Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Defining Love ( Chapter 38 )

Warning: Adult content, not for the faint of heart or underage.

 

Defining Love

Chapter Thirty-Eight

 

As soon as the elevator doors had closed, Seifer pinned Leonhart against the wall. He spared a quick moment to select the tenth floor, and then resumed his feverish violation of the enticing swordsman.

 

“Tell me again,” Seifer requested. Tugging at the brunet's tie, he worked to expose a creamy neck. The top two buttons of the obstructing shirt popped off when he yanked at the stiff collar. Too impatient to care about the damaged shirt, he attacked Leonhart's neck.

 

Squall sank back against the elevator wall. When slick lips latched onto his racing pulse, a moan escaped him. His neck was extremely sensitive to the ex-knight's touch. Pleasure hummed through his body, causing him to tremble and lose strength.

 

Nipping unblemished skin, Seifer teased the creamy flesh until it reddened thoroughly. Still unsatisfied, he sucked hard at the beating pulse.

 

Burying his fingers in golden blond hair, Squall held Seifer's head in place. When the man sucked harder, he cast his head back and rubbed his erection against the muscular thigh wedged between his legs.

 

A lewd grin spread across Seifer's face. “You like that?” he questioned, his face still buried against the crook of his rival's neck. Discovering what drove his rival wild was a power rush.

 

“Yes,” Squall answered. He inhaled sharply when Seifer raised the thigh between his legs, forcing more pressure against his groin.

 

“Say you're jealous,” Seifer urged.

 

“Screw you,” Squall gasped. He pulled at silky strands of hair and forced the ex-knight's head away. “You set me up,” he reminded.

 

“So you would understand what I felt,” Seifer reasoned.

 

Squall set his hands against his rival's chest. Pushing the man back, he gave a look of wry speculation. He knew the blond had done it for an ego trip. The man wanted reassurance.

 

“Okay,” Seifer conceded. “I might have had other reasons.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Squall grasped one of the ex-knight's hands that rested on his shoulder. Directing the hand lower, he set it against his throbbing arousal. “What more assurance do you need?” he questioned, his eyes darkening with lust.

 

Jade-green eyes narrowed, gaining an edge of madness. Seifer wound his arms around the lithe brunet, pulling the man close with crushing force. Capturing beckoning lips, he devoured them ruthlessly. His passion ran wild. Leonhart had a knack for unhinging his desires. His instincts told him to fuck the tempting swordsman against the elevator wall.

 

A simper sounded from Squall's throat. He winced when nipping teeth sank into his bottom lip, nicking the skin and drawing blood. Retreating from the kiss, he tried to push back and gain some distance. Seifer wouldn't allow it. Strong arms hugged him tighter, and a slick tongue lapped at the corner of his mouth, cleaning his wound.

 

The elevator dinged, announcing the sexually charged couple's arrival on the top floor. The doors opened to a dark corridor. Without the distant sound of chattering voices, the atmosphere was subdued. The only sound was the muffled pants and messy slurp of lip locked mouths.

 

Seifer managed to command some semblance of control. He broke away and dragged his companion off the elevator. Falling short of tossing the brunet over his shoulder, he settled for hauling his rival close and forcing the man to keep up with his rushed strides.

 

Squall wore a scowl of disapproval. “I can walk on my own,” he said. He tried to pull away from the blond, but the man's arm refused to leave his waist.

 

Aware that his domineering actions agitated the brunet's pride, Seifer explained, “I'll go crazy if I'm not touching you.”

 

Surprise registered on Squall's face. His cheeks heated to a rosy blush. He felt a strange satisfaction from the ex-knight's sudden statement.

 

Coming to an abrupt halt, Seifer said, “This is my office.”

 

Squall studied the glossy onyx door. Seifer's name adorned it in bold white letters. He could see his reflection in the glass-like material. Seifer's shadowed figure loomed behind him. The door was flashy. Eyes would be drawn to it, and then to Seifer's name.

 

Seifer punched in his code on the side panel.

 

Once the door opened, Squall took it upon himself to remind the ex-knight that he wasn't the submissive type. Forcing the man's arm from around his waist, he slipped inside the office first. Hearing the door slide shut, he spun back and set his hands on the ex-knight's jacket. Pushing the man against the wall, he pressed closed.

 

Meeting jade-green eyes defiantly, Squall dared the man to push him away. When Seifer seemed content to let him have his way, he stood on the balls of his feet and claimed the ex-knight's lips.

