This is my Rifle, This is my Gun [complete]

Is Squall as OOC as I think he is? Meh, probably worse...



Dah well. It's not going to get any better from this point on-- so if you don't like OOC, go take a few laps at Irvine's man meat or something. More Irvine sluttiness, onward!





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This is my Rifle, This is my Gun



Part Four





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“Irvine! Irvine, open this goddamn door, I can hear you in there!” Selphie pounded on the door with her fists, then began to kick it as hard as she could. “Irvine!” she screamed, causing several other dorm doors to open and curious heads to peer out.



“What?” Irvine murmured, slightly amused.



Selphie spun around to find him behind her, in nothing but his boots and jeans. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was sniffling, but her snarl was vicious. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re not the only one who cheated! I kissed Zell the day before our nine-month anniversary! So there!” A smug smile spread on her lips as she crossed her arms and waiting for the reaction.



Irvine blinked. “Uh… ok,” he shrugged. “I really don’t care.”



Selphie’s smile wavered, and she frowned once more, determined. “Well… well that’s not all! I’ve done things with all sorts of people that you don’t know about! And I never really loved you! And you were terrible making love!”



The sniper’s eyebrows rose. “All that is fine by me, Selphie. I’m sorry I wasted a whole year of your life, but get the hell out of my dorm wing. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me any more, darlin’. Ever.” He smiled sweetly.



Selphie gasped, horrified, then screamed as new tears streaked down her face and she ran past Irvine, wailing all the way back to her wing. The sniper shook his head and pressed his fingers against his temples as his ears rang from the shrieks. “I’m not going to miss that,” he mumbled, opening the door to his room.



He was disappointed to find his bed empty, though relieved temptation would be easier to bear with Squall gone… until he heard the unmistakeable sound of gagging from his bathroom. Irvine hurried over to the gunblade specialist with a wince, crouching next to him at the toilet and brushing his hair out of his eyes.



“Good morning,” he said in an apologetic tone. “How are you doing?”



Squall answered by doubling what he had already put in the pool of water beneath him. Irvine rubbed his hand along Squall’s back gently until the brunette’s body could give no more and he collapsed into the sniper’s arms, panting. Irvine carried him to the bed and laid him down gently, grateful that his concern was overriding his cock.



“Feel better?” he asked softly, knowing how well noise and hangovers worked together.



Squall nodded, lifting a hand to his forehead and keeping his eyes shut. “It’s still too hot,” he whispered, his throat raw.



Irvine’s jaw clenched and he looked up at the ceiling as though begging some higher being to ease off with the temptation. “I’ll fix it,” he said gradually, trying not to sound as though he was anticipating it with pleasure. The sniper went back to the bathroom, took out a fresh facecloth, and soaked it in cold water. He wrung it out and brought it back to Squall, neatly folded, and placed it on the brunette’s forehead.



The moan that slid from those enticing lips made Irvine shudder. “Better?” he asked weakly.



Squall shook his head again, and reached down, unbuckling his top belt. Irvine stood and took several steps away from the bed, clenching his fists until his knuckles were white. The gunblade specialist undid another belt, and then reached for the button of his pants.



“Squall…!” Irvine bit out quickly, trying to think of something to say to prevent this. He could not, could not… ~could not~ molest one of his only friends, who had a girlfriend, and was straight, and had no interest in him, while he was hung-over and helpless. “Would you prefer if I opened a window?” he said in a pinched voice.



“Yes, please, yes!” Squall moaned, releasing the zipper of his pants and letting his hands fall to his sides.



Irvine ground his teeth and walked stiffly to the window, reaching behind the blinds and opening it all the way. He took several deep breaths of the cool air and thought of things that turned him off.



Old men.



Dirty, greasy hair.



Clogged drains.



Selphie.



His arousal waned, and he breathed a thankful sigh, walking back to Squall and removing the cloth. He rinsed it out once more, and filled a glass with water as well, bringing these to the brunette. “Here, can you sit up a little? Drink this, it’ll help.”



Squall sat up some, and Irvine helped him the rest of the way up, propping the pale gunblade specialist’s body against his chest as he held the glass and brought it to Squall’s lips.



