Summary WARNING : Hetero Naughty Stuff! Avert your eyes from the horror! How dare the writer claim to be writing a yaoi, and then deliver het! Kill! Kill! Also, Irvine lets out a rather impressive string of cusswords.

Pleasantly Depressed

Chapter 10 - Of Pillows and Bathtubs

By Skandranon

It was so good to touch Selphie again. Her eyes, her hair, her lips, her breasts...her breasts... every part of her just ached to be touched.

She kept giggling no matter what he did, and squirming besides, but that was par for the course with Selphie. She had her fingers locked firmly in his hair, and didn't show any desire to remove them.

Apologies with Selphie went one of two ways. One, she didn't believe you were sincere and she got madder, pouted, screamed, and demanded more grovelling. Two, she accepted, and wanted immediate make up fondling. This incident had gone the way of number two.

The wriggling wasn't usually this distracting, though. He was lying on top of her, and kept having to rearrange himself to be comfortable. It was rather difficult to properly please your girl when you had to take a brief time out every twenty seconds.

By the time thirty minutes had gone by, he had his mouth around one of her nipples and she was making that odd little cooing noise that meant 'I like that'. Six minutes of tongue work later, and he moved on to the sides of her hips. Four more minutes and he shifted back to her face for a while, nibbling on earlobes and stroking her jawline. Selphie always adored his attention, and he planned to treat her right tonight. Hyne knows he owed it to her for all his recent screwups.

Ten more minutes, and he was playing with her feet. She was terribly ticklish, and squrimed more than ever, but she never told him to stop.

The next three minutes were spent working his way up her legs, paying special attention to the underside of the knees. Two more minutes on the inside of her thighs, and now Selphie was too eager to stay still.

Then he had his tongue inside her. And the next twelve minutes were spent thinking about his class scheduling, his insurance policy, and whether or not the cafeteria coffee had turpentine as an ingredient.

By the time they had moved on to actual intercourse, Irvine's thoughts had shifted back to Squall. How long had it been? Did he need to go back and check on him? Would Squall do anything stupid? Wait, had Squall eaten dinner? Was he sitting up in Irvine's room, alone and hungry, wondering when Irvine would come back so they could get some food?

A pillow whapped him across the face.

"What?" He glanced down, and found Selphie looking rather put out, face flushed, chest heaving, but put out none the less. "What?"

"You stopped moving."

"Oh. Sorry Pixierabbit, just enjoying the sensations." Resuming motion, Selphie's happy, thoughts return to Squall.

Just what was with him anyway? He was worse than usual, but for some reason, only around Irvine. He was fine on the mission, because he would never let his own problems get in the way of his duties, but before and afterwards... maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to leave. The guy hadn't even had any therapy yet.

This time it was a plush moomba that hit him. "You stopped again."

He smirked. "I take it you don't enjoy a little variation in speed." He began thrusting again, chuckling at her little whimper sounds.

He tried to remember just how Squall had looked on the balcony. Frightened, in pain, a terribly fierce emotion hiding behind his eyes. Was that still under the Ice Prince disguise? He'd been trembling, his pale skin goosebumped by the wind, his jacket too short to cover his midsection. Was it the cold that caused that, or the emotions? His lips had been raw and swollen, as if he'd been chewing on them, his eyes brighter than usual, perhaps with tears... his chest...

"Sq-eeelphie!!"

"Ohhh yeah Irviiiine!"

He collapsed beside her, face buried in her shoulder so she couldn't see his stricken expression. They lay together for a few minutes, panting, letting the height wind its way down.

Sweet Mother of All Things Infinate.

"I think I should go check on Squall."

She rolled her head to face him, too tired to shift. "What?"

"Squall. You know, he was injured, and Kadowaki put him in my care. I kinda left him in my room with a promise to stay put, and now I think he's missed dinner."

Her mouth moved as if to protest, but it ended in a sigh. "Go. Take him food."

"Love ya Selliemine." He kissed her forehead, and went in search of his pants.

It's amazing how much blood a body can hold. It's not so amazing how much blood a bathtub can hold, but it's still pretty impressive.

Knife meant blood, blood meant stains. That much he figured out on his own. So he'd headed for the bathroom immediately. The positioning beside the tub was the tricky part, but he'd figured out a kneeling style that leaned him against a wall for support. Then all that needed to be done was a pair of deep gashes, running down the lengths of the arms, and the redness was only too eager to come flowing out.

He hadn't felt anything in a long time. His world had faded into a soft greyness, devoid of sound, thought, or emotion. It was a wonderful sensation.

The knife had slipped from his hand some time ago, clinking against the porcelin. It lay hidden from sight now underneath the filling liquid. Like losing the soap in a bubble bath.

His head thudded against the tiling on the wall. If he'd been able to feel it, it might have hurt. The only way he knew he'd moved was that his line of sight changed. Now it was at an angle.

He probably should've left an apology for Irvine. Something to the manner of 'Sorry I filled your bathtub with my bodily fluids, it's not your fault I did this, don't let Rinoa know.' He probably should've thought of that before he became to tired to write it.

Of course, he hadn't exactly been thinking at the time.

His vision faded to black. It took him a long moment to realize that his eyes had closed. Not a bad idea, sleep. He was tired enough. When he woke up, he'd be dead. And whatever afterlife there may be better be better than this.

His sense of inertia shifted, and for a moment he thought he'd fallen over. He momentarily worried about spilling onto the floor. But there was a warm pressed against his back, and words in his ears...

"...Burn it all the fucking bitchdogs of ash, you swore..."

Sorry I didn't leave you a note, Irvine. Meant to. Would have.

"Don't you dare die on me, you whoring lier, or I'll pump you so full of lifes your killall teeth will crack."

Don't want to go back to feeling. Hurts too much.

There was warmth all around him, and softness, but he couldn't place it. He tried not to think about it, because warmth and softness were feelings, and after them came pain and aching and desperate need...

Magic surged through him, burning along his nerves. Curagas, he thought absently. Quite a few of them. Irvine must be hurting after doing so many spells so fast.

"Sweet Mother tear your soul, you die and I'll kill myself and come after you, I swear to Hyne."

Normally having a lot of magic spells cast on you at once was an agony to endure, but Squall had a wonderful buffer blocking all of it.

The warmth pressed against him, and his sense of inertia wobbled again as he was lifted. The dizziness threatened to push him into sleep. He didn't see any reason not to let it.

"Hang on Squall, fuck you, hang..."

 

 

 

Authors Note (stares at first half) I...wrote...het...porn... (faints)

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