Background: It was a stupid idea I came up with while playing Devil May Cry. I mean, come on. Daughter of Squall meets son of Dante. It sounded so rediculously funny that I just had to. So I did. In the beginning, this wasn't meant to be serious, or even to actually exist in Kyrie's universe at all. It was just too weird not to play with, y'know? But it grew on me. Damn you, Ky. I guess it's set more or less a couple of years after the end of Retribution Nor Redemption. Enjoy, I hope. Do not read, however, if you've got a really narrow view of relationships or sexuality (keep the other two stories in mind, in other words--Kyrie and Rodger have been together for a long time and they're very secure in one another). You might get warped. Heh heh.
Also Note: In the interest of... well, myself, really, this is written under the theory that "demon" is a term that incorporates all hellspawn--"devil" is used specifically for a humanoid, intelligent, "higher demon". So all devils are demons, but demons are not devils. Just in case there's any confusion.
WARNING!!! This
chapter contains descriptions of free sexual thought and sexual circumstances
of which the more sensitive and/or vanilla of you should not be reading.
It may warp one's poor mind. No, seriously. If you can't handle
it, don't read it.
Descendants of the Mundane
Chapter 4
by Orin Drake
Reclined in the comfy sofa
in the corner of Kyrie's office, feet up on the windowsill, a cup of ice
cold... cola of some sort in his hand, John lazily pondered just how freaking
cushy of a job she had. Yeah sure she'd been on the computer system
for about two and a half hours murmuring curses every few minutes, trying
to get all of the proper channels cleared so that... well, he'd kind of
stopped listening at that point. All he knew was that the leaders
of two countries were being assholes and she was selected to deal with
it for the moment.
That much was incredibly
funny. Or would be, if she were capable of being humored at that
moment. Of all the people in the world to place into a job
like that, she was definitely the worst choice. If she lost
it, just once, just for a moment... well, she could frankly cause a war.
And Vincent
must have known that.
But no. She had to
go and accidentally lose all of his suits. And how in bloody hell
had that happened? That thought actually made her pause, losing all
track of what she was doing. Not that she really cared at this point.
The dignitaries from both countries would be right there, in the palace,
in a matter of minutes. At least, they were supposed to be.
Rodger hadn't paged her
to let her know they'd arrived, though. He would certainly be with
Laguna the whole time, so his contact would be her cue to go listen to
the arguing. Again. Rah.
She sighed deeply, glaring
at the screen as though it were her mortal enemy. And it was.
Oh how it was. She was starting to fantasize about ripping the computer
straight out of the console unit and drop-kicking it out the window when
her cell phone blipped with the page indicator.
Just enough rage to get
pumped. She smirked, taking a look at the little screen on the
phone. Sure enough, there was Rodger's message: "They're here.
Breathe. Good luck."
Just about as comfortable
as he had ever been, John cast her a lazy look. Well, he may as well
follow along and be amused. So she hoped. "Want to see what
my job really amounts to?" she offered flatly.
"Definitely." He agreed,
letting his feet simply fall from the window sill--causing a catapult effect
that threw his body out of the chair without any work on his part.
She grinned at his display.
For a demon hunter, he sure did know a lot about the finer arts of reclining
and effortless de-reclining. "You just follow me. And under
no circumstances say a word."
"Afraid I'll get you fired?"
he teased, keeping close down the hall.
"Not quite." She admitted,
glad he was along for the ride. "A single word has been known to
get them to argue for an extra hour."
Hm. Maybe the job
wasn't quite as cushy as he thought.
The conference room was notably
different from the rest of the building--by the thick sense of doom in
the air. Alright, maybe it wasn't that bad, but close enough to count.
Kyrie had gotten almost too used to the feeling of tension, hardly aware
that all eyes fell straight on her and her companion as they entered.
But no words. Oh hell no. She'd learned her lesson; silence
for as long as possible and maybe something would be signed. Hell,
she didn't even bother bringing any paperwork of her own, anymore.
What was the point when it was always a yelling match? There wasn't
even a reason to have a secretary take notes; the last one had left the
room in a frustrated state, taking the day off and returning only under
the condition she never have to be in that room again.
Rodger was very careful
to be subtle about his invitation, catching John's eye and using only the
slightest of movements to welcome the boy to sit next to him. Kyrie
took her selected place, to the right side of the head of the table.
