Dedication: All the nice people who sent me fanmail!!!!!*glomps*
Disclaimer: I don't own the bishonens, just torture them when the men in white coats aren't looking.
Author's Note: Wow, it's been forever, ne? I'll get back into swing of things with my fics soon, I promise.
Feedback: Onegai? It's been so long, I swear I'm alive!
+ Graduation +
By The March Hare
The champagne MUST have been getting to him, because he could have sworn that all the girls had the exact same dress with lace sleeves only in different colors.
Squall leaned against a marble column by the door and sipped some more of the transparent liquid from his half-empty glass. Another swirl of colors made his head spin in a similar way, and as his vision was blurring, he looked up. He stifled an uncharacteristic giggle as a huge bird flew past and defecated onto the glass dome. With an amused air of drunkenness, his glassy eyes followed the streak it made down the surface until a smiling face met his gaze. “Oh sick,” he muttered to himself and restrained another giggle. “She thought that was a shooting star or something.”
The girl looked out of place among the couples, wearing an off-white dress and heals. Surprise, surprise, her dress included no lace. She pointed to the bird shit and walked over. “You’re the best looking guy here. Dance with me?”
Oh Christ! She was hitting on him. Squall wondered if he should tell her then that he only liked men, or wait until she threw herself at him. Whoops, too late. Well, he would play along for now, this appeared amusing. He raised the glass to his lips again.
“Let me guess… You only dance with someone you like. Ok then,” She grabbed his chin and forced his eyes to focus on her. Squall thought he was going to be sick.
“Look into my eyes…” He didn’t want to, but was a little too drunk to balance himself right then.
Squall finally pulled away from the grotesque display. She smiled and leaned in dangerously close. He considered biting her, but then, he didn’t know how to get blood out of fabric. “Did it work?”
“…I can’t dance.” Any excuse was better than being near her.
“You’ll be fine. Come on. I’m looking for someone. I can’t be on the dance floor alone.” The obnoxious female grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards certain doom.
“You don’t seem to, *hic*, understand. I CAN’T dance, I’m drunk. Oh and let’s just forget the, *hic*, fact that I belong to someone else,” Squall drunkenly protested.
“Huh, well it’s not like one dance is cheating on them… Now come on!” The persistent bitch pulled him to the middle of the floor, obviously trying to make a spectacle, and flung him around like a rag doll. Poor Squall’s only defense was to stand on her toes in hopes she let go and he would be flung under some near table where he could sleep peacefully. No such luck, but at least he got close enough to another couple to plead for help. Unfortunately, when he saw the man’s face, he knew no help would come from that monster and his obsession with bananas. That sobered him up pretty quickly.
His captor hissed at them and started a new dance, leading his every move, and avoiding all of his tactful “trips”. They finished it fairly well with lots of slides and twirls, but just as Squall was turning to run at the final step, she stepped on his feet and smiled unpleasantly. He retorted by squeezing both her hands as hard as he could, knowing there would be bruises later on.
“Rinoa, Rinoa, that’s not how you dance with a girl at all!” Seifer stormed through the crowd to Squall and his partner. He was so thankful for his release, that Squall flung his body at the blonde. He passed out before the strong, careful arms caught him. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
Selphie leaned over to the closest person to her right and whispered, “What happened to Squall?”
Zell let out a snort of laughter. “Seifer slipped him some date rape drug. I think it was a Mickey or something.”
“Ah… I’ve heard of that before!” she said, and they went back to watching.
“Music?” Seifer signaled. A blare suddenly surrounded the room and engulfed it. “Much better. Now, Squall, dear, if you will kindly WAKE UP, then we can begin.” Squall lifted his head an inch off of Seifer’s sleeve, which he had been drooling ever so casually on, and groaned before letting his drug-induced sleep take him again.
A crease slid down his face and quietly rested on his pursed lips as he frowned at the given response. Seifer sighed and shifted the weight to his other hip. At his signal, the music ceased. “Well, perhaps I can’t show all of Squall’s hidden talents because I misjudged the dosage a little… But I can still make my pointed announcement.” Seifer’s concealed hands traced the slender figure they held and lifted it up to his shoulders. He stabilized the mass and continued, “I doubt any other person in this room, save myself, knows what this day symbolizes for him. Eighteen years ago he was born, five years ago he came to Garden and my ‘custody’, but more importantly, today marks his passage into adulthood. As long as his responses are at a minimum, I feel it’s important to mark the occasion with a small gift…” The crowd parted like the sea for him as Seifer cradled his pet and walked to the railing of the balcony. He freed one arm and used it to vault over the edge and make a perfect landing with his package on the grass just below.
