DISCLAIMER: All the characters, places etc., are the property of Square, not me (::sniffs::). I'm just borrowing them for my own nefarious purposes. I promise they'll be tidied up, and sent home all clean an' sparkling. (though they're gonna need some cleaning after this one…) All I own are my (VERY!!!) twisted ideas.

SUMMARY: When Irvine's lovers find out he's been cheating, they decide to teach him a…unique lesson. Two's company, three's a crowd, but four's a party

RATING: NC-17 (and how!)

WARNING: (**PLEASE** READ THIS! I won't be held responsible for anything that happens to you if you don't!)
More **YAOI** than the biggest **YAOI** thing in **YAOI** Land, carrying a big flag that says it's the most **YAOI** thing in the world. Um…Have I mentioned that this is **YAOI** ?? Heavily graphic male/male sexual situations (Or in this case, m/m/m/m. Yep, you read that right baby!!! It's a…um…squirzelfer! *sigh* so many `he's` `hims` and `his's`…this is probably going to get confusing…All Irvy's POV if that's any help.)
Flame if you must. Just be aware that flames will be shown to people who do have brains, laughed over, and no further attention whatsoever will be paid. But, to make things more convenient for ya, here's my response in advance (and in the immortal words of the second sexiest bunch of pixels in the known world) :
Constructive criticism of the non-mindless variety is welcomed though.
Um…by the way, there's **YAOI** in yonder fic…Just in case anyone's still confused.
Don't like it? What the hell are you still doing here?? Go away before you explode in rage, or something…(… … …BOOM!)
Like it? Enjoy…;)

ARCHIVE: Want, Ask, Take, Have.

FEEDBACK: YES PLEASE!! I'd really appreciate your thoughts on my work. Read and Review (I'll give you chocolate!). Flame if you feel the need, I can always do with a good laugh.

Whatcha Gonna Do With A Cowboy?

By Seshat

The amber glow of late afternoon bathed the hallways of Balamb Garden in warm sunlight. Classes over for the day, the hallways were soothingly quiet, the stillness broken only by the soft trickle of the many fountains, their footsteps, and Selphie's incessant whining.

"You realise that they're going to catch on, sooner or later, don't you?"

"Course I do, darlin'. And the later the better."

"Oh, you're hopeless!" Hands on her hips, Selphie sent him her most intimidating glare. Which, all in all, was about as intimidating as a Grat's left ear.

"Ain't what I heard." He smirked, dodging the punch she aimed at his arm.

"Irvine Kinneas!" She shook her head, failing miserably in the battle to keep the mischievous smile from her face. "I'm just concerned for you, that's all."

"Concerned?" He grinned. "Ain't me you need to be concerned about Sefie."

"Oh, please…" she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't you ever take anything seriously?"

"Of course." He feigned indignation. "As you know, I happen to take the fine art of romance very seriously."

"You know, I always wondered why they took Corny Pick-Up Lines 101 off the program at Balamb…"

"What can I say, I always figured you folks were kinda deprived in that department."


"Hey, hey…" he relented, holding up his hands to ward off any more violence she deemed was necessary. "You don't have to worry 'bout me. I know what I'm doin'."

"Oh, that's reassuring."

"I mean it. It ain't a problem Sefie, I swear. I can handle it."

"Not a problem?" She stared at him as if he'd just suggested that they advocate the feeding of junior classmen to the T-Rexuars to solve the classroom overcrowding issue. "Irvine, you're screwing around with the most dangerous people at Garden! Literally!"

"Which part, the `screwing around` or the `most dangerous`?"

"Both!" She exclaimed, exasperated. "And aside from being dangerous, I don't even think any of them are all that stable! I just don't want you - any of you - getting hurt. In any sense of the word." She sighed. "You can't keep playing this game…you're going to have to choose, eventually…"


Automatically, his mind ran over the selection available.

Squall Leonhart, SeeD Commander, Garden Headmaster. A penchant for black leather and an obsession with belts that a psychologist would have a field day with. Intense, cool, and beautiful but so very tender once the ice melted. The strong and silent type, but with an unbelievable amount of baggage behind the stoicism. That boy had more issues than the Timber Maniacs.

Zell Dincht, tattooed martial artist. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and with energy levels that hands down surpassed the Sun on pure amphetamine. Never shut up, never slowed down, and would hopefully never ever get over the oral fixation stage. Loyal, boisterous, sweet and adventurous - sort of like an eager puppy. An odd combination of exotic outlandishness, and boy-next-door charm.

Seifer Almasy, resident troublemaker and all-round bad boy. Tried to take over the world once, but hey, maybe he was possessed, maybe he was plain psychotic, who knows? The kind of guy that would make the previous title holder of Epitome of Masculinity giggle like a schoolgirl. Arrogant, passionate, dominating, and yeah, dangerous, but what the hell. It was sexy as sin, and besides, he could think of worse ways to go.


Choose? Are you fucking kidding me?

Irvine Kinneas, official Balamb Garden slut.

