Authors Note: This has been revised.
Chapter Two
This was nothing she expected.
The line simply to reach the doorway to the nightclub was almost unfathomable. However, out of the amount of people attempting to get inside, half of that was being ushered out for a variety of reasons. Some reasons Quistis figured had to do with alcohol, fights, and so on. Of course, she couldn't be certain on anything at this point.
She did however, quickly reach the conclusion she wasn't quite suited for the occasion. Many of those in the line wore something dark, sexy, dangerous, and other inappropriate words that came to mind. None of these options tended to be the Instructors' style-neither was the dress that she was wearing if she was honest with herself. Still, there were those of average appearance; casually dressed attempting to reach the double doors. These were also individuals who reeked of green with their sweaty palms and shifty eyes. The bouncer tending the door gave a simple look of pity and turned them away. They certainly weren't regulars, and would probably be ripped apart in a place like that.
Trepe wondered if they'd look at her and come to the same conclusion.
Well dammit, she was a SeeD. She was also one of the saviors of the world not terribly long ago, though her face was not so promptly recognized as perhaps Squall's was. Even that being the case, enough time seemed to have passed for the praising and celebrity status to fade. Just as well, that type of attention could be damaging just as it was ego boosting. Nonetheless, pulling rank may be the only way to get her into this place if she couldn't quell the anxiety that threatened to burst through her chest.
After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the Bouncer who was a tall and well built individual. Well groomed as well with his somewhat long, golden hair brushed and pulled into a tight ponytail. His face had a few scars to it's otherwise smooth surface. His attire was something else; adorned in a sleek, raven tee, loose fitting pleather pants with a matching pleather trench coat. His hands sported a pair of fingerless leather gloves, his boots suede and quadruple-buckled at the outer side of his calves. Uniform or from his own closet? One could only guess.
His gaze was piercing as he paid Quistis careful attention, looking her up and down with sea green eyes. She silently wondered if he ever split of a pair of those trousers while knee deep in a brawl...
"I.D. please?" There was a touch of intimidation folded into his voice.
Without much hesitation, she withdrew the only form of identification on her person and handed it to his awaiting hand. He took a good long look at the card and his entire hardass demeanor collapsed.
Well, some people still remembered, apparently.
Quistis noticed the change in an instant, "Listen, I'm not here on official business or anything. Off duty, you can say. I'm just looking to...have fun."
The blonde man before her blinked a few times before nodding and handing the I.D. back to her, "I'd warn you about going in there alone, but I think you can handle yourself, can't you?"
You have no idea...
She smiled sweetly and slipped a few gil into his palm, "Just keep this between us, hm?" She gave him a playful wink before stepping past him quickly enough to miss the rose tint that lit up his cheeks.
In his private quarters, Squall Leonhart surrounded himself in silence. Nothing but his steady breath and the lively crickets beyond the window that bathed his room in a subtle moonlit glow. Silence and darkness was a comfort to the Commander when nothing else was. The heels of his boots were mindlessly propped upon the edge of his unmade bed as he sat still in his desk chair with fingers folded tightly within themselves as his mind delved into deep contemplation.
It wasn't often that he had an opportunity to be utterly and completely alone with his thoughts. Frankly, he was surprised he wasn't being disturbed by something or someone despite the late hour. Like Rinoa.
There was a tight knot at the pit of his stomach as his thoughts came to rest on her. How their love was destined to be, designed by Hyne himself it seemed, or so it was printed in the text of variations of the Second Sorceress War. A Sorceress and her Knight. He didn't ask for this. Hell, he didn't ask to be the damned Commander of the Garden but he was saddled with the duty anyway, perhaps too chicken to step down. It was a monstrous obligation that fate seemed to give him no opening to bow out. He was expected to have this life and live it to the fullest.
It was times like this that he was jealous of his lifetime adversary. He may have been a lapdog, but now he was free of the shackles of Garden and everything military bound.
So here he was-in the dark for some semblance of peace.
But peace was simply an illusion to the never ending thoughts, wonders, memories, inquires that comprised Squall Leonhart, many that never made it beyond the fabric of his mind.
Well, except to one person...
The steady beep of the life support machine was the only response he received as he spoke to a motionless Instructor Trepe. His friend. His silent therapist.
"It's been three years since Ultimecia and her crazy dream of Time Compression. Three years to the day. Something we'll probably never be able to forget, despite the hindrance of the Guardian Force's. Sometimes I wish I could."
He sighed, squeezing the pale hand tight within his grasp. No response, as usual.
