[FF8] Tactics (Seifer/Zell)

NC-17, not worksafe for porn. "Leverage is key." Written for springkink's first round. The prompt is Seifer/Zell, "you won't forget this," claiming.

Title: Tactics
Author/Artist: lyrarune
Rating: NC-17/definitely not worksafe
Warnings: Porn.
Wordcount: 1183
Summary: You never know when the mandatory SeeD lessons in tactics might come in handy in other situations.

It's not hard to track Zell down; he's not exactly inconspicuous. Seifer follows him through the streets of Dollet, amused at how oblivious Zell is to his presence; for a SeeD, he really ought to be paying more attention to his surroundings.

He knows where Zell is going, because he always goes to the same place at sunset: the beach, where they landed the boats on Seifer's last SeeD test. He goes there to practice his martial arts, but Seifer knows he usually ends up staring at the ocean, looking for something he doesn't seem to find.

Zell descends the concrete stairs and starts to perform the moves of a simple kata. Seifer follows slowly and carefully, counting on the scrape of Zell's shoes on sand to cover the sound of his own boots on the stairs. He props himself against the staircase and watches. He's heard others call it a dance, a ballet of strength and grace, but he really doesn't think it applies. It's more a controlled force of nature, confined because Zell wishes it, and not because he lacks power or fears to unleash it.

The katas blend into each other, this one faster and graceful like a sword sliding out of a sheath, that one slower and more powerful like the crushing weight of an avalanche. Seifer watches avidly, picturing the impact of fists on flesh, and wondering what it would be like to duel with Zell, truly duel with him, like he used to with Leonhart.

Zell turns to face the ocean and stands silent, but not still, because Zell is never still. He moves his hands, shifts his weight as though always ready for something to leap out and fight him.

Seifer pounces.

He grabs Zell and spins him around, using the momentum ("Use your momentum, especially when striking unexpectedly; let gravity and inertia work for you instead of against you," Instructor Trepe always said) to fling Zell up against the wall; Zell manages to get his hands up to soften the impact, but Seifer is already close against his back, one arm a solid bar across the back of Zell's shoulders and the other sliding around his waist to cup his groin. ("Leverage is key when you seek control of a hand-to-hand combat situation," she said, demonstrating with Leonhart. "Without it, your situation is tenuous at best.")

"What the—" Zell tries to twist away, to no avail; Seifer leans harder against him and brings his mouth closer to Zell's ear.

"Miss me, chicken-wuss?" he asks, and bends his head to suck on the side of Zell's neck, hard enough to leave a mark.

"Seifer?" Zell splutters, and Seifer would laugh if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied. He slides his hand slowly over Zell's cock, through the baggy blue shorts that he will insist on wearing instead of his SeeD uniform (and Seifer's okay with that, because the uniform is a bitch to get undone in a hurry), and feels it start to harden under his hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" Zell demands, and Seifer is sure that Dincht will deny to his dying breath that he moans when Seifer unzips his shorts and slides a hand inside.

"I know you've got a brain in there." Seifer nips at Zell's earlobe, his gloved hand sliding over Zell's cock. "Use it once in a while."

Zell suddenly goes limp, which startles Seifer enough that the pressure on Zell's shoulderblades slackens, and that's all it takes; Zell twists free and then it's Seifer on his knees on the sand, one arm twisted up behind his back and the other holding him up while Zell fumbles with the fastening on his pants. Seifer tries to twist away, but Zell has all the leverage now, and Seifer can't do anything without ending up face-down in the sand.

He feels Zell's hands in his trench coat pockets, and Zell makes a triumphant noise when he locates the lube Seifer had stashed there, and then the lower half of his trench coat is flung forward over his head, and damn, the sea wind is cold on his bare ass.

It doesn't seem to bother Zell much, and Seifer feels Zell's fingers teasing, slick against his entrance, and twists his head as far around as he can, not that it does him much good with heavy grey fabric blocking his vision.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snaps, and Zell laughs.

"I know you've got a brain in there," he says mockingly. "Use it." His presses forward slowly, one finger sliding in, and Seifer hisses and arches his back. Zell moves slowly, his finger withdrawing and then pressing in again, until Seifer swears and tries to wriggle away again. His cock twitches when Zell adds a second finger and presses deeper, his fingers curling to hit just the right spot and the edges of Seifer's vision go grey for a moment. Zell pulls his hand away and Seifer bites his lip, hard, to keep from moaning out loud.

It's only a few moments later when he feels Zell pressing against him again, and he's surprised at how much patience Dincht is displaying (though very grateful as he feels the slow, reluctant stretching as his body tries to accommodate the intrusion) and then Zell's hand is on his cock, warm and slick and sliding just so over the head. Seifer arches his back farther and Zell moves slowly, far more so than Seifer would've done to him. He half-heartedly tries to pull out of Zell's grip, to at least have his other hand for balance, but to no avail. It's slow and completely maddening, and he tries to press forward into Zell's hand and back against Zell himself at the same time and accomplishes neither, and all the while Zell is keeping up that slow, patient motion that finally sends Seifer shuddering over the edge.

It takes him several long moments to realize that his shoulder is killing him because his other arm has folded and Zell's grip is the only thing keeping him from doing a face-plant in the sand. He forces his other arm to support his weight again, and it's only then he realizes that Zell is still moving, slowly, and then Zell gasps and his fingers tighten painfully on Seifer's wrist as he comes.

They remain like that, out in public on the beach where anyone could see them, until Zell lets go of Seifer's wrist and stands slowly. Seifer flings back the trailing fabric of his coat and looks up at Zell.

"You won't forget this," Zell says, and grins. "It's been a long time since I bested you in a match."

Seifer grits his teeth. "Care to go another round?"

Zell laughs. "Some other time." He waves and jogs off.

Seifer pulls his pants back up and gets to his feet slowly, brushing damp sand from his knees. That didn't go precisely as planned; he'd planned to do the claiming, not the being claimed.

Still, he couldn't complain too much. And there was always next time.