Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ More Than Sex ( Chapter 28 )

Chapter Twenty-Eight

More Than Sex

 

Gray-blue eyes stared off towards the heavy wooden door of The Harold's main entrance. Squall was deep in thought, nearly unreachable by the outside world. However, the strong clap of his shoulder jolted him back to reality.

 

Startled a bit, Squall fixed his eyes on the blonde knight beside him. Seifer had just called him back from his own musings and now he had no idea what was going on.

 

Green eyes studied the vacant expression. Seifer was curious what was going on inside that head of the quite and brooding Commander. “Your father,” he spoke at length, gesturing with raised eyebrows for the brunet to look the other way.

 

Squall looked over at Laguna, who watched him expectantly. “Sorry, what was it?” he asked.

 

Laguna continued to watch his son, concern evident in his expression. In an instinctive movement, he began to raise his hand out, but stopped abruptly. “Are you feeling alright?” He settled for words, since Squall didn't seem to like being touched.

 

“I'm fine,” Squall supplied as an answer, not knowing what the problem was.

 

Seifer was a bit more perceptive on the matter. The President was not used to Squall and all the quirks that the brunet had. “You'll have to forgive him, it's been a childhood problem of his. He gets a little lost up there.” He gestured to Squall's head.

 

Hazel-green eyes widened before dimming and looking rather forlorn. “Oh, I see….” Laguna trailed off. Was he the only person to find Squall's behavior odd? Perhaps he was, and it was only because he was the only one to not know a damn thing about his own son.

 

Sparing a harsh glare to Seifer, Squall regarded his father with a mixed expression of unguarded emotions. It was the look in Laguna's eyes at the moment that he'd been hoping to never see. How could he assure the man that he'd done nothing wrong and that his indifference to everything didn't mean he disliked him?

 

Not willing to reveal any emotion, Squall hastily retreated back behind his icy mask of cold and impassionate expressions. “I was just thinking,” he elaborated.

 

“Imagine Laguna, your boy, thinking.” Kiros jibed, squeezing his friend's shoulder.

 

Weakly scoffing, Laguna feigned amusement. “Yeah, it's a wonder we're related,” he replied, a bit more seriously than he wanted it to sound.

 

Stricken for a moment, the dark skinned man appeared uncertain and concerned about the President's words. Clearing his throat, he stood up and smoothed out his clothes.

 

With a wistful smile Laguna stood as well. The pair of them wore similar clothes, but held completely different appearances. Side by side, the contrast was considerable.

 

The presidential advisor was primed in a dark navy suit, sharply cut. Even after sitting for the better part of an hour, the suit had no wrinkles. The burgundy tie was straight and each button on the crisp white dress shirt was aligned perfectly.

 

Laguna, on the other hand, left his suit jacket somewhere else, he couldn't quite recall exactly where. His light blue dress shirt was unbuttoned enough to show his collar, and his tie hadn't been in place since he'd left Esthar. His dark slate pants were at least in order.

 

Sweats would have sufficed, if this had been a personal trip only. However, Kiros had told him to look nice, since he was the president and because of the conference in Dollet.

 

While he stood up from the booth that the group had been sharing for breakfast, he really could have cared less if he'd gone before that council in nothing but a swimming Speedo. His mind was entirely preoccupied with the sudden realization that he was the only person who knew nothing about Squall Leonhart, his own flesh and blood.

 

Six months ago when he'd first seen the boy, the spitting image of Rain, he'd been taken aback. A son to make any father proud, Squall had accomplished more in a short eighteen years than most men did in a lifetime. And yet, after the fan fair that followed the defeat of Ultimecia, he was struggling to understand the boy. It didn't seem possible to be so distant and cut off from the world, but that was exactly how the brunet was. He could count the number of times he'd seen the young Commander smile on one hand, and none of them had been true smiles.

 

Perhaps it wouldn't have been so heart breaking if he didn't feel so drawn to the boy. He wanted more than anything in the world to become a real father to Squall. But, the more he tried, the further away he seemed to become. Ultimecia's knight knew more about his boy than he did.

 

Swallowing the unbecoming lump in his throat, Laguna blinked a few times. Plastering a cheerful smile to his face, he looked back at Squall. “Tonight, I'd like it if we could get together, just the two of us,” he proposed.

 

The fact that he wasn't instantly dreading the idea was more than a surprise to Squall. Not showing any feelings on the matter, one way or the other, he gave a small nod of ascension. The broad smile that grace the other man's face at this, made his chest constrict. Those mixed green eyes of the president were suddenly so hopeful that he felt a surge of guilt. He wasn't trying to hurt the man or be difficult, but he couldn't change who he was, not for anyone. If Laguna had some fantasy relationship in mind, then the longhaired man had best extinguish that torch right now.

