Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ Dishonest Tricks ( Chapter 29 )

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dishonest Tricks

 

It was warm and comfortable. In between the two planes of conscious state, Squall curled closer to the source of warmth and let the spicy sweet scent that filled the air wash over him.

 

Seifer's breath hitched when the brunet nuzzled against his neck. The heated air against his skin sent shivers through his body. The sleeping form was unconsciously curling against him. All other times, even when he had held that lithe form against himself, Squall had shifted away and remained unresponsive to his gentle touch.

 

Not wanting to shatter the moment, Seifer carefully tightened his hold. It was like wanting to pet a small kitten, but fearing that the fragile creature would break. Irresistible, enticing, and alluring, the brunet was demanding of his attention.

 

There had already been so much wasted time. Now that he knew what he wanted and had it, he couldn't get enough. Being with Squall was intoxicating, not to mention confusing and often infuriating.

 

Prior to the war, before he'd left, the tiniest tendencies of the brunet would set him off. Mostly, it was his rival's ability to ignore him. It was when Squall acted as though they hadn't been with each other from a young age, when the pale boy could just look passed him as though he were no one special or important.

 

Perhaps that was why he wasn't constantly picking fights now that he was back.

 

`No,' Seifer concluded. He was still bickering with the Commander, only he refrained from physically engaging in battle since the younger boy was not in top shape. Or perhaps, it was because he found a substitute activity that was far more enjoyable.

 

“Seifer,” Squall breathed out, lips brushing against the tanned skin of the knight's neck.

 

Suppressing a groan, Seifer leaned his head back in response to the brunet's sleeping mumble. He couldn't be certain whether or not the sleeping kitten had woken or done the act unconsciously. At length, he found his answer when those soft lips pressed to his neck in an unmistakable kiss.

 

It was perhaps more of a turn on that the lithe man against him was still half asleep, or at least under the clouded fog enough to not know what he was doing with any precise clarity. So his rival, his worthy adversary, and now his secret minx, was displaying unguarded affection instinctively.

 

His fingers trailed up and down in soothing motions across the white cotton shirt that didn't feel nearly as good to the touch as the smooth skin of Squall's back.

 

Seifer's hands stilled when he felt the brunet's lips part and hot tongue trail over his pulse.

 

“Did I wake you up?” Seifer asked, slightly unhinged and not thinking of what words he should be stringing together.

 

Squall gave no vocal reply, but continued to suck on the beating pulse. From the rhythm, he could tell that Seifer was reacting quite a bit, regardless of the blonde's composed manner. Having constantly vied for control, it was encouraging to know he had such an impact on Seifer. Whether or not the last few days already stood as a testament to that didn't make proving it all over again any less enjoyable.

 

Squall had never even imagined trying to bring forth the desires of another person. So, to feel the ex-knight's heart racing while he suckled on the man's neck was arousing. There was a spicy scent to Seifer's skin, which was most likely aftershave, but it was pleasant enough to keep him in place if only to breathe it in.

 

Not trusting himself, Seifer kept his hold on Squall's body. The smaller man's arms were pressed immobile against his chest. If those curious little hands began to touch him, he wasn't confident that he could stop himself from taking the brunet right then.

 

When he felt Squall shift to move higher, he squeezed more tightly. “There's still a couple hours of sleep you can catch,” he half hissed when the pinned brunet opted to nip at him.

 

“I can think of better things to do than sleep,” Squall said, raising his leg so that his knee brushed along Seifer's crotch. It was almost amusing to watch the blonde come undone and completely gratifying to know he was the cause of it.

 

Gritting his teeth, Seifer fought a losing battle of refusing the temptation presented to him. Of their own accord, his hands slid beneath the thin white shirt and trailed over supple flesh. It was impossible to refuse Squall, at least not again.

 

As the ex-knight's hold loosened ever so slightly, Squall took advantage of his mobility and shifted higher along the lean torso. His lips brushed over a tanned jaw line, feeling the near invisible stubble. The hands beneath his shirt left small trills of pleasure in their wake.

 

For Squall, it was a previously ludicrous notion to want to be with someone so badly. Now however, his ever growing and never ceasing desires were proof that anything could change, people could change. It was frightening and alarming, but he was too contented to care.