"Things...they just aren't right anymore. Rinoa and I...it's different. During the first couple years, everything was fine. We...I thought, I was in love. That there was no force in this world that could drive a far enough wedge between us to keep us apart."
Another sigh.
"I love her. I know I do. But it feels as though it's changed... My heart-I don't lose my breath when he see her walk into a room, I don't feel the need to tell her anything, not like I am you. It doesn't feel like the deepest sense of emotion anymore, but more like a shadow of once was. Everyone believes, or believed, we're meant to be. Even you."
He paused, touching his infamous scar with his free hand, tracing a line down where it ended just beyond his eye.
"Star-crossed lovers. I don't feel it. I don't know."
Fingers grazed through thick, brown hair as he leaned forward, elbows upon his knees, bringing the hand he held to his lips, simply pressing them there. He wondered if she could feel his need, his need for her to wake and have at least one thing in his life make sense again.
"I'll give it more time. Maybe it's the pressure of SeeD, of being the Commander, the expectations. I'll...give it more time."
Time. It was always more time. Would it ever run out?
And the ever present drone of the life support machine marched on in the background
A knock.
Even in the late hours of the night, someone had to come and interrupt his thoughts. It was a knock he had memorized, though he was somewhat surprised she simply didn't enter his quarters without request of entry.
He reluctantly pushed himself to his feet and sauntered over to the locked door. Rinoa stood in the doorway with her customary, charming smile placed upon her visage. "Hello, Rinoa." Squall couldn't mask the note of irritation, and he internally flinched as soon as he heard the slip.
Heartilly didn't seem to notice, or chose not to make a production of it, "Hey. Can I come in?"
Leonhart hesitated a little too long. Suppressing a sigh, he moved to the side to allow her access.
The Sorceress took note of the darkness and frowned, just barely visible. "Why is it so gloomy?"
Because it's comforting, unlike this conversation... "I wanted to concentrate."
Surprisingly enough, Rinoa didn't begin a collection of pointless questions to try and get to the root of what may be troubling him despite how many times he denied nothing was wrong at all, which only got on his last good nerve and caused him to completely shut down. At one time, which now seemed like an eternity, he was close to an open book with her. But things changed.
She got comfortable on his bed, slender hands to her knees as she regarded him kindly, yet concerned through the blanket of muted black, "You were quiet tonight. You haven't really been talking much to anyone, to me, and when you do it's either about work or Quistis."
He closed the door behind her, avoiding an eye roll, "You aren't jealous are you?" Squall asked with dry sarcasm. He leaned his back against the closed door, looking toward the floor to avoid her gaze. This was not a conversation that was going to put him at peace...
Rinoa's face wrinkled at the inquiry, "Of course not. That's weird to even say. I'm just worried about you. Quistis is so strange, so distant, and it almost feels like you're becoming the same way. You can talk to me, like...like you used to."
Squall pierced his lips firmly together, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. He was distant, and it wasn't fair to her. However, he couldn't force the connection either. "I'm just a little stressed. I need some sleep."
This was obviously not a satisfactory answer. Before he knew it, she had her arms tightly around his waist, her head against his chest. The scent of her assaulted him, bringing a slew of memories that were once a comfort, now a distant memory that made him weary, "Squall...I'm here for you. Don't forget that. You and me, against the world, right?"
He was very still as he swallowed. Tentatively, he placed his arms around her fragile frame. No, it just wasn't the same anymore...
"Rinoa," he began, unsure of what he wanted to say, if anything. He had been content with the crickets, the darkness, the memories of when he confided in Quistis, his theoretical wall. He didn't want this guilt that was stabbing him, gutting him where he stood.
Somehow, he shifted out of her embrace and stood off to the side of the door. He still couldn't quite look at her. "I just...need some space to think, to clear my head. We'll talk in the morning. I have to get up early and meet with General Caraway."
The air became cold and her tone timid, "...May I come along? I mean, I technically live there, but..."
"It's business." Squall sighed, realizing that it was pointless to try and dissuade her from attending. "Yeah."
There was a glimmer of a genuine smile beaming from the Sorceress' face. He wished he could return it, "Great! What time?"
"Be ready by six," he answered as he pulled the door open for her.
He could tell she was suppressing the urge to pout, since he was kindly kicking her out instead of asking her to stay. Still, she put on a brave face and gave him a kiss to his cheek before left without another word.
Shutting the door behind her, Squall heaved a heavy sigh. The weight upon his shoulders was cumbersome, but the weight upon his heart was agonizing...