The head, of course, was to be taken by the president himself, with Vincent
already sitting to the left and across from Kyrie. Next to them,
albeit a couple of seats further down, were the immaculately dressed and
infamous arguers, somehow still managing to sit across from one another
in an almost civil sort of way. Still further down, several spaces
away, was where the boys dwelled--within sprinting distance to the outside.
It had started as a joke, but Rodger had wondered more and more...
Laguna nodded, Kiros standing
at his side, and sat. And that's all it took.
The switch was tripped instantly.
Some accusations flew, though of what nature was no longer comprehensible.
Not like it mattered anyway. Kyrie sat back with a dulled look on
her face and waited for silence enough to daydream, while her grandfather
was busy trying not to sigh audibly. Not like anyone would hear it
over the ranting anyway.
Wow. John kept
to himself. He'd thought she was just... well, he supposed he should
already know better. But... wow. Not even Hell operated quite
like this. Everyone else at the table seemed just as disgusted, but
not surprised. They even looked to the point of boredom, really.
Maybe it was the new friend
she'd gained. Maybe it was that all too subtle smirk on Vincent's
face when she made eye contact. Or maybe... she'd just had enough.
As delicately as she dared (which honestly wasn't very), she spoke up over
the childish rambling, "It's hardly worth the time and effort to bring
the two of you together if this is always the result."
Click. Almost
audible, and certainly obvious. Everyone felt it, just as easy as
sliding a puzzle piece into place. She'd initiated armageddon.
The man in the dark blue
suit turned to her, looking aghast that she should say such a thing to
him.
The other one, in the black suit, looked equally shocked--enough to speak
directly to her. "Excuse me, Mrs. Kinneas, but this is a worldly
issue."
Oh fuck this.
She stood up, her voice very soft, very calm. Against the sudden
silence, however, it seemed to carry much farther. It was times like
these when the Almasy side shone through. "Here's an idea, gentlemen.
Coming from quite the 'worldly' place."
The room regarded her.
The world regarded her. The people that actually knew her had stopped
breathing entirely. Only Vincent allowed himself the slightest movement;
a mild quirk of his lips.
She continued in a soft
tone, steadily rising into something that resembled calm yelling.
It was too soft and too "gentle" to really be yelling, but... it
was certainly close enough. "Why don't the both of you stop acting
like spoiled children with your wooden block countries and plastic people?
Have you any idea how disgusting it is to see two adults, in charge of
countries so powerful, put on a whining bitch-show for the rest of us?
Maybe you ought to watch yourselves on the security footage once in a while.
Hyne knows I can hardly stomach being here when it happens, and I'm quite
good at ignoring people. So here's an idea--shut up, agree
to disagree, and sign the fucking papers already."
Absolute silence.
Utter, complete, and absolute silence. A wave of shock fumbled, then
seemed to settle like a fog all around the dignitaries. Kyrie only
sat back down as if nothing had happened, politely folding her hands on
the table in front of her. Oh well. She'd successfully caused
a war. Squall might well be proud; Seifer sure as hell would be.
The dignitaries, however,
did not look so calm. In fact, there was a... twitching sort of anger
apparent. First one lifted, shakily, and then the other. They
looked at one another evenly, no doubt sizing the other up for war.
And then the miracle happened.
Maybe not so much a miracle as a stroke of luck so stupid, so impossible,
that it couldn't have been real. But dammit, there it was; a tentative
handshake. A fucking handshake. Who made the first move
and whatnot was completely unimportant--a shake. An agreement.
The papers would be signed in another room entirely for security issues,
but... there it was. On security video. With several witnesses.
Laguna was so taken aback
by the entire situation that it took Kiros' elbow in his gut to bring him
to the active present. Finally "awake", so to speak, he cleared his
throat and made a desperate attempt at a presidential tone. "If you'll
follow me, gentlemen. The document is this way."
The room cleared quite fast--that
is, of everyone involved in the signing process. Kyrie still remained
seated for the moment, breathing. The two boys were still a little
too... shaken to do so much as stand. And then there was Vincent,
still sitting calmly across from her; waiting.
At long last, it was the
"miracle worker" who broke the silence herself. "Well. That
was... great." Her enthusiasm was nowhere near her voice at that
moment, however.
"Impressive." Vincent
agreed, gathering a small pile of various paperwork from where Laguna had
left it (too shocked to have remembered it, no doubt). He'd have
to be there for the actual signing, himself. There had been a reason
he'd stayed behind for a moment, though...
