Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Strings Attached ❯ Dressed to Impress ( Chapter 15 )

Chapter Fifteen

Dressed to Impress

 

The day had been a hazy blur, one hour bleeding into the next. The darkened sky outside told Squall that it was night, but his body had become so deeply enthralled, with the constant touching and heavy veil of lust, that he'd lost all sense for anything that didn't relate to Seifer.

 

It wasn't the least bit like him to shrug off an entire day. In fact, given the circumstances it was probably an irresponsible decision. But for the first time in his life, he didn't care. He didn't care what the world would think or what the press would make of his statement. He didn't care how enraged Martine or Trent or Zephlar became.

 

He was almost certain that his apathy was fleeting. As if the next day, perhaps the second the clock struck midnight, it would all settle in again.

 

By the time he and Seifer had showered and lain down for the remainder of the night, Squall was exhausted. They were in Seifer's bed, having spent several hours in his own already. His hair was damp, but Seifer didn't seem to mind as he furled closely and used the ex-knight's toned chest as a pillow.

 

The warmth between them was never too much, always a comfortable heat that made it all the more pleasant.

 

Squall was surprised at his contentment to sleep so near Seifer. He couldn't remember what it felt like to sleep alone, to not have the knight's larger frame wrapped around him.

 

As calloused fingertips gently caressed his bare back, he shivered with a violent trill of pleasure. His body had come to expect so much more to follow, from as little as a puff a warm air against the nape of his neck, that caressing fingertips were likely to give him an erection. Every part of his body felt like an exposed nerve, sensitive beyond reason.

 

The brunet's state of responsive stirring did not go unnoticed. Seifer couldn't exactly grin impishly, as he was too surprised to register Squall's exact reaction. Curious, he laid his hand flat, running his palm along the soft skin and hardened muscle of the younger man's back.

 

After an entire day involving little else but making love, Squall was easily half asleep as soon as his head rest against the ex-knight's chest and heard the steady strum of the man's heart beat. Now, as that hand slid across his back, following the length of his spine, he felt trills trail the same path. It was not nearly as innocent as it should have been.

 

Arching with a soft groan, neither encouraging nor discouraging an escalation in the action, Squall raised his head to peer up into green eyes. A different shutter wracked his frame as he saw an overwhelming mixture of adoring love and carnal lust in those stark eyes.

 

It was with great effort that Squall shifted to place a chaste kiss on the blond's lips before settling back down and murmuring, “Sleep.”

 

Jade eyes remained fixed for some time on the pale form tucked against him. He stilled his roving fingers, letting his arm cradle the brunet's form and possessively rest his hand against the narrow curve of Squall's shoulder.

 

If his affections and feelings for his long time rival grew any more, Seifer was certain he'd be in trouble. He didn't consider himself to be a jealous man, surely not unduly protective or possessive of what he considered his. However, more and more he found himself unwilling to move out of arm's reach, knowing exactly what thoughts went on behind the numerous eyes that followed the Commander.

 

There was little doubt of what his dreams would hold. Having broken their previous record, Seifer honestly couldn't put a number on the times he'd reached heart racing point of climax, usually while spilling his seed within the lithe form he held now.

 

It was truly a day never to be forgotten, even with every Guardian Force in existence junctioned. Every kiss, every touch, every time their eyes met and conveyed something their words could not.

 

Dinner had concluded with sex on the countertop, an overdue christening in Seifer's opinion. The short spat over checking the news had ended in more sex on the couch, after which they'd carried on in the bedroom.

 

Seifer swore he could still feel the brunet's smaller hands pressed against his own, palm-to-palm, their fingers twined, while he thrust slowly into the writhing body beneath. The teasingly slow paced foreplay had proved Squall to be a most impatient partner, reduced to whimpering pleading to get on with it. And Seifer, in his self-satisfying cruelty, had disregarded each moan and plea, and continued to lavish his touches and kisses all over the sultry brunet's immaculately sculpted body.

 

The highlight had been Squall's grudging consent to use a lubricant made slightly runny by the addition of a hi-potion. There was no guilt in the merciless manner he'd pounded into Squall. It was wonderous little trick that Squall had warmed up to rather quickly, taking advantage of the nearly painless manner they could screw each other in.

