Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ Undeniable Need ( Chapter 32 )

Chapter Thirty-Two

Undeniable Need

 

The strong winds died down as Ragnarok's hull sealed shut. Stepping onto solid footing, Squall made a subtle point of shrugging out of Irvine's hold. His balance was precariously inebriated at best, but he was too stubborn to accept a steadying hand.

 

The cold metal of the hull's flooring was easily felt by his bare feet. Drawing the brown leather coat around his form more closely, Squall regarded the gunman beside him questioningly. Blinking his gray eyes, he had to attempt to focus twice before succeeding.

 

“It was just a day, right?” the pale boy asked.

 

`Just a day?' Irvine's mind scoffed. How could the Commanded act so collected and aloof even while doped up and battered? A day of forced confinement made an hour seem like an eternity, yet Squall acted as though a week could have gone by in the blink of an eye. “Yes,” the gunman finally replied, keeping his thoughts to himself.

 

A faint and reassuring smile graced Squall's bowed lips. Giving a small nod, he turned towards the bathroom that occupied the first deck, only a few meters away.

 

“Squall?” Irvine called out, lowering his arms to his side so that they didn't reach out and attempt to help the brunet.

 

The slender form, hidden beneath the long garment that was too large, stopped. Pale feet took a couple shuffled steps to keep balance. “Do the others know?” Squall asked, his voice only a hoarse whisper.

 

Irvine strained to hear the cracked mumblings of the young man. Taking a moment to absorb what Squall was referring to, he answered, “Selphie and Rui are on the ship, but they didn't see anything. We didn't contact anyone back at Garden. It was a difficult situation since you're the one who makes those sort of decisions.” In truth, the group had known that there was little anyone at Garden could do that they couldn't do themselves, and the fact that Squall would loathe the idea of any of this becoming public knowledge had determined their specific course of actions.

 

“Thank you,” came the whispered reply, before the brunet half walked, half staggered to the bathroom.

 

Irvine watched as the frail form disappeared behind the closed door. It was fairly clear that Squall didn't want anyone else to know what he and Seifer had seen. Truthfully, he could relate to such wishes, but at the same time he had no idea how it might feel. All he knew was the wrath and anger he'd felt upon seeing Squall chained helplessly on the bed, with that deranged fucker atop him.

 

Running a hand through his auburn hair, he freed it from the loose hold of a hair band. Exhaling audibly, Irvine closed his eyes for a brief minute. The whole day had been more nerve wracking than anything he'd ever felt. By noon, he'd been wishing for something as simple as assassinating Edea to take the place of the mayhem and worry involved with trying to find Squall.

 

What would have happened if they'd been too late?

 

Violet eyes widened suddenly. `Were we too late?' he wondered frantically. There was no confirmation that they'd interrupted Larkner's first assault on Squall. Between the unhinged steps the brunet was taking and the hoarseness of the man's voice, there was no telling what had transgressed during the many hours in which Squall had been detained.

 

Had Seifer realized this? Was that why the knight had seemed so utterly consumed with bloodlust?

 

With such thoughts swirling around in his head, Irvine nearly decided to lower the lift again and join the blonde in vengeful torture. Deciding against it, he walked up to the closed door, behind which the abused lion had retreated.

 

Rapping his knuckles against the cold steel, he spoke, “I'll find some clothes.” When no response was given, except for the whooshing spray of water, he added a bit more loudly, so as to be heard over the running water, “I'm sure Seifer will be back soon.”

 

Dejectedly, Irvine walked away. Colder than usual, Squall seemed to have become cut off from the outside world the moment they stepped off the lift, when the brunet refused his helping hand.

 

His concern mounted when he wondered whether it was simply Squall being his usual introverted self, or the textbook symptoms of assault victims. It was even more aggravating that without actually stating the obvious, the Commander had made the point that Seifer was the one he wanted nearby.

 

Absently tying his hair back into a ponytail, he set off in search of suitable clothes to replace his lent trench coat.

 

**

 

The lighting within the small bathroom was actually quite bright, shining down from the ceiling. It didn't matter though. Squall didn't feel any headache or sensitivity to it. It was just that in the bright light he could see the marks covering his body more clearly.

 

Having carelessly discarded Irvine's coat, he stood before a mirror. The reflective glass was secured above a sink, showing only from his navel upwards, unless he cared to move further back against the wall behind him.

 

The bathroom itself was roughly five by five feet, which included the sink, shower, and toilet. Small by Garden standards, but effective for its basic use.

 

Tentatively, he raised a hand to his throat. Ignoring the slight visible tremble his fingers gave, he brushed over the bruised skin. There were actual prints discernable, where Epson's hands had squeezed tightly.

 

Darting his tongue out, he tasted the metallic tang along the defined crack in his lip. It was slightly swollen, but would heal well enough if he refrained from smiling a whole lot. Mentally scoffing, he concluded that his lip would be the first thing to heal.