"Okay. I'm going home
early." Kyrie announced, getting up and walking directly toward the
door. She thought that she'd earned that much at least. The
boys followed her initiative, finally breaking the spell and standing.
"And, Ky." Vincent
called quietly, standing.
She raised an eyebrow at
his tone. He usually wasn't one to call her softly, that was for
sure. Regardless, she pulled away from her little clique for a moment
and approached him along his side of the table carefully. "Yes?"
His tone was utterly gentle.
"They never got lost."
Blankness. A blink.
What did he me--click--his suits never got lost to begin with?!
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are an asshole, Vincent."
All he did was smile in
that all too soft and dangerous way, straighten his papers, and exit the
room via the door the dignitaries had already passed through. Not
a word, not a second of love lost.
Controlling a physical outburst
on some unwitting piece of furniture by a single thread of what resembled
willpower, she turned back to the boys with a set jaw. Vincent had
not lost his suits. Meaning she had not lost them. Further
meaning there was no reason to have been placed into that situation
between two countries to begin with. It was a whim. A mother
fucking whim of that goddamn bastard...
She sighed shortly, eyes
set on nothing in particular as she began walking, annoyed beyond compare.
She could not deny how effective his choice had been. He'd known
she would lose it eventually. He had to have. And that's why
he placed her there in the first place. But she never would have
agreed to it if he hadn't created some situation...
John opened his mouth--but
Rodger shook his head quickly. Okay, so no words. At all.
In fact, he made sure to breathe very quietly, very slowly.
After they had been waiting
on the train for a couple of minutes in absolute silence, only then did
Kyrie finally let out a breath and relax her shoulders. She just...
needed a moment, there.
The brunette gave an almost
imperceptible nod. So, John threw caution to the wind and tried his
best. "Well... at least you were effective."
Her answering smirk was
more cutting than her own gunblade--but she appreciated the effort.
"Apparently it was that."
Rodger grinned but decided
not to comment. There was no need, really. That Vincent...
he was one devious son of a bitch, alright. The ball was in her court,
now... and he was certain she would concoct something truly horrible to
get back at him.
The doors slid shut and
the train finally began to move. It was at that point John felt his
curiosity swell. "Not that it's any of my business..." he began,
almost timidly, "But... this Vincent guy..."
"Is an asshole." Kyrie
finished for him; though at least this time she was grinning. Very
little, but enough.
Well, he was rather starting
to agree with that. But how to say this... He definitely knew
she wasn't the sort of girl to take shit. But it seemed like she
refused to take shit from anyone but this demonic freak. And
neither of them seemed to see it; or, if so, didn't mind it. The
guy just... rubbed him the wrong way, maybe. Opening his mouth to
ask a truly sincere, caring, poetically inclined question; "What's up with
him?"
Alright, she had to admit
that the inquiry seemed heartfelt. Even that he actually cared about
the response. But it was weird to talk about Vincent like this.
So, she avoided the mushy stuff as well as she could. "He's not so
bad."
John raised an eyebrow,
then looked at Rodger. The boy's only response was a shrug at first--but
the silver tressed boy would not let that slip by. He wanted
to know, dammit--this was confusing, and he felt dangerously out of the
loop. At last the brunette responded in a verbal manner, more serious
than he'd been in a long damn time. "I know he really does... appear
to be an asshole. But... he isn't."
That was simply not a satisfactory
enough answer. Before he had the chance to rephrase the question,
however, Kyrie spoke up again. "What was your father like, John?"
What wa--? How could
she change the subject at a time like thi--aaaaahhh. "Kind
of an asshole." He admitted with a slight grin.
Rodger only raised his hand,
included in that "father was an asshole sometimes" category. Things
had since been patched up quite a bit, though. Irvine visited once
in a while, and he and Selphie talked on the phone once a week or so.
One doesn't exactly forget about the asshole qualities, however.
"So... he's okay?" John
felt it necessary just to make certain.
"Yeah." She smiled,
surprisingly... grateful. For... everything. "He just loves
to push buttons."
"Like someone else I know."
The brunette teased, swiftly placing a hand upon her head and proceeding
to muss her hair.
She swatted the hand away
firmly. "But you, on the other hand..."
A... devious idea came into
the half devil's mind. "Have you two ever..."
