Mine.
Hunted.
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Warnings: If you’re still reading this fic,
you already know and you don’t care.
Pairings: If you’re still reading this fic,
you should already have guessed.
Disclaimer: If you think I own
Seifer and Squall and Selphie,
then… you’re dumb. I do own the plot and the Gayla
and the chocobos and all that outside stuff that
doesn’t belong to Squaresoft.
Author’s Notes: Sorry this one’s been a while coming. I
spilled coffee all over my laptop keyboard and it’s still in the shop. Luckily, I had a copy of this
it at uni – no easy feat when people are walking past
randomly… Anyway! Here it is. Oh! FF.Net readers, I’m always worried the FF.Net
management, in their unending wisdom <sarcasm, sarcasm>
that happens, I’m easy enough to find. I’m the KittyMeowMaxwell
on www.mediaminer.org ,
http://adultfan.nexcess.net/ I
would, in fact, encourage you to read my stuff there instead of FF.net… We all
know what their “wisdom” leads to… Also, there are a couple of
Enough plugs, more fanfiction! As
usual stuff marked /thusly/ is native-speak.
KittyMeowMaxwell
It was lucky, Zell thought, that
they might have eaten would be well gone by the time the cowboy got there. But,
to be fair, he was doing better, and the native was proud of him for trying so
hard.
He stilled at a rustle in the trees and
that loincloth… Mmm
forced his mind back on track and indicated that
to peep through some thick-growing bushes.
“/Come!/” he hissed at
“/See?/”
didn’t know that word, but he knew
what it meant when Zell pointed. He looked along the
line of the native’s finger and blinked.
“/Dinner,/” Zell
said, rubbing his belly.
“They’re Grats!”
Zell cocked his head, then simply
turned his attention to the Grats and reached up and
over his shoulder to withdraw an arrow and knock it to the bow. He sighted,
drawing the string back, and caught the cowboy studying the flex of his muscles
with the movement. He smirked, then let fly, making a
pleased sound when one of the Grats screamed and the
rest of the growth fled, clicking and squeaking fearfully. The one he had hit
keeled over with a low cry and Zell puffed his chest
out as he strode out of the cover to his kill.
“/Come,/” he said, and
sound of appreciation at how clean a shot it had been.
Zell generally didn’t bother with
weapons when he hunted. It was easier for him to simply spring on an enemy and
attractive as an arrow. Later,
could see what he usually did.
The native took out a Belhelmel-blade
knife and began to skin the Grat, showing
surprised him – there was white meat under the thick, hard shell of foliage
that made up the Grat’s body. He offered a strip of
the foliage to
and smiled when the cowboy took a hesitant bite which grew more enthusiastic
when he realised it was good.
“/Good?/” Zell
asked, and
immediately picked up on what the word must mean. He was getting better,
“/Yes. Good,/”
a few quick bites.
“/This is even better./”
Zell knew the cowboy wouldn’t
understand that, but it didn’t matter. He carefully cut a tentacle off the
creature, and it immediately began to drip rich red-and-green blood. He dipped
two fingers in the liquid, then held up towards
“/No,/”
“/Don’t argue with me./”
The cowboy pressed his lips together in a thin line and
shook his head, flatly refusing, so Zell simply
swiped his fingers along those lips, and watched as Irvine’s automatic reflexes
took over and he licked them.
The sky-blue eyes blinked and blinked again.
“Oh! Hyne, that’s
Zell beamed and nodded in an
I-told-you-so manner. Grat’s blood had a
cinnamon, and it was addictive as any sweet
They took home with them several fat pieces of meat and two
tentacles for sweets. The rest, they left, but Zell
knew the carnivorous monsters which roamed the forest would dispose of it soon
enough.
Whipcrack warbled unhappily when
they returned, evidently thinking it unfair that Shir’nis
could wander around as she pleased. Zell went over
and unbridled the yellow bird, figuring he wouldn’t be inclined to wander off
now that he’d probably forgotten where home was. And he thought
well. He had already seen Whipcrack flaring his crest
and throwing his head back to warble at her in what Zell
supposed must be a musical fashion to chocobo ears.
(2)
Sure enough, Whipcrack trotted
over to say hello to the piebald bird, who ignored
him. Typical woman, Zell thought with a snort, then
headed inside to find
already sitting on the furs and stoking the fire, onto which he had placed a
new log.
The perfect taken,
Zell thought with a lick of his lips.
can cook…? I wonder if he’ll willingly let me have
him, or if I’ll have to make him want it so badly he can’t refuse his body.
