Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Twenty ( Chapter 20 )

Defining Love

Chapter Twenty

 

Red pen scribbling in nearly illegible script, Cale made a quick note in the margin of a student's paper. Deciding that he'd had enough repetitive jargon that was simply a regurgitation of the textbook chapter, he set the paper aside and took a break.

 

Sighing, a hand rubbed weary crimson eyes. Glancing over his desk, he gazed adoringly at the one person who could take his plain clothes and make them the sexiest bits of fabric he'd ever seen.

 

Currently wearing an oversized white t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, Squall slept soundly on the couch in Cale's apartment. The brunet's clothes were in the dryer after being rinsed of the stale chlorine smell that clung so odorously after being drenched in pool water.

 

Deciding to use his break productively, Cale left his workspace and crept quietly to the bathroom, where the washer and dryer were stored in a closet. Though he was reluctant to have Squall change back, it was almost eleven and allowing the pretty man to continue sleeping would only incite annoyance.

 

Squall shot awake at the distant sound of the dryer's door being closed. Face flushed, he willed away the images in his head; terribly horrible images that depicted Seifer doing more than giving him a hickey. Covering his face with his hands after realizing where he was whilst dreaming such a dream, he hung his head in guilt and frustration.

 

Managing to settle down, Squall looked around for Cale. He could think of one way to forget, but he was already racking up bad boyfriend points for using the professor earlier that day.

 

“You're awake I see,” Cale said as he left the bathroom with the brunet's clothes. Though washed of the chlorine scent, it did nothing to keep him from obsessively replaying what had happened in the pool. They'd kissed until the water had been the last thing to threaten to drown them.

 

Taking a steadying breath, Squall berated himself for being so weak. He didn't need to use Cale to forget about Seifer, he had enough willpower to do so on his own. Smiling subtly as the tall man approached, he accepted the warm bundle. Reminded of what he'd done earlier, he wondered if such actions should be apologized for or if that were just his guilt coming into play.

 

Unable to read the quiet man, Cale could only surmise that the brunet was troubled. “Is there something on your mind?” he questioned lightly.

 

Frowning, Squall decided he might better use Cale's help after all. Tugging at the already sinking collar, he slid the large shirt off his left shoulder. Running a hand over the curve of his collarbone, he requested, “Mark me here.” He wasn't certain if anything would make him forget, but repeating the act with someone else might help to blur his minds eye and exchange one man's face for another.

 

Crimson eyes were not easily torn from the appetizing display of pale skin and strong yet elegant curvature along the former commander's neckline. “Are you unhappy about what happened before?” he asked, carrying mixed feelings about what had occurred beyond kissing in the pool.

 

Shaking his head, Squall affirmed once again that not consummating their relationship with sex was fine. Truthfully, he'd been relieved when Cale had withdrawn and not done more than simply bring him to climax with gruff fondling. He'd been seized by inexplicable fear at the intrusive touch against his entrance, never having been with a man before. Though he'd initially suspected that his sudden tensing had clued the professor in on his apprehensive reservations, he'd later learned that Cale had backed down for other reasons. The slightly traditional man had professed to wanting their first time together to be more than a quickie in a locker room.

 

Sitting down, Cale hesitantly fulfilled the smaller man's request. Leaning close, he softly kissed where Squall had indicated. “Would you be angry if I said you've been acting strangely?” he murmured, not looking up into stormy blue eyes.

 

“I know,” Squall replied, entirely aware that he was letting one brief incident affect him more than it should.

 

Not knowing what more he could do except placate the reticent man's every whim, Cale slowly set about blemishing pale skin. In the back of his mind, he wondered how long until Lore showed up in an angry tirade for defiling his father.

 

--

 

It had been a whole six days since Squall had last heard from or seen Seifer. Ready to go out of his mind, he didn't understand the ex-knight at all. Had it been a joke? If not, why hadn't the man called or shown up? He just didn't understand.

 

Flustered, Squall drove out to the thirty-second district with intentions of resolving matters once and for all. If it had been some joke, he'd make certain the arrogant man understood just how humorless such actions truly were. If it had been done because the blond seriously liked, then he'd reject the man more civilly and without confusion.

 

Squall felt uneasy as he pulled up outside the red brick building that Seifer's apartment was in. While he could assume Seifer had given up after he'd stormed out of the man's apartment before, he knew the ex-knight too well to think that was the case. Perhaps it was unnecessary to show up in person, but he was too prideful to use a phone as though he was afraid of doing it in person. Not wanting to wait any long, he felt as though if he didn't make a move, Seifer would wind up at one of Lore's soccer games and make a spectacle.