In his own defence, a tricky job at the best of times, he'd never intended for things to go this far. Hell, he'd never intended to hook up with any of them, let alone all three. Like so many other things in his life, it had just happened.

Oddly enough, it happened with Zell first. Odd, considering that when they first met, Zell apparently wanted to punch, and not screw, his brains out. The tension between then dissipated a little after their shared past was revealed, and Zell's anger was temporarily distracted by the knowledge that he'd been the Sorceress' Knight's object of torment even longer than he'd already thought. And maybe nothing would have come of it anyway, were it not for that sleepless night in the Presidential Palace in Esthar. It could just have been that everyone was already on edge, subdued and concerned for Rinoa. Either way, some insane quarrel about which one of them actually owned that Charlie Chicobo Alphabet Book, back at the orphanage, had escalated into a full-blown argument, culminating with Irvine oh-so-wisely asking Zell what the fuck his goddamned problem was anyway? He'd expected Zell to turn around and say "you", but…not quite for reasons Zell cited.

Squall had been different. After the war they'd all imagined he'd get it together with Rinoa, which indeed he did. For about two weeks. After that, the beleaguered Commander was hunting around for any excuse not to spend time with the clingy, self-absorbed girl. Rinny was a sweetheart, but Irvine could understand; if he was in a room with her for longer than an hour, he usually wound up fighting the very real urge to point Exeter at her pretty, oblivious little head, and pull the trigger. It turned out that getting Irvine officially transferred over to Balamb, sorting out mountains of paperwork, and arranging the necessary classes and exams, took up a lot of Squall's time. A hell of a lot. But when the Ice Prince still kept treating Irvine's room as a hideaway from the Spoilt Princess, even after the cowboy officially made SeeD, the quiet brunette was forced to engage in slightly more personal conversations. They were both equally surprised at how well they got along. Well enough for that exchange of deep dark secrets, late one whiskey fuelled Friday night.

Then Seifer returned. And from the minute he stepped through the gates, he had Irvine chasing after him like a lovestruck groupie. Both Zell and Squall had more or less been hand-delivered on a silver platter, which made it all the more important somehow to be the one making the first move with the newly reinstated Head of the Disciplinary Committee. And while the martial artist was cute, the Commander was pretty, Seifer Almasy was stunningly handsome, in a reckless, predatory kind of way. It had still taken him aback at how easy it was. How readily the ex-Knight accepted the offer of friendship, company, affection. How much of a painful echo Seifer's apparent loneliness actually was. Irvine put on the act, knew how to judiciously apply the charm to ensure he didn't have to spend a minute alone. But that didn't mean he wasn't lonely, didn't mean any of the friends or lovers had any genuine desire to be either.

He'd been dividing his time between the three of them for eight months now, organising his social schedule with a precision that owed more to the fear of discovery than any inherent military training. Even if it did help. Thankfully, none of them were planning any major announcement any time soon, so it was easy to keep it quiet. Play the understanding lover, let them believe they were calling all the shots. So far he'd been careful, aware of how much more difficult it was becoming to remember the silly stuff - like who's room he woke up in, who's name he murmured.

But Selphie did have a point. He seriously doubted any of the three would be delighted at having been played for fools, and despite his naturally flirtatious attitude, he truly did care about them. Cared about the sides of each one's personalities that only he knew.

The way tough, aloof Squall could laugh himself into tears over old movies.

The way cute, innocent Zell could drink his sorry ass under the table and still be up and eager to train the next morning.

The way egotistical, proud Seifer would hold him close, like he was some surrogate security blanket, after they made love.

No, it wouldn't be a problem. It was already a damned problem, and for all his talk, he had no idea how to resolve it.

"Yeah, I know…" he answered, finally. "I guess I just need a little more time to make up my mind, that's all."

"Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?"

"I promise. I told you Sefie, you don't have to worry. Everything'll work out darlin', trust me."

"Trust you?" she laughed, turning down the corridor towards her own room. "Wow, you crack me up sometimes Irvy, you really do…"

He stared after her for a moment, until he realised that the request was a joke. And it was on him.

Despite all the behaviour to the contrary, he wasn't stupid. Just a little greedy. Wanted his cake, the ice cream and the chocolate sauce. He knew the risks. Realised that all this could come crashing down at any given moment.

Knew he could wind up hurting them all.

Losing them all.

So choose!


How the hell was he supposed to choose, when each one filled up a different hunger, a different need?

Zell. Faithful, optimistic, affectionate. Gently persistent, wickedly honest. Just picturing his smile was like stepping out of the shadows into a perfect summer's day.

Squall. Focused, determined, in control. Unconsciously honourable, perfect without any conceit. Everything Irvine would never be, but being with Squall was enough to make him believe that maybe he could be, after all.

Seifer. Fearless, fierce, headstrong. Insecure pride and vulnerable strength. He could just wrap himself up in the blonde's powerful embrace, and feel like the rest of the world could go to hell, because he was safe.