After a few sips of water, Irvine put the cloth back on Squall’s forehead, and ran his fingers through the locks of honey-brown before he realized what he was doing. The sniper’s body tensed as he waited for some sort of reprimand, but nothing happened. Squall sighed peacefully.



“I’m tired,” he whispered.



Irvine nodded. “Alright; drink a little more water for me, and then I’ll leave you alone.”



“Don’t.”



“Don’t what? You don’t want water?”



“Don’t leave,” Squall murmured drowsily as he lifted a hand and helped to guide the glass to his mouth. He took two more mouthfuls before pushing it away, and Irvine placed the cup on the nightstand before leaning back onto the mattress, bringing Squall with him. The brunette’s head was nestled on Irvine’s shoulder, and he didn’t seem to care. Irvine, on the other hand, was enthralled. He looked down at Squall’s tense brow, the scar there wrinkled from his frown, and the smooth cheeks that were positively glowing pink.



“Irvine,” he mumbled a few minutes later. “Who was yelling and banging before?”



“Did she wake you up? I’m sorry. It was Selphie.”



“Are you ok?”



“I’m fine. I’m worried about you right now.”



“Thanks, Irvine.” Squall, to Irvine’s utter disbelief, smiled before drifting off to sleep.





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The fact that he woke up horrified him, because that meant he had fallen asleep at some point. Irvine sat bolt-upright, looking around. No Squall. The bathroom was empty, the bed was empty, the room was empty. Glancing at the clock, the sniper let out a long moan. 3:21 p.m. He flopped down onto the bed once more, and looked over his shoulder at the rustle of paper. He picked up a small note scribbled on the back of a piece of parchment ripped out of the scrapbook he kept on his desk, untouched.



‘Irvine,

Thanks for the sake and the hospitality.

See you around.

-Squall’



Formal, polite and to the point. Irvine didn’t know how in the hell to translate it. Had Squall woken up with a huge, drooling sniper cuddling him for dear life and run for cover? Had he—by any luck that Irvine didn’t seem to be having—woken up clear across the bed, at an innocent and friendly distance?



The sniper wanted to crack his forehead against the corner of his desk several dozen times.



Instead, he tossed the note into his scrapbook, removed a beige long-sleeved turtleneck from his dresser, and put it on. A bit of searching and he located his cowboy hat under the sink, which he also put on, and for extra measure he also grabbed a smaller handgun and holster, which he buckled onto his hips properly. Just in case he was surprised by Selphie again and actually needed to greet her with friendly fire.



He stood before his door, looking down at the knob for a moment before stepping out. “Here we go,” he breathed, hoping for the best.





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Irvine smiled and waved to those that smiled his way, but he mostly received cold stares from the girls and wary looks from the guys, who didn’t want to be associated with him and earn some of his outcast status.



It didn’t much matter; the sniper didn’t exactly live to be a social butterfly. Most of the time all he cared about was playing with his guns, where his next meal was coming from and his relationships with those that meant something to him.



That list was quickly faltering.



“Well, if it isn’t the ace gunman. I heard rumour that you cheated on your lady and ended up dumped. Smooth move.”



Irvine’s gaze settled on a cool smirk and colder eyes. “Shut up, Seifer.”



“Want to know what else I heard?”



“No. Shouldn’t Rajin and Fujin be sucking your cock right now?”



Seifer’s grin widened. “I don’t know, maybe. Shouldn’t you be sucking Zell’s?”



“Gossip is bad for you, Seifer. Why the hell are you here, anyways? Shouldn’t you be off training new SeeDs or something?” Irvine’s jaw tensed.



“For the Garden’s welcoming ceremony—don’t tell me it slipped your mind. I’m sure you can’t be on your knees that much. The newest batch of SeeDs needs to meet their newest nightmare.” Seifer bowed. “All of us instructors…” he looked down at Irvine, “and those who claim to be instructors, are required to attend. By orders of the Director’s Office, and the head of teachers, Squall. You’ll get quite the spanking from Mister Scarface Tightass if you don’t show up.”



