Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Defining Love ( Chapter 25 )

Defining Love

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

Seifer sat on the couch in Leonhart's apartment, reclining back carefully so as not to strain the fabric of his pants too tightly across his sensitive groin. It would seem no amount of willpower could keep his mind from racing with lewd thoughts, but his ego would not allow his body to dictate his actions. Nonetheless, he was well aware that there was a limit and doubted that he could spend another quarter hour under the pretense of weapon inventory.

 

Feeling almost antsy, he stood abruptly and paced for a moment. The kid was up and about and he couldn't seem to find a single moment of privacy with Leonhart, but a small part of him was grateful for such circumstances. When he looked into those bright grey-blue eyes, he could see his inner battle mirrored. He was almost proud of the lust he'd incited in the ice prince, but at the same time wary of what might happen should he lose control.

 

Squall was quite satisfied to glimpse Seifer pacing like a caged animal, obviously suffering as much as he was. It had almost become a game, a test of who had more control.

 

Feeling that he was no longer alone, Seifer turned about and faced the lithe figure standing in the kitchen's entryway. “Done making tea?” he said tauntingly, suddenly in no mood for airs or gestures of false kindness. The kid was smart enough to know he didn't have a single noble bone in his body, and that his pursuit of Daddy dearest was purely physical.

 

Jaw clenching, Squall glanced at his watch, sending the message that the ex-knight had over stayed his welcome. It was nearly ten o'clock and with Lore in the shower and Laguna at the presidential palace, there were no chaperones. He simply could not be with Seifer alone, and he wasn't the only one who knew it.

 

Seifer smirked, pointedly gazing around the large room, now aware that he did have a moment alone with the brunet. “I don't bite,” he said darkly, unable to keep from stripping his former rival bare with his eyes. He respected the work that went into keeping that relatively small frame sculpted.

 

“You do actually,” Squall returned, not budging from his place in the doorway. He was clearly reluctant to move any closer to the ex-knight, which only served to solidify that he was attracted to the man. If he felt nothing, then there shouldn't have been anything to stay away from.

 

With a mirthless chuckle, Seifer strode to the sliding glass doors and gazed outside without any interest in the buildings he saw across the street. “I want you, Leonhart,” he stated plainly, tiring of the fighter's continued resistance.

 

Squall finally strayed from his place, leaving behind the safety of distance. “That's your problem,” he informed evenly, sitting down on the couch and scanning the strewn weapon magazines and order forms on the rectangular coffee table.

 

“No,” Seifer remarked snidely, turning back and staring at the former commander intensely. “It's your problem too, because I'm not a patient man.”

 

Swallowing thickly, Squall felt his stomach flutter, not an entirely unpleasant feeling. Licking his lips, he reminded, “You're jealous, Seifer. Put your ego aside for once and let it go.” If Seifer was simply jealous, then where did he stand as far as excuses went? What was his excuse for returning the man's lust? With a scowl, he grew indignant. He did not like what was happening at all.

 

Scoffing, Seifer questioned with distain, “Why are you even dating this guy?” Referring to the white haired islander, he saw no valid reason for Leonhart to be with some bowtie wearing professor.

 

Glaring coolly, Squall made it clear that he was not pleased with the topic. He did not want Cale dragged into it. He did not want to pit the kind professor against the jealous ex-knight, because making Seifer a rival for his affections would give meaning to the heartless lust between them. “It's not your business,” he said at length, hardly compelled to list legitimate reasons for any of his relationships.

 

“Then let's make it my business. If this prick is standing in my way, I'll make it my mission to find out everything about him. If you won't tell me, then that leaves one other option.”

 

Eyes narrowing, Squall warned, “Leave Cale alone.”

 

Seifer was struck by the brunet's apparent protectiveness. Angered, he threatened, “I suppose I should introduce myself. I wonder if he knows the history we share.”

 

Squall would have felt threatened if he hadn't already come clean with Cale on Saturday. “He knows enough,” he stated cryptically, unwilling to admit that Seifer's advances were something he had deemed as an act of infidelity on his part. Though he imagined it was already quite obvious that he wouldn't mind sleeping with the ex-knight, or at least his body wouldn't object.

 

“Dad,” Lore spoke with a detectible note of worry, approaching from the hallway that branched off from the main flat. Staring for a long moment, Lore eventually asked, “Do I have practice today?” He knew the answer, but had needed something to say when he felt like he had intruded at an awkward moment. It was strange considering that the atmosphere between them had been fine before he'd left to take a shower and dress for the day.

