F*** Me Blind
folder
Final Fantasy VIII › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,058
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VIII › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,058
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
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.
Seifer Gets An Offer He Can't Refuse
Fuck Me Blind
Square/Enix (Squix?) owns all. I own nothing but a dirty mind. Bad Rentai!
Warnings: Language, Anal, Oral, Slash, Light Bondage, and generally picking on Seifer! Basically a 3-chapter PWP.
Summary: Seifer gets an Offer he can't refuse, even if he wanted to, which he doesn't.
Chapter One: An Offer He Can't Refuse
Seifer stood frozen (well, Stopped , actually) in the locker room of the Training Center. He should never have let his guard down, but Hynedamnit! It was 3am two weeks into summer vacation. No body else should have been up, let alone at the Center. But here he was, stark naked, Stopped in the act of toweling off. He couldn’t even see who his assailant was because the towel covered his face!
“Salutations, Blondie.”
Salutations? What is this, fucking Charlotte’s Web? And what is up with this wanker’s voice? It’s all weirded out like that techno crap Selphie listens to.
“I forgive your lack of response. I can see that you are … indisposed.” A wry laugh enveloped the gunbladist as a blunt finger slowly traced down his spine. “You have been on my mind a lot lately. I have been thinking of a way to address our problem.”
Problem? What problem? UnStop me and I’ll *fix* your Hynedamned problem. Per-man-ent-ly!
“Without you ending me and my half of the problem in a permanent fashion, that is …” The techno voice unknowingly echoed Seifer’s thoughts as the thick finger circled his entrance teasingly. “I get you - allllllllll of you - for a while. Your mouth, your cock, your ass -- allllllllll minnnnnne.”
If Seifer could have shivered, he would have, though in anticipation or in nervousness of the threat, he didn’t know. As the calloused finger feathered across the tight ring of muscle, his mind screamed in denial.
“I want you, Blondie. Beneath me, hot, moaning, writhing in ecstasy, pleading for my touch, begging for me to let you come. Mmmmmm. Can you see it, Blondie?” The thick finger left for a moment, only to return with a warm slick coating. “Will you let me, Blondie?” The warm, wet digit stroked his entrance promisingly. “Will you moan for me? Or are you a screamer, Blondie?”
This puke expects me to just give in? Just roll over and play bitch? Who is this wanker who thinks I bottom for *anyone*?!? What could this asshole possibly promise to do or say that would save his ass once the Stop wore off? I will track his ass down and he’ll see why *I* was the head of the Disciplinary Committee!
“Or do you need incentive, Blondie?” Again, the voice had eerily followed his train of thought. “How about this? You are mine - for a time - and The Posse is pardoned.”
Seifer would have frozen in shock if he wasn’t Stopped already. Raijin and Fuujin had gone into hiding at his insistence so that they would not be tried for orders he had given them. He didn’t think Squall was that big a bastard, but he knew General Caraway was. After all, the apple never fell far for the tree. And all he knew of President Loire was tainted by Ultimitia’s memories.
“I’m going to unStop you so you can answer. If you make any sudden moves, it won’t be pleasant.” The techno voice moved off to the side, presumably to give him room, but he knew it was to give the other reaction time and casting room. The gunbladist felt the Remedy item course over him as it released suddenly aching muscles. Moving slowly, he lowered his arms and rotated his stiff neck. But when he reached for the towel covering his head, the mysterious person stopped him. “It stays.”
Seifer slowly lowered his hands again, debating his options. None of them were good. Time for some answers. “Let me get this straight,” the tall blond rasped. “I put out, and you save Fuu and Rai?”
“Yes.”
“Just what, exactly, do I have to do? You alluded, but you didn‘t specify.”
“My discretion.”
Shit. “Come on! A few guidelines at least!”
“I’ll think about it. What are your *requests*?”
The gunbladist thought for a moment. He knew he was a big boy and could taking a beating if it meant freedom for the Posse, but he drew the line at out and out torture. “Nothing that leaves a lasting mark. Bruises are ok, I guess. No pictures. No magic. And I get to do you at some point.” He threw the last in as a test. If the asshole agreed, he would know it was all a lie and could react accordingly. If not, and if he could get his hands on the mysterious bastard, he could estimate body size and figure out who it was. The silence seemed overwhelming as his demands were considered. Finally, he got his answers.
“No intentional lasting marks - agreed. No pictures - regretfully agreed. As for magic - I agree to no attack magic. I will use indirects, and restoratives to remove them. And no fucking way are you doing me.”
Seifer took a deep breath. It was more than he had expected, though less than he had hoped for. Just remember The Posse. “I agree to your terms. I’ll be your fuck toy. But no scars, no pictures, and no attack magic. And you *will* get The Posse pardoned. Your word!” The gunbladist stuck out his hand.
“You are mine for a time, though no scars, pix, or attack magic. The Posse’s pardon papers will be in your hands within three days of my releasing you. I swear.” A calloused, muscular hand with strength that matched his own clasped his and they shook. Then the techno voice came once again.