Just beyond the door that had clicked behind her, Rinoa found herself breaking apart at the seams. She felt the shift, the change in her bones. But she prayed, begged for it...a little more time.
She'd give him a little more time.
It was nothing like Quistis had ever seen.
Techno rock was booming at a deafening volume. Had she not be accused to the piercing sounds of battle she may have covered her ears. The place itself was almost as disgusting as much as it was enchanting. The atmosphere of it all was dark, dreary, with an array of different color spot lights roaming the vast dance floor. And no club would be complete without the ever present strobe light. Red and black leather couches and tiny mahogany tables were placed along the walls, each occupied with anywhere from two to ten people on one. There was a stage, but it was certainly hard to tell. Bodies were packed together like sardines in a tin, but the majority were grinding to the beat and appeared to be lost in rhythm.
The dance floor was a plated ruby tile reaching the length of the complex just shy of the littered barstands. There was a staircase that led to the clubs second level, and a red-lit hallway beyond. She wondered briefly where it went before returning her eyes before her.
It smelled of a sickening distinction; alcohol, smoke, sex... This place represented a different sort of danger that the Instructor was not accustom to, but the foreign entity within craved the precariousness of the locale.
And these people...they simply mesmerized her by their movement, their look, their aura. If their attire wasn't dark and form fitting, as if a second skin, they were barely wearing any at all-and no one appeared to be protesting.
There was still the part of Quistis that felt excruciatingly awkward with the whole affair and wished to flee. There was at least some sort of compromise that came alive that began leading her toward the stairs to the upper level. She aimed her way toward one of the bars as she brushed by several different people, many of whom were slick with sweat that caused her a small sense of dread. Blood, gore, burn wounds she could handle, but the sweat from multiple strangers were ghastly. Several stares and glares, lingering and otherwise followed her moving form from the entrance and finally to a newly vacant stool at her destination.
The stares were almost overwhelming, and there was a sudden panic within her chest. Was she recognized? Was it the way she was dressed? Or did they sense she was a newcomer, and made the conclusion she just didn't belong? No matter what the conclusion may be, she didn't move.
Her attention was at once directed to the approaching figure, a female bartender who was dark skinned with bleach blonde hair with braided extensions to her narrow shoulders. Her attire fit in the bouncers-black, pleather, and form fitting. "What will it be?" She had to practically shout the inquiry, her hands gripping the counter as she leaned over.
"Cok-...Rum, straight." Quistis replied hesitantly. She hadn't had much to do with alcohol, usually shying away from the liquid, thought inducing drug. If she did indulge, it was normally that of more classier caliber such as champagne or a mellow Merlot. Such drinks would attract even more attention, so she ordered what she had seen Irvine partake in so frequently.
The bartender left the honey blond Instructor to fix the drink she requested. The stares were beginning to ebb away, her entrance now a distant memory. She didn't feed into the predatory vibes, as an unconscious part of her SeeD training, and the thrill of following her every move fell away.
Before she could fully grasp her bearings, she was approached from behind. She never sensed the man as he slithered his lips to her ear, and that terrified her more than anything she had seen so far, "I know you."
The SeeD suppressed a shudder as she turned the individual to gaze upon him with an inquisitive look. Being recognized was certainly a possibility, so she kept her cool demeanor in check as she surveyed him.
He was a clean-cut with hair spiked by the aid of handfuls of gel no doubt, deep brown in color. He wore a tight leather purple tank, leather black pants hugging his legs and hips. He was so thin; his skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. Vitamin D must be scarce in his system.
She couldn't distinguish what color his eyes truly were due to the ivory contacts, and they stared heavily into her own. So strange, unnatural looking. They reminded her of Trabia's snow covered plains, cold and treacherous. A chill swept over her from the memory, "Do I look that familiar?" she replied flatly. There was something slightly off about this young man, as well as familiar.
"You do," he smiled kindly, almost cutely as he pulled her to her feet only momentarily as he took her seat, and set her down upon his lap. "You're a SeeD."
His movements were so swift and fluid, she was completely taken off guard by them. There was certainly some resistance in the folds of her mind to be uptight, expectant of any and all behavior. Something inside her was forcing her to simply go with the flow...
She didn't immediately retreat, and when the bartender arrived with her rum, she rummaged through her purse for some gil, but a hand to her wrist halted any further discourse, "My tab." The bartender nodded with a smirk and was off to attend the next customer.
A slight frown found it's way to Quistis' face, not quite reaching her eyes. "You didn't need to do that."