 

--

 

Seifer yielded his aggressive pursuit for the sake of overall success in getting what he wanted. Considering he'd been flat out rejected, he wasn't playing hard to get, but giving Leonhart time to come around. He was obviously the better choice in every respect, even if the oblivious ice prince didn't see it.

 

There was something entirely gratifying in waiting for stubborn brunet to come to him, knowing that pretty little head was filled with thoughts of himself. It was about damn time he wasn't the only one obsessing. Unable to be certain of how big an impact he'd had, he was going to give Leonhart a couple more days to show up.

 

Lounging on his bed, he was halfheartedly flipping though the latest issue of Weapons Monthly when the object of his desires came knocking. Grinning broadly, it took quite a bit of effort for Seifer to stop smiling. Happier than he'd expected, he practically leapt off his bed.

 

Turning around quickly, he smoothed his hair back and scanned his apartment briefly. He'd forgone purchasing any furniture for the sake of luring Leonhart back in and conveniently getting the man into his bed. Checking his appearance as best he could in the window, he ascertained that there would be no missing his muscle definition in his white beater. Though, he had to wonder what level Leonhart's powers of observation were at when his attempts at seduction failed so miserably last time.

 

When the impatient brunet knocked again, Seifer strode across the small loft apartment to answer the unmistakable call. The sharp sound that came in no more than two raps was quietly demanding just like Leonhart was.

 

Opening the door, Seifer smirked and leaned his broad form against the frame of the door. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he greeted smarmily.

 

Squall showed his appreciation for such an attitude with a glare. Crossing his arms, he questioned demandingly, “What are you planning?”

 

Jade green eyed were alight with amusement. “Planning?” Seifer repeated incredulously. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

Squall opened his mouth to retort, but found himself silenced by the ex-knight's fingers. He was delayed in reacting, wishing he'd been quick enough to bite the digits off.

 

Lowering his hand, Seifer resisted the urge to touch soft lips again. He would be satisfied with shushing his former rival in a condescending manner. “Why don't you come in and we'll talk,” he suggested civilly.

 

Eyeing the blond suspiciously, Squall debated his options. He didn't want to argue in the middle of a hallway where anyone could hear. “You won't touch me?” he questioned bluntly.

 

“I'll restrain myself,” Seifer assured, his tone hardly convincing. Backing away from the door, he admitted the smaller man. He waited impatiently while a wary lion hesitated. At length he muttered, “I'm not going to rape you Leonhart, so get in here already.”

 

Glaring harshly, Squall hissed, “I know.” He was developing pet peeve about anything dealing with rape, even if mentioned in sarcastic jest.

 

“Well if you know it, why are you standing there like you're trying to protect your damn virginity?” Seifer remarked.

 

Angrily, Squall stalked inside the ex-knight's apartment. He wasn't sure of what to expect. An apology was out of the question when dealing with someone as ridiculously cocky as Seifer.

 

“What's on your mind?” the blond questioned amicably, knowing he'd touched a sore spot with the way stormy blue eyes narrowed. His confidence was boosted with the confirmation that he'd managed to accomplish what he wanted. Seducing the brunet had been such a disaster that he'd begun to think he wasn't as capable as he'd thought.

 

“Don't play dumb,” Squall returned. “What was that about? There's a limit to joking around.” He began to wonder what possible reason there was for trying to salvage his relationship with the ex-knight when it had never been very good.

 

Running a hand through golden blond hair, Seifer raked his eyes over the brunet's lithe form, which was sadly clad in baggy black jeans and concealing grey turtleneck. Checking the man out blatantly, he made certain to do so until pale cheeks heated in understanding of what he was doing.

 

Fidgeting uncomfortably, Squall crossed his arms. He suddenly felt terribly exposed. “Stop,” he mumbled, staring at the floor in embarrassment. If there was one thing he couldn't take, it was being looked at under such a penetrating gaze. Those eyes had often looked at him in intense scrutiny, but it was far worse now that he suspected dirty thoughts were forming inside the blond's head.

 

Taking a deep breath, Seifer fought the urge to jump the innocent man. “I'm free to look, aren't I?” he protested.

 

“No,” Squall replied, face flushing a shade darker.

 

“Stingy,” Seifer complained, turning away for the sake of not attacking the man. Such reactions stirred him up and made him lose perspective. Walking to the small kitchen nook, he questioned, “Want a drink?”

 

Unable to keep up with such fluctuating moods, Squall pressed a cold hand to his cheeks. How could he let Seifer get to him so easily? “No,” he answered belatedly. Glancing around, he tried to find a place that he might sit, but quickly realized nothing had changed since he'd last been there. Thinking back on how easily he'd just sat next to the blond on the same bed, he reflected on the mistake with newfound sensibility. He supposed there was really no more danger in sitting near the man on a bed than there was if they'd been seated elsewhere, but it certainly seemed like a more intimate setting.