Sighing loudly, he headed for his room, vowing that he would work this whole mess out. Somehow.

Maybe after I give them each one last chance to…convince me…

Now that sounded like a plan, he smiled to himself, quickening his pace. If nothing else, at least he was fair. He'd give each of them a decent chance.

That plan crashed and burned the second the door to his room swooshed open.

"'Bout damn time, cowboy."

He was imagining it. It must have been his mind, must have been a result of spending so much goddamned time worrying about it. Goddamnit, he knew thinking too much was a bad idea, but he'd never thought he could somehow manifest his anxiety into…this.

Into his worst nightmare, splashed out in glorious Technicolor.

Seifer was reclining lazily on his bed, hands folded behind his head, impossibly long legs crossed at the ankles. Squall sat at his desk chair, leaning forward in his customary `I'd rather be gouging my eyes out with plastic cafeteria forks than be here right now` pose. In the floor space between them, Zell bounced incessantly on his heels, shadow boxing.




When it became all too apparent that it wasn't just some freaky hallucination brought on by stress, he figured he'd be better off dealing with it in his own, inimitable style.

Run like hell.

When the door wouldn't open on the seventh attempt, he heard a soft, resigned sigh behind him.

"I had the code changed."

"Yeah, cause we figured you'd freak out or something."

"Shut up, Chickenwuss." Seifer snapped. "But he's right, we thought you might run."

"`We`? But…how? I mean…"

Well, nice to see that supreme seductive charm could be relied on in these circumstances…

He realised absently that he was still punching in the obsolete door code, futilely.

"Will you stop that?"

"Cause you ain't going anywhere, Kinneas."


His gaze swept the suddenly claustrophobic room once more, violet meeting jade, cobalt, steel.

Leaning back against that traitorous door, he closed his eyes, and let himself sink to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest.

"I…I guess y'all want an explanation, huh…?" he asked, miserably, removing his hat and tossing it on the floor next to him. "Either that or you wanna take turns throwin' hacked up bits of me to the rexaurs…"

The silence was so profound, he ventured to crack one eye open.

Seifer and Zell were smirking knowingly at each other, whilst Squall was staring at him, his normally cagey expression positively locked up and surrounded by ten foot barbed wire fences.

Oh, man…

It still failed to register that they knew. That they'd somehow found out. But on top of that, he was beginning to get a terrifying feeling that they'd…discussed this. Discussed it, and were now ganging up on him.

Oh, Gods, they're gonna make me choose! Here and now!

"How did you…?" words failed him, but fortunately the meaning didn't.

"Please…" Zell rolled his eyes. "You think we don't talk to each other sometimes?"

"And seeing as some people have a really hard time keeping their mouths shut anyway…" Seifer grinned. "Though, to be fair he was choking on a hot-dog at the time. You know, Chicken, I didn't even know it was possible for people to be that shade of purple without rupturing something."

"Shut the fuck up!" Zell glared. "And I wasn't choking. I was just…surprised."

"Pfft, next you'll try telling me that you had nothing to do with the three broken tables in the cafeteria…"

"Only cause you threw me onto them!"

"Hmm, then maybe you should cut down on those dogs, huh Dincht? Now that you mention it, you are looking a little tubby…"

"Are you callin' me fat!?"

"Quiet, both of you." Squall ordered, in Commander Voice, with extra ice. "Or the bill for the damage is coming out of your next paycheck." He turned back to Irvine, his tone softer. "You can imagine how their reactions got a little…out of hand. But Zell's right, we were all surprised. To say the least…"

"I'm sorry…I just…" he shook his head. "I know I've been stupid, an' that I've hurt you, an' that you're real disappointed in me, an'…"

"Why, Irvine?"

"What d'you mean, `why`?" Zell frowned. "He's a goddamned horndog, that's why…"

"Shut up, Chickenwuss."

"Don't call me that!"

"I'm not gonna tell you two again…" Squall glared, standing from the chair. There was a soft jangle of belt buckles as he walked over to where Irvine was hunched up against the door. "Why?" he repeated, kneeling down in front of him.

"I…" Irvine blinked, his gaze travelling from the now acutely close Squall, to an uncharacteristically serious Zell, and an even more uncharacteristically nervous Seifer.

What the hell is going on?

"I never wanted to hurt any of you…I…I care 'bout you too much to…" He took a deep breath, closing his eyes if only to block out the proof in their eyes that whatever his intentions, he had hurt them. He cursed himself, again, as he felt tears pricking at his eyelids. "I know what you think of me…an' I don't blame you…y'all trusted me, and I just…"

"Was it just a game?" Squall went on. "Was it just a little fun, wasn't it ever…"

"No! Hyne, no…whatever the fuck it was, it wasn't a game…" he sighed. "I shouldn't have let it get out of hand, I should have…"


"…I'm just too fuckin' weak, too fuckin' selfish….I should have been smart enough to realise what I had…" he glanced up at Zell. "Should have been able to control what I wanted…" Seifer. Then back to Squall. "I just wanted too much…an' when it came down to havin' to give any of you up, I…I just couldn't. Y'all are so amazin', so damn beautiful in different ways. I mean, you're all here now an' you're gonna make me choose…" he stared at the floor, his voice barely a whisper. "And I still can't do it…"

That goddamned silence again. Fuck that…he needed the anger, the accusations and the threats, and the ultimatums he deserved. Needed it, needed someone else to bring this insane circumstance to an end, because he sure as hell wasn't strong enough to.