 

“No,” Squall assured. Even the city government buildings are closed, so there was no question about whether Lore had soccer practice.

 

Frowning, Seifer turned away and stared resolutely out the balcony doors once more. He could see no satisfying end to his visit that day. “I should go,” he announced, not needing the frustration that came with Leonhart's pert ass being within reach yet untouchable. “See me out,” he added demandingly, requiring a few moments alone with the stubborn brunet before he left.

 

Scowling, Squall made a point of glancing across the room to the apartment's front door, indicating the utter ridiculousness in showing the ex-knight out. When the blond gathered the strewn mess on the coffee table and stood expectantly, he rolled his eyes. Standing, he strode towards the apartment's entryway.

 

Towering above the former commander, Seifer made certain there was as little distance between them as possible without actually touching. “A few moments if you please,” he muttered with mocking politeness while glancing back at the fidgeting kid.

 

Glaring, Lore muttered darkly beneath his breath before storming back down the hallway to give his father privacy. He loathed the ex-knight at that moment. He was torn between wanting to protect his father and wanting to prove that he was not inclined to behaving like some jealous lover.

 

Grinning his amusement over the raven-haired boy's short display, Seifer quickly sobered when he gazed down into steely blue eyes. Taking a somewhat unsteady breath, he felt his loins fill with need. Not quite daring to touch the annoyingly stubborn brunet, he simply stared.

 

Squall's agitation slowly faded, giving way to intense arousal. He felt as though green eyes could see through every bit of clothing he had on. Impassive demeanor breaking, his lips parted to take in a tremulous breath.

 

Seifer searched coolly guarded eyes, waiting for the moment when that icy wall fell and revealed the lust he had seen earlier. At the sight of a pink tongue darting out to wet plush lips, his focus wavered.

 

Squall caught the flickering gaze, knowing the blond was looking at his lips. Reading the man's thoughts, which were completely in tune with his own, he waited with mounting anticipation. It was so wrong. There was simply no excuse, but he presently felt as though he had no control. The predatory gleam in green eyes seemed to impair his ability to think and act rationally.

 

Seeing the willingness in Leonhart's gaze, Seifer slowly reached a hand up. Cupping a delicate chin, he ran his thumb over a pout bottom lip, feeling its softness in contrast to his calloused digit. “You're playing a dangerous game,” he warned, his throbbing manhood all too aware of how the brunet wasn't pulling back.

 

Chest rising and falling in quick succession, Squall spoke against the ex-knight's thumb, “You're the only one playing games here.” His words were accusing, but his tone was expectant. Heart drumming faster, he felt certain Seifer was about to kiss him.

 

Eyes sharpening, Seifer seized narrow shoulders and roughly jerked Leonhart closer, his folder dropping to the floor. Acting on instinct, he crushed the brunet's mouth his own. Waiting for no invitation, he pushed soft lips apart with his tongue and demanded entrance.

 

Lost, Squall succumbed to an insistent tongue. His mouth was suddenly filled with the ex-knight's wet appendage and all rational thought fled his mind. A muffled cry escaped him when a gruff hand unexpectedly slid beneath the waist of his jeans and groped his buttocks.

 

Seifer had wanted to touch Leonhart's ass for some time and contented himself to cop a rough feel while he had the chance. Kneading the soft flesh he continued to plunder Leonhart's sweetly tasting mouth. He groaned as tentative fingers slid along his shoulders and around to the nape of his neck. The touch left searing heat in its wake. Feeling the form in his hold begin to tremble, he took a step closer to the wall and pinned responsive fighter.

 

Squall allowed himself to be directed, unable to form a single coherent thought. His body felt strangely weak as a heady lust coursed through him. He was completely intoxicated.

 

Nipping at slick lips, Seifer became violent in his need to taste Squall. He simply couldn't get enough. The brunet was like some sort of fucking drug, and he wanted more.

 

Clutching to the back of the ex-knight's shirt collar, Squall shivered compulsively as every inch of his body was in contact with the blond's. Hard muscles kept him pressed against an equally hard wall. His senses were overwhelmed by the touch and taste of his former rival. The faint woodsy cologne was stronger, a distinct scent he enjoyed. He gave off an embarrassing simper when the man bit his lip sharply, almost drawing blood.