Ah, how thoughts of absolutely
wicked and "wrong" behavior in public places could travel. "The ride's
too short." Rodger responded with a sigh.
Kyrie rolled her eyes jokingly,
getting another attempted hair mussing for her reaction. "And we'd
probably be expected to pay for any repairs."
Now that got John's mind
rolling. Which was unfortunately made more clear by his sudden need
to cross his legs in the tight jeans. Suddenly he hoped the ride
wouldn't be that short...
Rodger sat reclined into
the far corner of the sofa, one arm wrapped around his wife. Kyrie's
upper body lay more or less across his chest, reclining into him.
Her fingers were busy with delicate work, slowly being run through John's
silver, silky hair as he lay halfway inclined upon her. And together
they de-stressed in front of the television, commenting here and there,
asking and answering questions, laughing when appropriate (for them, anyway).
It was still pretty early.
So TV sucked. But at least there was no work-related stress at home.
And no one from the estate had called; undoubtedly Elle would hear about
the happenings. And she'd worry. And then she'd call.
And then she'd tell Quistis, who would worry and then also call.
And after the matter seemed perfectly and utterly settled, Laguna would
be the last to call and comfort/inquire. This eternal, never ending,
perfectly calculated cycle somehow never actually annoyed Kyrie--it was
just kind of... the way things were. Glancing at the time, however,
she knew it might take a bit. All of the paperwork and such, and
then keeping in mind how long it takes for word to travel when the interns
block the hallways... "I'm going upstairs." She announced quietly--code.
Her husband grinned, holding
her tighter. "Need to let it all out, huh?"
"Oh do I." She responded,
trying to find the ticklish spot on his ribs so he'd let go. Not
that the boy laying on her was helping matters much, remaining right where
he was due to his desire to be comfortable as long as possible. Hey,
he did like it when someone played with his hair, after all.
Rodger continued to keep
her firmly against himself, but she just kept on prodding his ribs.
She did hate to leave the two of them alone, though. Especially without
supervision. "Company is always welcome."
Mmm hmm. John
was getting the signal loud and clear all of a sudden. Although...
well, really. He was a sex fiend, sure, but he knew they were a married
couple. And, being so, they'd probably want time to themselves to
be able to make lo--
"John?"
Kyrie's invitation was snapped
up by the time he could finish the last ludicrous thought. "Yes."
Not a question--a confirmation.
"Okay then." She agreed.
With the drive and sound of stampeding horses, they advanced immediately
up the stairs and into the master bedroom.
With the curtains drawn against
the late afternoon light, the room took on an almost sadistically eerie
glow. It was nice, though, making shadows long but not overly harsh.
Rodger happened to note the way if made his wife's skin glow with a little
gold tinge, and he grinned ever so innocently. She was quite beautiful
like this... not to mention sexy. "Mind if I start off watching?"
Kyrie gave him a joking
smirk. "Oh, you're giving me the driver's seat?"
"Whatever works for you."
He quipped, feeling absolutely no shame about pulling his shirt off and
flinging it across the room.
Well. This was interesting,
John thought from just inside the doorway. He knew it was okay
to enter--this wasn't "sacred ground" or anything. He just felt like
it would be rude if he weren't granted permission.
And permission there came,
in the only form Kyrie could give. "Will you be in the audience or
on stage tonight, Johnny boy?"
The very question made him
chuckle. "Little of both, maybe..." He really couldn't help
but notice how quickly Rodger had settled into the small chair in the darkened
corner between the nightstand and the desk, diagonal to the foot of the
bed. Apparently this sort of thing was pretty common. Only
tonight there'd be a slightly different show. "And what's our first
act?"
"Hopefully not tragedy."
She answered almost seriously, removing--only her socks.
Well, no self-respecting
half-devil could have that, now. Not that he was one to judge, being
fully clothed, himself. That was easy enough to take care of.
Instead of flinging the articles far and wide, he let them settle in a
little pile by his feet. Not shy at all.
But Kyrie waited with a
challenging little smile--the kind that had "devious bitch" written all
over it. She made a theatrical sigh and stretched her arms over her
head, waiting.
John took the bait, and
even managed to twist it a little. If she wouldn't do it,
then he'd just have to take matters into his own hands. Lunging for
the bed, he grasped hold of her shirt and pulled it quickly over her head.