 

No day of lovemaking would be complete without trials of new positions and blunders. He'd been fool enough suggest he play bottom, to which his touch crazy sex kitten had readily agreed with an admittance of never really considering it before. Seifer couldn't say he hated it, not when it was basically sex with Squall, but it had not been the glorified experience the Commander made it out to be. According to Squall, who had indeed read every book in the library, the experience and sensitivity of any stimulation to the prostate gland was different for every male.

 

Seifer owed Squall's hypersensitivity to the fact that the brunet had previously been a virgin, receiving each touch with an increased feel of pleasure after years of starvation.

 

The blond wasn't admitting to being any less tolerant of pain than his former rival, but had there been no potion involved, he feared neither of them would have managed to finish. Squall had unwillingly expressed a feeling of loss, blushing at the admittance of basely enjoying cock up his ass.

 

A smile tugged the knight's lips upward at the remembrance of taking Squall up against a wall. Not just any wall, but the one near the main door, in honor of their first kiss. Seifer hadn't really thought it possible to pull off, but that was a benefit of his well-toned lover, the added strength to a frame that someone of his own physical standing found light.

 

More than once, he truly believed he'd died and was in some sort of heaven of his own construction. The only thing that had kept him grounded were the biting remarks made when he suggested a little kink, since his own heaven would definitely involve Squall and a whole lot of kinky shit with costumes and anything else he could try out.

 

He was quite proud of the many marks donning not only his pale counter part's body, but also his own as well. Squall had some fixation with the crook of his shoulder and neck. He figured it had something to do with the aftershave that his less than loquacious lion mentioned on occasion.

 

After so much shared between them, good and bad, he understood what it meant to wholly rely on another person. His childhood companion and important rival had become so much more. He could not imagine a life without Squall. Life without Squall wasn't even a concept he could grasp, his mind completely unable to fathom such a depressing existence. It wasn't even about the sprouting buds of hopeless romanticism and love. It was more a gut wrenching certainty that this fragile and strong creature in his arms was the most important aspect to his being.

 

There wasn't an exact moment that the former knight realized it, but it had been a recent revelation that his feelings for Squall, strong as they had become and continued to grow, held a danger. There was cause for caution when he was in a position that gave leeway for protecting the Commander. He'd never been much for rules, not unless he'd made them, which meant any guidelines the other Commanders set down for him to follow would not be upheld.

 

After Epson, he wouldn't consider any form of precaution overly protective, especially not after going public about their relationship. Truthfully, his role as Squall's bodyguard was obviously superficial to begin with. Quistis was more concerned about Squall's health, needing his pushy nature to cajole the Commander into revising that slave-labored agenda.

 

Now, however, he'd taken on a whole new regard for his initial return, determined to actually guard his official charge. He'd become as involved in Garden affairs as he deemed necessary, if he felt it presented any security risk. Screening reporters who could be traced back to newspapers supporting Epson's company was just the tip of the iceberg.

 

He found it unlikely that foreign officials would appreciate his presence in private meetings, and that was not good for Squall or himself. But, as headstrong as he might have been in all manner of things in his life, he'd be unmovable about Squall.

 

There was also the over looming threat to such a public figure as Balamb Garden's Commander. He didn't second-guess his abilities, but that was also the case prior to the underhanded sneak attack by Epson's entourage of abductors. If anything ever happened again, and if he didn't make it in time or manage to get Squall back in one piece, he felt an oppressing certainty that he'd become a broken man.

 

“Hyne,” the blond whispered at his own depressing manner of thinking. Squall was already asleep, ever unaware of so many realities in the world.

 

Gently, he fingered damp locks of dark brown hair, relishing the feel he'd come to know, dry or wet. At times, he fantasized about the stubborn lion passing the gauntlet on and retiring for days of different life.

 

It was a ludicrous notion, that Squall would ever consider stepping down from being Commander and Headmaster.

 

Seifer could relate to the need of being in a position of action. That was what gave them both souls of a fighter. Battle gave them as great a rush as some of their more devastating kisses. However, in all honesty, Squall would never see battle again.

 

It was a sad truth that the striking brunet probably had yet to consider, or rather hadn't had enough time to dwell upon. The reality was that Squall was too famous to ever be deployed on any future missions and too invaluable to the entire institution to expend.

 

Stuck behind a desk doing paper work while squeezing in hours in the Training Center was certainly not how Squall should live his days out, especially when he was at the very beginning of an early started career.

