For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.
~ A Kitty and Eoko Fanfiction.
Warnings: Violence, yaoi, terrible language, etc.
Pairings: Not a chance.
Disclaimer: We don't own the Square characters, but we own all the others. We make no money off this fanfiction, only write for the enjoyment of ourselves and our fans.
Kitty: So, here we are with another Kitty and Eoko collaboration fic!
Eoko: Because two pwns is greater then one.
Kitty: Or something like that. Hm, it's been a long time since either of us uploaded anything.
Eoko: I blame school, and MMORPGs.
Kitty: And RP. Always RP. And cosplays. So many cosplays. >_> You know I haven't even started this years' ones yet. D:
Eoko: It's the 1st/2nd of the year right now. I think you can forgive yourself that.
Kitty: I don't know. A lot to do, not a lot of time. Anyway! The fic. Heh. I love this one.
Eoko: The one I forced myself into. XD
Kitty: Oh yeah... It wasn't going to be a collaboration at first... Then towards the end, you were like "I don't wanna wriiite." :P
Eoko: Shut up! So it took me like over half a year to get a crappy chapter done! The important thing is, here it is!
Kitty: Finally. Now that our Lightning readers are old and grey. Kekekeke.
This A/N'll be longer than the fic at this rate. Let's give those
that didn't skip it what they want.
Kitty: Right! Onto the fic of prisony goodness!
Chapter 1. - Grievous Bodily Harm.
“Jade! Hey, Jade! Jade! Jade!”
The voice was not particularly high, or particularly low, but at a pitch that just grated on one’s nerves and made one want to snap the neck of the man from whom it came. He was 6’1, with spiked raven hair that was dyed red at the tips, and his eyes were a grey-green.
The bizarre call was directed at a blond man who sat on a bench working with a smallish dumbbell in his right hand. His given name was Seifer Almasy, but it had been a few years since anyone but arseholes had called him that. As the smaller man skittered to a halt, he switched the weight to his other hand.
“Jade! Jade, man, are you with us? Jade!”
“I heard you the first time you little fuck. I’m ignoring you…” he growled finally, jade eyes glaring daggers at the other man. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, fingertips ghosting over the scar that lay there. “What is it, Lock?”
“New blood,” Lock, referred to outside as Rikan Fawns said simply, grinning.
“Yeah, and?” Seifer wondered boredly, glancing sidelong at the man beside him. This one was another blonde, much shorter and with a distinctive tattoo down the side of his face. He grinned.
“Yeah, I knew,” he said with a slight shrug. “Thought it’d be a nice surprise.” What wasn’t a surprise was that Zell Rubedo Dincht, affectionately designated ‘Ink’ for obvious reasons, already knew.
“Fucktard…” was Seifer’s only response, but the other blond grinned.
Lock seemed about ready to burst with excitement. Fuck, he was annoying.
“You’ll like him, Jade. A lot…”
“Oh…” Seifer said, sounding a little more interested. “That sort of new blood…”
“Now that, I didn’t know,” Zell muttered, pushing his bangs back from sapphire eyes.
“Well,” Seifer decided with his trademark smirk. “We should go make him welcome, wouldn’t you agree, Ink?”
“I would,” the other blond replied with a fangy grin.
They both stood, Rikan grinning like an idiot at them, and followed him across the yard to wait at the gate for the new inmate. Seifer pulled out a cigarette, at which Rikan looked longingly and Zell frowned. He ignored them both and lit up, sighing happily when he took his first drag.
“Hey, boys.” Another man sidled up beside them, running a hand through his hair.
“Hey, Prof,” the others replied in a monotone and Seifer offered him the cigarette. The Prof was 5’10 and possessed chocolate brown hair and true blue eyes. His real name was Illo Ditermin. He took the cigarette with a wink, then handed it back when he’d had a taste. Even Seifer wasn’t about to get on Illo’s bad side, not when that meant getting on the Boss’s bad side. Besides, Illo knew things, and sometimes that was useful.
“New inmate?” he hazarded, then when they nodded, he looked to Zell. “What’s he in for?”
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Zell said, slight reprimand in his voice. “That’s up to him.”
“Apparently, he’s got a nice arse,” Seifer said. “According to Lock.”
“How would Lock know?” Illo looked directly past Rikan to ask the question of Seifer, totally ignoring the fact that the man was standing right there. Zell rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know,” Seifer replied, then looked at Rikan. “How would Lock know?”
“Lock saw them take him to the front office,” the red-haired man said mockingly, curling his lip at Seifer.
“Don’t push it, dipshit…” Seifer muttered, then to Illo; “Lock saw them take him to the front office.”
“Interesting,” Illo mused, scratching at an ear.
“Hey, E~than!” Seifer suddenly called in a sing-song voice and they all followed the green gaze to where a black haired man with brown-gold eyes was sitting in a chair reading a magazine. He looked up in time to get Seifer’s smouldering cigarette butt in the eye.
“Fuck!” he snarled with feeling and Seifer smirked. Rikan and Illo were just about rolling around with hilarity, but Zell just shook his head.
“What?” Seifer wondered. “Man’s a dickhead.”
“Arsehole,” Rikan put in.