 

Slipping into lost reverie, Squall tried for the millionth time to find some indicating factor that Seifer had been interested in him. It was something that was almost driving him as crazy as not being able to get the man's face out of his head. Years of rivalry and their more recent civil relationship held no red flags that he could think of.

 

Seifer returned with two bottles of water, which was basically all his fridge was stocked with. He rarely spent time in his apartment. It was more like a storage space. Frowning, he studied the pretty man's vacant expression. He understood why the son and best friend were so protective. That night out at the abandoned lot, he'd thought it was just general unawareness or undo trust. However, he now knew for certain just how naïve the brunet was to the true nature of the common man. “If you let your guard down, I will eat you up,” he warned, half serious.

 

Starting in surprise, Squall regarded the ex-knight with a scowl. “Stop saying such weird things.” Eat him up? What did that even mean?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Seifer nodded in momentary compliance. “Here,” he said, holding a bottle out.

 

“I said-”

 

“I know what you said, I'm not deaf,” Seifer interjected. “You look like you need it, so take it.”

 

Refusing the offer, Squall walked away. Unable to go very far, he moved towards a nearby window and feigned interest in the back alley view.

 

If Seifer had known Leonhart was so weak against sexual advances, he'd have stared lewdly across the classroom every time grey-blue eyes looked his way. Excited to exploit the weakness that he'd spent half his life searching for, Seifer followed the pale man's trail. Towering from behind, he could tell his presence was suffocating the brunet. Reaching around, he pressed the drink against a firm chest. “Take it,” he said, voice dropping a note.

 

Squall bit his lip hard to keep from losing his senses. Seifer was so close, he could practically feel the man pressing up against him. “Don't get so close,” he bit out tersely.

 

Smirking, Seifer pointed out, “I wouldn't have to if you'd show some manners.”

 

Snatching the bottle of water, Squall said, “There, now back off.”

 

Backing away, Seifer stated, “Remember, you came to me.”

 

Whirling around, Squall returned, “Because of what you did.” Defensive of his position on coming there, he was losing his composure.

 

Chuckling, Seifer commented, “I don't think I've ever seen you this worked up.”

 

Bottling up his frustrations, Squall settled down. Masking his annoyance, he questioned, “Was coming over all those times because of me?” Though he'd drawn his own conclusions without actually asking, he'd begun to warm up to the idea of Seifer being on good terms with Lore.

 

Studying effeminate features, Seifer answered honestly, “No.”

 

“Then what?” Squall pressed, needing to understand.

 

Green eyes stared for a long moment. Even Seifer wasn't entirely certain what had changed, though he knew what had triggered his conscious self into realizing it. “I was jealous of that professor.”

 

Beyond uncomfortable, Squall simply nodded his understanding even though he really didn't understand at all. Desperate to fill the silent void that came when the blond was apparently finished explained, he hastily twisted the cap off his drink.

 

“You feel something for me,” Seifer stated deadpan.

 

Nearly spitting his mouthful of water out, Squall swallowed painfully. Valiantly hiding his shock and embarrassment, he simply stared. “Pity,” he said quietly, hating how he could only think to attack with his words when Seifer had him in a corner. He didn't want the blond to know how he'd been consumed by a single kiss, even if it meant saying harsh and unwarranted words.

 

“Pity?” Seifer questioned with interest. He was far from pitiful and wondered if that was the best excuse Leonhart could come up with.

 

Gaze sharpening to match his words, Squall elaborated, “I feel pity for you if you're simply jealous of what another man has? You'll never be happy because such feelings are fleeting.”

 

Mood darkening, Seifer jibed, “You sound hurt. Are you worried that I'll stop liking you once I've had you?”

 

Frowning, Squall asserted, “That's not what I meant.”

 

“Hmm,” Seifer intoned with dark amusement. “It sure seems like that.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Squall battled his flustered emotions. Why couldn't he keep a level head? “Whatever,” he mumbled, feigning disinterest.

 

Annoyed by Leonhart's continued ability to remain composed, if only barely, Seifer questioned, “So why are you really here?”

 

“I already told you,” the brunet said, refusing to repeat himself.

 

“But that wasn't the truth,” Seifer replied.

 

“…”

 

“You already know why I did what I did, and I think you can probably guess why I haven't been in contact with you since the,” Seifer stated.

 

Shaking his head, Squall refuted, “I don't know.”

 

Stepping closer, Seifer said more firmly, “You do.”