 

Yet, Seifer found no hope in persuading the brunet to leave it behind. He understood all too well that Balamb Garden was like a home, something not easily dismissed as a stage of life that was over with.

 

There was a giddy appeal in the dream of leaving and finding a place of their own, or traveling around. They could spar endlessly, fulfilling that need for sharpened senses and adrenaline rush in battle. Perhaps explore a bit of the world yet unknown, the places Ragnarok had allowed the merry band of do-gooders to travel to, but which war had prevented them from actually searching thoroughly.

 

The possibilities were endless, if he put aside the fact that it would never happen.

 

With a sigh, the ex-knight shifted slightly, digging himself a more comfortable place against the pillow and mattress. Reaching his free arm out, he grasped the standard issue blanket and tugged it up, covering Squall's exposed back. He didn't really need any sheets or blankets when he had Squall warming his bed every night, but he suspected that the brunet became chilled enough to furl closely even in deep sleep.

 

What a day, a fucking unforgettable day.

 

Seifer drifted with a pleased smirk on his face, appreciating the feel of his kitten's body against him no less than as on their first night together in the same bed. With a forced clearing of his mind, he managed to follow suit of the younger man, sound asleep.

 

**

 

Squall awoke to thunderously angry pounding outside the bedroom door. His body tensed up immediately, knowing the intruder to be too close within the confines of his apartment. It was a moment later that he registered a similarly tense knight that he was entangled with.

 

Gray eyes landed on Hyperion, recalling that Lionheart was stored in his own case, in his room.

 

“Leonhart!” yelled a sternly unforgiving voice, gruffly familiar.

 

In a surprising first reaction, Squall turned to Seifer and gave the angry knight a good morning kiss.

 

Just as Seifer's rising anger ebbed away and the blond considered it a better idea to have morning sex rather than answer the audacious intruder, Squall pulled away and clambered out of bed.

 

Like hell Squall was answering the door first. Seifer followed quickly, able to dress faster since he had fresh clothes in the dresser and Squall had to scramble around through discarded articles.

 

“Leonhart!” the voice yelled impatiently, pounding hard enough to visibly shake the door. “Get out here before I come in there and drag your disgraceful ass out!”

 

Green eyes shot a vehement glare toward the door. The ex-knight's hands were surprisingly adept at hurriedly donning pants and silently holstering Hyperion.

 

The blond gave a still searching Squall a questioning glance. The brunet mouthed, `Headmaster Martine', explaining who decided to act as their alarm clock and earn a single digit standing on Seifer's people to kill list.

 

As Seifer made for the door, so did Squall. The blond did a double take before turning and blocking Squall's way.

 

“Get dressed,” Seifer hissed, seeing that Squall had only managed to find a pair of black briefs that the brunet had tried to wear to bed the night before, but he'd protested, since being completely naked was so much more pleasant.

 

With a frown, Squall impatiently gestured to the clothes on the floor. “They're all yours,” he whispered.

 

“Then wear `em,” Seifer shot back, his tone rising just above a whisper.

 

“No,” Squall defied with crossed arms, not the least bit demure or shy about revealing his body, since it was a contingency all SeeD had to overcome early on.

 

Seifer raised his hands as if to strangle the brunet's slender neck, expressing his exasperation for the other's stubbornness and constant need to spite him at the worst moments.

 

The knight's gesture was affectionate in a sense, bringing a small smile to plush, bowed lips. Squall raised a single brown, mimicking the facial expression Seifer took at times and conveying the message that Seifer should open the door or step out of the way so he might do so.

 

Naturally, Seifer was the one to wrench the door open with enough force to send it careening into the wall had he not continued to hold onto it.

 

Martine was a stocky man, still well muscled for his age and job description. Galbadia's Headmaster wasn't necessarily short, but in the circumstance of Ultimecia's knight storming out and towering over him, his height seemed to shrink.

 

The steps the graying Headmaster took backwards were only on account of the fact that he had been so near the door.

 

Seifer stopped short of drawing his blade. He stalked forward, glaring harshly at the man he knew to have a particular vendetta against himself for his take over of Galbadia Garden. Though to be fair, it had been all too easy.

 

“Leonhart,” Martine ground out bitingly, his eyes staring into the knight's green ones.