“Wanker,” Illo added.
“I get it,” Zell said blandly before they went any further.
“Hey!” Rikan cried suddenly. “Look!”
Down the cement walkway leading to the compound came a guard followed closely by what they presumed to be the new inmate, who was flanked by another two guards and followed by a detective.
“Well!” Seifer called. “If it isn’t Detective Ice-Cock! How delightful that you should grace us with your presence!”
The others snickered.
“Still as charming as ever, I see Mr. Almasy…” was the deadpan reply. “And it’s Detective Leonhart to you.”
Seifer curled his lip and suddenly wished he hadn’t wasted the cigarette butt on Ethan.
“Watch it, Jade…” Zell warned lowly.
“You shouldn’t encourage them to use those inane names, Dincht,” the frontmost guard said gruffly as he unlocked the first set of gates and lead the little procession through, re-locking the gates behind them before he came to the second set. Zell ushered the other three a few steps back.
“Shut up, Kinley. You do your job and I’ll do mine, alright?” Zell growled back, glaring at the burly guard.
“Alright,” Kinley replied with a smile that bordered on evil. He pushed the gate open and grabbed a fistful of the new inmate’s uniform white singlet top. “Put a toe out of line, Kinneas, and you’ll be sorry…”
Seifer and the others watched with great interest as the tall, auburn haired man delicately curled his lip as though looking at something smelly squashed on his shoe, then calmly spat in the man’s eye.
Even Zell didn’t bite back a grin while the other three fairly roared with laughter.
The new inmate’s triumph was short-lived, however, as Kinley backhanded his face twice in quick succession. The other guards stood passively by while the Detective growled, but didn’t say anything. Zell, however, leapt forward.
“Let him the fuck go, Kinley!” he snarled and dragged the guard’s fist from the inmate’s shirt, inserting himself between the two. The inmate lifted his ‘cuffed hands to wipe blood away from a split lip and glared balefully over the little blond’s head. His eyes spoke murder.
“Back off, Dincht! You don’t have any say over what I do.”
“Just try it,” Zell growled, fisting his hands and making a menacing move towards Kinley.
The guard stood his ground for barely a heartbeat before he turned away with a muttered “Bah!” and passed the new inmate, pausing only long enough to unlock his ‘cuffs and shove him through the gates, which slammed shut behind him.
“Meet your new pal, Ladies. Irvine Kinneas,” he growled through the bars.
“Captain Hardarse strikes again…” Illo muttered.
“What did you say?” Kinley growled, but Illo just gave him the finger and walked away with the others.
Zell was giving the newbie instructions on where everything was and what was expected of him, but Seifer didn’t think he was listening. He looked like he couldn’t care less. That was confirmed when the redhead stopped walking, turned to Zell and wondered acidly; “Do you ever fuckin’ shut up?”
Seifer knew he couldn’t be the only one staring. The new inmate had spoken loud enough for the entire yard to hear, and he had an accent and voice that made Seifer’s skin tingle. His voice said cowboy, cowboy said… fuck, yes. Mmm mmm.
“You oughtta be careful who you run that pretty mouth off at Irvine, was it…?” Seifer said.
The newbie arched a brow, cocked a hip, stuck a hand on it and gave Seifer a very obvious once-over, then just shrugged.
“Not to you. And my mouth ain’t pretty…” he growled, then added with a smirk; “Least, not right now…”
“Fuck me stupid…” Rikan breathed, obviously in awe, and Seifer twitched as the new inmate turned his back and left them all behind.
“What a self-satisfied little prick…” Seifer muttered.
“Paris,” Illo said suddenly and they all looked at him.
“Cowboys don’t come from Paris, Prof,” Zell said, making Seifer and Rikan snort.
“Not that Paris, idiot… Paris from the Iliad.”
They all gave him the blank looks he’d long come to associate with his fellow inmates. Uncultured idiots… He sighed.
“Does Troy ring a bell?” he wondered.
“With the horse?” Seifer wondered back.
“Yes. With the horse. Do you know why they used the horse?”
“No,” the others said in unison.
“Because it was a war, and they couldn’t breach Troy’s walls any other way.”
“Where the fuck is this going, and why the fuck is taking forever to get there?” Seifer growled.
Illo rolled his eyes. They had no idea. The very concept of drama went right over their heads.
“The war was over Helen, whom Paris, the man, not the city, had stolen away.”
“What does that have to do with-”
Illo spoke over Rikan.
“Paris was considered to be the most beautiful man anywhere at the time, but he was also too self-serving and wrapped up in himself to care about the fact that stealing another man’s wife – i.e. Helen – could be the end of Troy.”
“A self-satisfied little prick!” Seifer said with a grin.
“Yes,” Illo replied, rolling his eyes.
“Paris,” Seifer said, tasting the name, then he gave another devilish smirk and turned on his heel. “Later, boys,” he threw over his shoulder as he went in the direction the newly-dubbed Paris had gone.
Irvine, meanwhile, was leaning against a wall imagining all the things he’d like to do to 'Captain Hardarse' with a sharp stick, several pieces of wire and a bottle of acid. Arsehole… He’d’ve known about it if I weren’t ‘cuffed…
“Paris?” he repeated, lifting his head and arching a brow at the tall blond.