Irvine’s left eye twitched at the image of a spanking from Squall. “I’ll be there, and I won’t be sorry if I don’t see you,” he grumbled. “Take a long walk off a short cliff, Seifer.”



Seifer saluted Irvine with one finger and walked off pleasantly.



The sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged his eyes with his index finger and thumb. “This is going to be a long day,” he sighed. Half of him wanted to go back to his room and sleep till night. The other half wanted to go back to his room and sleep for a week.



Instead, he continued his way through the Garden, up to one of the hidden balconies he liked, near the very top of the flying facility. The higher he went the less people he saw, and when he finally reached the balcony, he closed the door behind him and locked it from the outside.



No Seifer.



No Selphie.



No Zell.



No Squall…



Irvine closed his eyes and imagined that pale, lean body before him, wrists bound above his head and his expression a plea to be ravaged mercilessly. His chest would be heaving with lust, and his weapon raised and glistening with dew ready to be lapped up. The sniper shivered and ran his hand along the middle seam of his jeans, between his legs and back up again.



Why did this always happen to him?



He’d be moving along through life just fine, when blip, somebody suddenly appears on his radar, and he can’t take his eyes off of them if his life depended on it. No matter how preposterous or unexpected the yearning, he wouldn’t be able to resist chasing after that person as though he was physically chained to them by hand and foot.



But he couldn’t go after Squall!



The reasons were numerous and just one of any of them was excuse enough not to stoke the fires that already burnt within. Irvine bit his lip and leaned back against the door to the balcony, sliding down to the metal floor and parting his legs as he undid his pants and freed his hardening cock.



Squall, laying on his back in Irvine’s bed, writhing and covered in a sheen of sweat, his thighs open for him, waiting.



Squall, looking up at him, Irvine’s length in both his hands, his tongue spilling from between his lips, his mouth dripping with the sniper’s seed…



Irvine groaned as he pumped into his hand, pressing his back against the door as hard as he could, digging the heels of his boots against the metal flooring.



Squall, sitting on Irvine’s lap, his body jerking with each thrust made, his face contorted in pleasure as his nails dug into the sniper’s shoulders for dear life… and then, Squall’s head falling back with a cry as he came between them and Irvine came inside of him…



Irvine’s seed shot onto the metal planks before him as he shuddered violently, then he released his grip, dropping his hands at his sides and letting his head droop to the left. He watched from behind hooded eyelids as the high-speed winds whipped any trace of his dishonour away, leaving behind the same clean metal planks.



What in the hell was he supposed to do?





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Irvine had made it back to his door without any more confrontations, but as he touched the handle, a hand settled on his shoulder.



Anybody but Selphie or Squall, he prayed, turning.



Zell smiled at him shyly. “It’s already eight and everyone’s started getting ready. Are you going to the ceremony tonight?”



The sniper turned the handle and stepped into his room, and Zell followed, closing the door behind them.



“I don’t know,” Irvine sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why?”



Zell shrugged. “I was thinking that maybe we could make an appearance just so we don’t get in trouble with Squall, then go back to my room? The dorms will be empty, so we could be as loud as we wanted…” The blonde blushed and looked away.



Oh how he wished people would shut up about Squall—Squall this, Squall that, Irvine was going crazy. How was he supposed to resist temptation like this?



“Sure, I guess so,” the sniper shrugged. It was a decent plan. This way he would see as little of Squall as possible, and he could spend some of his pent-up lust on Zell. Though, he hated using the blonde like a dick-puppet. Zell was a nice kid, and he seemed to genuinely like Irvine, though the marksman had no clue why. He couldn’t seem to do anything right; he couldn’t even choose good objects of affection.



Zell yipped in excitement, stood on his toes, and pressed a kiss onto Irvine’s cheek. “I can’t wait, Irvy,” he whispered seductively before nipping the sniper’s ear just above his earring.



Irvine bristled and stood in place until he heard the blonde leave, and his footsteps were long gone down the hall.



“Fuck!” he roared, pulling his arm back and slamming his fist into the wall, breaking plaster.





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The End!



..just kidding. What a crappy ending that would be!



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