“Uh… Sorry Self, gotta go!” Zell waved as he launched himself over the same brass bar, doing a perfect forward flip before kneeling in the grass. Seifer was already heading in the direction of Balamb, and soon Zell was running his full speed to catch up.
Most of the students and SeeDs rushed to the edge and gaped down at the dancing shadows with astonishment, while just a few took the opportunity to tactfully remove themselves from the party.
It was dark all around him, and for a flickering memory Squall would have sworn he was five again in the lighthouse on the ocean. Thick, tight leather straps supported his weight by his biceps, forearms, neck, and waist. His chest was bare and open to the slight draft blowing across it and his equally naked groin and legs. The only thing familiar he could see when his eyes cleared was the faint outline of his collar. At least that was still there, like a security blanket; it told him too that Seifer was near.
Sure enough, a few feet to Squall’s left the sound of a match striking the box and lighting on the second try drew his attention. So did the nauseating smell of rubbing alcohol. Seifer lit six red candles and turned to a thin metal table with instruments on it. He picked up a long and elaborate needle with a wide cord running out of the end. He tapped the shaft, then set it back down. Turning to his captive, Seifer smiled and snapped on a pair of surgical gloves. The candlelight played in a maliciously beautiful pattern over his features, placing them somewhere between a mad scientist and wet dream.
Squall opened his mouth to tell him just that when a familiar rubbed ball caught in his throat. His moans escaped around it, though, and Seifer leaned in to pull the gag from its place. “Yes? Did you want to say something?”
Eyes fogging like warm breath on glass, Squall moaned again and strained his body away from the cushioned body chair he was held against. “…Kiss me, Seifer…” Seifer smiled wider, grasping Squall’s dick and sucking his lips into the warmth his mouth provided. Long, toned legs locked around Seifer’s hips and pulled them to meet nude ones, grinding deeply against any point they could find. Seifer broke the kiss for a few moments to nuzzle Squall’s face and massage the contents of his right hand. “Like this?”
“More…” Squall’s eyes rolled back and he pushed his hips further into the touch. He was left with a sudden absence as Seifer pulled completely away and began the process of sterilizing his arms and left thigh.
“Good thing you’re drunk and drugged, Pet, this is gonna hurt like a mother-fucker. Like skinning your knee very, very slowly.”
His head lolled a little before he pulled it up straight to look at his master. “What’s gonna hurt, Seifer?”
Sighing, Seifer shook his head popped the ball gag back into Squall’s mouth. He filled the needle with ink and made the first ruby spot in the tender flesh of his Pet’s wrist. It jumped, just as Seifer had expected, and he held the wrist firmly as Squall attempted to escape the dulled stabbing. “Shit… Hold still, damn it! Do you really want a bad tattoo?” Squall shook his head and gnawed at the gag more, trying to speak… Or scream. “Good then, I have another gift for you…” When he was sure that Squall wouldn’t move, he held up his hand and snapped his fingers.
Some yet-to-be-known mass parted in clumps and heavy clicking echoed the small room. Riding the back edge of his high black pleather boots, Zell calmly and professionally walked the empty aisle. “About time you woke up,” he said and straddled Squall’s lap.
Squall mumbled confusion around the rubber obstruction.
“Are you going to hold still for our master or am I going to have to distract your mind?”
Seifer touched the needle to the exposed wrist again and Squall writhed in the same reaction again.
A black leather gloved hand slapped his exposed thigh. “Distract it is then.” Zell rubbed his equally leather-clad body against Squall’s to get his attention while Seifer worked. “What to choose, what to choose?” he asked himself lazily, “How about some payback from before, eh Squall?”
The young brunette’s eyes widened at the mention of their earlier “adventure” in the bedroom.
Leather stung and tickled Squall’s skin as Zell slid down to sit at his knees. With one leg over each side of the menacing chair, he bent over and nuzzled his tattoo up Squall’s barely parted thighs until he was facing the object of his affection. Zell gazed at it through half-lidded eyes for a few moments, propping his chin up under his gloved fist. “Such a lovely sight…” was all he murmured before wrapping his tongue around it and pulling it into his mouth. His lips nursed the intrusion and even welcomed it with a strong and agile tongue.
