Decadence Incarnate
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| Irvine could kiss as good as he looked. As the cowboy’s tongue slid into Squall’s mouth slowly, filling it just as surely as Irvine’s cock filled his ass, rubbing along his own tongue and teasing him to distraction, that was the only coherent though that Squall could muster other than the ubiquitous fuck, now. It seemed to be his personal mantra now, in the days since Irvine had first turned up at his door with booze and porn and they’d fallen madly into bed together. The cowboy had interrupted him from something that was supposed to be important; he remembered that much, but anything else vital had been cleared away by the skill of Irvine’s mouth. And Squall didn’t care one tiny little insignificant bit. For the moment at least. Finally he was released from the kiss, his chest burning, his fingers tangled in the auburn locks of his lover, his cock throbbing distractingly and Squall became dimly aware that the phone was ringing. "Darlin’, someone wants you." Squall looked around dully, finding himself in his office, his papers scattered wildly across the wooden desk and surrounding floor when he’d pushed Irvine onto the surface, the incessant ringing of the phone distracting him from his real desire, Irvine Kinneas. "Answer ‘em Squall." He nodded, curling bare fingers around the phone and lifting it to his ear. "Commander Leonhart." He said softly, his attention still drawn in completely by Irvine. He barely heard the member of faculty complaining about a student on the other end of the phone as a slow grin spread over Irvine’s lips. Irvine’s hand unfastened the fly of Squall’s pants, sliding in to stroke the length slowly, his fingers finding all the most sensitive spots of Squall’s length with as great an accuracy and skill as he displayed in his sharp shooting. Squall covered the mouth piece, gasping in pleasure as Irvine bent his head to assault the sensitive skin of his pale throat, the manipulation of his sex driving him swiftly to the edge of orgasm. And he stopped. With a murmur of frustration, Squall forced himself to focus on the smiling cowboy again, barely fighting with him when Irvine took the phone away. "The commander’s about to go into an urgent lunch meeting, deal with it or leave a report with his secretary." Irvine replaced the receiver and kissed Squall softly, tenderly. Almost as distracting as his other, harder kisses. The soft kisses were more dangerous, they reminded him that Irvine cared, wanted more than sex, made him feel closer to the cowboy. But he liked them just as much. "It’s lunch?" "Mmmhm." Irvine helped him back into his pants slowly and slid off the desk, taking him by the hand and leading him to the door. A vague memory of an appointment surfaced in his mind and he kicked himself. "I didn’t meet you did I? I’m sorry…" Irvine tugged him close and pressed a fingertip to Squall’s lips. "It’s okay darlin’. I knew you’d be busy an’ it’d slip your mind, so I thought I’d come and get you." And suddenly everything was okay. He let Irvine lead him to his room, let him open the door and escort him inside before bumping it shut with his hip. The room smelt of rose petals and chocolate, and although Squall admitted he was distracted these days he was pretty sure that it hadn’t had that aroma when he’d left for the office that morning. Irvine grinned at him and led him to the bedroom gently, his fingers tangling with Squall’s and squeezing reassuringly. Squall’s previously Spartan room had been transformed completely. The walls were now shrouded in luxurious red satin which cascaded across the carpet, the crimson and ruby shades hiding the drab grey. The bed itself was surrounded by candles, flickering in the breeze from the ventilation system, and covered in garnet and amethyst silk and crushed velvet, scattered with white rose petals. "What…?" "I’ll put it back the way it was later. I just… ya don’t hate it, do ya?" Irvine asked, suddenly worried that he had offended his lover. "No… why…?" Squall fumbled for something to say, for words for his surprise. "I thought you deserved a little… decadence." Irvine smiled and kissed the brunette below his ear, sliding his hands beneath Squall’s jacket and pushing it from his shoulders gently. Squall submitted to the manipulation willingly. "I have decadence." He shrugged his shirt off and worked the cowboy’s belt open to unfasten his jeans. "I have you." Irvine gave him a brief, sappy smile and kissed him, not breaking it again until they pressed together, bare skin to bare skin, their clothes a pool of suede and cotton and leather around them. His fingers tangled in Squall’s hair as he rested his forehead to the scarred one of the brunettes. "I was gonna feed you first but I can’t resist." "Fuck me. Then feed me." Squall implored, his hands sneaking between them to slide dangerously close to Irvine’s hardening cock, his mouth just a whisper away from the full lips of his lover. "I like the way you think." He pulled Squall to the bed, through the path of light that the candles bathed them in gently, stretching out in the soft materials and pressing their bodies together. Squall felt better than any of the plush fabrics in the room. He felt better than sex. Even just holding him. Irvine drew a bottle of lube out from beneath the pillow, flipping the cap off with a satisfying click and slicking his fingers. "Like this?" Squall asked, wrapping a leg around his waist as they lay on their sides facing each other, his hard cock pressing against Irvine’s belly distractingly. "Mmm. Just like this." The brunette groaned as the first finger entered him, his body tightening around the intrusion eagerly. He rocked his hips with the movement, urging Irvine on, deeper, without words. He loved to be fucked, to feel Irvine’s hard sex penetrating him, just as much as he liked to take Irvine. This was different to his previous partners, never quite love making but not pure animalistic fucking either. It didn’t deserve to be called screwing. A second finger slid along side the first; bumping against his prostate and making him see stars briefly. But still Squall longed for more, for something bigger. After what seemed like an age of gentle stretching, Irvine finally positioned his cock at Squall’s opening and pushed into him. Slowly, unhurriedly Irvine filled him up, the pleasure coursing through his veins like poison, like alcohol… Like love itself made tangible. The thought made Squall gasp with pleasure in a way no physical contact could ever hope to. Irvine kissed him again. In that way that made the world melt away, the way that made him realise that even if he died tomorrow it would be okay because it hadn’t been for nothing. Irvine had loved him. Even if it was dangerous. Even if it meant that he could be hurt again. Just as long as Irvine’s mouth was on his it didn’t matter. Irvine thrust into him, long, slow strokes, his thick, hard sex pushing against Squall’s prostate over and over. He broke the kiss slowly, watching Squall’s face as the brunette gasped in pleasure, writhing onto him, with him, the roll of Squall’s hips milking his cock. He loved to fuck him like this, slow, intense, the pleasure breaking the delicately held but intensely strong mask that withheld Squall’s emotions. He loved to have Squall at his mercy. He loved to be at his mercy. He loved the intense little brunette with grey eyes and the finest ass in all of garden. Squall’s hand slid between them, his fingers playing over his sex in time with the thrusts. The pleasure of being filled was overwhelming now, the slow build of sensation driving him to distraction. Irvine’s thrusts grew harder, still slow and intense but so much more urgent now, his moans of Squall’s name in that husky drawl of his Galbadian accent caressing his lover's ears as he drew closer to his orgasm. With a sharp cry of Irvine’s name and the swift tightening of his body, Squall bucked against Irvine, his seed spilling over his fingers and smearing between them. Irvine followed a heartbeat later, coming inside him in a hot sticky rush of hedonistic pleasure. They lay together, trembling in the afterglow, the chatter of the corridors, thumping of books against desks and the interfering ring of bells to signify the beginning of classes another world away. Eventually Irvine pulled away to fetch a lunch of cold fried chicken and salad, nachos and chocolate cake for them to share snuggled in the velvets and silks. Squall had never thought that something as simple as chicken could feel so… decadent. But then… this was lunch with Irvine Kinneas. Decadence incarnate. |
This story was a very kind gift from Dark Squall to help me through dark times. |