 

Seifer was in no position to question Leonhart's assertiveness. The brunet's tongue coiled around his own, roving his mouth urgently. His arms encircled the smaller man's frame.

 

Squall continued to kiss Seifer until the man's battling tongue gave him the lead. He used the lapels of the tuxedo coat as leverage. It was difficult to plunder the mouth of someone six inches taller. Delving deeply, he tasted the arrogant swordsman without restraint. His hunger grew, driving him to consume until he became drunk. He retreated a bit, nipping at a swollen bottom lip. He worried the soft flesh until an impatient flicked out to draw him back.

 

Claiming another taste, Squall slipped his tongue inside Seifer's mouth and kissed the man harder than before. He needed more. Kissing wasn't enough, but he was determined to make it sufficient.

 

Head swimming, Seifer couldn't keep his thoughts in order. He was vaguely aware of how hot his body felt. Pressed back against the wall, he drowned in his desires. As Leonhart devoured him, he held the man close to make certain it never ended.

 

Unable to sustain such feverish momentum, Squall drew the kiss to an end and lowered to stand at his own height. A lightheaded dizziness informed him that he might have overdone it. Bowing his head, he rested against the ex-knight's solid chest. Strong arms continued to hug him close.

 

Panting heatedly, Seifer licked his lips. No one had ever kissed him so willfully before. Knowing that Leonhart desired him to such a frenzied extent sent shivers down his spine.

 

“You can't always lead,” Squall said, his voice muffled by the chest he pressed against.

 

Seifer chuckled. Leonhart had a way of being terribly cute at times. “I can't change who I am. I've been attracted to women all my life. I lead by instinct.”

 

Lifting his head, Squall gazed sullenly at the ex-knight. “It's not the same. I'm not a woman,” he muttered.

 

Seifer studied the attractive brunet. His eyes drank in the sight of delicate features. Leonhart was indeed beautiful, but he didn't think of the swordsman as a woman. “I know,” he murmured. Reaching a hand up, he cupped the side of his rival's face. His thumb caressed soft skin. Sliding his hand along, his fingers brushed over a temple and combed into thick brown hair. He pushed choppy bangs back, exposing Leonhart's face completely. “I'm not treating you like a woman. I'm treating you like someone I desire beyond all reason.”

 

Seifer's words resonated deep inside Squall's chest. Staring up into shadowed green eyes, he saw a stern sincerity that made him wonder what else the ex-knight meant to imply. He realized it was a confession. The ex-knight had feelings for him. A shy sort of embarrassment tinged his cheeks. The heat kept rising to his face the longer he stared. He could feel his ears begin to blush.

 

Seifer returned his rival's study. He didn't know what to make of the brunet's reaction. The lost expression was so unguarded and genuine that he didn't want to blink. There was something fragile and delicate about the former commander. He could see it in those big pools of steely blue that stared so innocently at him. Sometimes, he feared that his touch would break the man. He couldn't help himself. Heat pooled in his loins, his erection throbbing in aching need.

 

“How much time do we have?” Squall questioned. He was filled with the desire to reciprocate the ex-knight's sentiment. He didn't understand how he felt towards the blond, only that he wanted the man to know that he wasn't there out of resignation or shallow curiosity.

 

“There's no limit,” Seifer answered. Closing his eyes, he battled with a sense of responsibility. “I should get back soon though.”

 

Squall had figured as much. They didn't have time to go all the way. If they had sex, he suspected that once wouldn't be enough. With the time constraints, not to mention the need to keep their clothes unruffled, he considered their options for finding release.

 

Acting first, Squall reached down and unbuckled the ex-knight's pants. He reached inside, his fingers well acquainted with the feel of his rival's manhood. Glancing up, he gazed questioningly into jade-green eyes. There was more than one way to proceed, but he didn't know what the blond wanted. He didn't want to ask outright, but there was no time for shy hesitation. After everything he had already done with Seifer, there seemed little place for modesty. “Do you want me to use my mouth?” he finally questioned in an even tone. He might as well have asked if Seifer wanted sugar in his coffee.

 

Seifer's expression went slack, his mouth nearly falling open. Dumbfounded, he intoned a cracked, “What?”

 

Showing no change in his expression, Squall simply stared. He wasn't going to repeat the question.