He jerked his gaze back up. Blinked. Decided he was going insane, since he couldn't have just heard…

"Cause we've been talking, and we kinda figured…"

"You don't have to. Choose, I mean…"

…the hell?!

"And despite how some of us act…" Seifer shrugged, ignoring Zell's glare. "We're all adults. It's probably about time we learnt how to share."

Share? As in, share me?!

A surreal vision of the Charlie Chicobo Alphabet Book popped into his mind.

"You're obviously happy with that arrangement. You've had, what, six months practice?" Squall raised an eyebrow.

"Eight months." Zell interrupted.


"The point is, we're willing to let things go on like they have been. With a couple of, uh…" Seifer glanced at Squall, an indefinable little smile on his lips. "`Minor` alterations…"

"Uh…yeah…" a faint but telling blush spread across the Commander's fine cheekbones, stormy eyes casting a shy, sidelong glance at the ex-Knight.

"W…Wait a second…" Irvine finally recalled the mechanics of speaking aloud, the obvious hitting him like an eighteen wheeler hitting a rabbit. "You two aren't…?"

"Would it be worth getting permanently scarred for anything less?" Seifer smirked, as Squall's blush deepened. "Not that you're in any position to start questioning our conduct, cowboy. At least…" the smirk turned into a sly, seductive smile. "Not yet…"

Tables turned, darlin'…Big time.


Squall stood, extending a hand to Irvine, who in turn could do little but stare, dumbstruck. Someone must have been messing with his room's climate control, because he could have sworn it just got a hell of a lot warmer in here…

"Come on Irvine…" Zell walked up behind Squall, draping one arm lazily over his shoulder. "You know the deal. And unlike some people, I know you're not just a pretty face…"

"Careful, Chicken." Seifer scowled, shrugging out of his trench-coat, and draping it over the back of the desk chair. "Or we might just have to let it slip to your boyfriend precisely how you learnt to get over that annoying little gag reflex of yours."

He'd fallen down the rabbit hole the second he stepped through the door, and it seemed things were just getting curiouser and curiouser. Any moment now, he'd wake up and realise this had all been some surreal dream…

"Ah, screw you Almasy." Zell frowned.

"Not tonight, sweetheart."

"Guys…" Squall sighed, irritably.

"He started it…" Seifer muttered.

"Seifer, grow up. Zell, shut up." He extended his hand just a fraction further, lips curving in a small, anxious smile. "Irvine, get up. You're a smart guy, you know where we stand. But it's your choice. If you want to try and go back to how things were before, then…"

Smart? Hell, right now he couldn't even remember how to breathe, let alone think.

They couldn't be serious…could they? He was still waiting for the indignant fury, the punchline. All he got were three expectant, tense…hungry stares. Thinking about it, the idea of being fed to the rexaurs seemed a far less frightening prospect than being on the menu for these three.

In a detached trance, he watched, amazed as his hand reached up and grasped Squall's, letting the deceptively strong grip haul him to his feet.

Offer made, offer wordlessly accepted.

Hell, ain't as if goin' back was ever an option anyway…

He leant into the embrace, into the kiss, hyper aware that he and Squall were being watched intently.


He talked a damn good fight, flaunted his well-deserved reputation around like a banner. But, he realised with a jolt, that reputation was also highly misleading. Promiscuous, hell yes. Adventurous, hell no. He liked to keep sex, like the rest of his life, plain and simple.

But things had never been plain and simple where they were concerned. And Irvine had no-one to blame for his current predicament, apart from himself.

Not that it wasn't a damn sweet `predicament`, though…

Yet he couldn't help but jump as strong hands snaked their way from his back, sliding up his chest and unbuttoning his shirt. He gasped shakily, releasing his lips from Squall's, as the hands slipped beneath the parted fabric, fingertips brushing in loose circles across his nipples.

"Don't stop, baby…" Zell murmured, pulling Irvine's shirt and coat from his shoulders, following their descent with his lips. "Kiss him…"

He didn't get the chance to argue - unlikely as that was - as the Commander's cool, elegant fingers tangled in his hair, and pulled him back down. Even now, there was a shy innocence about Squall's kisses, a seductive submission that belied the fact that Irvine had any control whatsoever over the situation.

His surrender was moot anyway. Any one of them could overpower him. Between the three of them, he didn't stand a chance. And hell if that thought wasn't a huge turn on.

Zell's kisses trailed back up his spine, turning into gentle fanged nips as they reached his shoulders. Irvine arched into the touch, whimpering against the kiss as Squall raked his nails lightly down the cowboy's chest, his hands coming to rest teasingly above the low-riding waist of Irvine's jeans.