The button of her jeans took a little longer than expected, but he wasn't
exactly human--it took a mere second to loosen their hold and yank them
down her hips.
It was an interesting thing
to watch, certainly. Even Rodger in the most "hurried" of times couldn't
have managed that kind of speed. He watched as even Kyrie seemed
surprised about it, pinned down by the grinning form above her.
But she did have her own
tricks. Leaning in to give him a sultry kiss, she got his defenses
down for just long enough to gain a little leverage, using her legs
to flip them over.
In the middle of the turn,
John very well could have stopped her. But then he'd have missed
out on the kiss. It was far from the romantic sort--just the way
he liked it. Being on bottom or not, he was thoroughly starting to
enjoy himself.
And then she reached to
the side of the bed, pulling something from under the mattress...
Aha. Cloud's gift. Her expression was teasing. "I had
wondered how you looked in this..."
His lips exposed sharp pearl
teeth in a large grin. "How about you try it on first?"
He received a smirk for
his effort. But then, it was only fair, she supposed. With
barely a pause, she did as he suggested. Not too tight, but certainly
enough to feel it, she was already liking this. It was a very soft
leather on the inside, a little more firm on the outside, and just heavy
enough to make sure you knew it was there. Cloud had better taste
than she thought. More or less.
"Alright, no fair."
Came from the lurker in the shadows. "I wanna see."
"You're not supposed to
be here." Kyrie joked in refusal.
A scoffing sound there came
from the corner--but John was starting to get into this. It was almost...
scary. "Be a good girl and turn around." He suggested all too
softly with those teeth still exposed.
She flashed him a look--half
pitiful innocence and half absolute wickness--and did so, unashamed.
Straddling the boy in reverse, she slowly stretched out her body then rose
on her knees, doing a little motion she'd seen a stripper achieve on a
television drama. All the while, she was very careful not
to offer any friction. And just how far could she push?
"Uh-uh." The half
devil kept up his part, playfully swatting her on the ass. "You're
mine
right now." He warned her against putting on too much of a show for
someone who wasn't supposed to be there.
This was... working.
Rodger knew that tonight he might actually see Hyne, if not stay
and commune for a few moments. This whole thing was... wow was this
ever... holy shit. The boy was good.
Giving her husband a pleasant
wink, she carefully turned again so that she was facing the deviant boy
beneath her. "Fine..." she invited, letting herself be mostly submissive
for the time being.
He had the opportunity and
wit about him to explore this time. And he sure as hell used it.
Running his hands slowly along her smooth flesh, over her firm ass and
along the sides of her hips, her waist, up her sides and feeling every
cushioned rib, to her shoulders--and an evil thought crossed his mind as
he got to the collar. He grasped the D ring with a single finger,
pulling her down just forcefully enough not to give her a choice.
As his lips attacked hers hungrily, he claimed his territory by grasping
her breast.
Allowed to pull away just
enough to speak, Kyrie's voice was clearly rough with desire. Regardless,
her personality shone through, challenging. "And just what do you
think you're doing?"
"Checking." He grinned
with those sharp teeth, then claimed her mouth again, taking a short moment
to check her pain tolerance.
She jerked with the sudden,
rough pinch of a nipple. Bastard. But oh, what a fun
bastard.
It was all Rodger could
do not to make a noise. This was very hot stuff--and terribly amusing.
His wife seemed to have found an equal in cruel, mind-fucking sex.
Now that was funny. And... damn.
"Hm." She returned
shortly, meeting those bright blue eyes with narrowed crimson ones.
"My turn yet?"
How sweet, she was asking.
Or seemed to be, anyway. He knew the illusion would be broken soon
enough. "Fine, then." He granted, laying back. "Explore.
As long as I let you."
She grinned wickedly, taking
his advice. She wasn't going to be the only one freely "used and
abused", here. Not that she minded, considering the circumstances.
It was the principle of the thing. And the fact she had this gorgeous
thing underneath her, so very willing. Evil, but willing. She
chuckled with that thought as she pulled back and leaned down to explore
slowly downward on his taunt chest--she had a demon at her mercy.
Well, not a demon really, but, still. It was... lovely.
A good sexy little power trip to indulge in.
She had a little... practiced
tactic up her sleeve, though. Rodger saw it coming, but John sure
as hell didn't. He jerked, hissing quietly as the lightest, "gentlest"
little pinch was placed in the... proper location on the underside of his
scrotum.