 

Thinking to himself for a doubtful moment, Squall considered how all his thoughts had been taken over by one person. As each day had gone by, he'd obsessed more and more until he'd been compelled to come out and see Seifer under the pretense of fixing things. To think that his obsession had been planned by the ex-knight was too much.

 

Infuriated, Squall reacted before he could temper his unmanageable emotions. Punching the blond man gave him little relief, especially when he knew such an emotional reaction played right into the arrogant man's hands. Where had his perfected resistance to the blond's taunts gone?

 

Hand rubbing his jaw, Seifer smirked. “Worked up are we?” he muttered cynically. Straightening a bit, he stepped closer. “Tell me,” he began, arms caging the smaller man in. “Could you even look that tool of yours in the eye? Did you wake up with my face in your head?”

 

Backed against the window, Squall glared up at the bullying blond.

 

“Well?” Seifer prompted.

 

“…” Squall just glared.

 

“I'm curious,” Seifer began, moving a hand down slowly. “Did you think this shirt would stop me?”

 

Knocking the ex-knight's hand away, Squall attempted to move around the blocking man, intent on leaving. “I don't want to see you again.”

 

“Do you think it's that easy?” Seifer questioned, drawing the brunet's undivided attention by flinging his water across the room.

 

Turning in surprise, Squall gazed at the blond with question in his eyes.

 

“Do you think I'll just let you walk away?” Seifer asked, voice rising in anger at being rejected again. This time he knew he'd gotten to the former commander. He knew he'd made some impression, which was all the encouragement he needed.

 

Wondering if the ex-knight intended to thrash around on the ground and throw a temper tantrum, Squall was stunned when the man suddenly came at him. Tackled, he collided with the hard floor. “Dammit,” he cursed, head spinning after taking a hard hit.

 

“You wore this to provoke me,” Seifer accused, tearing at the high collar.

 

“No,” Squall protested, pushing at broad shoulders. He was somewhat frightened by how little he knew his former rival. The Seifer he thought he knew would not have acted in such a way. The young man he'd grown up with had limits and boundaries even if that cocky attitude made it seem otherwise.

 

Seifer grappled with evasive arms while trying to expose a slender neck. Squall tried to keep his cool while shoving at the man atop him, continually pulling assaulting hands away from his shirt.

 

Both men ceased their struggling abruptly.

 

Squall went stiff, knowing exactly what jade green eyes saw. Not knowing how the ex-knight would react, he hoped he wouldn't end up having to fight. Sparring was different from fighting, because it didn't involve emotion. He didn't like fighting when it played on his emotions so much, because he knew he'd end up hurt with more than physical wounds.

 

More pressing than what the blond was doing, Squall found his reactions to be the greatest cause for distress. What was it that drew him to Seifer? Why couldn't he forget what had happened? Why was his heart racing with anticipation?

 

“These aren't mine,” Seifer observed aloud, eyes fixated on the fairly fresh kiss marks all along a pale collar and neck. Jealousy raging, he released the neck of the brunet's shirt and gripped narrow shoulders tightly. “You came here with these on you, hoping that I'd find them,” he concluded angrily.

 

“Seifer, stop it,” Squall ordered.

 

“You came here because you couldn't stop thinking about me,” the blond persisted. “You knew I wanted you, and you came. You knew I was jealous, and you left these for me to find.”

 

“I didn't,” the former commander hissed, maneuvering his arm to the side and attempting to turn over and out of the blond' s hold.

 

“Stop being stubborn and just admit it,” Seifer ordered, straddling the smaller man's form and using his weight to keep the brunet in place. He was not a patient man, nor was he reasonable when it came to something he wanted. His philosophy in life was to use any means necessary.

 

“Get off,” Squall ordered, attempting to buck the ex-knight off.

 

Annoyed, Seifer pressed down harder, pinning slim hips. “Stop playing hard to get, you know you want me,” he said with annoyance.

 

Grunting with effort, Squall resolved he'd have to fight the man to gain his freedom. “I'm impossible for you to get, you bastard,” he hissed, jabbing at a tender kidney.

 

Hunching over, Seifer quickly grabbed offending arms. “I'm bigger and stronger,” he taunted, binding bony wrists above the brunet's head.

 

Glaring, Squall squirmed around futilely. Arching up, he tried once more to buck the heavy weight off.

 

Gloating in dominance, Seifer skimmed a hand beneath the smaller man's shirt, his palm ghosting over a taught stomach of defined abs. It was firmer than a woman's, but if he recalled correctly, bowed lips were very soft. Taking his chances, he dipped low and captured plush lips.