Will he fight what he wants? Will he fight me? Ai, ai… he’s so beautiful…
The native went around to a dim, cool corner of the cave and
brought
several big leaves, handing them over as he sat. The cowboy considered for a
moment, then he must have remembered the way Zell had
done it before and he began to wrap the flesh in the leaves. When that was
done, he eyed the fire and the native wondered what he was doing when he stood
and went ferreting around the cave.
It seemed to Zell that
beginning to know his place. He hadn’t questioned when he was given the leaves,
only spent a moment working out what had been wanted of him and now he was
doing it. At least, Zell thought he was, but he had
no idea why the man was searching the cave.
“Ahah!”
cowboy came back with the harvesting spoon he’d used on Jirrah.
“/What?/” Zell
wondered, another word
already knew. He had to admit the cowboy was learning faster than he would have
thought possible. Yes, he had chosen well. Of course, that was to be expected.
“Tongs would be better, but this’ll do.”
carefully balanced one of the packages on the spoon and eased it into the
coals, making sure it was covered before putting in the next. Soon, the five parcels
were all buried and cooking. Zell smiled proudly and
patted
thigh, grinning at the flush that ran down the cowboy’s neck.
He left
alone only until after they’d eaten, then he was close by the cowboy’s side,
teaching him more new words. He touched him anytime he could manage it, and
each time, the cowboy’s reaction became less and less afraid and more and more
positive.
When
yawned, Zell smiled gently and cupped his cheek,
drawing him forward to rest their foreheads together. The cowboy’s mouth was
already begging for a kiss, even if he wasn’t conscious of it, but no. Not yet.
Disappointment would make him want to stay longer.
“/Sleep,/” Zell
murmured. “/Dream. I’ll be here in the morning./”
“/Yes,/”
to pick up what Zell meant.
He sighed in a disappointment the native knew he wouldn’t be
able to put a name to, then lay down and Zell gently
stroked his hair back from his face, humming softly.
“Zell…?” he said, already falling
asleep from the combination of a long day and the stroking of his hair.
“Mmm…?”
“/I’m happy to… to be here…/”
Zell smiled, leaning down to brush
a kiss over
brow.
“/I’m happy to have you here,/” he
replied.
slipped off to sleep in bare moments.
Zell was happy to watch him for a
long moment, so pleased to have so beautiful a man as his own. His hand stroked
out of the cowboy’s hair, across the gentle rise-and-fall of the chest, down
the taught stomach. He hesitated only a second – what could it hurt?
would never know Zell had taken another peek and another touch…
He twitched the loincloth aside, making a sound that was
half-sigh, half-groan, then ran his fingertips gently
down the side of the prize beneath.
shifted and murmured, but he didn’t wake.
“/Oh, you are so perfect, my
cowboy…/” Zell whispered, turning his hand to run his
knuckles back up the same length.
next breath out was shaky.
Zell took his hand back before he
did more than he should, and gently replaced the scrap of cloth that was all
that protected the cowboy’s modesty. He stood and slipped outside to check on
the chocobos. They were still there,
who was still ignoring him.
“/Foolish bird,/”
dark for her to see anyway. Bedtime for you. Stop
annoying my girl./”
Whipcrack gave a few small
quite glad when Zell returned the golden bird to his
restraints for the night.
“/Only for the night. I don’t want
you being frightened and running away.
wouldn’t forgive me./”
Whipcrack still glared as he
walked away, and Shir’nis gave a cocky
shushed. He didn’t want
to wake.
When he returned to the cave, it was to find his cowboy had
curled up a little and was shivering. It wasn’t very cold in the cave, but
certainly get cooler during the night. He carefully banked the fire, then
collected the Snow Lion pelt and went over to lay down
beside
He spread the warm fur over both of them, then slipped one arm around the
cowboy’s shoulders, the other around his waist. He made that same wordless,
sleepy murmuring and snuggled deeper into the furs and closer to
That pleased the native very much…
- - - - - - -
Seifer had no pattern. There was no
reasoning behind the paths he chose through the trees, crisscrossing the
well-worn track that lead between
home and the O’Leary’s. He and his mini-posse took hours to move only part-way
up the track while they searched for clues.
The Sheriff was just starting to think it was a fool’s
errand, when Squall reined his chocobo, Dot, (3)
sharply off to one side of the track which they’d fallen back onto for about
the twentieth time. Seifer knew better than to ignore
Squall, even if he didn’t bother explaining
himself, so he drew Knightly to a halt and turned him in time to see the Deputy
slip off Dot and into a crouch in one easy movement. Seifer
was faintly jealous that a man could make so simple an action look like poetry.
He shook that off, and went through the low-lying scrub to
where Squall crouched.
“What-” he started, but got no further as Squall held up an
unspent shotgun cartridge, shiny new. He stood and Seifer
bent so they could examine the cartridge together, Dylan and Bobby joining them
some ten seconds later.