 

There were faint marks along his jaw, and cheekbone. Pressing lightly against the right side of his face, he winced slightly. There would be definite bruising there, and soon, judging by the faint hue of purple that was setting in.

 

There were scratches, nail marks, on his cheeks. Epson had forced his jaw open with more strength than he'd perceived.

 

A small smirk played across his lips, as he turned a bit. Along his left shoulder were teeth marks. Seifer's doing. A marking he found inexplicable pleasure in. It was the only mark from the blonde on his body that was distinguishable from Epson's bruising.

 

Running a hand through chocolate tresses, which were mussed and tangled, Squall sighed. He felt groggy and weak, as though walking through a dream. It was the weakness he disliked most of all. Pathetic and shameful were the only words he could think of to describe his condition, and maybe just a little bit sore as well.

 

A soft knocking sounded at the door. Gray-blue eyes snapped towards the entryway, an unguarded hopefulness shining within. At the sound of Irvine's voice, he turned away abruptly.

 

Yet another reason to feel pathetic. His years of conditioned calmness were thrown out the window after less than a week of being around Seifer. Now, his heart beat faster and his emotions ran high at the mere prospect of the blonde's presence.

 

`Ridiculous,' he concluded, turning the shower tap on, not listening to the gunman's words.

 

Stepping beneath the soothing warmth of the hot water, Squall mused in his solitude. It didn't make any sense. Why after so much effort making sure that he was no more than ten feet away, would Seifer just send him off without a second glance?

 

Not that he cared, he was just baffled…. and maybe a little hurt.

 

Growling in frustration, Squall propped himself against the shower wall. Hands out, he bent over slightly, directing the spray on his head. It was easier to stand this way, less weight on his legs and hands to keep him steady.

 

As his hair became soaked and hung low at an odd angle, curtaining his face, his eyes fixed on the swirling water flowing down the drain.

 

How had he managed to become so dependent? His chest felt heavy with what he could only describe as heartache.

 

What was this? Longing. Yearning. Wanting. Needing. Such feelings he couldn't remember ever having in such a way as he did now.

 

Why was it that the mere thought of Seifer being next to him, ruffling his hair gave him some shred of relief? Why couldn't he find relief, even after escaping at the most crucial moment? Should he not be happy and overwhelmed with relief at Irvine and Seifer's opportune arrival?

 

`Dammit!' his mind raged, while he gave a sad punch to the wall.

 

Sinking to the bottom of the shower, Squall leaned fully against the wall, backing into the corner while the water continued to beat down.

 

Was it over confidence? He'd defeated Ultimecia and assumed that something as trivial as a stalker was no threat. He should have anticipated it, seen it coming. No longer under the protection of his Garden, he'd been left wide open for a sneak attack.

 

Now, because of his utter failure, he sat limply in such a state that made him cringe with disgust. How far he'd fallen, to become a victim of some psychotic yakuza leader with a crush.

 

Swallowing thickly, he again fought down the unbecoming burning sensation in his eyes. There was perhaps another level he could fall down to, and that would happen if he started to cry.

 

His mind was too full, there were too many thoughts and feelings running rampant.

 

Again, he was yearning for the arrogant knight's confidant presence, if only to take his mind off of everything.

 

Drawing his legs up, Squall rested his head on his knees and hugged them while he tried to push all emotions back down.

 

After a few minutes, he cracked an eyelid, blinking against the water. His eyes trained on the tiny puncture marks on the crook of his elbow. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he willed himself to no longer be under the influence of any drugs.

 

Desperately, he sought Shiva. Her voice was nowhere to be found. There would be no solace in the Ice Queen's comforting world or words.

 

Gritting his teeth, his fought again against the uncontrolled tears.

 

“Fuck,” he cursed obscenely, hating how his voice was not his own. His body was hurting from filthy hands that touched him without consent or restraint, and his mind was confused and tired from overwhelming emotions.

 

An involuntary shudder wracked his body. Wondering if it was perhaps an effect of withdrawal, he found it curious how his body suddenly felt cold even under the steaming shower.

 

Unfurling himself, he rubbed his face gruffly, instilling some wakefulness. Making to stand up, he kept his hands against the wall while a head rush passed. If he stayed in here any longer, the others might become suspicious. Besides, Seifer would be back soon, or so he hoped.

 

There was no sound reasoning behind any assumptions for the blonde's expected arrival. Seifer might be gone all night, whilst he pined.

 

Shaking his head, he inhaled sharply. He would not behave so foolishly, pining was for animals and hopeless romantics.

 

The sudden pounding on the door was almost a dead give away. Squall froze, not wanting to get his hopes up, all the while berating himself. His hopes were already up, and as such, he proved that he was no better than an animal with his longing gaze to the door.