“Ask Prof. He’ll explain. He knows his shit.”
“Good for him. I’m excited…” Irvine said flatly, absently thumbing a rapidly-swelling lip.
“That looks painful.”
“I’ve had worse… What do you want?”
“Just being friendly…”
Irvine gave a disbelieving snort, now touching his lip with his tongue and flinching.
“He got you a good one, Paris…” Seifer observed, stepping closer and briefly touching the broken lip. Irvine jerked his head away and glared, a hand coming up to push his hair out of his eyes.
“My name ain’t Paris and like I said; I’ve had worse.”
“Look, your attitude isn’t going to get you anywhere. For starters, you can’t talk to Ink like that.”
“Why? I hurt your li’l bitch’s feelin’s? Like I give a flyin’ fuck…”
Seifer growled and lashed out, hand fisting in Irvine’s singlet and ramming him back against the wall.
“Watch your mouth! You’re playing with the big boys now, and you better not forget it. You’re at the bottom of the pecking order, Paris, and you need to know your place.”
Irvine opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by Seifer’s tongue. The blond pressed close, one hand pressed to the bricks beside Irvine’s head, the other sliding up under his shirt. Irvine bore it for only a few moments before Seifer felt the cold tip of a knife pressed to his stomach.
He broke the kiss, staring at Irvine and a self-satisfied smirk curled the red-head’s lips. It was the kind of smirk Seifer hated. The kind of smirk he, in fact, had down to a fine art. It vanished in a moment in favour of a heated glare.
“You better watch yourself, Blondie… I ain’t no pansy-arse li’l bitch you can push around and do whateverthefuck you like to. You may be stronger than me, but you can bet your lily-white arse I’m faster. I’ll come back at you like a rattler with toothache. What, you think I got put in here for stealin’ a loaf of bread, rustlin’ a couple cattle? Uh-uh. So back the fuck off.”
A slight jab with the knife drove Seifer back two steps, and Irvine lifted his other hand to shove the blond further away.
“No fuckin’ kiddin’, Einstein. I ain’t playin’ no power games, and I ain’t goin’ to be your bitch. No one fucks me… unless I want them to.”
Irvine strode away, closing and hiding the switchblade knife, then pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Seifer wondered how the hell he’d gotten the knife past Kinley – or any of the other guards for that matter.
Zell watched Irvine stride past, then arched a brow and looked back the way he had come, cocking his head in question when Seifer reappeared. The taller blond threw up his arms as he came towards the shorter.
“He turn you down…?” Zell wondered, a smirk threatening.
“No one turns me down…” Seifer growled back.
Zell’s smirk grew.
“He did! I can’t believe it!”
“No one turns me down!” Seifer repeated, shoving Zell none-too-gently. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
Zell burst out laughing, so that several men turned with interest to see what was so funny. Seifer glared at them, and they all suddenly found something to make them look very busy.
“That’s too funny.”
“Ink! I’m warning you!”
The warning didn’t sink in, because Zell just kept laughing, holding his stomach. Seifer put up with it for a while, then finally got sick of it and crash-tackled the shorter blonde. Everyone mostly ignored them. ‘Sparring’ matches between them weren’t uncommon.
But Irvine looked over where he stood off to one side, and watched them with a bored expression, a cigarette between his lips and his arms folded across his toned chest. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, then let his gaze travel around the yard. Seifer wasn’t the only one watching him, but he was used to that. He knew he was prettier than the average man, and he knew that made people assume he was weak. If only they knew…
Irvine closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall, sighing. How unbelievably boring. How stupid to have gotten caught. Oh, how delightful it would be to tie down Detective Leonhart and torture him until he screamed for mercy… He opened his eyes again and took another look.
Still ridiculously boring. And he had a craving for chocolate.
He hoped that pretty little reporter would stay true to her word and keep up the visits so she could ‘let the outside world know the conditions criminals live in’. Then, he could con some chocolate out of her. He had a feeling if he suggested ways he could use it on her body with a purr in his voice, she’d bring it to him, even if the likelihood of him being able to do those things with it was very low.
He dropped the cigarette butt and stamped out the sullen flame, then sighed and went to look for something interesting to do that didn’t involve becoming someone’s bitch.
Damn you, Leonhart… I will kill you one day. And I'll take a very, very long time about it…
- - - - - - -
“See? I told you you’d like him!” Rikan said later as he, Seifer and Zell watched Irvine eating, off in a corner by himself.
“Shut up, Lock. I hate him.”
“Of course. You hate him…” Zell teased, snickering. “You keep saying that if it makes you feel better about the knock-back.”
“I’m gong to kill you, Ink.”
“Oh, go fuck… someone…” Seifer growled, and they both ignored how eager Rikan looked in favour of finishing their meals.
“Seriously, though, he is hot…” Zell mused, gesturing with his fork for emphasis.
“Whore…” Seifer growled.
“That’s why you like me so much.”
“Shut up, Ink. I hate you.”
Even Rikan snorted while Zell just laughed and continued eating. Things over the next little while were going to get very, very interesting…