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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Addiction
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Laguna/Squall
Warnings: Laguna POV, incest
Rating: PG13
Summary: Maybe Laguna should fight, but he doesn't know how.
The response he wrenches from me is just wrong. I've tried to remind him, but he just silences me, soft kisses to my lips, his hair tickling my cheeks, his hand loosing my hair, letting it spill down all soft silk and static, tickling us both. He kisses me speechless then kisses me crazy, driving right and wrong from my head.
I should try harder. I tell myself that.
Have you ever been addicted to something? Like a drug? Squall's like that. You try and tell him that you should just stick to being father and son. You just try, when he's standing there, hips canted at that angle, wearing leather like a second skin and a tiny smile like he sees right through you and knows. You just try to tell him to stop when he kisses you, his lips soft and his kiss all lust and heat.
You try and think when he presses against you, running his hands through your hair, rubbing against you.
It can't be done.
So, I'm Squall's father. But he's the one in control.
(Aren't there parenting books for that? But probably not for situations like this, I bet.)
Pairing: Laguna/Squall
Warnings: Laguna POV, incest
Rating: PG13
Summary: Maybe Laguna should fight, but he doesn't know how.
The response he wrenches from me is just wrong. I've tried to remind him, but he just silences me, soft kisses to my lips, his hair tickling my cheeks, his hand loosing my hair, letting it spill down all soft silk and static, tickling us both. He kisses me speechless then kisses me crazy, driving right and wrong from my head.
I should try harder. I tell myself that.
Have you ever been addicted to something? Like a drug? Squall's like that. You try and tell him that you should just stick to being father and son. You just try, when he's standing there, hips canted at that angle, wearing leather like a second skin and a tiny smile like he sees right through you and knows. You just try to tell him to stop when he kisses you, his lips soft and his kiss all lust and heat.
You try and think when he presses against you, running his hands through your hair, rubbing against you.
It can't be done.
So, I'm Squall's father. But he's the one in control.
(Aren't there parenting books for that? But probably not for situations like this, I bet.)