“Pain!”
________________________________________________
TBC
Square/Enix (Squix?) owns all. I own nothing but a dirty mind. Bad Rentai!
Warnings: Language, Anal, Oral, Slash, Light Bondage, and generally picking on Seifer! Basically a 3-chapter PWP.
Summary: Seifer gets an Offer he can't refuse, even if he wanted to, which he doesn't.
Chapter One: An Offer He Can't Refuse
Seifer stood frozen (well, Stopped , actually) in the locker room of the Training Center. He should never have let his guard down, but Hynedamnit! It was 3am two weeks into summer vacation. No body else should have been up, let alone at the Center. But here he was, stark naked, Stopped in the act of toweling off. He couldn’t even see who his assailant was because the towel covered his face!
“Salutations, Blondie.”
Salutations? What is this, fucking Charlotte’s Web? And what is up with this wanker’s voice? It’s all weirded out like that techno crap Selphie listens to.
“I forgive your lack of response. I can see that you are … indisposed.” A wry laugh enveloped the gunbladist as a blunt finger slowly traced down his spine. “You have been on my mind a lot lately. I have been thinking of a way to address our problem.”
Problem? What problem? UnStop me and I’ll *fix* your Hynedamned problem. Per-man-ent-ly!
“Without you ending me and my half of the problem in a permanent fashion, that is …” The techno voice unknowingly echoed Seifer’s thoughts as the thick finger circled his entrance teasingly. “I get you - allllllllll of you - for a while. Your mouth, your cock, your ass -- allllllllll minnnnnne.”
If Seifer could have shivered, he would have, though in anticipation or in nervousness of the threat, he didn’t know. As the calloused finger feathered across the tight ring of muscle, his mind screamed in denial.
“I want you, Blondie. Beneath me, hot, moaning, writhing in ecstasy, pleading for my touch, begging for me to let you come. Mmmmmm. Can you see it, Blondie?” The thick finger left for a moment, only to return with a warm slick coating. “Will you let me, Blondie?” The warm, wet digit stroked his entrance promisingly. “Will you moan for me? Or are you a screamer, Blondie?”
This puke expects me to just give in? Just roll over and play bitch? Who is this wanker who thinks I bottom for *anyone*?!? What could this asshole possibly promise to do or say that would save his ass once the Stop wore off? I will track his ass down and he’ll see why *I* was the head of the Disciplinary Committee!
“Or do you need incentive, Blondie?” Again, the voice had eerily followed his train of thought. “How about this? You are mine - for a time - and The Posse is pardoned.”
Seifer would have frozen in shock if he wasn’t Stopped already. Raijin and Fuujin had gone into hiding at his insistence so that they would not be tried for orders he had given them. He didn’t think Squall was that big a bastard, but he knew General Caraway was. After all, the apple never fell far for the tree. And all he knew of President Loire was tainted by Ultimitia’s memories.
“I’m going to unStop you so you can answer. If you make any sudden moves, it won’t be pleasant.” The techno voice moved off to the side, presumably to give him room, but he knew it was to give the other reaction time and casting room. The gunbladist felt the Remedy item course over him as it released suddenly aching muscles. Moving slowly, he lowered his arms and rotated his stiff neck. But when he reached for the towel covering his head, the mysterious person stopped him. “It stays.”
Seifer slowly lowered his hands again, debating his options. None of them were good. Time for some answers. “Let me get this straight,” the tall blond rasped. “I put out, and you save Fuu and Rai?”
“Yes.”
“Just what, exactly, do I have to do? You alluded, but you didn‘t specify.”
“My discretion.”
Shit. “Come on! A few guidelines at least!”
“I’ll think about it. What are your *requests*?”
The gunbladist thought for a moment. He knew he was a big boy and could taking a beating if it meant freedom for the Posse, but he drew the line at out and out torture. “Nothing that leaves a lasting mark. Bruises are ok, I guess. No pictures. No magic. And I get to do you at some point.” He threw the last in as a test. If the asshole agreed, he would know it was all a lie and could react accordingly. If not, and if he could get his hands on the mysterious bastard, he could estimate body size and figure out who it was. The silence seemed overwhelming as his demands were considered. Finally, he got his answers.
“No intentional lasting marks - agreed. No pictures - regretfully agreed. As for magic - I agree to no attack magic. I will use indirects, and restoratives to remove them. And no fucking way are you doing me.”
Seifer took a deep breath. It was more than he had expected, though less than he had hoped for. Just remember The Posse. “I agree to your terms. I’ll be your fuck toy. But no scars, no pictures, and no attack magic. And you *will* get The Posse pardoned. Your word!” The gunbladist stuck out his hand.
“You are mine for a time, though no scars, pix, or attack magic. The Posse’s pardon papers will be in your hands within three days of my releasing you. I swear.” A calloused, muscular hand with strength that matched his own clasped his and they shook. Then the techno voice came once again.
“Pain!”
________________________________________________
TBC