"Oh Ms. Trepe, still so fiercely independent! Think of it as a gift for my old classmate!" The man waved a hand dismissively and winked a pearly eye. When she stared at him in perplexity, he grinned. "Arbitor, from Galbadia."
Her eyes flared with recognition. Arbitor, otherwise known as Peter Gainses, a temporary transfer from Galbadia to Balamb. He had been in her class for only a few months before he returned to what was familiar. The only one who cared to get along with the poor outcast was Quistis, who at the time was feeling like an outcast herself. How small a world it truly was, "Arbitor...It's been so long." Truthfully, she was surprised she remembered him at all due to the influence of the Guardian Forces. However, upon learning how devastating the long term disadvantage was, she had slacked off it's usage.
He nodded solemnly, handing her the glass of rum with a little snicker. "Totally. Seems you've crossed over to the dark side of town." He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.
Quistis took the glass as she scoffed, and downed the liquor in only moments. This considerably astonished Arbitor who had known little Trepe to be against unnecessary risks that had nothing to do with SeeD, but that was another story...
The rum burned her throat, and she wanted to cough but stifled it's release. She could get used to this. "Seems you've jumped to the other side of the fence," the SeeD commented, gesturing toward the rainbow ring on his left hand which was placed upon her thigh comfortably. She hadn't even noticed until that moment. Only now did she begin to remember the way he looked at the other boys, and how he occasionally mentioned Squall...
Arbitor gave a hearty laugh, though the undertones of femininity were quite evident. "Yeah, well, I love the cock." He licked his lips and obscenely made the blow job gesture with a hand and tongue motion. He did get a quiet chuckle from the prim and proper Quistis.
She became serious for a moment, "I heard you dropped out of SeeD."
Arbitor merely shrugged his shoulders, running a hand up and down the Instructors' nylon thigh with a grin. It caused a disorienting flare between her legs, yet she didn't brush him away. She remembered he was a smooth and stealthy fighter during the sparring matches she had witnessed. Apparently he found different uses for his talents... "I did. But must we speak of that?"
She lifted a brow as she pulled back to gaze into his eyes. Quistis was often quite perceptive, but perception wasn't necessary to tell that there were foreign factors contributing to his mental state. "What are you on?"
A goofy grin invaded his features as he buried his fingers into Trepes' honey blond hair and pulled her ear closer to his lips. His tone was provocative and raucous, "E..." He ended the statement with a giggle.
"Explains it," Quistis rolled her eyes and smiled. Another time, another place she would have criticized the former SeeD for his disastrous choices. Of course, this wasn't the setting, and simply being here brought the praise 'calling the kettle black' to mind. "I must stick out like a sore thumb for you to have found me so easily."
The man quickly agreed with a nod of his head, giving the inside of her thigh a light pinch. She assumed the drug was primarily responsible for his bold touches upon his childhood acquaintance, considering it was earlier established he no longer swung her way. "You stick out like an Estharian soldier in Dollet. Not exactly standard, lowdown club attire, darling. Also, we know who belongs and who doesn't. It's just, the vibes we get. We just kinda know when someone is in here that shouldn't be, or who hasn't been here before."
The Instructors' features tightened just a smidgen, "And how do I 'belong'?"
Arbitor just grinned all the wider. "I think I ought to introduce you to some friends of mine."
Maybe Quistis just wasn't ready to associate with the regulars of this club, this foreign complex of risk and opportunity, and a great wave of fear hit her like a rush of bullets. No matter what was running through her head, she soon felt herself being tugged through the bristling bunch of dancers, drunks and smokers to one of the occupied leather couches she'd noticed when she first walked into the location. The music was not quite as deafening, but the necessity to shout to be heard was still present.
There were four settled upon this sofa; two women and two men, none regarding her kindly at first glance. However, once they caught sight of Arbitor, they seemed to relax. It appeared to Quistis that no one was fond of the unfamiliar and unassociated.
"This is a friend of mine, Q-"
Quistis at once interrupted Arbitor from his introduction. The last thing she needed was anyone bobbing around this place with her full name in tow. She was already taking a gamble in being there. Hyne knew she didn't want it to get to the wrong person. Hell, someone already recognized her and she hadn't been there five minutes. Thankfully, that was someone from her somewhat distant past. "Crimson. I'm known as Crimson." Where she had come up with the name was beyond her. Perhaps it was the sight of the dress that sparked an interest in the alias. No matter the reason, it appeared to have worked, since no one questioned her. In fact, no one said anything to her at all. They seemed to be engrossed in their own gatherings and took little notice of anyone or anything else.
She had a feeling they were all partaking in the same extracurricular activities as her friend.