 

Eyes narrowing, Seifer studied his rival. The man appeared to be serious. His mind began to jump to conclusions. “Have you done that sort of thing before?” he questioned in a demanding tone.

 

Squall rolled his eyes. “Does everything come back to that?” he returned.

 

Jaw clenching, Seifer combated with the notion that his rival had sucked some other man's cock. Leonhart had no idea what jealousy was, not the sort of enraged possessiveness he felt.

 

Detecting an utter lack of enthusiasm, Squall murmured, “Never mind.”

 

“No, do it,” Seifer said. If others had defiled the proud fighter in such a way, then he would not be denied the same pleasure.

 

Taking a step back, Squall glanced around the room and slipped out of his stiff jacket. He mentally berated the ex-knight for ruining his shirt. His tie could hide the damage to the first button, but not the second.

 

The room was dark. The only source of light came from the long window behind a desk. The blinds were drawn open and ambient light from the neon city filtered in.

 

Seifer followed Leonhart's lead. Shrugging out of his formal jacket, he moved towards the center of the room. There were two chairs situated in front of his desk. He hung his jacket on the back of one.

 

Standing in his dress shirt and fitted vest, Squall unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and proceeded to roll them up.

 

As Seifer watched the brunet make preparations to suck him off, he became even harder. The buckle and front of his pants hung open. He tugged at the tail of his shirt, untucking it with the excited understanding that his rival was going to need room to work.

 

Finished rolling his sleeves back, Squall stood still for a contemplative moment.

 

Seifer stared at Leonhart's figure, a silhouette against the eerie glow of the distant city lights. He could feel sharp grey-blue eyes watching him, but he couldn't see them. His eyes followed the line of his rival's body. The vest hugged a trim waist snuggly, revealing how slender Leonhart's form really was. It was a mystery where the man's strength came from, but he would be the first to admit that it rivaled his own.

 

Reaching a hand out, Seifer beckoned, “Come here.”

 

Not moving immediately, Squall stared at the blond for several more moments. Finally stepping forward, he drew within reach of the man's outstretched arm. He was quickly pulled closer, colliding against a muscular chest.

 

Cupping Leonhart's face, Seifer leaned down and kissed the swordsman. He kept it gentle, gingerly coaxing his rival to give him a taste. He had only displayed such gentleness once before. It wasn't in his nature to be soft. However, in that moment he felt no inclination to be rough.

 

A flittering sensation seized Squall's stomach. He felt his knees go weak, and ended up holding onto the blond for support. His reaction was strange, but his head was too fuzzy to think clearly.

 

Ending the brief exchange, Seifer leaned back. Looking at his rival's expression, his heart skipped a beat. Stormy blue eyes were in a daze and a feverish blush tinged pale cheeks. The man seemed to be drowning in lust. He couldn't remember seeing such an expression produced from any of the lustful kisses they had shared before. “You liked that?” he questioned quietly, remarking more to himself than Leonhart.

 

Reaching inside the ex-knight's pants, Squall grasped the blond's stiff manhood and stroked it firmly. He felt the man's body shiver in response.

 

Seifer released his hold on the brunet. Nimble fingers began to unbutton his shirt, slowly working downwards. His pulse quickened when Leonhart undid the last button and drew his shirt open. He was enthralled with every movement the man made. Regardless of his aroused state, he could have watched for hours.

 

Squall knelt in front of the blond. Drawing down the waistband of the man's boxers, he freed the erect organ inside. He stared for a disbelieving moment, his eyes measuring the thickness and length. He couldn't believe such a thing had fit inside of him. It didn't seem physically possible. He was reminded of the ecstasy he felt when it thrust inside him.

 

Shivering in remembrance, Squall gently stroked the ex-knight's arousal. Leaning close, he met the tip with his tongue. A husky note of encouragement sounded from the blond. Holding onto the thick base with both hands, he ran his tongue around the mushroomed head.

 

Practically trembling, Seifer felt his legs buckle. “Fuck,” he cursed. Leonhart pulled back and gazed up with a curious expression. The man was oblivious to his plight. “I need to sit,” he stated. He moved towards his desk. Leaning against the edge, he found a medium between standing and sitting.

 

Squall didn't comment. He stood and moved compliantly towards the ex-knight. Kneeling once again, he glanced up and waited.

 

Giving a bare nod, Seifer watched with bated breath. He inhaled sharply when Leonhart's tongue licked along the shaft of his cock.