“Well, don’t really mean
docile cow mooing in the pastures. “But I don’t reckon we got much to go on.”
Squall nodded.
“He’s right. It might have fallen from
not have, but we haven’t seen anything
so far.”
Bobby scratched his ear with a work-calloused finger,
chestnut eyes thoughtful.
“Not many men bother carryin’
‘round somethin’ like a shotgun when
hide. But
sure do like ‘em big.”
Seifer allowed himself a moment to
drag his mind out of the dirt, then he nodded, patting
his chocobo’s neck gently. Without needing to say
anymore, the four men set off, Squall swinging back
into the saddle, in the direction the cartridge had lain off the track.
They found only scant hints of
know that he’d been this way. A yellow chocobo
feather nestled in the leaf-litter, a tiny scrap of fluff from the ruff of that
infernal jacket of his tangled in a bush, and even – spotted again by Squall’s
sharp grey-blue eyes – four or five strands of long, auburn hair snagged on a
low tree-branch.
Seifer pushed the other three
mercilessly, but no one complained. They were all eager to find
Only when the sun was so close to setting that they could barely see the backs
of their chocobo’s heads and only when Knightly
tripped and stumbled beneath him several times in a row did the Sheriff call a
halt. All four men were only too glad to find a clear patch,
set up camp and light a fire to cook their dinner – they hadn’t stopped for
lunch.
Bobby set tea boiling while Dylan worried about food and
Squall went for firewood. Seifer unsaddled all the
birds and got them fed, taking a moment to relieve himself before he returned
to the merrily crackling fire.
Despite the business they were on, the four of them were
still in good spirits. They were men of the land, and it was hard to get much
closer to it than they were now. They swapped stories and told jokes and
laughed, and Dylan even produced a banjo from the back of his saddle. It wasn’t
long before their stories had accompaniment and they even sang a few bars of
well-known ballads before Seifer threw a rock at
Bobby for being off-key and Squall glared at Seifer
for singing the wrong words.
They enjoyed themselves immensely,
so they could wake and continue on with the sunrise.
- - - - - - -
Shir’nis woke him sometime through
the night, creeping into the cave – a rule she knew she wasn’t to break – and nosing his shoulder. He was glad of
it, however, because he slipped out from under the fur without waking
unhappy sound at the loss of his warmth, but he settled back into sleep almost
immediately and Zell walked silently out of the cave.
For the chocobo to have broken a
cardinal rule, something must be wrong.
He followed her soundlessly through the velvet night,
painted with stars and the tiny sounds of the never-ending battle for survival
that went on in the undergrowth. His thoughts didn’t wander even briefly to the
warm bundle waiting for him back at the cave, not when being so silent took all
his concentration. There was silent, and then there was complete silence.
be the latter.
It wasn’t long before the sounds of male laughter and the
thrum of music reached his ears. He crouched low and crept
forward, waving Shir’nis to stay where she was. It
was pitiful, really. They left themselves open to any number of dangers, not
the least being his own people. He had seen the tall
blonde one before, when he was forced to follow his cowboy close to the town
that was a blight on the landscape. The one who
laughed and spoke less than the others, but seemed always in deep thought, he
associated with the tall blonde one, because he had never seen them separately.
The other two could have been any of the men from the town and the surrounding
ranches.
They never mentioned
but he knew instinctively that was why they were out here. He showed his teeth
in distaste. They would not take his cowboy from him. He would hear them coming
a mile off anyway…
There was nothing to stop him springing on them now and
slitting all their throats. They would not
know he was there before it was too late. But no… then more would come, in
larger groups. Larger than even he could handle.
him and his cowboy. And, he knew, the dark-skinned native would make
tangled dark fingers in the masses of silken hair, jerked back the cowboy’s
head and slit that elegant, pale throat. That would be worse than
Many would volunteer to hold him helpless while
blood.
No. He couldn’t kill the four strangers. He and his cowboy
would have to evade them.
He stayed and watched in silence, judging the abilities of
each of these men as best he could without watching them track and hunt and
kill. Again, he showed his teeth, this time in frustration. He couldn’t trust
that he knew everything about them until he saw them at work. But he couldn’t
waste the time to watch them.
He and
would just have to move the next morning, and go as far as they could. He hoped
he knew enough about the surroundings to find them new shelter. If he took
native encampment, trouble would be his anyway. They would have to go in the
other direction.
Curse this would-be party of thieves! Did they think they
could just march in and take from him what was rightfully his?! If it came down
to it, he would fight for his right. The tall blonde one was the leader, and
But he mustn’t let them use their guns. Even
When the group lay down, preparing for sleep,
into the cowboy’s home. Mother, father and son had all been out, and he had
found many interesting things in there. Shir’nis
loved the sweet, white cubes.
