscious bodies on the floor- naked in a sweaty heap. That would surely bring up questions.
A familiar feeling shot through his body with so much power, he was sure that Squall could feel it pulsating in his veins. Irvine's anxiety was increasing as the feeling rose, blocking all senses in a numbing wave. As the orgasm led on, he was slightly conscious of the white heat blazing his chest.
Squall handled this climax none better than the previous one. The over-stimulation proved too much for the man to manage, and shuddering fits racked his body. Breathing heavily, while attempting to gain some control over his body, he lay in a hectic daze, until Irvine leaned down and kissed him.
'Beautiful…' Irvy thought in his head, entranced by the after glow of his lover, 'He looks like an angel…'
This was a bit odd, since most people would say that he looked like a divine creature, and not Squall, who favored a demon, Ifirit, as his guardian force.
But, with Squall's hair in a sweaty mess, various parts of his body smeared with different liquids, eyes hazy in a dream like stare, and lips parted, who couldn't call him an angel?
Irvine chuckled to himself, drawing the blademan's attention, 'It was only this morning when I thought of him as food…'
There was a long pause.
"Angel… Food…" Irvine quickly looked up at the stove. There was black smoke rising from it, previewing the charred cake that lay inside. Squall followed Irvy's gaze, and gasped as a charcoal-like mess shone through the smoke.
Irvine stood up, looking down at Squall with that perverted grin. He took the pan out of the oven carefully, and then laughing with a wink said, "Well, looks like we'll have to do this again…"
I suddenly hold a knew respect for cooking xD
Reveiw... Please... It would make me happy, and help feed my children... Low income- bring on the reviews! Jk
Thankies Ryuu!!!