Author's Note: Okay since this seemed to go over fairly well I decided to go on. Sorry for the long await but as I say, "You can't rush quality." Well that and I got to the end of chapter 2 and was like, "Um what now?" Someone asked if there was going to be a lemon and I was like, "What the hell never written one of those before." So there you go. I don't take requests but I liked the idea and my story just happened to head that way. If you haven't figured out I have never written a lemon before so this is my first and it was slightly awkward, to say the least and I turned at least four different reds while writing it. Also, besides this I am not going to put out any sort of disclaimer for anything. I think the rating, 'M' says it all. If any of this makes you upset or what not, you probably should stick to the 'T' ratings. That's said. On with the show. Thanks to all you who reviewed and more are always welcomed and appreciated since I am a feedback whore.
P.S. I gave my beta the chapter(s) off so if I missed anything I do apologize. And most of the dream part at the end is of her creation. I added to it some but 80 of it is her's.
Chapter 3
She sat at a front table, an untouched cup of coffee letting off its steam before her, eyes fixated on them. The beautiful young man and the cheap floozy he allowed in his presence. She knew who the girl was. Rinoa Heartilly-Caraway, professional socialite, hated by all who adored her. The type that had everything at their fingertips and wasted all that they touched. She was rich and famous by lineage and association only, she herself provided no real contribution to society, other than to spend other people's money.
Her father the famous G. Caraway, general to the world's greatest military force. And President Deling's lap dog during his conquest to take over half the globe. Because of this, the Caraway's were privileged in sharing in Deling's spoils; this included several private islands around the world. The imperialist ass, who needed a private island, let alone several?
Let's not forget her dear, sweet mother. The late, great one-hit-wonder Julia Heartilly-Caraway, with her song, "Eyes on Me," played at every fucking prom the world over. In the world's eyes it was a classic, never to go out of style. But to Quistis Trepe, it was an over-played, over-estimated, over-sentimental and over-romantic pile of crap. She thanked God everyday that woman died before she had a chance to unleash more filth and music.
Her stomach turned as their eyes met. She watched her whisper to Squall and motion to her.
"Don't you dare talk about me, whore," Quistis's mind spat. Squall turned and curled his upper lip in disgust, to which Quistis scowled. "Jackass."
She could feel his eyes on her. Always watching her. You'd think a guy would take a hint. Although teasing him did make her day.
--
He watched her from the nurse's station. She was, no doubt, watching Puberty Boy with that new chick. She was probably jealous. God, she was hottest when she was mad.
His pants felt tighter as he pictured that angry face, lips pursed together in a scowl, eyebrows forming "v," as he pounded her form into his mattress.
He bets she likes it hard and fast. She was probably kinky as hell too, like being strapped down to the posts. She may look pure and innocent, but he knew she was a freak behind closed doors. The typed you could tie up and ride for hours, oh God.
"Shit," he said aloud looking down at the wet spot on his white pants.
"Yo Seifer, what's up man?" said a tall, bulky, black man.
"Hey Rai. Could you, uh, cover for me, I have to, um go to my room real quick," Seifer stammered.
"Yeah, sure thing man," the other man replied. Seifer quickly picked up a clipboard and placed it over his wet spot and ran for the elevators.
"Where is he going?" Quistis asked behind the other man, styrofoam cup in her hand.
"He was going to his room real quick, ya know?" he replied. A strange glint appeared in the blonde's eyes.
"Thanks, Raijin," she said, running her slender fingers along his large arms as she made her way to the elevators.
--
"Shit," he cursed again standing as his draws in search of a clean pair of pants. Clothes were scattered across the floor, clean and dirty alike. He swore he had another clean pair of- A loud, forceful knock at his door, causing him to stop his frantic search.
"Hold on," he called, speeding up his pants hunt. The door was suddenly pushed open and just as quick shut again. "What the- Quistis?" he asked in shock, clothes in his hands. The blonde woman's eyes raked over his partially exposed body. "Get the fuck out," he ordered, pointing at the door.
She stood there defiantly, who the hell was he to order her around, sure it was his room but, where did he get off?
"Not if you are going to take that tone," she replied boldly, arms folded across her chest. A smirk graced his face. He walked over to her trying to stare her down.
"Get the fuck out of my room," he said calmly, his face inches from her's.
"Make me," she challeged with same tone of voice. Seifer shrugged with his eyes before shoving Quistis into the door behind her and assulting her with his mouth. She let out a cry of disgust and pushed him away. Seifer grabbed her arms and held them over her head with his left hand, while his lips moved to her neck.
"Get off of me, Seifer," she demanded trying to wrench free from his grasp.
"No, you wouldn't leave," he said, snaking his free hand under her shirt. He almost let out a cry of delight as his hand met with a front clasp bra. With little effort, he managed to snap open the bra and greedily grab at her tit.
"Ow, fucking stop," she cried, kicking him in his hardening crotch, instantly freeing herself from his grips.
"You bitch," he squealed holding his injured area.
Before Quistis could open the door, Seifer recovered and turn the girl around. Her left cheek was met with his clenched fist, throwing her to the floor. A metallic taste instantly filled her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Her hand went to cover her bruised face.
"So you do like it rough, whore." Seifer picked up Quistis and tossed her carelessly to his bed.