 

Drawing his tongue from base to tip, Squall savored the power he had over the ex-knight. Wrapping his lips around the sensitive head, he slowly drew the organ into his mouth.

 

Seifer gripped the edge of the desk, his fingers clawing the varnished wood. As Leonhart's mouth bobbed around his length, his head fell back and a groan escaped him. He had never felt such acute sensations from a mouth before. His rival's tongue was doing things he hadn't thought possible. He couldn't tell if he was overly sensitive or if the former commander was an expert at giving head.

 

Drawing the hot organ deep inside his mouth and then pulling off, Squall continued to revel in the control he had over the arrogant blond. A thrill ran through him. Growing short of breath, he eased off and focused on stimulating the tip. The mushroomed head bloomed from his ministrations, its angry red color begging for fulfillment. Stabbing the glistening slit with his tongue, he tasted the heavy seed of his rival.

 

Unable to resist the domineering temptation, Seifer plunged a hand into silky brown hair and directed Leonhart to swallow his shaft again.

 

Taking direction with complacency, Squall let the thick cock fill his mouth. He hesitated when the blond's hand tugged at his hair, trying to pull him off and make him bob. Feeling indulgent, if only because Seifer's groans were intoxicating, he allowed the man to set the pace.

 

As Seifer's desire's mounted, he lost himself. His hips gave an involuntary thrust and his hand tightened its grip on silky hair. Biting his lip, he fought for control. He managed to stay his eager hips, his body going rigid with the effort.

 

Squall understood the ex-knight's dilemma. He pulled off, panting to catch his breath. After recovering for a moment, he shot a lustful gaze upwards. “It's fine if that's how you prefer it,” he murmured.

 

Seifer couldn't resist any longer. He had no doubts that Leonhart could make him climax with a few flicks of that devilish tongue, but he was possessed by a desire for more. Gripping either side of his rival's delicate face, he directed his cock to the man's sweet mouth. When lush lips parted to accept him, he thrust inside. He held Leonhart's head firmly, pulling it to his groin each time he thrust forward. Without reservation, he fucked his rival's mouth. Over and over, he rammed his cock into wet warmth, the tip meeting the back of the Leonhart's slender little throat.

 

It was all that Squall could do to keep from biting down and gagging. He was not an expert at giving fellatio, and Seifer certainly wasn't making it easy. The sound of the man's groans encouraged him to bear with the discomfort and shortage of oxygen.

 

Seifer's mind went blank. All his thoughts melted away as he drew closer to climax. Leonhart's mouth was deliciously hot, the wet heat surrounding every inch of his cock that he could fit inside. It was an unfair disadvantage that rendered him incapable of holding out.

 

Teetering near the edge, Seifer thrust harder and tightened his grip. Leonhart's muffled pants urged him to hurry. Without warning, he came. His entire body shuddered as his stiff organ jerked in release.

 

A surprised simper sounded from Squall as he found himself swallowing the ex-knight's semen in rough gulps. His fingers clawed at the man's pants, finding an anchor as he became disoriented.

 

“Leonhart,” Seifer called. “Hyne, Leonhart.” Groaning loudly, he continued to come. He reveled in the fleeting ecstasy, none the wiser to how his well-mannered image had fallen apart.

 

When Seifer's cock jerked its final release, he eased his fingers from their clenched hold on mussed hair. As soon as his hold loosened, his rival pulled away.

 

Hand at his mouth to keep from sputtering the blond's release on the floor, Squall coughed while drawing in deep breaths. His lungs raged at such inconsiderate treatment.

 

Kneeling down, Seifer set his hands on the coughing brunet's shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked, the concern in his voice supplying an apology.

 

Squall gave a terse series of nods.

 

While his partner continued to recover, Seifer tucked himself away. Even as he reassembled his clothes, echoes of pleasure ran through his body. Leonhart was beyond amazing.

 

Still on his knees, Squall reached for his suit jacket and searched the inner pocket for a tissue. Finding a small packet, he considered himself fortunate for bringing the item. He wiped his hand clean.

 

“Hey,” Seifer said quietly. He offered his hand to the crouched swordsman. A shiver ran through him when Leonhart's smaller hand slid into his. Drawing his rival up, he studied the man's flushed face. Pout lips were swollen and red. The fact that they were slick with his own release didn't deter his strong desire to ravish them. He leaned in.

