A Heart Filled With Darkness

CHAPTER TWO:



Squall stood in front of the mirror slicking back his long black hair. He was nervous. Fussing with his hair was his way of dealing with it. But maybe tonight had been a good idea after all. It had been weeks since Squall had last looked into a mirror. Not since he’d stood there grooming in preparation for the meeting with Rinoa that had left him a hollow shell of himself had he spent any time looking at his own reflection. He shook his head. Thinking about Rinoa was not part of the plan tonight. No, tonight he would try to forget, try to abandon his guilt, his pain, his shame.



He absentmindedly smoothed the front of the dark grey dress shirt he was wearing, his mind elsewhere. He wasn’t really sure if he’d be able to go through with this. He certainly didn’t feel turned on at the moment, but then, that might change when he went over to Quisty’s room (as he’d playfully began calling her back when they were working to defeat the sorceress). Quistis was rather beautiful, after all, and, if the rumors were true, rather kinky to boot. She did use a whip as a weapon, after all.



He wondered what she’d be wearing when she opened the door to greet him. Thinking about it made him smile. There wasn’t time for contemplation, though, and he’d find out soon enough.



His eyes peered at his reflection in the mirror, traveling down his body in appraisal of his own outfit. The color of his shirt was a perfect compliment to an outfit consisting mainly of black: black jeans, black boots and a black jacket with white fur lining. A silver lion’s head hung from a silver chain around his neck. He thought he looked all right, though this assessment did nothing to quell his nervousness. And his low self-esteem prevented him from attacking his worries with ego. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror and decide that he looked hot, or tell himself that Quistis would melt at the very sight of him. The best he could muster was a restraint from faultfinding. His face was free of blemishes, and that fact was the only thing that helped to ease his mind at all.



It was almost seven. Almost time to head over to Quisty’s room. He grabbed the bottle of red wine he’d bought for her, clutching it by its neck, and headed out the door. It slid open automatically as he stepped out into the hall, and then slid closed as he walked away down the hall towards Quisty’s.



* * * *



She’d never felt so nervous before, nor had she ever noticed how loudly the mahogany-framed clock that hung on her wall ticked off the minutes. She’d bought it from an antique dealer, amazed that it still functioned properly. Staring at it now, she was surprised that only a few minutes had passed since she’d glanced at it last. Squall would be there soon. She rose and walked over to her stereo and turned it on. At least a little music would drown out the sound of the ticking clock. She sighed contentedly and sank back against the cushions of her couch as the sounds of Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” washed over her. As he began to sing, she almost blushed thinking about how appropriate this song was for tonight. And she’d not even thought about it when she put it on. Marvin Gaye was just her favorite singer for setting the right mood.



The music also helped to calm her nerves. How long had she waited for this night, sure it would never come? Since she was very young, she supposed, though many of her memories from the orphanage were blurred or missing entirely. This was the effect of using Guardian Forces: her long-term memories were hazy at best. But she could remember the first time she’d masturbated—discovering this pleasure accidentally while laying in a tub and running bath water—and her thoughts had turned to Squall, the boy she was just about obsessed over. Yes, she could remember that, the feeling over water streaming down over her as she held her hips up to the faucet, her eyes squeezed shut as she imagined Squall’s face down there, his lips rubbing against her…



* * * *



Squall pressed his hand to the palm sensor built into the wall next to the door that led to Quisty’s room. He could faintly hear the mechanical voice announcing him in the room beyond the door. A moment later, the door slid open and Squall’s breath caught in his throat.



Quistis stood there smiling almost guiltily at him, her face flushed. She had braided her bangs back and pulled them back while the rest of her long blonde hair spilled down unfettered. She wore a thin satin camisole that ended two inches above her knees. Squall’s eyes traveled slowly down and back up her body, mesmerized by how beautiful and sexy she looked. He could see her hard nipples poking against the fabric and longed to take them, one at a time, between his lips.



A blush rose on her cheeks. Then she reached over for the bottle Squall was clutching in his left hand. “You brought wine! I’ll go put this one ice.” She turned quickly, and Squall’s eyes were drawn immediately to her firm round ass. “Come on in,” she called to him as she walked away towards the kitchen.



Squall followed her inside, slipping his jacket off and tossing it onto a chair while he stared after her. He’d always known she was beautiful, always thought so, but tonight he’d never be able to take his eyes off of her. He sunk down heavily onto the couch, still staring at her butt as she walked into the kitchen, the bottom of her camisole flipping up teasingly with her every step. Squall’s pants were suddenly too tight, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to stand up any time soon.



“Hey Squall,” Quistis called, looking over her shoulder at him as she pulled out a metal corkscrew from a drawer, “could you come open this for me?”



His voice squawked, his throat suddenly dry, as he replied, “…I was hoping to watch you do it.”



Quistis giggled. “You’re terrible! …Oh okay just stay there and I’ll do it. Not like you’re stronger than me!”