 

Before the brunet could continue the gentle nipping of foreplay, Seifer lost his patience to feel those lips with his own. Turning his head abruptly, he captured the soft mouth and claimed it as he'd done each time before.

 

Gentle turned into ruthlessly passionate, never able to delve quite deep enough. Swallowing each other's moans, their hands roamed about one another, trying to memorize each curve and slope of muscle by touch alone.

 

The clothing was an issue, but nothing that couldn't be taken care of.

 

Wanting leverage, Seifer turned their positions about. Breaking away for a moment, he stared down at the slick lipped, heavy lidded brunet beneath him. Lustful blue eyes met his, showing contentment and longing.

 

It occurred to Seifer at that moment that he was most likely in love. Blindly falling deeper with each kiss, every touch and caress. `Most likely in love,' his mind considered. It was more than probable, it was certain. Love had no rhyme or reason, which was exactly how he had been going about this sudden desire to be with his rival.

 

Claiming Squall's lips again, he relished the experience. Beyond soft lips was a silky wet heat, which he explored with his tongue. `Love,' his mind echoed again. `Hyne, how he loved this mouth, these lips, the soft moans and pants. The way Squall cried his name out in ecstasy.'

 

Driving deeper, Seifer elicited a moan from the brunet as his hands brushed over hardened nipples.

 

Abruptly, as a sudden realization dawned on the blonde, Seifer pulled back. Staring down bewildered, his green eyes searched the bright blue ones of the Commander's.

 

Could it be true? He was in love with Squall? His mind couldn't think fast enough. From one point to the next, he jumped. Did he love the brunet or was he in love, did it make a difference? Since when was love ever a factor?

 

Before Squall could question the suddenly wide-eyed look of shock that Seifer held, there was a loud pounding on their door.

 

Both boys' heads snapped to attention, staring across the room.

 

Seifer hardly had time to remove himself from atop Squall, when the door swung open. With the brunet's lips swollen and shirt riding up a lean torso, there was no second-guessing what they'd been up to. It didn't help that the sheets and blankets were messed with both of them sharing a single bed.

 

The tall form of Irvine filled the doorway. Even in the darkness, the shocked expression was made out clear enough. Squall waited for an apprehensive moment, knowing exactly what connections were being made.

 

Violet eyes widened in shock. The first glimpse he'd caught had been of the larger knight rolling off of the Commander. To his shock, the brunet was neither restrained nor red in the face from shouting in protest. The bare midriff and dissipating daze of lust were not to be confused with any desperate or excusing explanation his mind could come up with.

 

The gunman clenched his jaw and swiftly shut the door behind himself. Stalking forward, his boots thudded loudly in the silence of the room. It didn't matter that he already had a fair amount of solidly founded suspicions or that it was more than apparent that Squall had not been forced. All Irvine saw was his leader, who he had looked up to since he'd been enlisted at Balamb Garden, spread back on the bed with mussed hair and plump lips.

 

Angered, Irvine finished his strides to the bed, meeting the taller form of the horny blonde. With a white knuckled fist, Irvine swung at the cocky knight, hissing out, “Fucking bastard.”

 

“Irvine!” Squall shouted, scrambling to sit up.

 

Though Seifer could have dodged, he let the auburn haired sharpshooter land the first hit. With the solid smacking sound of the cowboy's fist against his jaw, his head and shoulder dropped toward the right. There was a surprising amount of strength behind the punch, but nothing more than he could handle. In fact, he'd felt harder impacts from some of Squall's more seething glares.

 

One hit was his limit of tolerated misbehavior, as Seifer caught the next flying fist. Twisting the fist sharply, he swiftly stepped to the side and harshly maneuvered the angry gunman to lay face first against the mattress. Holding one arm bent behind the gunman's back, he applied enough pressure to keep the jealous cowboy pinned.

 

With a jerking struggle, Irvine tried to free himself, but failed. After a few unintelligible curses, he relented.

 

“Seifer,” Squall reprimanded, “What did you do?”

 

Green eyes blinked for a moment. Was the brunet serious?

 

Squall knew that Irvine wouldn't have barged in unless a pressing matter warranted such actions. He also knew that the level headed sharpshooter would not start throwing punches unless their was just cause. Seifer tended to piss people off, usually on purpose, and regardless of Irvine's initial acceptance of the ex-knight's return, he had sensed some hostility from the gunman towards the blonde. So, that left the question of what Seifer had managed to do that Irvine was in the room in a fit of rage over.