 

“Wider,” Seifer growled in demand, explaining why he had bit the brunet in reprimand.

 

Complying before even understand what the ex-knight wanted, Squall opened his mouth wider to accept with man deeper. He couldn't recall ever kissing someone so deeply before.

 

What Seifer wasn't doing with his manhood, he was doing with his tongue. He was pleased that the ice prince was quite skilled at kissing. A jealous notion formed in the back of his mind that Leonhart had gotten good with practice, practice involving other men. Stabbing his tongue deeper, he roved the brunet's mouth violently while throwing mental accusations at the man. Finally, when the distant notion grew, he broke away abruptly.

 

Squall whined quietly at the sudden loss. Panting, he opened his eyes a bit and slowly focused on the ex-knight's roguishly seductive features.

 

Having no control over his emotions, Seifer squeezed the former commander's shoulders tightly. “Who else have you done this with?” he demanded accusingly.

 

It took Squall a moment to recognize the fury in the blond's voice. Confused, his brows drew together as his mind attempted to think clearly.

 

“Who else?” Seifer demanded, shaking the brunet roughly. He was too wound up to even think about tempering his anger.

 

“No one,” Squall answered with a very vague understanding of what it was the ex-knight wanted from him. “Not like this,” he added, consumed with the knowledge that he had never felt such overwhelming passion.

 

“Dammit,” Seifer cursed, sneering at his rival's obvious lie. Regardless of knowing that he wasn't the first to taste the attractive man, he was inexplicably soothed by those lust-dazed words. Dipping lower, he claimed swollen lips again.

 

Meeting the man's hungry mouth, Squall hastily drew that demandingly invasive tongue back in, twining it with his own. His brief moment of clarity vanished and his worries about being caught became nonexistent. Fingers playing with the fine hair at the nape of the ex-knight's neck, he pressed impossibly closer.

 

Slipping a thigh between Leonhart's legs, Seifer pressed his hips forward more firmly. His arousal was more than a slight bulge in his pants, it was rock hard and tenting the dark fabric across his groin. He was literally consumed with lust.

 

Squall could feel the entire length of Seifer's manhood pressing against his stomach. He could tell the ostentatious man was not over compensating for anything, and such knowledge made him shiver with a distant ache for something he couldn't identify. The heat between them was almost too much to handle, but he could not pull away.

 

“Squall!”

 

Hearing the distantly familiar voice, Squall ignored the call. It wasn't until a stern hand not belonging to Seifer clamped down on his upper arm that his eyes snapped open in surprise. Kiss broken, the heat turned abruptly cold and he was filled with dread.

 

“Fuck off, Kinneas!” Seifer snapped as the unwelcome gunman tried to pry between himself and the sweetly surrendering brunet.

 

“Get the hell out of here, Almasy!” Irvine returned, using every ounce of his strength to shove the formidable blond back. Successful, if only because he had the better leverage, he stepped between the wildly lustful pair. Arm reaching out to make certain he couldn't be removed from Squall's side, he pulled his friend close while drawing his gun and taking aim.

 

Beyond livid, there was no word that could properly express the level of pernicious intent flashing in jade-green eyes. Barely able to hold back, Seifer glared balefully while panting.

 

“Irvine,” Squall began in alarm. He hadn't even detected the gunman's presence. Registering what the auburn haired man must have seen, his dread grew. He was still breathless from kissing the ex-knight and couldn't imagine a worse state to be found in.

 

“We'll talk later,” Irvine assured, gently squeezing the form he held steadily against his side. If his keen senses were correct, the former commander was too weak kneed to stand properly.

 

“Kinneas,” Seifer began slowly, voice wavering in his barely contained anger, “I already told you to stay out of my way.” In fact, it had been an order he had beaten into the sharp shooter.

 

Jaw clenching, Irvine wasn't about to argue his standing in the matter. “Out,” he directed again, violet-blue eyes never blinking. “I'm a sore loser too, Almasy, and I'm not so honorable that I won't take revenge with this gun.”

 

As Squall stared into the ex-knight's eyes, he saw a man he didn't recognize. He had seen the blond angry before, but never so completely consumed with fury. “Irvine,” he began, tugging at the gunman's long brown duster. He had the sick realization that it wasn't the first time the pair had faced off, but he knew what both men were capable of and did not want to see Irvine hurt or forced to commit some regrettable act.