He found
still fast asleep, and for that he was glad. He quietly packed away everything,
so that soon there was little to say they’d been there, except for
the furs. Zell joined him once he was satisfied they
would be able to move almost immediately, and the cowboy turned in his arms to
face him, burying his auburn head between shoulder and fur.
Zell smiled, and went easily to
sleep.
- - - - - - -
sighed and burrowed deeper into hard-and-soft warmth, reluctant to let go of
sleep. He couldn’t remember ever having been so comfortable. And
safe. So safe.
He eventually opened his eyes to find himself looking
directly into the sleeping of face of his host. He blushed instantly when he
hips, and the native’s strong arms encircled him, but it faded quickly and he
calmed down, realising he liked where he was. He
hooked his leg further over the strong line of Zell’s
hip and pulled himself closer, biting his lip when that drew their lengths into
gentle contact.
Zell shifted and
feelings. But it was good, he realised, nuzzling his
nose into the crook of Zell’s neck and shoulder. He
shifted his own hips far more deliberately and gasped into the native’s skin,
feeling a growl stir in the chest against which one of his hands rested. It
made him jump, and he backed off guiltily.
But Zell’s sapphire eyes were
already studying him, darkened slightly.
“/S-sorry…/” he whispered.
A smirk spread across Zell’s
features, flashing those fangs, and his hand snaked quickly around to the small
of
back, bringing him back to where he had been. There was nothing even remotely
tentative or experimental about the way the native moved his hips and
breath caught in his throat.
“Z-Zell…”
“Shh…” Zell
purred, moving his hand from the small of
back to the cowboy’s thigh, pulling it a little further up his body.
felt even better.
“Wh
in Zell’s language, especially when the native rolled
him onto his back. He still held the thigh where it was, but his movements
became smoother, a gentle roll of his hips instead of a jerk. It somehow
managed to rub their entire bodies together.
whimpered.
Then one of the chocobos
hips became a rolling of his body, off
and into a crouch. He spat a word
knew had to be a curse, and cast a despairing look at the problem between both
their legs.
“/Sorry,/” he murmured ruefully, then
hurried out, snatching four heavy bags from the dirt-and-rock floor.
“Holy Hyne in heaven…”
panting brokenly. “Oh…Oh gods…”
“
Zell said a minute or so later, apology clear in his
voice. “/Come./”
“I… I…”
swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “/I can’t./”
“/Please. Come,/”
and then he said a word the cowboy realised instantly
was ‘understand’. “/I understand./”
And yes,
realised with a blush and a flick of his eyes to the
native’s loincloth, Zell did understand. He thought his best thoughts of Billy-Jo’s Ma in a
corset in an effort to calm himself down, and let Zell
help him to his feet, then jumped to help when the native started bundling up
furs.
They were soon on their chocobos,
two bags carried by each bird and furs spread out beneath the riders. It was
the best and only way to transport them.
“/Where?/”
realised he meant to ask where they were going.
“/Away,/”
“/Why…?/”
Zell didn’t answer him, but a
glare broke momentarily across his face, and
- - - - - - -
(1) *chant-sings* Cinnamon! Peppermint! Grat’s
blood! Woo! *giggles* Fuck, we have some weird RPs…
But this one was all
wonders of Grat’s blood. How the stuff came to taste
like cinnamon and peppermint is beyond me, but damned if that doesn’t sound
like a bloody good combination. Suffice it to say, Grat’s
blood can become decidedly sexy and cause quite passionate reactions, but I
swear I won’t terrify you with the idea ever again. I just had to put it in. There’ll
be no more mention.
(2) Hicky: Whipcrack
is singing! ~ Yes, Whipcrack is singing. Let’s face it, bloody great yellow birds really aren’t
all that pretty, so I figure courtship behaviour
wouldn’t have much to do with looking sexy. More Kitty
bullshit. Ain’t it grand?
(3) More blame to be laid on Hicky.
“Dotdotdot!” says she, and I obey. “…” At least she
didn’t try to make me get him to call it “Whatever…”
Author’s Notes: Sorry for the relative shortness of this
chapter, but honestly, if I’d given you the next part as well, that was another
two pages, and the next part after than ran straight on from it in a way that
would necessitate it being put in as well, which would have made the chapter
end up about twice as long as the
previous ones, which would mean I’d get to the end of what I’ve written faster,
and at the moment, I don’t have a lot of time (and my laptop is at the shop) so
I’m not adding to this fic, and I don’t want to leave
you hanging for months and months while I write more. *takes a breath*
…
…Was that one whole sentence…? ::dies::
Oh! Another thing.
You made me blush and gave me a smile on a cloudy, shitty day in shitty
hour of a boring maths lecture!