"Checking." She threw
back at those playfully glaring ice blue eyes.
"Check a little softer."
He suggested.
"Tell me..." her voice suddenly
became velvety, sultry and soft like a good little servant. To add
to the effect, her fingers ever so tenderly traced up and down along the
inside of his thighs. "Would anything in half-demon blood be... dangerous?"
Half of that had been a
joking threat. He hoped it was a joke, anyway. But the other
half--ah, he understood. And felt just a touch relieved. "You've
got nothing to worry about."
"But you, on the other hand..."
that grin came back strong as she moved further down.
Hm, how smart was this?
He'd felt just how sharp those teeth were with his tongue... "No
biting." He laid down the law playfully.
A slight sound of amusement
came from the corner. There's certainly one thing you didn't say
to Kyrie and get away with--and she made sure he knew that. "Do you
tend to heal quickly, John?"
He chose not to answer--not
that he could have, anyway. She attacked before he had the least
opportunity to defend, sliding her tongue hard and slow down the length
of his shaft--an instant before her mouth enveloped him entirely.
Only one thought was coherent enough to acknowledge at that moment: So
this
is why a man will pay so much...
Her motions were slow and
teasing, about half the pace she normally used on her husband. It
was a glorious torture for both involved, until she felt the muscles under
her hands stiffen. Perhaps only to prove who was really in charge,
she pulled away and waited for his breath to recede slightly.
And he could only give her
a glare as he felt his heart rate level out a bit. Dammit, he'd been
so close...
"And how about your pain
tolerance?" she asked ever so sweetly, hovering above him without contact
as she'd done before.
What a question. Though
he wasn't quite sure where, exactly, she was going with this... "Oh,
it's pretty damn high."
"Really?" her eyes lit up
at the very idea.
Uh-oh. "Yes..."
She paused only long enough
to run the tip of her tongue over her sharp canines--leaning forward, into
him, pressing herself completely against him and finding a delectable place
on that lovely neck of his, just where the shoulder began. Her teeth
sank effortlessly, drawing a gasp more than a cry. He stiffened again,
moaning... Ah, a masochist. How utterly glorious.
Of course, she neglected
to understand he was also a sadist. He waited, patiently on the edge
of oblivion, for her teeth to be withdrawn. Even then he could patiently
wait for her to pull back and catch the look in his eyes--before striking.
As it was in the demon world, blood for blood; he returned the "love bite"
even as she tried to warn him against it. She tried, sure.
But she lost her breath right after as they brought completion for one
another.
He could taste it.
It seemed ridiculous to a point that he could taste such a thing given
the circumstances, but... it was like taint. Not quite, not really,
but... akin to it. Something that was not her own, but hers just
the same. It wasn't a bad taste or anything, but... it was definitely
there. The time for questions would come later, though. This
was just too good--and he hadn't the mind about him to question it anyway.
Bearing witness to this
most pleasant of sights, Rodger had to fight to keep his eyes open as the
pleasure ripped through him. This was just, too, good. The
end had come quickly, but sweetly; and, quite apparently, he wasn't alone
in that. He slumped backward, breathing heavily, wondering what the
hell could top that, ever...
"You are... a very... twisted
girl..." John joked, catching his breath.
"I have been told."
She threw back, with no intention of getting up for another few moments.
It's not as if he actually
felt like cuddling after sex (oh god, no), but... well... it was
kind of nice to just sort of... let his arms rest against her back while
they both recovered. Hey, she was soft, smelled good--there was no
shame in that.
"That's cuddling."
She mock-accused, as if reading his thoughts.
"Say that again and there's
no second act." He threatened, letting the edges of his fingernails
trace lines in her shoulders. She was a bit of a masochist herself,
alright...
"Second act?" she questioned
as innocently as possible--and she was a good actress when she wanted to
be.
But John knew enough to
see through it. With a vicious grin as bright in his eyes as it was
across his lips, he made eye contact with the voyeur. Seeing that
he had been acknowledged from the shadows, he made a quick invitation gesture
with his free hand.
Needing no further encouragement,
Rodger took the game a little further. Normally, it would have taken
him a few more minutes to get ready to go again--if such a situation "required"
it. But this was just, so, fucking, good... He'd only
read stories like this before...