 

Expression tight and strained, Seifer tried to calm down. He had always been cautious of his short temper, being that he was a man capable of terrible destruction. He could not fight Kinneas in such a state. He would end up killing the gunman, either intentionally or accidentally. Balling his fists, he sneered viciously before stalking away. He didn't look back or bother to retrieve the folder he had dropped. The amount of anger he felt inside and lack of control he had over it was frightening. He knew it was time to cool his head when he became afraid of his own actions.

 

Even as the ex-knight jammed the elevator button, he battled himself for control. He hated losing control. First he couldn't stop touching his pretty boy rival, and then he had seen red so violently that he would have likely taken the gunman's life.

 

Back in the apartment, Irvine stood frozen for a moment, heart beating rapidly. Somehow, he felt as though he had narrowly escaped with his life. Seifer Almasy was more than a threat to Squall's relationship with Cale, the ex-knight was a threat in the worst sense of the word.

 

Squall stared after Seifer, unconscious of how tightly he was gripping the front of Irvine's coat. He was so confused and mixed up inside that he didn't know what to think. The fact that he was sincerely concerned for the ex-knight wasn't helping when his focus needed to be more self-centered.

 

Hand to his mouth to keep from making any noise, Lore stood pressed against the wall adjacent to the entryway. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but he had only intended to give Seifer a couple minutes alone with his father. What he had stumbled upon was a sight so shocking that he had been completely dumbfounded. His first instinct had been to hide, lest his father know he had seen. To his shame, he had just stood there like a deer caught in headlights, listening and panicking inside. His uncle's sudden arrival seemed a godsend.

 

Starting abruptly, Lore quietly moved away. Unable to reach his room fast enough, his heart was beating madly. It wasn't until he closed his bedroom door that he began to breath again. Stumbling to his bed, he collapsed and tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed. Swallowing dryly, he realized that his father was sleeping with Seifer. He had been lied to.

 

--

 

Gently tugging at silky strands of dark brown hair, Cale tried to pull Squall off before he came. “Squall,” he called, his voice deep with arousal.

 

Panting, Squall lifted his head, releasing the professor's slick manhood from his mouth. If he weren't doing it right, he would prefer some form of instruction or indication of what else to do. “What?” he questioned, mildly irritated at feeling like an unskilled cadet again.

 

“I'm close,” Cale explained, head falling back against the couch for a moment.

 

Frowning, Squall didn't understand why it was necessary for him to stop in order to know that.

 

Starting at the feel of wet heat surrounding his throbbing length once more, Cale jerked upright and quickly elaborated, “You don't have to do that.”

 

Pulling off once again, slightly perturbed that his fumbling attempt to pleasure the islander was not having the desired effect, Squall glanced up. “Is it wrong?” he asked bluntly.

 

“Hyne no,” Cale exclaimed. “I mean you don't need to…” he trailed off, crimson eyes watching as the former commander ignored his words and dipped back down to surround him. Forgetting his attempts to warn the brunet, he cried out and gripped soft hair.

 

Bitter release filling his mouth, Squall swallowed the thick fluid reflexively. Considering it was his first time servicing a man, the soldier in him was eager to perfect the act. The taste wasn't as repulsive as he had believed it would be, but heavy and sweet.

 

“Squall,” Cale called, gently tugging silky hair again. “That's enough, please.”

 

“…” Releasing the softening length, Squall gave the professor a confused look.

 

Tucking himself away, Cale hastily assured, “You were great.” Seeing doubt in stormy blue eyes, he sighed. He was not a foolish man. He might have been completely in love with the laconic brunet, but he was hardly naïve. “When we're together, I want it to be just us,” he explained. The honest fighter had confessed to sharing a kiss with Seifer Almasy earlier that day. He would have been an idiot not to see some connection between Squall's confession and the sudden aggressiveness in determinedly servicing him.

 

Brows furrowed, Squall pointed out, “We're the only ones here.”

 

Smiling wryly, Cale pulled the lithe fighter up onto the couch. Drawing the man close, he kissed plush lips softly. “I said that I forgive you. I will always forgive you,” he murmured. “You don't need to feel guilty like this. There is nothing to make up for.”

 

Wrought with guilt, Squall realized there was no covering that he was trying to somehow compensate for being with Seifer. “You should be angry,” he pointed out.