Arbitor smirked at her for the interruption, but didn't question it. What he did do was shove her upon one of his mutual friend's laps who pulled an AniMeer Beer bottle from his lips and fingered a joint with his opposite hand. Quistis' eyes flew large, her heart beating intensely from the fear of falling, of suddenly having no control of her body. Fortunately, or unfortunately, her battle instincts failed to kick in, and she found herself straddling a nameless man. She blushed furiously, her hands stiff against his chest where she moved them to brace herself from the collision.
"Well, good evening," the nameless man greeted with a coy grin, his eyes a light brown, though heavy and nearly closing from the effects of the drug between his fingers. He reeked of it. His hair was moderately short, to his earlobes and dark but streaked with a light shade of blue. He laid back shirtless, though his upper torso and chest were covered with various tattoos, primarily words in the Esthar tongue. He wore jeans, extremely loose and adorned with several needless zippers. He was possibly the most average looking attendant there besides herself.
Quistis took notice of both objects just as Arbitor settled between the friend and another male, who immediately cuddled up to his side. "That's Culdin. Say hi, Crimson."
She shot him a look of daggers, but complied, looking warily at Culdin, embarrassed nearly to the point of humiliation. "Hi." She turned to Arbitor. "Has anyone told you are entirely too aggressive?" Arbitor simply grinned smugly and gave the beau snuggling to his left a sensuous kiss to his lips.
This was all so...odd and different. The only thing she was sure of, was she was...strangely comfortable. It was an odd thing to recognize, to know this was almost the complete opposite of what she had lived all of her life. A life of orders and discipline to a life free of any of it. That void, that emptiness in her soul was slowly beginning to fill, but there was a part of her felt it was artificial.
But the part didn't keep chattering for very long.
She shifted from the man beneath her despite the pout of protest, and slipped her way back to Arbitor. He was at least somewhat familiar. Arbitor grinned from ear to ear as he paid careful attention to the blond outcast. He snaked a bold arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him, to where his lips reached her lobe, "We have got to do something about your clothes the next time you come."
"Next time?" Quite the assumption.
"Well, you've lasted the first ten minutes..." Arbitors' silver-haired lover chided. "Most usually come again for a second session. This place is addicting." He wiggled his thin, plucked brows suggestively.
Quistis couldn't argue. She had no desire to leave. "What do you suggest?" she asked her old friend.
He regarded her with mischievous deliberation, looking at her toned, slender form from head to toe. "Something...supportive, very supportive here..." he caressed the underside of her breast, to which she thought little of. He was gay and high. Poor guy could probably hardly see straight, "...tight here!" he reached beneath her to squeeze her rear, to which she slapped his arm reflexively, "Or...nothing at all."
Culdin's' eyes glowed with the comment while Trepe was not very amused. She still had a swell of dignity, "Watch it." She scolded in her rather familiar when-I'm-in-my-no-nonsense-mood-you-better-heed-my-warning tone of voice. Arbitor only looked at her with seemingly innocent, wide ivory eyes. She sighed. "What is your sudden fascination in me?"
"I want to introduce you to another side of life-the one away from SeeD, work, and those hell spawn students you teach." Yes, he knew all about it. After all, she, along with Mr. Squall Leonhart, SeeD Commander of Balamb Garden and several other comrades were universally known for saving the world. While most of the world had let the enchantment of the tale fade and it's characters along with it, his memory remained crisp and detailed. Perhaps she had forgotten how they befriended one another, and how she was his stability during his months of schooling. He wasn't cut out for SeeD, unable to handle the hard work and discipline it called for, despite how desperate his parents were for him to make something of himself. And since he knew all of this, he knew one such as Quistis, who appeared to be so high-strung, needed time away, time to relax, time to let it all hang out. There was something within her yearning to break free, and he was just he one to help her shatter the walls that confined it. "I bet you just want to ring their necks out sometimes."
Trepe couldn't disagree with that. She didn't say anything as something small and white was shoved in her face, smoke rising from one of its tips. She shook her head in rejection, "No thank you."
"Awww Crimson babe, give it a try," Culdin cooed into her ear, giving her somewhat of a leery gaze, "you might like it."
Her face contorted into a slight frown as she breathed in the second hand fumes. The smell itself wasn't wanting, and it even caused a brief light headed sensation. She looked to Arbitor as if seeking advice, but he had temporarily become fascinated in his little fancy. With a sigh, she took the joint from between Culdins' fingers, and with a glimmer of hesitation she brought the rolled flaming weed to her lips, and breathed in. The mild delirium was even more intense, as a burning tingle encased the back of her throat. And then a cough. All expected, but this didn't keep Arbitor from giggling with feeble femininity. "Your first taste of Mary Jane. How do you like her?"