 

“We need to go,” Kiros reminded.

 

“Right, then, will you be at Balamb Garden tonight?” Laguna asked, remembering to set up the details on the spot for once.

 

“I'll be here, in The Harold,” Squall answered. He didn't want to let anyone else know about the other reason for being in Dollet.

 

“Oh,” Laguna responded mildly surprised, but too focused on his meeting with his son to care. “Then, I'll be here around seven,”

 

“Eight,” Kiros corrected, knowing they would probably be delayed.

 

“Eight,” the president affirmed, with a questioning glance to the brunet.

 

Another nod was Squall's acceptance of the set terms.

 

With a fleeting smile, Laguna said goodbye to everyone at the table. Kiros was close in tow.

 

“He seemed sad,” Selphie commented, watching the two leave.

 

Biting his lip for a moment, Squall released it before responding to the comment, “He was.” It was more a thoughtful observation than a response. However, his words earned a comforting ruffle of his hair from the knight at his side.

 

“So, where did Rui go, and why is Irvine keeping him safe?” Selphie asked. Her smile was friendly, but her words were sharp and serious.

 

Pale features tensed in thought as Squall considered Selphie's question. With a sigh, the brunet relaxed his face and straightened up. Taking a hold of the small plate of mounted food before him, he extracted the bottom most piece of toast. Carefully dumping what Seifer had left for him to eat, he took a small bite while scooting around the booth.

 

Standing up, with his toast in hand, Squall looked at the blonde. “I trust you can tell her without any bias,” he said. Turning away, he walked towards the bar counter. Rounding the long barrier, he entered the kitchen.

 

“Bias?” Seifer questioned under his breath, “What bias? The kid's annoying as hell, nothing biased about that.”

 

Running her thumb along a jumper strap to set it in place, Selphie shifted to become more comfortable. “What?” she questioned, hearing the blonde say something, but not quite hearing it.

 

Smoothing his jaw over with a hand, Seifer decided to tell the girl quickly and then follow Squall. “Since we happen to be in the neighborhood, we're going to set Squall's stalker up and take the guy down. Rui is our link.” His green eyes rose toward the ceiling in a mental check, “Yeah, that about covers it,” he finished with a smile, starting to move around the bend.

 

“Huh?” Selphie was at a loss. “Who is Rui? I mean, he's a new cadet, but since when has Squall been so close to him?”

 

“Come on Tilmitt, is it really that important?” The blonde gave an impatient look to the energetic pilot before looking imploring at the closed doorway behind the bar.

 

Crossing her arms in an attempt to look broodingly impatient like the Commander, Selphie gave the knight an expectant glare.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Seifer sat directly across from the nunchaku wielding, yellow jumper wearing young woman. Near the edge, he was ready to leave, but kept his place. The wrath of the happy girl was legendary, and not something he wanted to incur. Appearances were far more than deceiving with this one. So happy and cheerful, but if angered or in a fight, she'd become almost bloodthirsty. Well, bloodthirsty in the sense that she enjoyed explosions. He remembered when she buried little bombs beneath her sand castles, watching them explode gave her a fit of giggles for the rest of the day.

 

Shaking the memory of a trigger-happy young Tilmitt from his mind, Seifer tried again to condense the explanation. “Rui Valdez is from Dollet, he was hired by a man called Epson. It is more than likely that this guy is our stalker. Rui was supposed to take more pictures for this sick fuck, but the coward broke down and cried sanctuary to Squall. Now, and I'm assuming this part, we are going to set a trap.”

 

“How old is he?” she asked in reference to the dark haired young boy.

 

With a wave of the hand, Seifer answered, “I don't know, thirteen or something.”

 

“So, how did he get involved in the first place?” Her bright green eyes looked across the rounded table at the one person she never thought would ever be jumping about with impatience to be near Squall. The not so subtle glances that the blonde kept casting to the kitchen door were making her believe that there was definitely something less than professional about the way the pair always stayed close.

 

“The kid's got a bad track record. And before you ask anymore, you should know, that while I personally dislike the runt with a passion, it's not my place to tell you.”

 

Selphie's eyebrows furrowed and an uncommon frown pulled her lips downward. “Bad track record?” she questioned.

 

“Tilmitt, let it go. Suffice to say, he's eating out of Princess' palm and he's our only lead,” Seifer answered, biting out each word with frustrated impatience.

