Connecticut
Chapter Ten
By Jamaica
Author's Note: Squaresoft own characters. I own plot.
Connecticut
Chapter Ten
By Jamaica
Just like that.
“What the f-“
“Shhhhh.” The blond whispered. A hand came up and traced the soft skin of the other’s jawline, forcing him to expose his neck some more. “No one’s here. They can’t hear you even if you scream.”
With that Seifer lowered his head onto Squall’s shoulder. Squall stood there, back pressed hard against the wall, frozen. Completely devoid of thoughts. He didn’t know how to react, at all. The shock transmitted from his back when Seifer slammed him still hadn’t worn off yet. All he could do was stand there and feel Seifer’s tongue traveling his neck.
“God,” Seifer murmured, “do you know how much I wanted you ever since you walked in the door with your suitcases?”
Something in Squall clicked. But he still couldn’t bring himself to respond. He faintly felt the beating of his heart approaching crescendo.
Hands grew rampant now. Fingers deftly unbuttoned the light blue shirt, then pushed it away from the porcelain skin. The garment seemed to be weightless. It slipped off the shoulders and wrists, drifting soundlessly onto the floor. The hands then began to ease toward the strings on the sweatpants, pulling them slightly.
Squall remembered how to react by then. He gasped loudly. Grabbing Seifer’s wandering hands with his own, he swallowed a mouthful of air and tried to push away from the wall. His legs were numb.
Seifer sensed this and laughed lightly. “I was about to say. You wouldn’t just let me do whatever I pleased without any . . . oppositions, would you?” He shifted his weight so his body pressed directly onto Squall’s chest. “You think you can take me?”
Whatever Squall planned to say got caught in his throat. Instead, he let go of Seifer’s wrists and pushed back fiercely. He just wanted the blond off of him. That’s all. Not being squished into the sidings. Not placed under this feverishly hot body. Not here.
But it was to no avail. Seifer had six inches and the compact muscles of a sports star on him. He easily seized Squall’s struggling hands. “Come on, baby, it’s not that hard.”
“Stop.” Squall closed his eyes as Seifer resumed the teasing on his jugular. He began to panic. Frantic. His thoughts rumbled together into a massive ball of nothing. How did this happen? How is this possible? He asked himself again and again. How could he . . . he never . . . I never . . .
Did he?
Flashbacks filled his already racing mind. The look that Seifer gave him when he came through the door. Amusement at first, then turned a shade darker.
The look in Seifer’s eyes when he discovered about Squall’s sexuality.
The utter look of betrayal when Quistis casually commented during the peace-offer dinner that night.
The way his eyes fluttered and misted when Seifer saw the picture manipulation on the computer. And the way his eyes were following Squall, traveling up and down his torso from the back. Squall didn’t see it; he *felt* it.
Absolute, utter, complete, unimaginable lust. Past that. Past Keith. Past everything.
Oh dear God. Irvine was right.
Squall suddenly wanted to laugh. Here was a guy who wanted him so badly for two months, high on marijuana, in his room, nibbling on his neck. He felt like a crispy M&M, the kind that even other M&M’s wanted to lick and devour. It was hysterical.
“Ow!” Squall cried involuntarily when he felt teeth sinking in his throat. “Stop.” He repeated, still held down solidly by his tormenter. “Stop it.”
“Mmm,” His warnings were disregarded with pleasure. “You taste so good.”
Hands began to dig into his pants again. “Stop! No . . . Please . . . Don’t . . . . . No! STOP IT!”
He finally managed to wrestle one hand free and began to grope along the wall, desperately searching for something. Anything. When his hand touched the cold doorknob, he gripped it tight. Seifer’s warm fingertips went inside his pants, his evident erection jabbing into Squall’s thigh.
Breathing quickened to a painful pace, Squall let go of the immovable doorknob and began to beat on the wood itself. A hollow thud ran out, vibrating throughout the house. He pounded on it again and again, hoping frenetically for someone else to hear, although he knew it was in vain.
The door suddenly swung open. Seifer jumped back in surprise, staring at the intruder with wide-opened eyes. Squall still had his eyes closed.
Quistis stood gaping at them. Her jaw dropped to the ground. She looked back and forth between the two men, finally settling her eyes on Seifer. Her expression turned slowly to accusation, then fury.
“What - are - you - doing, Seifer?” She stared at him, anger full blown on her features.
Seifer narrowed his eyes at her. Without a word, he walked menacingly toward Quistis. Squall watched.
Quistis blocked the doorway. Seifer extended his left arm and violently dragged her away. She stumbled from his force and landed on her back, her head connected with the edge of Squall’s bed. She recovered her bearings a few seconds later, staring disbelievingly at the retreating figure.
Seifer didn’t even look at her. Or stopping, for that instance. He simply stomped out of the room and down the hall, back into his own room, and slammed the door behind him.