"Don't you fucking touch me," she screamed trying to scramble from the bed. But, Seifer quickly jumped onto her, straddling her waste, holding her arms above her head again.
"Stop whining you know you like it," he said, ripping open her shirt with ease. He buried his head in her chest taking one of her nipples in-between his teeth.
"Oh God, Seifer," she moaned. She stopped herself immediately, "Get off me," she yelled. He rubbed the bulging part of his boxers into her hips, causing her to let out another moan.
"Oh my God I shouldn't be enjoying this," she whispered to herself. Seifer smiled into her chest. Slowly, Seifer ran his free hand down her exposed torso and undid her belt. He then took her right arm and slapped it to the bed post and expertly bound it with the belt, all the while getting punched with her left hand. He held her other hand, while he searched for something else to tie her other hand.
Quickly, he gathered his earlier discarded, stained pants, belt still in the loops. He repeated his earlier process with his belt and her left hand.
"Now we can have some real fun," he said kissing her roughly. She continued to squeal and struggle against his binds.
Seifer slid down the bed stopping to face her waist. He made quick work of her white pants, revealing her pink, lace panties. He cupped his hand over her sensitive area, extracting pleasure filled moans from her. He smirked and dipped his hand beneath the tiny piece of cloth and into the slick recess of her body. He bit back a tear of joy to find it expertly shaven.
"Oh, oh fuck, don't stop," she moaned. Seifer's smile grew as he pulled the pink lace down to her ankles. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, tasting her for all she was worth. She emitted a series of moans and whimpers with a dash of curses. Quistis quickly reached her final peak in a loud, guttural scream.
"Enjoy yourself, my dear?" he asked arrogantly. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Seifer, if you don't fuck me now, I will fucking kill you," she threatened, teeth clenched looking down at him. Seifer smiled again, his dreams were finally coming true.
He leaned over her and reached into his bed side table, pulling out a small packet.
"I'm on the pill," she said, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice.
"I don't know where the fuck you've been," he replied, ripping open the condom with his teeth. Quistis struggled against her binds trying to hit him.
"You are such a fucking asshole," she screamed. Seifer let out a little laugh.
"No, no, my dear, we will get to that later," he told her slipping off his boxers. Quistis eyed his surprisingly large penis, as he rolled the rubber over it.
Seifer slammed himself into her quickly, not caring whether or not she was ready for him. She let loose another series of cries and curse words. But those too soon subsided into strings of moans and encouraging insults.
He gripped onto her chest for support as he rammed in and out of her hard.
"Oh yeah, fuck me, fuck me harder," she screamed, holding on to the belts her head thrown back.
"Holy fuck," he cried as he rode her.
"Seifer," she cried loudly as she climaxed again, Seifer following her soon after. He fell onto the bed beside her, both breathing heavy.
"Holy shit you are a good lay," he said, rolling over to remove the used condom.
"We should definitely do that more often," she purred.
--
the kick landed in his chest hard and he staggered backwards as a knee landed in his stomach and oh there went everything he had been poised for success and there went everything his body went limp and he tumbled out of the ring and a few weeks later he still couldn't feel his leg
he'll never fight again they said the damage in his leg is too bad there's he'll walk soon but fight no he'll never fight again he lost it broke down and started sobbing in his mothers arms its okay its okay its okay she cooed everything will be fine everything will be okay
he could walk but there was pain always pain he could walk but not fight the drugs were a miracle they took away his pain but he missed the ring the fighting the glory the pain the more he took the better he felt he could take on anyone
his shaking hand lifted the group of pills to his mouth who needed water they went down easy
he flashed the wad of money around the bars the convenient stores anywhere so long as it was late and on the wrong side of town he knew someone would see someone would follow him out the sounds of heavy shoes on the pavement behind him caused excitement the more the merrier the hand on his shoulder causing him to stop the sharp edge of a blade pressed to his back the dizzy numb feeling coursing through his veins mixing with adrenaline
he quickly whipped around elbow crashing into the jaw teeth crunching blood splattering his hurt leg devoid of pain smashed into the stomach of the attacker or an accomplice or an innocent bystander who fucking cares as long as they suffered
he awoke in his own sweat shaking it was still dark he reached for the almost vacant bottle and emptied it into his hand down they went fuck the spoon full of sugar they knew nothing it went down all on its own easing the pain he felt good
--
Zell awoke to the sounds of screams from the floor above. Sweat dripped down his face; he hated those dreams, those memories. The thoughts of what he became made him sick. The screams were followed up by the banging of something against the floor.
"Oh God," he thought in realization. "I thought sex was illegal in this place."
He rose from his bed; there was no way he was going to get back to sleep with that going on above him. He walked to his drawers trying to block out the moans and thuds. He wondering if he should tell Cid or a nurse about what was going on and have them fix it. But he knew that would be a bad idea, Seifer would make a big deal over it and call him a "goody, goody", "tattle tale," or "chicken-wuss," or some other cutesy name to call him for doing the right thing.
"That bastard," Zell thought pulling on a clean shirt. He looked to the ceiling as another scream erupted from above. One thing was sure; he needed to get out of there before he had a little problem of his own.
Zell ripped open his door and stalked down to the cafeteria, not bothering to change from his pajama pants. What did he care, most of the people around here were too zoned to notice that type of thing anyway. Besides who was he trying to impress?