 

Mulling over what Seifer had told her, Selphie settled for gleaning more facts out as they all went along. With a roll of her eyes, she dismissed the antsy man. It was amusing watching how the tall knight shot to his feet and rushed across the tavern like room. It was ever more fun to stop him half way. “Wait,” she called out, suppressing a grin.

 

“What?” Seifer practically growled.

 

“What about Mike?” she asked.

 

“He's the owner of this fine establishment and a trusted friend,” he said brusquely, in an almost sarcastic manner.

 

“Oh, and how long have you-”

 

“Tilmitt,” Seifer cut off, “Is it really necessary to keep me from doing my job?”

 

Pouting her bottom lip, Selphie swung her brown boots to the side of the seat, swinging her feat back and forth. “One more question, and I'll let you leave.”

 

With a creeping sense of unease, Seifer turned around with a rigid structure. Narrowing his eyes he watched the apparent amusement the girl was having. With his jaw set sternly, he raised a brow in gesture for her to ask the question.

 

Now that she could ask the blonde what might be going on, she found herself at a loss for the right words. Being blunt was not usually a problem, but speaking the words she had in her head was just wrong when pertaining to Squall. Were Irvine's suspicions true? Were Seifer and Squall involved romantically? If so, then for how long? Had they always been like that? Was Irvine being ridiculous? If Squall and Seifer were screwing each other, then what about Rinoa?

 

Her green eyes widened with remembrance. “What about Rinoa?” she suddenly blurted out.

 

A grin spread across Seifer's face. After a moment, he settled into his cocky stance and replied, “Rinoa's fine, she's living with a friend here in the city.” With that as his masterful answer, he took a swift leave, stalking across the remainder of the room.

 

***

 

It was late.

 

Dark shadows were cast across the room with minimal light from the rising moon. Pale streams of moonlight snuck by the haphazardly closed curtains.

 

Squall fidgeted within the blonde's relentless hold.

 

“Go to sleep,” Seifer chastised, his voice no louder than a whisper.

 

“I can't,” Squall stated. His mind was wandering and didn't seem capable of shutting down.

 

With a sigh, Seifer loosened his hold around the brunet. “It wasn't that bad.” Removing one arm, he turned onto his back. With the lithe form still within the crook of his other arm, he pulled Squall on top of his chest.

 

Fully clothed, the two young men lay in bed. Seifer had debated the matter a considerable number of times in his head. After the eventful day, it would border on abuse if he pushed the brunet for more sex. The Commander would most likely comply readily, but thus far, the little lion hadn't proved a very good judge of physical limits.

 

So, the knight had instigated nothing more than light petting and restrained kisses. As the hours dwindled and they could not wait up for the cowboy and thief to return, Seifer had insisted they turn in for the night.

 

With hospitality and a few curses, Mike had set the three of them up with rooms. They would of course pay, since they were using more than just a free-be, which Seifer had used the previous night.

 

With two rooms, Seifer was able to use the bodyguard excuse well enough to explain it. While he really did want to keep an eye on the brunet, he also really wanted to feel that smaller and warm body against his own again.

 

The only trouble was the insomniac that he was trying to fall asleep with. The brunet was upset over a few comments President Loire had made. They weren't able to catch the actual broadcasting of the conference, but statements were released. A few of those statements were about the well being of Squall Leonhart. Apparently, Laguna had taken on the task of informing the public that the young Commander was fine.

 

And, as an added ending to the day, Squall's private meeting with the longhaired President hadn't gone so well. The former Galbadian soldier had come out with watery green eyes and even Squall's cold façade seemed broken with traces of sadness.

 

Squall had refused to speak about any of it, and Laguna left with a lingering hug to his son.

 

Now, as Squall settled against Seifer's chest, the blonde raised a hand and began to stroke the brunet's soft hair. There was an almost conditioned reaction to the gentle stroking. The tenseness that had set those lithe limbs on edge left. As Squall relaxed against him completely, he ran his fingers deeper, massaging the scalp.

 

As much as Squall wanted to protest Seifer's condescending manner, he couldn't find enough willpower. Aside from relaxing, it was almost euphoric. Other than the gruff mussing of his hair, which only Seifer had done since the knight's return, he had never had anyone play with his hair, much less stroke it. Everything that happened between them was addicting, since he felt himself drifting and relishing the blonde's touch. He could definitely get used to such treatment.