Quistis didn't grant him with a verbal answer. She instead took her second hit and passed it back to it's' owner. It was only seconds before she erupted into giggles. The drug was working rapidly through her system, teasing her brain with slow motion and remote dizziness. "She's nice."
Laughter. This time from Quistis and the trio of men she accompanied on the leather sofa. The females were engaged in other, raunchy practices and didn't take any notice in their activities.
"There's something else I think you should try..." Arbitor began, parting himself from his fancy to dig into his pocket.
Quistis lifted a brow at him in suspicion, but continued to carry a mellow grin upon her features with Culdin bringing his fingers through her silky hair while nursing his beer. "And what would that be? That shit you're on?"
That was precisely it. He brought forth a tablet, the small drug resting in his palm for Quistis to see and take. When she did not make a move for it, the boy gestured for her to do so. Hesitant in her movements, she slowly and carefully took the item between her fingers, gazing as if to inspect the small particle. "This isn't safe, is it?"
"Who cares?" Culdin chimed, taking in the final whiff of his darling Mary Jane and disposed of the bud in the ashtray in front of him, "You didn't come here to feel safe, did you?"
She swallowed hard, the pill still in her grasp. With an exasperated sigh, she shook her head, meaning to give it back. Something in back of her mind told her this wasn't safe at all. This time she was going too far. But Arbi wasn't having it. "Crimson, baby, you'll like it. I promise..."
There was a scream of protest in the back of her mind. Faint and fading fast, but it was there and haunting. It was a scream that did not want to surrender, that wanted to reclaim the control it was losing. But it was as if it was shoved into a closet and with the slam of a door, and the scream was silenced. All that was left was the pill, and the people waiting for her next move.
Trepe popped the pill into the back of her throat and swallowed. Culdin, Arbitor and his beau grinned all the while, waiting, anticipating the drug to take its inevitable affect. It wouldn't be immediate, not like the marijuana was. No, Ecstasy was a gradual sensation that spread throughout the body, increasing ones' heartbeat, heart rate and blood flow. And this was just what the Instructor began to experience. And during this time, Arbitor and his lover discussed something quietly, discreetly...
The descent was gradual, and then it spiraled at the speed of light. Something cracked inside of her, a hairline that widened more and more and something beautiful and terrible was spilling out from its prison. Touches were magnified bliss, sound was orgasmic, the hair from her skin standing on end. It took the farthest reaches into her psyche of self restraint not to grind her aching body against the closest living thing. This rush, this feeling was foreign and unusual, but thrilling all the same. When a hand stroked the inside of her thigh a second time that night, she squirmed, the caress bringing forth a gasp.
"I promised. Was I wrong?" Arbitor cooed playfully, giving her thigh a light pinch.
Quistis erupted into a growl, a sound so unnatural coming from the proud and prude Instructor Trepe. She turned her body to straddle her former childhood classmate, who was visibly stunned by this sudden development. The beau at his side watched intensely, his eyes glowing bright blue with something, but not jealousy like one would expect. "It's quite a shame you jumped the fence. I would have enjoyed playing with you on the other side." She purred. This behavior was so unlike her usual demeanor; prim, proper and no nonsense, to see her exhibiting this feisty disposition was an odd turn-on-even for one who did jump the fence.
Arbitor merely grinned with wide, curious eyes, sending his fingers delicately through her now damp blond hair, her body having been perspiring from the foreign substances and the bright spotlights, and tightened them around the tresses, "You little minx...tell me, when was the last time you had a good time?"
She didn't answer. Despite the drugs in her system, she was coherent enough to know exactly what he implied, and was embarrassed to answer.
"You know what I mean, don't you?" Arbi merely smirked, glancing over at his partner a moment, who nodded in silent approval. "When was the last time you got fucked?"
Again no answer. In truth, she had always been so caught up with SeeD, her studies and the like that she never even really had a steady boyfriend. Flings as it were, and never for any significant amount of time. When she became an Instructor, sex was the last thing from her mind, in the sense of actually getting it. There were fantasies of course, many involving Squall, and perhaps a few others that caught her wandering eye on occasion. They were fantasies-nothing she ever saw herself acting upon.
Arbitor almost looked sad for a moment, moving a free hand to graze her left breast which caused her to writhe graciously. "Zale, I think this poor darling is a virgin. Isn't that a shame?"