 

Not willing to reiterate, Squall waited with a questioning glare.

 

Narrowing his eyes, Seifer eased up on his hold of the outmatched cowboy. The mislead gunman had no chance against him, and yet the man had tried with so much blinded passion. He would have rooted for Kinneas if he hadn't been the target of anger and if Squall hadn't been the source of jealous possessiveness.

 

With disbelief, it took Seifer a moment to truly comprehend the naïve nature of his little lion. Was it possible for a single person to be so damn attractive and oblivious to the fact at the same time? Squall still had no clue why violet eyes followed the soft sway of his hips or why the gunman had been so disturbed the other night outside the apartment.

 

Running an unoccupied hand through his hair, Seifer kept his gaze trained on the brunet while answering. “I fucked you, that's what I've done,” he stated with a smirk.

 

With the less forceful hold, Irvine was able to raise his head off the bed. “Let me go,” he growled out.

 

“Let him go,” Squall ordered, still not understanding what Seifer meant, but knowing that he didn't want Irvine being detained for any reason.

 

With a clenched jaw, Seifer complied. Crossing his arms, he stood back and glared down.

 

“Irvine,” Squall began, “What is it?”

 

Roughly pulling away from the bed, Irvine straightened, looking from one face to the other. Squall with that unknowing air of innocence, which was actually annoying for its obliviousness. But, he couldn't stay mad, not at Squall. Then there was Seifer, with that arrogant smirk in place. The blonde knew exactly what was going on and actually seemed to be enjoying it all.

 

Irvine stared into green eyes, reading them and becoming angrier each moment. Not looking away, he requested, “Squall, I need to talk to you alone.” The narrowing glare and flash of worry that contorted the knight's face gave him a good deal of satisfaction.

 

“No,” Seifer stated flatly.

 

Quirking a brow, Irvine regarded the blonde with a small smile of his own. Turning to glance at Squall, who was sitting still on the bed, he waited patiently.

 

“Downstairs,” Squall answered, shifted off the bed to stand up.

 

Seifer stared in disbelief at the brunet. “Squall,” he hissed out, unable to completely mask the alarm he felt. He was the one who needed time alone with the Commander, not Cowboy. There was a whirlwind of unfinished questions in his head, and he couldn't begin to sort through them all with the threatening presence of the gunman.

 

 

It was a struggle, which involved a few more angry punches that never managed to hit the target on account of the swift intervention of a frustrated brunet.

 

With only one light on in the tavern like bar area, Seifer sat on the edge of his seat. Sitting in a wooden chair, he was turned away from the table. His arms were crossed and his left foot was tapping impatiently. Any wrong movement and he'd be across the room faster than he could draw his blade.

 

The forefront of Squall's emotions was curiosity. Having consoled the man who was taking being his protector more seriously than he thought the blonde could ever take anything, he managed to convince Irvine that there would be no meeting the terms of a private conversation. The gunman had to settle for talking to Squall with Seifer a few tables away.

 

Now, Squall wanted to know what caused the confrontation and where Irvine had followed Rui. Though curious, he was far from showing it. Squall sat back patiently, waiting for Irvine to speak.

 

“How long?” Irvine asked heavily, as though questioning a doctor for the length of his life.

 

Confused, Squall furrowed his brows in thought. Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his arms. Without his coat on the room felt chilly, there was also likely to be less heat with the bar being closed. At length, Squall pieced together what the gunman was talking about. “I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible. I'm sure you've figured out that we're here to deal with the person who's been tracking me.”

 

With a humorless chuckle, Irvine shook his head. “I meant, how long have you and Seifer Almasy been screwing each other behind all our backs?”

 

There was a short list of people who had ever dared to pry or ask extremely personal questions about Squall's social life. Irvine had never been one of them, so it took Squall by surprise when the auburn haired man sat there with serious eyes and asked such a question.

 

Irvine knew that Squall was not likely to speak openly about any of it, not even to a childhood friend such as himself. So, he decided to draw the answers out with a bit of antagonizing accusation. “Is that why Matron always punished you two? Were you caught playing with each other?” There were few innuendos that could be pulled off with his practiced inflection of words and hinting raise of eyebrows.