Kyrie was still lazily recovering
when she felt John's hand lightly stroke over her hair--then grasp gently,
pulling her head up. Uh-oh. This was far from over. Come
to think of it, from the feel of things, she was never really able to tell
if he'd really taken a pause to begin with... That look in his glimmering
eyes was just too devious.
Although perfectly clear
he was talking to Rodger, John retained eye contact with her. He
wanted to see her response. "You should be able to fuck your own
wife." He grinned darkly, finding himself enjoying this almost too
much.
A shiver moved through Rodger's
body. Was this guy reading him or what? And did it matter in
the least bit at that point in time? As a married couple who had
been together for so long, who were so close where it really counted to
begin with... he didn't need to ask. If she had any issues with the
play during any time, she'd let them know. Possibly in bruises.
"You're right." He responded matter-of-factly. "You hold her,
I'll fuck her."
Perhaps she should have
felt offended--had she not known any better. And not been so completely
turned on. Now this, this was a fuuuuun game. So glad
to have brought this one home. Oh yeah.
"How do you want her?" John
made his voice gruff, vicious, softly clasping his fingers harder around
her hair. Not enough to really hurt, but certainly enough to give
her a good indication of his intent. He really was almost too good
at this. Truth was, he was just discovering how much he enjoyed it.
Hyne but how she was helplessly
enjoying herself, as well. Good thing no one else would ever see
this. Mental note: check for digital bugs--in the morning.
She just could not believe this. And she knew damn well Rodger was
going to have one hell of a good time--it was sort of a fantasy.
That they never had a third part to. Until now. And that third
part was astoundingly attractive, completely willing to play along, and
Kyrie herself just happened to be in the perfect submissive mood.
Hell yes. She would inform Cloud at some point in the future that
he could consider all video game-related debts paid in full--up to that
point, anyway.
What a fantastic question.
Now he was starting to catch John's vicious grin. Well, since he'd
asked... "Get her hands behind her back."
Most thought more or less
ceased for her right then. This was unbelievably good--the playful
roughness of John pressing her against his chest, yanking her arms up and
behind her... Yes. She was a twisted girl. But a happy
twisted girl. As soon as John delivered her hands, she felt a soft
strip of velvet bind her hands at the wrists. It was really almost
unfortunate that her husband's knot skills were so damn impressive.
She'd have liked to have been able to wriggle out and surprise someone...
There was clearly an unspoken
signal exchanged between the two boys. And now she was feeling a
little... nervous. Not unsafe by any stretch, but... not knowing
what to expect never did sit well with her. Quite suddenly, Rodger's
arms wrapped around her chest and pulled her back, while John slipped out
from underneath her and busied himself over at the nightstand. Safety
first--the half-demon's "spoils" were carefully wiped from her flesh before
the game proceeded. But when it did... boy, did it.
Everything more or less
fell into a completely wonderful disarray. One of Rodger's hands
slowly worked its way down her stomach and lower, while the other one sensuously
wrapped around her throat and squeezed just tightly enough to give her
the feel of it. She gasped in sudden sensory overload when both of
John's hands rested on her hips, his lips grazing her breasts and a clear
indication of his arousal on the softness of her lower thigh...
It was kind of like an explosion.
Not a rain of fire and debris, but like one of those huge fireworks that
looks like it's going to keep getting bigger, as if it's trying to swallow
you up and only at the last possible second, it leaves only some sparkles
and a great, big, boom. Apologies for the game being
so short-lived would have a chance to be passed back and forth at a later
time. Somehow the three of them had wound up as a sweaty, panting
mass on the floor.
It took several good minutes
for John's vision to focus again. Not that he gave a damn--it was
just an interesting thing to take note of. Kyrie was still resting
against him, gasping quietly. That much made him feel a little...
concerned. Yes he'd enjoyed himself absolutely thoroughly, but...
"You're... alright, right?"
"Oh yeah." She confirmed,
glad to know he was conscious enough to form thoughts. "Much, much
better than that." She chuckled with short breaths. "John,
thank you. Really. And if Rodger were awake, he'd thank you,
too."
"Hey." The brunette
murmured--admittedly still weak-kneed and terribly drained from the whole
glorious experience. So much so that he didn't even have the strength
to untie his own knots, though his numb fingers had given it a good try.
Good enough so that his wife could finally take matters into her own hands,
the knots just loose enough for her to slip out of. Almost as a team,
they turned to lay on their backs, not caring anything about getting off
the floor. Hey, it was clean.