Then, either Squall moved, or maybe Zell did, because Irvine was suddenly pressed that much closer between them, trapped between the warm solidity of the martial artist's chest, and the soft leather of the Commander's jacket. The living conduit between crackling lightning, and scalding ice.

So it really didn't matter how his hips shifted reflexively when Squall deftly unfastened his jeans. Didn't matter how that shiver of anticipation ran through him as strong arms wrapped around his chest, deadly hands caressing his skin, ghosting across his nipples, as gently as though they were handling fragile glass. Because Irvine was certain each of them could feel the other's touch through him. That somehow Zell could feel Squall's tentatively tender kisses, and that in return, Squall could sense the knowing skill in the tattooed blonde's inquisitive hands.

It took him a startlingly long moment to notice that his jeans were around his ankles. It really only registered with the tickling brush of loose, well-worn denim against the backs of his thighs, and the cold metal of a belt buckle biting into the swollen flesh of his erection.

And until that moment, he might have imagined he'd feel vulnerable, held fast, naked and as good as helpless between them. But with the last fragments of his mind that felt sane, that weren't swirling out of control with desire, Irvine realised that he didn't. He just felt safe.

Safe, and so damned turned on that he was probably going to come without either of them touching him.

Eyes closed, he dimly heard himself whimper as Squall's mouth moved from his. He felt the Commander shifting slightly against him, felt the reluctance as Squall let him go just long enough to shrug out of his jacket, before Irvine's lips were claimed in a kiss once more.

But not Squall's.

There was nothing tentative about the lips that moved firmly and deliberately against his own. Nothing shy about the tongue that lazily ravaged his mouth, assured and intense.

The abrupt end of the kiss was almost physically painful. A little like being suddenly deprived of some powerful, intoxicating drug. Breathing raggedly, Irvine peered at Seifer over Squall's shoulder. The blond smirked back, half-lidded jade eyes dark with desire, as he delicately wiped his mouth with his thumb.

"Don't look so worried cowboy…I have no intention of missing the party. I'm just sitting this particular dance out. It's one I just want to watch…"

Zell chuckled softly against Irvine's shoulder blade, the breath sending tiny little tremors down the cowboy's spine.

"You're such a fuckin' kink Almasy…"

"Well, if anyone would know, Chicken…" Seifer quirked an eyebrow, "I guess it'd be you. Now why don't you shut up and put that mouth of yours to better use?"

Even without turning around, Irvine could sense Zell's glare. Still, he hadn't anticipated Zell's reaction to Seifer's challenge. One of the martial artist's hands unwrapped themselves from the cowboy, curled firmly into the front of Squall's t-shirt, and yanked the surprised Commander into a deep kiss.

Oh Hyne…no, they weren't going to have to touch him at all…

Powerful hands grabbed him by the hips, and turned him around. Irvine could still taste Squall on Zell's lips, as the tattooed blond reached for him, drew him into a sweet, unhurried kiss. His breath hitched as Zell's hands slid lower, warm palms cupping his ass and pulling him firmly against the blonde's compact, muscular body. Firmly against the mind-blowing delights that baggy denim shorts concealed so well.

Typical, that the one thing Zell didn't insist on doing at a speed just past breakneck, was the one thing that drove Irvine crazy.

"Don't tease…" he murmured against a kiss that tasted like summertime, and radiated affection. Zell just grinned, tapping him lightly on the flank. Only a playful pat, but to the cowboy's suddenly highly sensitised skin, it felt like a sharp lick from Quistis's whip.

"Wuss." Zell shook his head, nipping little wet kisses down Irvine's neck.

"Wanna kiss it better?"

The only response was a soft laugh, muffled against the crook of his neck.

"Someone's beat me to it, baby…"

Irvine frowned at the words for a moment, until he felt a hand on his thigh, and warm lips pressed against the small of his back. The kiss meandered it's way out towards his hip, in a series of darting licks, and careful little bites, teasing touches that made Irvine's head spin. Then came a low, husky whispered order:

"Bed. Now."

The standard Garden issue bed creaked alarmingly under their combined weight. Since Irvine's height was pretty much all leg, kneeling between them on the bed kicked any slight advantage he may have had into touch.

Not that he'd been under any illusions about the part he was meant to play.

He might have started the game, but they'd laid down the rules.

Zell kissed him again, more urgently this time, while Squall's fingers raked through Irvine's hair, grazing the cowboy's nape with lips and teeth. Irvine leant his head against the Commander's shoulder, noticing for the first time through the hazy lust-induced stupor that the brunette had discarded his t-shirt, and was down to just the black leather pants. And that Zell still had way too many clothes on.