The ex-SeeD's lover nodded in reply, his attention intensely focused upon the Instructor. "It is. What should we do about it?"
This was something she hadn't expected. "Shouldn't that be up to me to decide on what to do?"
Arbitor put a finger to her lips momentarily, "All we were going to do was make an offer."
Zale motioned to stroke her cheek, which she welcomed and pressed into. E was working through her body more gravely now, making it a little difficult to concentrate at all. "And the offer is...?"
"You see," Arbitor began, breaking his gaze to Trepe for a few moments to give a light, yet passionate kiss to Zales' full-lined lips, "I crossed the fence to the point of no return. But Zale...he's, you can say, suspended in the center, unmoving. And even though I'm one-sided-"
"He likes to watch me play with others, male and female." Zale finished for his boyfriend. "Our relationship is very open."
Quistis absorbed all of this with slight difficulty. So what were they saying exactly? Zale would use her like a piece of meat while Arbitor got off on it?
"Let him give you an experience you'll never forget, and deserve. I promise it will be worth it." So Arbitor put it in kinder words. Didn't escape the fact that she'd still be banged in a loveless fashion.
The screams continued behind the door, fists banging relentlessly in vehement disapproval as the crack widened further.
Quistis considered-a little too quickly. "When...and where?"
Arbitor and Zale grinned simultaneously. "Now, and up there." Arbi pointed up, while Zale gestured toward a flight of stairs toward the far back of the nightclub.
Crimson felt several shivers travel up her spine. So she was really doing this. The doubt was bound far and away, and what was left was the need to move forward, the need to release all inhibitions and to accept something new.
This would be progress, Crimson rationalized.
Yet the doubt kept screaming...
The room was noticeably unkempt, the bed sheets wrinkled and rumpled in several places and the random furnishings clearly undusted. These rooms within the club were meant for only one thing-sex in so many ways and private drug binges. Arbitor, being a frequent visitor of the club, could always get a room. Or he sucked the owner's dick. Who knew at this point.
There was a fleeting sense of trepidation that was brushed away before it could become tangible.
It was quite the task in getting to the room, trying to keep Culdin from becoming too upset from being uninvited to their escapades. He was silenced when the duo of non-conversational females allowed him to engage in a playtime of their own.
And so here she was, both boys at either side of her, each holding carefully to an arm. Once Arbitor shut the door behind them, it was on.
Before Quistis knew what was happening, she was lifted clear off her feet into the arms of Arbitor who was briefly struggling with her form. She was probably twice as strong as he, his lanky body showing off little muscle definition at all, though she certainly gave him an A for effort. Her body tensed instinctively, but didn't fight him. He wasn't rough, just quick. She hadn't even noticed Zale had made it to the queen bed before she had been laid carefully upon it. She sat up a bit too quickly, a little confused at what was going on, the drugs still in her system and at its full potency.
There was little time for her to react to anything. Zale had come upon her like a panther to its prey, pushing her upon her back to which she submitted to the force with no resistance. She felt something warm and alive behind her, and beneath her. Realizing her head now rested in Arbitors' lap, she relaxed just a bit more. There were so many things she was feeling-fear, excitement, arousal. She found difficulty doing much more than laying there, not quite able to wrap her head around what she had gotta herself into.
The lights had been long since flipped off, only the dim light from the moon and the stench of expired cigarettes and fornication lingered with the trio now.
"Relax, and enjoy..." Zale purred, watching his lover gather the material of Quistis' elegant dress in his fingers, hiking it to her waist. Quistis felt relaxed and rigid at the same time. Her eyes never moved from Zale who took this time to pull her nylons and panties carefully, fluidly, from her legs. With mindful regard, he set the garments off to the side and over the edge of the bed, slithering down the length of the blond beauty's' pale and slender thighs, fingers tips gently caressing the outer region of her feathery lips.
Trepe had no control over the situation, and she wasn't complaining. An elongated moan came from her parted mouth as the silver-haired beau teased her tamed golden mass down below. Her fingers motioned to grab at the ruffled sheets, but Arbitors' fingers entwined with hers before the opportunity was given. She squeezed firmly, her back arching as Zale further explored. She willing spread her legs when she felt his faint breath breeze by over her yellow strands.
Quistis' eyes were closed, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, and before she knew it, her arousal was at full throttle. Warmth spread all throughout her shaken body as a pair of masculine lips came between the folds of her dark, moist cavern of femininity.