 

Smiling against soft lips, Cale asked jokingly, “Is that what you want?”

 

Frowning, Squall pulled away and stared into smiling crimson eyes. How could Cale smile? “Why?” he murmured.

 

Smile faltering, Cale's gazed sobered. “After you told me what happened the first time, I realized something,” he explained calmly. “I wasn't being fair to you.”

 

Scowling, Squall glanced away. How was Cale the bad guy in such a situation?

 

“I can't force you to love me,” Cale stated. “I also can't force you to remain completely loyal when you've had so little time to adjust.” Being more than friends was a very vague concept. He had thought Squall was comfortable with their relationship and had accepted him as a boyfriend. He now realized that his assumptions were premature. Squall still needed time to adjust, and even more time to fall in love. He wouldn't pressure the former commander into it, and could hardly demand absolute loyalty.

 

“…” Disparaged, Squall realized his loyalty was being questioned. He prided himself on being loyal and trustworthy, but sorely understood that Cale had every right to doubt him. His integrity was nonexistent when he had so blindly fallen prey to some insane lust. He was a fool to have become involved with Seifer twice.

 

“Not loyal,” Cale asserted quickly, too late to save the former commander from appearing entirely crestfallen. “`Exclusive' is what I meant,” he assured, unable to undo the damage. “I can't ask that you never look at anyone else when you never would have accepted me without being pressured.”

 

“I wasn't pressured,” Squall muttered. He had been encouraged by Irvine, but never pressured. He made his own decisions. His decision to become romantically involved with the man seated next to him had been his own.

 

“All I'm saying is that I understand. He's a very attractive man, but I trust that you want to be with me.” It was the only hope Cale had.

 

Quirking a brow, Squall regarded the crimson-eyed professor dubiously. It didn't quite make sense to him.

 

Not wanting to carry on under such a strained atmosphere, Cale tried to lighten the mood and move on. “He's not my type of course,” he stated airily, smiling faintly in a show of good faith.

 

Studying kind eyes for a long moment, Squall sighed. He supposed his guilt was sufficient punishment for betraying such a man. It killed him to think how similar Cale and Laguna were. There was a shared characteristic of warmhearted kindness. He was afraid of ruining the islander, of crushing the man's heart. It was too great a responsibility and Seifer was too great a threat, yet he was weak against both men and could not refuse Cale despite his fears of truly hurting him in the very near future.

 

Forcing a small smile, Squall slid closer into open arms. “Then what's your type?” he inquired quietly, playing along and pretending like they didn't have more to discuss.

 

“Sexy brunets,” Cale replied succinctly, happily drawing the former commander close.

 

Squall gave a soft hum in return, nipping at the professor's ear.

 

“Devastatingly beautiful,” Cale added, warming under Squall's ministrations. “Seductive, strong…” he trailed off, losing the ability to articulate clearly when soft lips trailed along his neck.

 

Squall felt a surprising jolt of pleasure run through him when strong hands groped his buttocks. Realizing that the touch was reminiscent of the ex-knight's, he became acutely aware of the same distant longing he had felt earlier that day. It pained him to continue making comparisons, but he was willing to do so if it was Cale his body was reacting to. He was curious why it felt so good.

 

Taking notice that the brunet was reacting to something, Cale tentatively repeated his groping action.

 

Arching instinctively, Squall's eyes widened in shock when a moan escaped him.

 

Thinking he had found an erogenous area, Cale was all too enthused to exploit it.

 

Rendered thoughtless, Squall was surprised to find his body responding so heatedly. Muffling the shameful noises he was making, he sought Cale's lips and let the man swallow each pleasured sound.

 

Stilling abruptly, Cale stopped himself before his hand slipped into the brunet's pants. With some reluctance, he ended their kiss. He perceived what it was the fighter's body wanted. Clearing his throat, he felt compelled to seek permission before taking the next step. “Squall,” he called meekly, knowing his reticent lover disliked being asked for permission.

 

“Why'd you stop?” Squall returned in disappointment, head falling against a broad shoulder.

 

“Is it okay?”

 

Frowning, Squall raised his head from the crook of the white haired man's neck. “Is what okay?” he questioned, not exactly bothering to consider why it felt so good just to have his ass groped. A part of him understood that his pleasure was mostly anticipatory, some baser instinct calling out for something that he hadn't received yet. He didn't know what it was he really wanted or why his body felt such aching need, but he had been certain Cale was getting closer to giving him what he wanted.