 

All of Squall's restless and consuming thoughts seemed to fade to the back of his mind. Gone was his concern over his father. Gone was his anger over the statements of health released without permission. He was even able to forget that Irvine and Rui were not back and that they had an under the tables mission to deal with.

 

The last fleeting thoughts that swam through the Commander's mind were of the surreal relationship between himself and his childhood rival. Still far from understanding, he thought of how deep he was falling into it all. It was all so enticing. His body craved it and his mind could come up with no reasons not to give in.

 

Lying there in the arms of his former rival, Squall thought that he might begin to enjoy being held and having a warm body nearby during the vulnerable time of sleep.

 

There was brief moment where he felt himself slip under the shroud of slumber, but his stubborn mind pulled him back. It would be giving Seifer too much credit to fall asleep not five minutes after the blonde's attempts to lull him.

 

Squall listened to the steady rhythm of Seifer's heart. Schooling his expressions, he observed the increased beating when he raised a hand to clutch at the controlling man's shirt. Grazing over a nipple, he smirked at the faltered stroking of his hair.

 

With a most uncharacteristic playful smirk, Squall raised himself up. Draping a leg on the other side of the blonde's hips, he slid into place. Not grinding down, but leaving enough pressure to impress his intentions, Squall leaned closer to press his lips against Seifer's.

 

The blonde's reluctance was apparent, but the refusal was momentary. From gentle and light, the brunet drew Seifer's raw need out. It was to Seifer's initial frustration that he had no leverage, and therefore couldn't delve as deeply as he would have if he'd been pinning the brunet beneath him. However, when the sweet, wet heat of Squall's mouth began to take full effect, he forced himself to draw the kiss to an end.

 

“Squall,” Seifer breathed out, swallowing his lust. “I won't take you tonight,” he stated with longing regret. As much as he wanted Squall, he was truly concerned about hurting the former virgin, not to mention a small part of him questioned what the brunet wanted out of their relationship. Was it all about sex and uncontrolled lust for one another?

 

Furrowing his brows, Squall sat back. Defensively, he bit out, “I never said I wanted to be taken.” His distain for the terms the blonde had used was obvious.

 

With a roll of jade eyes, Seifer clapped a hand to the brunet's leather clad ass. For comfort's sake, Squall had removed the many belts. To make a point, Seifer swiftly snaked a hand past the loose waistband. Having memorized the feel of the smooth skin and curves of the lithe and toned body, Seifer pressed against the Commander's tight entrance.

 

It was Squall's defeat when he instinctively arched back against the hand. Before Seifer could penetrate him, the blonde retracted the hand. Dismayed and angered, Squall rolled off the knight and curled up near the edge of the mattress.

 

Clenching his jaw, Seifer reacted swiftly. Such a misunderstanding could not be left outstanding. Reaching over, he hooked a strong arm around the younger man's stomach and dragged him close. Roughly holding the brunet against him.

 

Before Squall could protest, Seifer spoke husky words into the sulking brunet's ear. “Hyne, Squall, I want to fuck you so badly. I want to take you, probably more than is natural.” Pausing a moment, he tried to vocalize the way his body felt and the exact feelings he had for the introverted, socially inept Commander. “This need I have can only hurt you if I act on it. You have to rest. It was your first time today. I can't do any more so soon. And, you can't hide how much pain you were in from it, not from me.”

 

“Cocky bastard,” Squall mumbled, refusing to be complacent in the knight's hold. It was a harsh realization that his body was craving to be filled and that such a need could be drawn out of him without any control on his part.

 

Since it took rough actions to reach the Commander, Seifer gripped the delicate chin of the moody man and turned that pretty face towards himself. Roughly kissing those soft red lips, he worked with fervor to loosen the brunet up. While not completely relaxed, Squall was certainly more complacent with a slack mouth inviting him inside and a slick tongue working against his own.

 

Working the kiss down, Seifer pulled out and placed a few soft kisses against those sweet lips. “When we've caught this stalking bastard, I'm going to screw you senseless every chance I get,” Seifer stated as though the topic was no more unusual than making dinner plans.

 

“If I let you,” Squall said sternly. The arrogant knight always seemed to be taking liberties. No one would dare assume to make Squall do anything, yet the blonde seemed intent on getting everything from him.

 

“If you let me,” Seifer added with a wolfish grin.

 

Pulling the brunet to him in the same manner he had before, he resumed running his fingers through the silky chocolate colored strands.

 

Regardless of angry feelings or unacceptable realizations, Squall was drifting off yet again. He vaguely recalled hearing the blonde mutter, “Stubborn lion” After that, it was a dreamless sleep.