Title: Kiss and Tell
Series: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Selphie Irvine/Selphie
Disclaimer: As you might suspect, I don't own any characters that are mentioned. All characters and locations mentioned are parts of Final Fantasy VIII which is copyrighted by a little company called Square Enix. No infringement is intended.
This is by far one of the most "explicit" stories I've written. Please read at your own risk. There's some things implied, and some things stated clearly that are not suitable for those of a younger age.
She didn't think Irvine noticed, but it was better that way. Right now, she was happier playing at the spy, skirting dangerous corners everywhere, hiding her true intentions and feelings in smiles and lip gloss. It added a sense of adventure to her life, which she felt her life sorely needed.
Some people might think that she was two-timing Irvine, and using Seifer, but it wasn't that way at all in her mind! She was going to tell Irvine eventually, and Seifer already knew about her Irvine-centric problems.
Some might say that the reason she was running from Irvine to Seifer was because it was a rebel streak, or the fact that Irvine was considered a flirt, or she was considered a flirt, or… It didn't matter. What people thought and what was true were two different things. It came down to one single thing.
Irvine, when he'd talk to her, would tell her she was hot, she was gorgeous, she was, she was, she was…
He hadn't ever once cheated on her. He'd been a perfect gentleman, buying her roses, serving her breakfast in bed, and whatever needs she might have after the door closed…
But he thought she was hot. It was never "Hey, you look nice" or "Wow, you look good today," or "That dress is amazing on you." He always paid her the same type of compliment, always the same, always forever the same, and same forever and always. It wasn't that she wasn't flattered… the first forty or so times… but being hot was hard to be when perhaps you were looking for something more.
Seifer was different.
The first time she'd noticed was when they'd went on a mission together. They'd needed to go undercover at a gala event held by the President of Galbadia. And she'd spent a bit of extra time getting dressed up; after all, it wasn't often she had a mission that was assisted by a makeover and a manicure. She got to look pretty, and she was giddy.
Seifer had noticed when they had met in the hallway outside of their room. To keep up the story of their identity, they were a married couple with an untold sum of gil that they were prepared to donate to the administration for certain tax breaks. Of course, the Galbadian Administration was easily swayed by such an offer. Taxes would go up on the lower class, and the higher class would receive the benefits.
Thus, Mr. and Mrs. Alamitt were given formal invitations to the gala event.
After she'd finished getting dressed and applying her makeup in the bathroom, she'd exited to meet Seifer in the ornate hallway. He'd pulled her closer to attach a rose (and a tracking device) just below her shoulder. He'd smiled (to keep up appearances for the camera a few feet away), and as he turned he'd muttered under his breath.
She'd looped her arm through his, and when they'd begun to walk towards the elevator together, smiles plastered on their faces.
"What'd you say, dear?"
Part of SeeD training, she'd learned to get the exact message across without ever once sounding as if she was not married to the man she was being escorted by.
They'd entered the elevator, and didn't speak again until they got to the event. And as they danced, she leaned into his shoulder.
"What'd you say, dear?"
The smile still lingering on his face, he brought his face closer to her ear.
"I said that you looked stunning. That's all. Can we leave it alone?"
His answer shocked her, but she was too professional to let it show. Seifer Almasy thought she looked good. Not hot, not hot, not hot, not hot! She wasn't a fine piece of ass, she was stunning. So instead of saying anything else, she pulled his head towards hers gently, and pressed her lips against his.
Part of it had been the SeeD training kicking in; a couple getting a tiny bit cozy on the dance floor would bring up less suspicion if they left that same dance floor. The other part had been that at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to taste another man's lips on her own, and Seifer happened to qualify as "another man."
His lips were rough, as she had always thought they might be, but as rough as they were they were welcoming. As much as it shocked her, she soon discovered that his lips took her to places that a certain cowboy could only read about from those dirty magazines (that he was sure that she didn't know about, but she was a woman, and women know of these things far more than men think they actually do.) And more than that, she wanted to stay in those places. Screw SeeD (not literally, of course.)
But, what seemed like hours later (but was probably only seconds) he pulled away from her and led her from the dance floor.
And later, he'd led her from the Presidential Palace (a data disk hidden his jacket pocket and in her bra) to their hotel room where he'd stripped her clean and used all the post-mission adrenaline to bring her higher, screaming in ecstasy then anyone ever had before. And he brought her to that place over and over and over again until she could no longer think anything but sex.
And that was the day she'd begun her secret agent woman life. The life where Irvine thought she was his, and Seifer thought that eventually Selphie would show Irvine the curb and Selphie knew that she was the center of attention.
So, she did her usual. She would put on her lip gloss and her sundress (that was good for hiding any peculiar smells), and she'd wear her curls and she'd tell Irvine she loved him. And she'd sneak off and find Seifer afterwards. And as long as Irvine never found out, it'd be okay. But, if he did, that'd be okay too. And if Seifer asked about Irvine, she'd smile and push him back against whatever hard surface was behind him and kiss him until he'd forgotten.
A good spy never kisses and tells, you know.