 

For a brief moment, Squall was too shocked to even process what Irvine was accusing him of. However, once his mind snapped to attention, he felt a surge of anger. Was this how everyone was going to react? Would everyone assume that what he and Seifer had started back to when they were still kids? That was just wrong, they were four years old when they'd first met and began to clash heads.

 

It was another moment before Squall saw past his initial anger and realized that Irvine was just upset and spouting off words that weren't thought out first. With a sigh, he turned his focus to a less private affair. “When did you get back?”

 

“Squall, how long have you two been together?”

 

“I'm not going to discuss this with you,” he replied, wary of the rising feel of embarrassment over being caught in bed with Seifer.

 

“You can't hide it, others will find out. I can't believe that I didn't notice any of it before now.” In truth, Irvine had already been certain about it all, but only now had the means for questioning the Commander.

 

“Irvine,” Squall interjected, “I won't discuss this,” he affirmed sternly.

 

Stubbornly, the gunman leaned forward and stared intently into the brunet's gray-blue eyes. “How long?”

 

For the sake of not developing a headache, Squall bit his lip before answering. He spoke tersely, “Since he returned.”

 

“Never before?”

 

“How is this your business?” Squall asked incredulously, hating the faint blush that crept to his cheeks.

 

“Squall, if you just needed sex, then I would have been there for you,” Irvine said in all seriousness.

 

Gray-blue eyes widened in shock and pale cheeks darkened with horror. Squall was positive he'd heard wrong.

 

Perceptively, Irvine questioned, “It is just sex, right?”

 

“I think you have me confused with someone willing to elaborate on such matters. I won't repeat myself again, drop it,” Squall bit out with defensive anger. His mind couldn't rest for a second before another complicated problem arose. If he hadn't heard wrong, then Irvine had just suggested having sex with him as opposed to Seifer.

 

There was no warning other than the shattering of glass and the bursting of the heavy framed door. Rolling chinks sounded as small objects skidded across the planked flooring.

 

Seifer was out of his seat and at Squall's side before smoke began to fill the room. Roughly grabbing the brunet, who was already standing with Lionheart drawn, Seifer pulled Squall with him. Towards the bar, Seifer directed the smaller fighter with force, feeling the futile protests of the stubborn boy.

 

The smoke dispersed quickly, filling the air and blinding everyone within range.

 

Unable to see, Squall sheathed Lionheart and felt his way along the guiding counter. Going against his better judgment, he shouted out orders for the sharpshooter, “Irvine, get to the others. Meet at the rendezvous point. Seifer and I will take care of this.”

 

“Squall?” Irvine called out, unable to pinpoint the location of the brunet's voice.

 

“Move Kinneas!” Squall ordered back harshly, knowing there wasn't time to discuss anything.

 

Covering his mouth, Squall began to couch violently. Aside from watery eyes that stung from the blinding gas, the substance burned his lungs. Nearby, he could hear Seifer swear before falling into a similar fit. Strong arms held onto him as they moved further into the kitchen and towards the back entrance.

 

“Seifer,” Squall gasped out, feeling his limbs grow heavy.

 

“Hey!” the blonde shouted, shaking Squall roughly, “Stay awake Leonhart!”

 

“I'm fine, keep going,” Squall replied, stubbornly striding on. With his eyes closed, it was a challenge to find a quick path. He'd only been in the kitchen the one time earlier that day. As the air grew cleaner the further away they traveled, he was able to breath better.

 

The locked door burst open with a swift kick. Seifer kept one hand in contact with the brunet at all times, stumbling into the back alley. With tearful eyes, he blinked and tried to focus on the world around him. His legs felt weighted and it was becoming a real battle to walk.

 

Eventually, they wound up resting against the cold and damp bricks of the building across from The Harold.

 

As Squall's body slumped forward, he fumbled to pull the brunet against himself and dial the right set of numbers on the phone. As the phone clattered to the ground, Seifer continued to stare at his empty hand for a few moments after. Once it registered that he'd dropped the phone, he attempted to retrieve it.

 

Seifer never managed to pick the small device back up, as his world suddenly went dark. That last thing his brain was able to process before slipping into unconsciousness was the absence of Squall's weight against his chest.