 

Breathing heavily, against the increased pressure in his chest, Squall ignored the pounding, forcing himself not to react rashly. He would not rush to the door and jump at the blonde to fulfill the ludicrous craving for the knight's touch.

 

Apparently, it didn't matter what he did, as the door opened manually. Seifer's broad frame filled the doorway. With a slightly glistening brow and barely visible flush to tanned cheeks, Seifer seemed to have exerted himself in some manner.

 

With a schooled expression, Squall stared blankly at Seifer. Each second he stared was an act of defiance, to prove that he had not become consumed with any such feelings as longing.

 

Again, it did not matter that he remained in place, still standing within the shower.

 

With the flutter of the knight's dark coat, Squall found himself within the strong embrace of Seifer. With his feet hovering off the wet shower bottom, his naked body was held closely to the warmth of the blonde's body. The arm wrapped around his lower back allowed him to comfortably dangle, while another hand pressed against his wet hair.

 

Stunned for a moment, Squall first absorbed the fact that they were both standing beneath the water's spray, with Seifer fully dressed. However, as he inhaled the spicy scent of aftershave on a tanned neck, his mind let go. Breathing easily for the first time, Squall raised his arms and returned Seifer's hug.

 

No words were spoken, but everything felt was expressed in actions.

 

After a minute or two, perhaps even more, Squall sighed in contentment, nuzzling against the ex-knight's neck. His hands clung to the coarse material of the dark trench coat, gripping it with need while pressing himself closer.

 

Seifer didn't notice anything other than Squall, having that pale and beautiful body in his arms again. His heart beat erratically. He tightened his hold, careful not to break the fragile looking man. Squall would not break, but he could never be too careful. He fisted sopping hair, several shades darker than usual. Nudging the nuzzling head back, he stared fixedly into blue eyes, which seemed to swirl with so many different emotions. He couldn't remember seeing those eyes so unguarded. Nor had he ever felt the brunet hold onto him with an equaled need for the simple contact.

 

Leaning his head forward, Seifer pressed his lips to Squall's forehead. One kiss was not enough, as more followed. All along the man's bruised face and dripping hair.

 

Neither wanted to break the silence, words didn't seem to be appropriate.

 

Eventually, Seifer ended his trail of gentle kisses, landing upon soft lips. The brunet moved for the first time in his hold. Craning a slender neck upwards, Squall met Seifer's kiss with a soft simper of contentment.

 

**

 

Irvine wasn't sure what to do or even think. Only a few minutes ago, Seifer had called for Selphie to drop a line. He'd been in the main cabin, biding his time so that Squall could finish up in the bathroom.

 

He'd found a set of clothes, just cotton flannels from the small closet in the lounge. In order to keep Squall's condition a secret, he did not have the clothes with him in front of Selphie or Rui.

 

It hadn't been quite the difficult task he imagined it would be, to keep Selphie and the kid from checking on the Commander. Having told the cheerful girl that they were still on a mission that wouldn't end until they'd reach Balamb Garden, she had immediately complied and remained at the helm of her ship.

 

Having expected Seifer to have returned by now, Irvine was curious why the blonde hadn't shown up yet. The gunman's common sense set in only a few moments later than usual. Taking his leave, he'd gathered the clothes and made his way to the first floor.

 

The sound of running water and the sight of an open bathroom door were his first indications of where the knight had chosen to go. Vestiges of jealousy sprung to life, no matter how much he tried to push them down with consideration for the gravity of recent events.

 

Nearing the open door, he was given the sight of the knight's broad back, clad in a wet coat. An obviously still nude Squall was withheld from his sight, except for the slender arms and hands that were hugging Seifer.

 

It was the realization that Squall was hugging the blonde that kept him from barging in. As delicate fingers gripped the knight's coat, he was forced to see just how consensual and welcome, even desperate, the act was. Squall was clinging to Seifer.

 

He glimpsed the top of a dark mop of hair as it furrowed against Seifer's throat. Neither man seemed to care that the door was wide open or that the water was still spraying down.

 

When Seifer began to kiss the brunet's head, and Squall's knuckles turned white, as they held on tighter, Irvine snapped from his daze. Feeling far too much like an intruder, he could do nothing but swallow his jealousy and silently set the clothes in the doorway.

 

Irvine left the couple with mixed feelings. His attraction was supposedly fleeting, something to be waited out, or so he and Selphie had concluded. Regardless, he still felt pangs of anger and jealousy at the apparent relationship going on between Squally and the rivaling sorceress' knight.

 

It had been earlier that day when he'd confronted Squall about the relationship. If the Commander had wanted a fuck buddy, then he'd be more than willing. However, the display of raw need and affection were screaming that there was something far more serious going on than he'd initially thought. Was the pair involved in a serious relationship, were they lovers? Just how long had they been together?