Squall quickly forgot about the never-ending stabbing as every drop of blood in him swelled in one spot on his body. He began to push insistently at the gentle nibbling and sucking drawing all of his attention. A tongue rolled over the head and down his shaft, drawing a shiver up from his spine. This sensation was a rare and hallowed one for Squall, coming usually only on eventful days such as this one.
In comparison, Seifer was still much more talented in the area, but what was he complaining about? Head was head, and it managed to successfully distract him from the rest of the time Seifer applied his markings.
A sharp stab of pain brought Squall back to consciousness. Looking around, he noticed he was lying on his bed in his dorm, on top of clean sheets, dressed in his neat and pressed school uniform. It was dark outside. Then where had the pain come from? This room was not his room, the one constantly invaded by his master. He didn’t own these clean clothes, or sheets, or even the room. Squall owned nothing, not even his body. Nothing except…
“Kuso…! What…?” Pain interrupted his thoughts again, but now he searched for the source. A gauze bandage was taped over the top of each wrist and another was discovered on his left thigh. “Oh… I remember now, Seifer, he…HOLY SHIT!” When the small squares of white were pulled back to reveal the message each conveyed, all represented vaguely the same thing. He looked at the left wrist first. On it was the same pattern that had graced his master’s sleeves ever since he’d received his trenchcoat: A red cross-sword. The right wrist mirrored the same, but on his leg was actual writing to verify the first’s claims, reading “Possession of the Knight” with an intricate box pattern around it.
Shaking his head and re-applying the coverings to each new marking, Squall got up from the bed and left the room. Seifer had a little explaining to do…
He checked the Quad first, wandering in the dark spaces where only the crickets and Seifer would dwell. Every one of his favorite hiding places was vacant, and upon turning back to move onto the next area, the neglected stage lit suddenly with an artificial spark.
A circle of the infamous masters stood completely still, save one man at its crest. He walked to the center of the circle, which parted in one place and beckoned for Squall to join him.
First rule you learn as a pet: Obey.
Squall walked forward and the circle closed behind him like the sea pulling a wave back in to form another. He cautiously approached the single figure, displaying his submissive ingrained training and posture. All demeanor was lost, however, when the man stepped to the side and revealed a new shadow that hadn’t been there when he advanced.
He could’ve sworn his eyes grew wider than saucers and he quickened his steps to kneel beside the stripped and bleeding human being. Blood was smeared in a crude rendition of his marking scar, and caked over the left half of his face to cover the tattoo. A chain was wrapped around his neck with one end looped through other to hang lower on his pectorals.
“Zell…” Squall stroked the boy’s cheek gently and was surprised to find he was breathing. That both of them were breathing. It was a sign, a warning, and a threat. What would they do with him now?
Light flickered across the skin beneath his fingers, causing his head to raise. An infinity of his own eyes blinked at him and then blinked back. Mirrors, too many to count, surrounded him. It was absolutely blinding.
A shadow pierced the gleam and slunk over to steal his prize. Squall snarled and hulked protectively over Zell’s unconscious body. His shoulders slid forward and he bared his teeth, drawing a brief gasp from the audience at his show of defiance. The shadow retreated, but the original center stood waiting. Squall’s full glare met his complacent, lazy one, and he was too distracted when another shadow crept up behind him. His collar was grabbed and pulled, harshly and quickly cutting off his air. He let himself be dragged a good five feet before he planted his feet and was attacking for his freedom and the safety of his only possession.
Where the one went down, three more came up. Now they had metal shackles and had managed to get one around his right arm, attached to a chain being held by something beyond the mirrors. He couldn’t pull hard enough to achieve any lax, hampered heavily by the new markings. They got one around his other wrist. Damn, they had him, but he wasn’t down yet. Squall charged in a final futile attempt for the leader, but the two manacles pulled him to a crucified position in the axis.
The leader smiled victoriously as he clipped the last restraint around the pet’s neck. Squall jerked and lunged, tiring his muscles and arms of the manipulators. He sank to his knees and sagged in defeat, roaring loudly when they pulled his claim away. A hand came down to pull his chain taught and force his attention upwards.
“My, we certainly have waited a long few years to have a bite at this caged lion. Send the messenger.” He spoke softly and distantly as if to no one at all, admiring Squall’s facial features as one would a show dog.