The silver tressed boy grinned
appreciatively. "Glad to be of help." Another thought passed
through his mind; one that he didn't particularly want to give voice to
in the afterglow, but... Well, he may as well ask. No harm
in that. "Your... your blood, though..."
Her almost unnoticeable
sigh (it wouldn't have been heard with human ears) was enough to assure
him she knew what he was inquiring about. Her response took a moment
to form properly. "It's... a memento, of sorts."
John opened his mouth to
question further--cut off by a quiet growl from the other boy. Clearly
this was not quite... the most comfortable thing to be talking about.
He heard the subtle motion of her hand, flesh against flesh, gently sliding
over Rodger's. With that, he let the subject drop for the moment.
"There have been... bad
times." Kyrie tried to keep a sense of humor in her voice.
"Yeah." He agreed,
wanting
to delve a little deeper... but now was probably just not the best time.
"Hey..." she pondered out
loud, "Why am I always the submissive?"
Feeling a little more comfortable,
Rodger answered naturally, "Because you're such a domineering bitch everywhere
else, sweetheart."
John was absolutely certain
the hand she lazily raised was going to at the very least disfigure him--but
instead, she just whapped her husband lightly on the chest and chuckled.
"Bastard."
Amazing that two people
could be that way toward one another. But it was more so amazing
that a half-devil from another dimension would fit in so well among them.
In fact... "I feel like pizza."
Twenty minutes later, a call
had been made for the pizza. A few minutes after that, everyone had
officially taken a quick shower and were in the process of eating, when
the phone rang.
Kyrie stood by the kitchen
phone, waiting for three rings to go by. It worked like this--less
than three rings usually meant it was a telemarketer, realizing only then
that they shouldn't be calling the granddaughter of the President of Esthar.
Anything after two rings was usually worth picking up. On the third
ring, she took a breath and answered, "Howdy."
"I heard about your little
'incident'." Quistis started right away.
Hm. This wasn't how
things went at all. "What happened to Elle? I mean, hey Quisty."
There was a joking harumph
from her aunt. "Ellone is still in the process of trying to assure
your grandfather that he wasn't dreaming when you told those morons what
for."
"Why thank you." Kyrie
grinned serenely, giving her boys in the living room a thumbs-up.
"I didn't scare him, did I?"
"I hardly think that's possible."
Quistis giggled. "You did shock some other people, indirectly.
But who cares about them."
Oh how she did love her
aunt. "And how goes things with you?"
"Oh, good!" she responded
enthusiastically. "Michael bought me a dozen white roses last night."
"Romantic."
"Yeah." There was
a pause. "The problem was, they were delivered next door."
The darling niece tried
so hard to keep herself from laughing at that. Michael was a dear
man that her aunt had been dating recently. He really was great,
and part of the Trabia Garden teaching staff--but he was a little absent-minded.
Okay, a lot absent-minded. He was what her aunt liked to call, "severely
slightly attention deficit"; but his heart was in the right place, and
he was a sincerely good guy. Hell, if she liked him...
"That's still sweet."
"He tries." She agreed.
The shift of gears was almost audible. "And I hear tell of this John
Sparda..."
Hyne did news travel fast.
She wondered exactly who told her... "'Tell', you say?" she avoided
swiftly.
There was a pause on the
other end, of which Kyrie knew would be filled with a searching, raised
eyebrow had her aunt actually been in the room. "So long as he's...
a 'good kid'."
Oh, he's far from that...
she kept to herself. "He is."
"Alright." Quistis
agreed. That seemed to have been her most important topic of conversation.
"Well, I really just wanted to make sure you weren't suffering any adverse
effects of letting those grade schoolers in suits have it."
"None thus far." She
assured. "We'll see what tomorrow holds."
"Go in late." Her
aunt advised. "You earned it."
"Okay." Who was she
to argue with such sage advise?
The woman laughed softly
with such an easy response. "I shudder to think what's in store for
Mr. Valentine... but let me know when you think of it, anyway."
"Will do, Quisty."
She promised. "I just might need your help for this, anyway."
"Any time." She agreed.
"Take care, Kyrie. And Rodger, too. And John, I suppose."
How... strangely funny.
"You, too. Make sure Michael doesn't step into any more traffic."
There was a fond sigh on
the other end. "I'll see what I can do."