“Oh yeah? You sure about that?”



“Hell yeah! I could whip you any day of the week.”



“You could whip me alright, but I thought this was about who was stronger!”



“It is, and I am.”



She started giggling again and turned her back on Squall so she could pull the cork out of the wine bottle. When she turned, Squall leapt to his feet, a smirking grin playing across his face, and ran towards her. He slipped his arms around her and lifted her up off her feet. Quistis was still giggling as she pressed her feet against the edge of the counter in front of her and pushed, knocking Squall backwards into the living room then down onto his back. She swiveled around on top of him, grabbing his wrists and pining him to the floor.



“Nice try,” she said, sticking out her tongue.



“Just what I was about to say,” he replied, grinning mischievously, as he pushed up with his arms, raising her arms up slowly while she continued to try to press them back down. Then he rolled her over and straddled her.



“Okay, you win. Does this mean you’ll open the wine bottle for me now?”



He shook his head. “Nope. Not yet. You actually suggested that you were stronger than me. I think you need to be punished.”



She had to laugh at that. “Really now. I’m used to dispensing punishment, not receiving it.”



“Well too bad, you earned it so now you’re going to get it!” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a red silk scarf.



“You were planning on doing this?!”



He nodded, still grinning down at her. “Figured I’d better do it to you before you did it to me,” he said, grabbing her right wrist and wrapping one end of the scarf around it, tying it, then doing the same to her left wrist. He’d bound them so that they were two inches apart from each other. Then he slipped her arms over his head, resting them on his shoulders.



Quistis looked up into Squall’s face. The pain seemed to have disappeared. Had her idea actually worked? It seemed like it had. His mind wasn’t on Rinoa at the moment at least, and that had to account for something.



Her eyes traveled down his chest as he pulled off his shirt. She wanted to kiss him—his lips, his throat, his chest. But Squall was taking charge now. She’d have her chance to do what she wanted soon enough. She was content to let him do whatever he liked for the moment.



His hands slid up her legs, up to her calves, pulling her camisole up. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her legs slipped around his waist as he pulled her camisole up further, his eyes gazing down appraisingly at her smooth bare stomach. His fingertips lightly caressed the sides of her hips. A shiver of pleasure ran through her body, and she rocked her hips against him, moaning softly. He lowered his head to the side of her neck and gently bit down, grasping a bit of skin between his teeth. It was just too much for her, all this teasing. Squall was driving her wild. She began rubbing her lower body up and down against him, feeling his erection straining to be free of his paints. If only her hands were free, she’d pull it out herself. She could feel the scarf starting to loosen and unwind, but she wanted to let Squall go at his own pace. Still, it was becoming more than she could handle. She needed him inside of her. Now.



Squall could feel her need, her desire, could see her writhing in exquisite agony as he teased her, as he flicked his tongue against the bit of skin he held between his teeth, and as he reached up to the top of her camisole and pulled, hard, tearing it apart. Truth be told, he couldn’t handle teasing her for much longer either. And he was losing control, becoming almost animalistic. Squall held so many emotions inside of him, never letting them out, that when he had sex all those pent up emotions exploded out of him. He went wild, almost violently. It had scared Rinoa at first, but then she’d come to enjoy it. Love it. And it seemed like it didn’t faze Quistis at all. She was lost in her desire.



The scarf unraveled and fell away.



Her fingernails dug into his shoulders so hard they drew blood. The pain seemed to spur him on. He raked his teeth against her skin, moving down her chest to her left breast, as he reached down to his pants, unsnapping the top button and yanking the zipper down. Then he cupped her ass in his hands, lifting her up a few inches off the floor, holding her in position. And as his lips found her nipple, as he sucked it into his mouth and bit down hard, he slammed into her, driving himself all the way into her with one hard stroke. She cried out in surprise and pain mixed with pleasure, almost having an orgasm right then.



Squall’s tongue flicked rapidly up and down against Quisty’s hard nipple as he began to thrust in and out of her. She gasped with every down stroke, a tingling sensation spreading warmly through her. She growled in Squall’s ear, dragging her fingernails down his shoulders to his lower back.



“Harder,” he commanded, growling around her breast, drawing his head back to rake his teeth along her nipple before sucking it back in.



Quistis dug her nails in harder and stroked them down his back, the skin tearing. He gasped, his hips pumping faster and faster. He could feel her body starting to shudder beneath him, so he lifted his head to watch her orgasm. Her long brown hair lay tousled around her head, her brown eyes open as she panted. Her almond shaped face contorted as an orgasm ripped through her but… this was Rinoa! He was having sex with his sister! Again!



Squall let go of Quistis and she dropped back to the floor. His penis spasmed as he pulled it from her, sperm spurting across her stomach. His eyes only had time to register the blonde hair and blue eyes of Quistis, not Rinoa’s brown hair and eyes, before he ran off towards the bathroom. He made it just in time.



Squall hung his head in the toiled and threw up.