 

“Headmaster Martine,” Seifer greeted disdainfully, “There will not be a second time you enter uninvited and unharmed.”

 

“Are you threatening me Almasy?” Martine cried incredulously, bristling to stand straighter.

 

“Who let you in?” Seifer asked with menacing intent.

 

“The Head Instructor,” Martine informed scathingly, narrowing his dark brown eyes.

 

Squall pinched the bridge of his nose while Seifer carried on with his tirade of territorial alarm. For a distracted moment, gray-blue eyes studied the bare torso of the blond, a flicker of desire sparking even in such an inappropriate moment.

 

Shaking his head, Squall decided Seifer was influencing him, habitually rousing him from sleep in a far more pleasurable manner than how he'd been disturbed that morning.

 

As if remembering that it was indeed morning, Squall shot a quick glance towards the kitchen, looking for a sign of the hour. It was quite dim, a pale light that was barely perceptible through parted blinds of the window.

 

When the ex-knight started making threats, Squall felt it had gone on long enough. Reaching out he nudged the blond's upper arm, which was tensely muscled, seriously ready to draw Hyperion.

 

Seifer could behave if he felt like it. The only encouragement he received to back down at the moment was the possibility of watching a rather amusing conversation follow. He stepped back, never looking away from the piss ant dignitary who probably didn't remember which end the barrel of a gun was at.

 

The idea of Commander Leonhart being involved with Ultimecia's former knight didn't exactly settle in until that moment, when he saw both men standing nearly naked after coming out of the same bedroom.

 

At fifty-two years old, Gregory Martine was not behind on the times, but still carried a rather high sense of privacy for all personal affairs. It was quite shocking to find the child Commander standing before him, exposing most of that pale form, which was distinctly covered in unmistakable hickies. The tousled mop of longish chocolate colored hair did little to convince him that the two had indeed been sleeping, as opposed to a more abhorrent act.

 

“Is there any particular reason why you've overstepped your authority and admitted yourself to my private quarters?” Squall questioned evenly, his tone hardly expressing any annoyance over the entire ordeal.

 

“Are you insane?” Martine accused, “Which part of your pansy boy anatomy are you thinking with these days Leonhart?”

 

Squall tensed, fearing the worst would come from Seifer's short fused temper. He was a slightly surprised to not have to restrain the tall blond. A quick glance towards the ex-knight told him that Seifer was indeed restraining himself, and allowing him to deal with it.

 

Steely eyes studied Galbadia's Headmaster, which the older man didn't quite know how to take and shifted with impatience… or was it discomfort?

 

“I concede that I should have informed you further ahead of time,” Squall spoke, calmly as ever, “But it was not something I could put off any longer.”

 

“Your incompetence is surprising,” Martine said, not the least bit more comfortable speaking to someone shorter than himself. Those dangerous looking eyes remained unflinching. It didn't help much to remind himself that the effeminate looking boy was gay. Somehow the stereotypes didn't fit, which was something he'd assumed would fall into place, that Squall Leonhart would suddenly demonstrate a far less intimidating side after such an announcement as having a male lover.

 

“So is your ignorance,” Seifer muttered darkly, grinning when the old man shot him an affronted look.

 

“Headmaster Martine, I'm sure you're aware that this isn't something I could keep secret.”

 

“Certainly not, when you invite someone like Ultimecia's guard dog back to Garden and start shacking up with him.”

 

Seifer's brows furrowed, his own mind repeating the exact phrasing used and scoffing at it. “Well, I'm the Commander's guard dog now,” he said, half serious and half teasing.

 

Martine sneered, reluctant to direct his attention to someone who was not even SeeD. He kept his focus on the brunet boy, forcefully not trailing his eyes any lower than the young Commander's head. “His return was something we felt would show us how capable you might be with dealing the enemy, but you've gone too far.”

 

Squall frowned, not quite certain he could assume Martine was of such a mindset as he perceived. “The war is over Headmaster, there are no enemies.”

 

“What idealistic world are you living in soldier!” Martine shouted abruptly, “And put some damn clothes on!” he added.

 

Seifer's grin widened. This was becoming more amusing to him than annoying. How fun would it be to prove to the Headmaster that even the smallest shred of lust for Squall was hypocritical?