Gotta do somethin' 'bout that…

One hand tangling in the feat of engineering that was the martial artist's hair, Irvine shoved clumsily at Zell's jacket, whilst drawing the smaller boy into another fierce kiss. After a couple of futile attempts, Squall must have realised that the cowboy's uncharacteristic fumbling wasn't going to divest Zell of his clothes any time that week, and intervened with a resigned sigh. Tugging down the other jacket sleeve, that Irvine wouldn't let go of Zell to reach, Squall unceremoniously threw it onto the floor, before pulling the black vest free from the blonde's shorts, and dragging it over his head.

Irvine watched, mesmerised, as fine-boned alabaster hands skated over a toned, sunkissed chest, partly methodical, partly curious. When he looked up, Zell was gazing at Squall with shy, though unabashed, adoration.

Their rules…have they been plannin' this all along?

He sucked in a shaky breath as they kissed - and he could have sworn he heard Seifer do the same - craned his neck back to press butterfly kisses along Squall's jaw, blindly finding the belt of Zell's shorts by lazy touch alone.

When he felt a hand close around his aching erection, the first surreally detached thought that occurred to him, was that he couldn't be sure whose it was. In the quick, scalding jolt that ran from the firm touch up to his brain and back again, it didn't honestly matter.

It certainly didn't matter when another hand twined with the first, one touch a fraction rougher than the other, and began stroking in one deliberate rhythm.

"Oh, Gods…"

He leant forward bonelessly against Zell's strong shoulder, thrusting reflexively against the hands that caressed him, eyes closed but eyelids imprinted with pictures of Squall's tongue darting over Zell's lower lip, the Commander's fingers tracing the intricate maze of the martial artist's tattoo.

And his mind filled with the sudden image of Squall's pale, full lips crushed beneath Seifer's powerful, intoxicating kiss.

The hands on his length picked up speed, keeping time with his gasps, until white-hot fire was racing like wild horses through his veins, and he had to sink his teeth into Zell's shoulder to keep from crying out.

After all, who's name was he meant to call?

Zell hissed an indignant little gasp as Irvine bit him, and the vice-like grip on his cock tightened ruthlessly. One finger stretched away from the rest, and rubbed across the agonisingly sensitive head, pressing into the slit at the tip, just as a cool, lubricated finger ran gently down the crease of his ass.


Squall pressed a kiss to the side of Irvine's neck, as the cowboy's trembling body tried to decide in which direction to arch.

"That's the idea…"

Hardly the most romantic endearment he'd ever heard, but the intrinsic intention was enough. And Squall's timing was clinically efficient. Given over to the orgasm that rocked him, Irvine barely felt the quick, sharp pain of three well prepared fingers easing none-too-gently into his body.

Still shaking, still half-hard, and still thrusting unconsciously into the warm, slick hands that held him, he flicked his tongue over the raised red mark on Zell's shoulder, listening to the muscular blonde moan softly as Irvine let his mouth wander down Zell's chest.

Listening to himself making low keening noises in the back of his throat, as he tried to push back, harder, deeper, onto Squall's fingers.

The keening turned into a pitiful growl when the hands unwound themselves from his shaft. The sudden loss of their touch made him shiver, feeling illogically neglected, and inexplicably cold without their caresses.

"S'okay baby…" Zell grinned, a positively wolfish expression with the little fangs showing, and that unchecked want blazing in sapphire eyes. "We ain't even gotten started yet…"

"Is that…" Irvine managed to gasp, between the renewed assault of Zell's lips, and Squall's hands. "A promise or a threat?"

He was suddenly spun around in those disarmingly slender arms, and found himself on the receiving end of a steady, assessing gaze the same grey-blue as his favourite pair of jeans. Grey-blue, and getting bluer by the second. Squall regarded him with a half-smile, tilting his head slightly in the direction of the tense figure perched on the edge of the desk chair, lips parted and breathing as hard and raggedly as Irvine was, green eyes wide and blazing. The cowboy felt Zell's hands resting on his hips, as Squall's fingers cupped the back of his head, drawing him down into a kiss.

"It's both."

Funny, he'd thought he knew what erotic meant, how it felt.

But nothing he'd ever hidden in shame in his wildest fantasies could have prepared him for the way it felt, locking his gaze with Seifer, his lips with Squall, and his body with Zell.

For a split second, he was almost convinced he was going to black out.

He wasn't sure what stopped him, wasn't sure precisely what anchored him in the overly vivid present. Might have been the vulnerable hunger that flashed across Seifer's predatory stare. Might have been the sweet, insistent sweep of Squall's tongue against his own as he swallowed Irvine's surprised cry. Might have been the way Zell's very first thrust found the secret place within the cowboy that made his mind shatter, pull itself back together, and shatter all over again.

Might have been all three.

He felt himself harden against the Commander's leather clad thigh again. Felt the sensuous fabric grazing the tender flesh, and sensed his muscles clenching tight around Zell in response, ruthlessly keeping the martial artist buried deep inside him, motionless and pulsing, for a long, luxurious moment.

Squall's kisses slid, open-mouthed, hot and torturously slow, down Irvine's neck, feathering along his collarbone, his chest, pausing to lap delicately at the cowboy's tightening nipples. The kisses moved on too soon, apparently with a better destination in mind. Irvine's breath hitched sharply on realising where Squall was headed, as the portrait-perfect brunette crouched lower in front of him, shifting his weight on the loudly protesting bed.