Something soft hit the door with a gentle “smack” and slid down it slowly. Seifer waited, counting slowly to ten, until no more noise was heard. A shadow under the door proved that something was there, waiting for him and he only had to open the door to have it explode in his face. It wasn’t moving, so therefor wasn’t leaving on its own.
Giving a great sigh to the air he rose from the desk he had been working at in his room and moved to the door. He pressed an ear to it and picked up soft labored breathing. A wall of fear flashed through him, and he pressed the button for the door to open. Seifer suppressed the urge to scream.
Sprawled out in his doorway lay Zell, naked and smeared with blood. He dragged the body inside and put it down on his bed. The boy was breathing he knew, but unconscious. Aside from a few bruises and cuts he wasn’t harmed. It was obviously only meant to scare him. So who…?
“Squall…” He breathed, and without realizing it, he was moving. Out of the room and down the hallway, Seifer knew exactly where he was going.
“The shirt, get rid of it.” And the article of clothing was ripped apart until only the cuffs hung pathetically swinging with each breath of the constrained.
“The undershirt, I don’t want to recognize it ever again.” Removed with three simple slashes from a knife, two at the shoulder and one up the back. In a moment the grazed skin would cry lines of blood from their violation.
The leader smiled and admired his pretty new toy. Squall attempted to lash out with his feet to trip the man, resting all of his weight between his strung arms. The move was sidestepped and the smile widened.
“The shoes and pants, I won’t have it still struggling.” More pressure was applied to the strain on Squall’s wrists, and his legs were cooled by the summer wind.
“The last is my honor. You will regret your misbehavior and delay, pet.” When the leader had approached Squall to a decent distance, he snapped out his wrist and pulled off the white cotton boxers as if Velcro had held them on. His fingers ghosted briefly over the edges of the white sterile square held to his thigh, but moved on to the center of Squall’s chest where the end of both collars hung.
Head tilted back to gaze obliviously at the stars, Squall’s world swung in a downward arch to where the chains directed his head. The chains supporting him lowered, giving no slack, and forced him to kneel. When his eyes proved useful enough to focus again, he stared at his reflection in a mirror some odd twenty feet away, circling around perfectly. Behind him the figure knelt and he felt his knees being pushed apart and hands exploring, almost gently.
An angry growl sounded behind his ears and the hands moved to grasp his hips. He gasped and slumped forward, trying to curl into himself, as something long, hard, and fleshy entered his body by force. It was worse than every singe time Seifer had hurt him put together, because it wasn’t Seifer. There was something just so wrong about it. The master behind Squall laughed and thrust his hips in farther, aiming for pain and self-satisfaction as the only goals. He was made to watch the evil Cheshire smirk resting over his left shoulder.
“Seifer! …Zell…!” Squall managed between quickly gulped intakes of air. “Please… Save me…”
A bullet split the air, shattered a mirror, passed through a body, and buried itself in a cement column beyond that. A second joined it three sections over and another mirror broke, followed by the wet suction sound and ping. Everything tensed for a moment and then fell at once. Squall’s arms slackened and he fell forward to his hands and knees, the two broken mirrors crashed forward, and a pair of bodies on those.
Hurriedly taking his chance, Squall threw an elbow behind him, connecting it with the man’s face. When his grip loosened, Squall was up and running for the figure newly entering into the ring. He flung himself into Seifer’s arms, nicking his bicep lightly on the exposed tip of the unsheathed gunblade.
Another new figure stepped into the ring and raised a shotgun to the back of the leader’s head, whom was tripping over his robe to get up. He froze when he felt the cold twin barrels touch his skull. The mysterious new man tipped his black cowboy hat with his free hand and threw a smile at Seifer. “Been a long time, Seifer. You need to watch your toys more carefully, people get jealous.”
Seifer returned the nod as he cradled Squall closely to his chest, taking off his trenchcoat and wrapping it around Squall, just as he had done earlier.
“Thanks, Irvine. I owe you a big favor, care to escort us to our room?”
Giving a sharp jerk with his arm, Irvine flipped the gun and slammed the metal butt into the back of the leader’s head. He stepped gingerly over him when the body had fallen unconscious to the ground. “It would be my pleasure. We can discuss my payment.” He turned and waved to the circle as he stepped out of it, following Seifer into the darkness of the Quad.
“See you rubes later.”
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