 

For a hesitant moment, Squall debated heeding Martine's demanding request. He'd initially planned on throwing the man out and meeting him shortly after within the appropriate setting of his office, but it became apparent that the older man was adamant about having the discussion right there and then.

 

Squall turned, obviously intent on dressing.

 

Seifer assessed his options, finding a plausible excuse for any intimate contact he'd show towards the brunet. He stepped closer as Squall turned his way. Reaching out, he gently cupped the younger man's cheek, startling Squall for a moment. “Want me to toss him?” he questioned hopefully. He shifted his hand to run through tangled locks, giving an affectionate scratch, very much like he was petting a kitten.

 

Involuntarily, Squall leaned into the caress. It would seem his complete sensitivity to the knight's touch was not pending upon the recent conclusion of such intimate and prolonged interactions as on the previous day. It wasn't logical, but at the simple touch, all worries dispersed and his only concern was feeling more.

 

However, proper conduct was also a deeply ingrained instinct, which kicked in with latency. As his lips parted and he nearly dared to turn into the hand and lay a kiss against the palm, he stopped himself. “No,” he replied. He winced at the husky tone of his voice.

 

Seifer was brimming with ill concealed excitement over the strong reactions he was receiving from Squall over the lightest of touches. He gave a responding nod, letting his eyes watch avidly as Squall walked toward the other bedroom. As the tantalizing sight vanished behind a closed door, he straightened his stance, having leaned over to watch that ass for as long as possible.

 

The ex-knight was not at all surprised to find dark brown eyes gleaming in a similar state of distraction, also staring after the Commander. The blond was suddenly torn between drawing his gunblade to brutally blinding the Headmaster and laughing at the salivating man.

 

“See something you like?” Seifer questioned with underlying mirth, though his tone was threatening.

 

“Excuse me?” Martine shot angrily, stiffening as his eyes tore from the empty air before the closed door to glare at the impudent knight.

 

Seifer sneered. “You've got a little drool Headmaster.” He gestured towards the man's face. “I'd watch your remarks about being gay when you yourself seem incapable of not getting turned on by a little skin. It wasn't indecent at all really.”

 

“How dare you,” Martine growled, ashamed to find a slight flush of embarrassment come to his face.

 

“It was getting a little hot in here, wasn't it? I bet you're wishing you had a camera to make it last longer. Or perhaps you'd be man enough to follow Leonhart right now, go in that room and show him exactly how you feel.”

 

The malice was tangible. Martine stared in outrage, an outrage born of several parents.

 

Seifer was a very perceptive man when he tried hard enough. He saw the shock and shame covered by the anger. Seeing this inadvertently stirred his own anger. It was like being caught in a web of his own spinning, putting ideas into the Headmaster's head and then becoming insanely possessive that he wouldn't even allow another man to harbor such thoughts. “Don't even think about it you fucking bastard,” he hissed dangerously.

 

“I could have you court-martialled for such threats, you piece of shit.”

 

“Good luck getting a conviction when I'm not SeeD, you jealous pedophile,” the blond returned. Granted, Squall was not underage, but the brunet had just recently turned eighteen, and he was too pissed to really consider the specifics.

 

“I'm a married man,” Martine defended, eyes wide at the slanderous title given.

 

“Yeah, well I doubt you've ever watched your wife's ass so closely as you just did the Commander's. You might want to think twice about being here on such hypocritical grounds.”

 

Breathing heavily in flustered anger, Martine turned and began walking away. “I'll be in the Headmaster's office, where I'll expect Leonhart to show up unaccompanied by yourself!” he announced over his shoulder.

 

Seifer balled his fists, wanting to slug the man square in the jaw, but refraining. He knew the extent of his anger was unwarranted. This was a prime example of his fears about his emotions getting out of hand when pertaining to Squall.

 

Squall returned in a pair of jeans and dark gray shirt, holding a pair of socks. “Why'd Martine leave?” he questioned, having heard the last statement about being in the office.

 

Naturally, the brunet attributed it to something Seifer had said, so he gazed accusingly at the blond. Instead of receiving an answer however, Squall found himself pulled into the knight's arms and roughly kissed.

 

It was a calmly reassuring action, claiming the brunet's red lips so completely. When the action grew paramount with need, Seifer drew back.

 

As softly innocent blue eyes stared at him in question, the blond said, “Good morning.”

 

 

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