He knew what to expect. Knew, as he wound his fingers in the gossamer strands of Squall's hair, that no-one in this room had quite as talented a mouth at this particular skill, as the Commander. Knew that Squall seemed to have some innate awareness of how Irvine needed to be touched, the right places, the right amount of heat and pressure.

It still didn't stop him from squeezing his eyes shut, and crying out as those full, kiss bruised lips wrapped like a velvet vice around his shaft, took him in deep, warm tongue running like silk over the underside of his cock.

Then Zell withdrew almost completely, until only the head of his erection remained inside Irvine. He paused for a teasing second, his fingers lingering on the still slick circles Squall's tongue had trailed around Irvine's nipples, before thrusting back into the cowboy hard enough to shift Squall a couple of inches further along the bed, and force Irvine a couple of inches further down the Commander's throat.

His fingers tangled harder in Squall's hair, completely unable to control the bucking of his hips, or the sweat that trickled like a lover's caress down his spine, his chest, his thighs.

"Oh, fuck…oh Gods…"

His mindless tirade was cut short by a deep, forceful kiss. A tongue that tasted like a wickedly indulgent addiction, lips that parted his as easily as a gunblade through feathers.


"Come for them…" Intense jade eyes bore into his, as imperceptibly unsteady hands brushed his sweat-damp hair back from his face, before tilting his chin back up, and tiny flicks of Seifer's tongue brushed against the corners of Irvine's mouth. "You look so beautiful when you come for them…"

Even if Irvine had been able to speak, he wouldn't have known what to say, and Seifer's kisses didn't give him the option anyway. Again, he wondered if the ex-Knight could somehow sense the way Zell felt inside Irvine, the way Squall's lips and tongue felt around his hardness.

Wondered if Seifer knew all to well how those things felt.

Wondered how Seifer's kisses would taste if Zell was fucking the blonde, if Squall's mouth was administering it's unique brand of heaven to Seifer's cock instead of Irvine's.

Wondered when he'd get to find out.

He wasn't sure if he screamed, wasn't even sure if he was still breathing, when Squall stroked one hand up between his legs, and cool, damp fingers traced the excruciatingly tender opening that was currently stretched around Zell. He heard Zell's startled squeak, could have sworn he felt Squall smile around his shaft.

The only thing that kept his mind from happily catapulting into the ether, was the pained grunt Seifer made as Irvine's teeth sank into the blonde's bottom lip. Zell's fingers were hard on his hips, holding him still, the martial artist's thrusts becoming faster, more erratic, the breath against the back of Irvine's neck becoming soft pants.

Helpless to do anything but hold on and obey Seifer's order, Irvine leant back into Zell's strong embrace. He felt his body shiver from the sweet, electric rush of the orgasm Squall was expertly coaxing from him, felt the familiar, satisfying swell of the tattooed blonde's sex deep inside him. Zell moaned brokenly against Irvine's shoulder, holding him close as a rich warmth flooded between them. Irvine's fingers tangled so hard in the Commander's hair as he came, he was almost afraid he'd tear whole clumps of it out by the roots. Squall just arched up into the tug, with a muffled groan and a creak of leather. His throat tightening, Squall's lips continued to envelope the cowboy until Irvine cried out breathlessly, spilling into the brunette's mouth.

Irvine was close to dizzy, ridiculously close to tears, and still miles from sated when Zell wrapped his arms soothingly around his chest, murmuring incoherent praise into the cowboy's hair, and leaning them both back onto the bed. There was a faint rustling coming from the other side of the small room, the shush of leather, the soft buzz of a zipper.

"Zell, I…"

"Sshhh…" a smile-curved kiss brushed against his temple. "It's okay, baby…don't worry. You know that this ain't quite over…"

Irvine blinked, not entirely sure in that moment whether he wanted it to be over, or wanted it to go on forever.

Either way, Zell's words were crystal clear.

Zell sat up, knees bent, and shifted so that Irvine's head was pillowed in his lap, strong, gentle fingers still raking idly through the fall of auburn hair that spilled over the martial artist's thighs. Beaming a lazy, mischievous grin, Zell bent down, nibbled lightly at Irvine's earlobe, and whispered;

"You'll hardly believe the pretty picture they make…"

Irvine didn't have to ask.

The heady dizziness brought reinforcements when his lips were possessed by Seifer's kisses again. It occurred to him that to an onlooker, the ex-Knight's kisses probably looked rough, dominating, even intimidating. And maybe they felt that way too. At least to the point where the utter control just took Irvine's breath away. Every stroke of his tongue was a claim of authority, but one that was a thrill to succumb to. Beneath the mastery, there was such a sweet yearning, a need that Irvine knew Seifer would never…maybe could never, vocalise.

But it was there in his kiss, and damned if Irvine wouldn't do everything he could to satisfy that longing.