 

Wide eyed, Squall stiffened. Body heating, he turned his head away. The hand at his stomach left and his jaw was gripped tightly. Scrunching his eyes, he willed his heart to stop beating so fast and for his kindling arousal to vanish.

 

Insistent, Seifer didn't relent despite the beating his ego was taking at the amount of force necessary.

 

Squall didn't know how it happened, but before he could think of turning his head away again, he was kissing Seifer back fiercely. No slight action, meshing lips and twining tongues were the result.

 

Groaning in satisfaction, Seifer quickly overcame his surprise. He never imagined Leonhart would taste so good. Blood rushed south, making him painstakingly aware of how turned on his rival was capable of making him. Releasing his bruising grip on the brunet's wrists, he let his hands roam elsewhere.

 

Arms freed, Squall's initial instinct was to fend the ex-knight off, but he couldn't seem to remember why he'd wanted freedom in the first place. He decided to bide his time battling the blond's tongue while trying to remember.

 

Anger abated, Seifer's jealousy and bruised ego were soothed at the restrained sound of enjoyment the brunet gave off. Lapping at slick licks, he broke away just in time to wring a clear note of pleasure from the man as he ground his pelvis down hard.

 

Dazed grey-blue eyes peeked from behind heavy lids, lacking the sharp awareness usually present. “Don't,” Squall managed breathily, protesting the friction against his groin. He didn't want to become aroused, even if it felt good. He simply couldn't go against the distant part of his brain that knew it was wrong.

 

“Look at you,” Seifer said huskily, greedily observing glossy eyes dazed with lust and flushed cheeks heated with growing arousal. It was such an honest reaction, even if it had taken a bit of force to bring it out. “You're so sensitive,” he commented, able to see the man's nipples beneath the grey shirt.

 

Attempting to scowl, Squall failed when the blond suddenly pinched his nipples. He didn't understand why it felt good, only that it did.

 

Licking his lips, Seifer tweaked pert nubs, but grew annoyed by the feel of cotton. Slipping a hand beneath the brunet's shirt, he felt warm skin directly. Groping what would have been a breast if Leonhart had an X instead of a Y chromosome, he found his palm cupping nothing but firm muscle. He was mildly disappointed and uncertain what homosexual foreplay included. Settling on playing with a hard nipple, he found the resulting groan of pleasure satisfactory.

 

Head thrashing against the hard floor, the dulled pain of his bump barely registering, Squall tried to settle down. Hands grasping for some purchasing hold, he managed to do nothing but wrinkle the blond's sleeveless top.

 

As Seifer became increasingly erect, he realized that he wasn't the only one. He could feel the brunet's bulge from beneath. Feeling repulsion, he knew he couldn't simply have his jollies and leave the former commander unsatisfied. Though he was at a point where he'd usually stripped off all clothing, he decided to leave whatever barriers there were between his manhood and Leonhart's.

 

Seifer could accept that he wanted Leonhart, but he couldn't accept that the brunet was a man. Concluding that it probably wouldn't take much to get the sensitive man off, he pressed a thigh between the former commander's legs.

 

Closing his eyes tightly, Squall bit his lip and tried to keep silent as the ex-knight suddenly began rocking against him. He could feel the blond's solid manhood rubbing against his thigh.

 

Able to deal with bringing another man off if he received such reactions as Leonhart gave, Seifer continued to move atop his quarry, soon feeling nothing but his own pleasure.

 

All too soon, Squall was coming. Arching back, he barely registered that Seifer was sucking hard at his neck while continuing to rock against him. When the blond tensed atop him, he knew he wasn't the only one to climax.

 

Going limp, Squall lay on the floor while catching his breath. Reality was setting in, bringing remorse and shame. Like some horny teenager, he'd been unable to contain himself, even coming in his pants as though he hadn't had any control to hold back.

 

Satisfied, Seifer lazily found his way back to plush lips. Kissing the brunet again, he was taken by surprise when the man turned away and pushed him off.

 

“Get the hell away from me,” Squall hissed, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Horrified at what had just happened, he suppressed the turmoil he felt as it swelled up and stung his eyes with tears. He was such a mess.

 

“What's your problem?” Seifer returned angrily, continued rejection striking a chord in him.

 

Clutching the collar of his shirt, tugging it high to cover whatever the blond had done, Squall stalked away quickly. “You've gotten what you wanted, now stay away from me,” he ordered heatedly, not looking back.

 

Seifer was in shock as the brunet left, door slamming loudly. Staring, he was bereft of understanding. Uncomfortable after making a mess in his pants, he decided to think after he cleaned himself up. If Leonhart thought that was the end of it, then the pale man was gravely mistaken.

 

TBC…