Zale was not alien to this form of euphoria. He had a few years of experience under his belt, and knew of several areas to touch to cause a woman to writhe and accept the divine delirium of climax. His tongue roamed, lips occasionally kissing at her tender spots which only caused her to drastically squirm. Arbitor tried to soothe said movements with a few of his own, his hands moving from hers, to her hungering breasts, massaging the mounds and teasing the nipples from underneath her satin dress.
There was no describing it-Quistis was reaching a form of ecstasy with no definition. Her mind was in total disarray. There were no thoughts, only feelings, and the drug earlier taken only intensifying her experience.
And when she came to the point of release, her explosion was so powerful, she couldn't help from screaming, her entire body tense from the blissful sensation of pleasure.
Arbitor grinned, satisfied that she was satisfied, and even more satisfied when Zale sat up just as. They made eye contact, silent but staring as if something was being shared between them. They knew what was going to ensue once they reached home. But the primary concern was Quistis. She hadn't moved since her ferocious orgasm.
"Crimson, babe...did you enjoy it? Were you satisfied with my boy?" Arbi questioned softly with a touch of humor, caressing her jaw line with an index finger.
Crimson was more than satisfied. There weren't words she could conjure up to describe the feeling of the aftermath. Her eyes had been opened to a new world, new pleasures and sensations. That night, the splintered crack had been torn asunder, and the entity that resided flourished from its captivity. The beast within was very much alive, and ready for more.
"You can say that," she replied breathlessly, motioning to sit up. Arbitor allowed her to do so, releasing her completely. The men watched her stretch, gazed at her curiously as she ran her fingers through her hair. The brunette couldn't see it, but Zale certainly did. He saw her eyes, her brows drawn together. He saw deep in her irises-they had released a primal beast from within her, and she wouldn't be caged.
With her hands like claws, she lunged for him, fingers gripping his gray, long sleeved knit shirt as she straddled him without a word.
Arbitor merely watched this display in silence, his own arousal of the last encounter, of Quistis' current behavior pressing to his pleather pants.
Crimson, plain and simple, wanted to be fucked, and fucked hard. He could fuck her upside down if he wanted, she didn't give a flying Grat. All she knew was she wanted more, her thirst not yet quenched. She had no time for removing clothes, she was in need of a second round-clothes were optional.
Fumbling with his zipper with shaking hands, she finally freed it. This was where her dominance ended. Zale assumed control, grabbing her roughly by the wrists as he maneuvered their bodies, rolling to land on top of her.
"Your permission, Arbi?" He inquired, his voice thick and husky, unlike the slightly feminine Arbitor. Though their relationship was indeed open, they had not discussed penetration, and would only go through with it if his lover approved.
However, Zale hadn't noticed Arbitors' form had retreated to the headboard, pulling his member from his own pants and slowly, but surely working the organ with exhilarating strokes. "Y-yes..." He shakily replied, giving a careful moan.
Well he knew now, and would go forth with the deed.
Crimson was becoming impatient, the drug still potent, but it would soon be wearing thin. Her nails went to dig at the skin of his shoulders. Did he like it rough? She'd soon find out. When he made a lusty growl at the gesture, she figured it to be a positive reaction.
Enough time was wasted. If she wanted it rough, she'd get it rough. Zale guided her bare legs around his waist, to which she swiftly wrapped and held around his waist, waiting for him, waiting for his dynamic entrance.
It came, and with pain to boot. Crimson twitched involuntarily, holding in the wince of discomfort. But it soon settled, and was replaced by immeasurable ecstasy. He pumped into her, in and out with steady thrusts. These thrusts became stronger, harder and quicker. There were no breaks, no relief. Just pain and pleasure mixed together that left her nearly blind.
Arbitor gawked as he watched the scene unfold into hardcore pleasure, all three participants coming to pleasure with near equal affinity. His release would soon approach, the grunts from Zale, and the less refined moans and groans from Crimson would promptly send him clear over the edge without a parachute.
Pain and pleasure. Tonight they went hand in hand. While Crimson's inner walls were being abused by the constant, strenuous prodding of Zales' member, he was experiencing a pain of his own with his current partners' legs around him to the point of discomfort while thick yet delicate nails dug savagely into his shoulder blades. It was nearly enough to make him bleed. And they were both so close to impact, it was almost unbearable.
Zale gripped Crimsons' waist, his thrusts at maximum velocity, and it caused Quistis to cry out. He gave a throaty groan before he pulled out of the woman beneath him, his body shuddering just before it gave into the explosion.
And they finally came. The trios' release arrived as an assault of spasms and waves of warmth overtook their spent bodies.
A monster was released that night. And she was known as Crimson.