"Ready to ride, cowboy?"

And maybe he just imagined that ever so slight hitch in Seifer's voice, as he sat back, gently parted Irvine's thighs and settled between them, long-fingered hands cupping the cowboy's ass, and lifting him into Seifer's lap. The throb of the ex-Knight's erection against his skin struck Irvine like million volt lightning, arching his back clear off the bed.

For a second, the expectant, hesitant gaze Seifer sent him had Irvine utterly confounded. The question, `what are you waiting for` half-formed itself on his lips, before he realised exactly what the outwardly cruel, malicious, conceited blond wanted to hear.


"Yeah…" Irvine whispered hoarsely. "Please, Seifer…"

The smile that crossed those sea green eyes was heartbreaking, and much too fleeting.

And that was pretty much Irvine's last coherent thought, as Seifer entered him, provocatively slow, persistently tender. Bigger than Zell, and no amount of careful preparation ever quite eased that delicious little flare of pain. A gratifying kind of hurt, that could only ever be assuaged by the mind-blowing sensation of Seifer filling him.

At least, that's all that had appeased the hunger before.

But the need spiralled out of all control as Irvine watched Seifer guide Squall astride the cowboy's hips, felt the sharp squeeze of the blonde's fingers around his tormented arousal before it was tightly enveloped by the beautiful contradictory heat of the Ice Prince's body.

Even the added weight of Squall's slight frame impaled Irvine deeper onto Seifer than he'd ever imagined possible.

And something in the cowboy's mind just exploded.

His breath coming in heaving sobs, a couple of stray tears escaped from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut, his head thrashing wildly in Zell's lap.

"Oh gods….fuck…fuck…"

"Hey, easy there…" Zell murmured, stroking Irvine's sweat soaked hair, his other hand finding one of the cowboy's, their fingers entwining. Even through the dense fog of arousal, he felt Zell's length twitch against his cheek. "You really should be watchin' this…"

Irvine opened his eyes tentatively, blinking away the tears.

He was certain that what he saw would be indelibly printed onto his brain for life.

They looked like some once-in-a-lifetime natural phenomena that re-wrote the rules on perfection, almost too beautiful to be real.

They were moving to the same rhythm, slow and deliberate, into Irvine and around him. Their eyes closed, lips locked with a passion that made the musky air in the room crackle like radio static. One of Squall's hands reached back, and up to run through Seifer's hair. The blond had one arm wrapped possessively around Squall's chest, one hand wrapped around the Commander's cock, stroking to the same languid beat as the hard, driving thrusts inside the cowboy.

They were breathtaking.

And it seemed Irvine wasn't the only one who thought so.

Zell sucked in a surprised gasp, as Irvine turned his head, and gave the martial artist's erection a lick.

"Gods, Irvine…"

Craning his neck for an angle that still let him watch Seifer and Squall, he drew as much of Zell's shaft into his mouth as he could reach.

Someone moaned, but if his life depended on it, Irvine couldn't tell who. For all he knew, it might have been him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw them break the kiss, saw the beautiful, tender gaze they shot at one another. Saw them watching himself and Zell the way they'd been watched themselves. Seifer pulled Squall back against him firmly, kissed briefly him again, this time his eyes wide open and fixed directly on Irvine. The smile he sent was pure seduction, an oddly innocent feral smirk.

"He still tastes like you, cowboy…"

A sensation hit him that was as close as he wanted to get to being thrown off a dizzyingly high precipice. Seifer's thrusts became harder, faster, deeper, Squall's body started coiling impossibly tight around him, and there was a familiar, bittersweet taste on his tongue. He heard Seifer moan, Squall whimper, Zell gasp.

And himself screaming, but only somewhere deep down in his head.

Then he was suddenly surrounded by them, filled by them. Felt Seifer's climax rushing deep inside him. Felt Squall stiffen and jerk, his release flooding over Irvine's belly. Tasted Zell in the warm salty essence that trickled down his throat.

Irvine came so violently, his back arched off the bed so hard he thought it might snap in two, before his overloaded, overwhelmed senses decided they couldn't take anymore.

The completion of his rollercoaster plunge rushed up at him, soothing, warm and blissfully black.

After a couple of stunned, sated minutes, Seifer raised his head from Squall's shoulder, and stared down at Irvine with a tired frown.

"Is he okay?"

Comfortably pinned against the cowboy by dint of Seifer's weight against his back, Squall reached a hand up to stroke Irvine's cheek. Eyes still closed, the latter smiled softly at the touch, and mumbled something unintelligible in his stupor.

"I think he passed out…"

Seifer shook his head, chuckling in lazy amazement, shifting off the Commander a fraction. Zell snuggled against the still-mumbling Irvine's back, and yawned as the ex-Knight drew up a thin, damp sheet over them.

"You guys think he's learnt his lesson?"

Seifer and Squall glanced at each other, at Irvine, and back at Zell.

Fanged grin met half-smile and smug smirk.

"Not in this lifetime…"

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