 

Feeling confident he needed to receive permission, Cale commented, “We never discussed this.”

 

Growing frustrated, Squall sat back. Having shifted sometime during the islander's fondling ministrations, he was straddling the man's lap.

 

“Do you have any experience?” Cale asked bluntly, needing to know if he was dealing with a virgin or not. He would not compromise the man he loved for any reason. His sexual preferences were strictly dominant, but he would play whatever role Squall did not want to take on.

 

Desires cooling, Squall settled down and realized the islander was being wholly serious. Serious or not, the younger man had asked a ridiculous question. “Yes,” he muttered, suspecting the question had been too ridiculous and that he was missing something.

 

Cale was a bit relieved. It made sense considering the former commander's apparent sensitivity. The man's body obviously knew the pleasures of being a bottom.

 

Frowning, Squall grudgingly murmured, “What do you mean exactly?”

 

Tensing, Cale gazed pleadingly into stormy blue eyes. Not wanting to be crude about it, he eventually asked, “Have you ever had sex with another man?” Depending on the answer he received, he would become more specific.

 

Squall shook his head.

 

Not responding for a long moment, Cale gave a somewhat apologetic smile and removed his hands from the slim hips. He wouldn't consider it a problem exactly, but it was an issue that needed to be addressed at some point. Better sooner than later anyway.

 

Having thought they would progress further, Squall was disappointed. Resigned to listening to the professor before fooling around some more, he slid from the man's lap and sat obediently on the couch. Hardly oversexed, he was simply growing accustomed to having someone he could seek release with.

 

Clearing his throat, Cale explained, “When we do eventually make love, I'd like to be inside you.” He tried to have faith in the future prospect, that there would definitely be a time when Squall came to love him.

 

For several awkward moments, Squall simply stared uncomprehendingly. At length, understanding dawned and a faint blush crept to his cheeks. He felt like such a cadet at that moment. Of course he had known sex between two men required one man to take on the role of the woman. He also knew it wasn't necessarily the less fulfilling role, though he was not privy to how or why it felt good.

 

“If you'd rather,” Cale began in a tone of obvious discomfort.

 

Squall held a hand up, cutting the professor off. He might be inexperienced when it came to sex with another man, but he was not a child that needed to be accommodated at every turn. Proving he understood and that it wasn't a taboo to discuss frankly, he commented, “You mean to fuck me.”

 

Abhorring the idea that he should ever simply wish to fuck the man he loved, Cale's expression darkened. “Hardly,” he returned indignantly.

 

Stormy blue eyes softened, dropping the guard that so easily fell into place when he became unsettled. “I didn't mean it like that,” he said quietly. “I just meant that it's fine.”

 

Reaching for the composed beauty's hand, Cale brought it slowly to his lips, gently kissing it. “You would tell me if you didn't like something, wouldn't you?” he questioned somberly.

 

Sighing, Squall started forward. Slowly, brushing against the professor as much as possible, he straddled the man's lap again. Aware that crimson eyes were watching him intently while awaiting his answer, he settled in comfortably before replying, “I would trust you to make it feel good.”

 

Not receiving the answer he had expected, Cale studied the effeminate features of the lithe fighter. Squall had no idea how hopelessly addicted he was to every moment they were together, every touch and word spoken. He felt as though his entire life up until the day he first met the president's son had been meaningless.

 

“I'm curious,” Squall informed, hands unbuttoning the professor's shirt in an attempt to instigate their earlier activities.

 

Swallowing thickly, Cale felt his desires stirring. “Curious?” he questioned carefully.

 

Opening the professor's shirt, Squall ran his hands along the man's exposed chest. “Can you make something like that feel good?”

 

Cale detected an undertone of challenge in the former commander's voice. More than willing to show the brunet such a pleasure, he excitedly toppled the man onto the couch. With renewed vigor, he set about giving Squall a very pleasured experience.

 

 

TBC…

 

Author's Note: Hmm, well the chapter didn't turn out as planned, but sometimes it can't be helped. I hope you liked it. The next chapter will finally bring some lemony goodness to this fic, but I won't give anything else away. I also have a one-shot that's almost finished. It's a threesome involving Seifer + Irvine / Squall. And, I've been struck with another idea for a one-shot that's only Irvine/Squall, so I'll be posting a couple PWPs soon.