 

Squall put a hand to his mouth. He gave a faint shake of his head. “Where's the bathroom?” he inquired. He was unwilling to kiss the blond while his mouth tasted of the man's heavy seed.

 

Knocking the brunet's hand away, Seifer swiftly claimed plush lips. Tasting the foreign flavor of his own cum, he pulled away. “Hyne, that tastes awful,” he muttered.

 

“I warned you,” Squall shot back.

 

“Don't gloat,” Seifer chastised. He kissed his rival again, heedless of his own essence that tainted luscious lips. He couldn't stop. He knew that it was Leonhart's mouth, and such knowledge made it impossible to end the exchange earlier than necessary.

 

“You're not making this easy,” Squall murmured as he forced the blond away.

 

“Since when has anything ever been easy?” Seifer retorted. Persistent in having his lips on the resistant man, he leaned forward once again. Attacking a slender neck, all resistance left the suddenly willing body in his arms. He nipped at a beating pulse and felt Leonhart tremble. He suspected that he had found his rival's ultimate weakness. The prospect of extortion practically made him giddy.

 

“Bathroom,” Squall whispered as a final reminder before his all thoughts fled from his head. When Seifer lavished his neck with soft kisses and sharp bites, he grew weak with satisfaction. In a single instant, he became a blithering mess of pent up desires, all his restraint crumbling. The roguish swordsman knew exactly what to do, nipping and kissing until his mind lost coherency.

 

Seifer hummed a deep note of understanding, but continued to kiss Leonhart's neck. His hand gravitated down, cupping the bulge in his partner's pants.

 

“Don't,” Squall gasped, his hips rocking against the ex-knight's hand.

 

Breaking away from a slender neck, Seifer met drowsy grey-blue eyes. “This was a little one sided, don't you think?” he questioned in a suggestive tone. He could never use his mouth like Leonhart had, but he knew exactly how to stroke the man to orgasm.

 

Squall reached down and pushed the blond's hand away. “I'm not the one pressed for time,” he pointed out.

 

Seifer scoffed. “So I'm supposed to leave while you jack off in the bathroom?” he queried cynically. “I think a few investors can wait while I watch you touch yourself.” He had every intention to do much more than watch while his rival panted and moaned in pleasure.

 

Squall scowled. “You're not watching.”

 

“Either I watch or I help. If you want me gone so badly, I suggest you drop your pants and start playing with yourself.” He wondered if the brunet toyed with the back entrance in order to climax. Would pout lips form his name in a whispered gasp? Was it his cock the man imagined driving inside while slender fingers stimulated a needy prostate gland?

 

Taking a step back, Squall regarded the ex-knight with a warning glare. No amount of kissing his neck would coerce him into agreeing.

 

Seifer knew a brick wall when he saw one. “I'll show you the bathroom,” he conceded. He frowned with disappointment. His imagination had already begun running wild.

 

--

 

Lore gnawed on his pizza's crust, debating whether or not to move on to another slice. While his father was off gallivanting with Esthar's number one bastard, he ate a lonesome dinner with his grandfather.

 

“It was a good game,” Laguna commented.

 

Lore responded with a whimsical sigh. He and his grandfather sat beside each other on the couch, watching a soccer match. The Toramas were his favorite team. Thanks to the birthday gift from his father, he had gone to see them every home game. They were playing in Trabia that week, which was just as well since he had no motivation to have fun that night.

 

“What do you think Dad's doing right now?” Lore asked, tossing his crust back into the box.

 

“I think he's having a good time,” Laguna answered.

 

Quirking a skeptical brow, Lore scoffed. “I can't believe he's dating that guy.”

 

Laguna regarded his grandson with a sympathetic look. “Is it the guy or the dating that you don't like?”

 

“The guy!” Lore exclaimed. Sitting forward, he turned to face his grandfather. “I'm not jumping for joy over the dating part, but I was okay when it was Cale.”

 

Silently, Laguna concluded that the only reason the boy had accepted Cale was because there was no risk. Cale's love had blossomed since the man had worked as his secretary. He had seen the enraptured gaze of his secretary follow Squall every time his son had visited his office. By the time Squall had accepted Cale's affection, there was no threat of the former commander ending up with a broken heart. Cale would have sooner died than see Squall hurt, which was the sad reality of the circumstances.

 

“Cale's gone,” Laguna said gravely. He gazed sadly at his grandson. “He was a good man. I liked seeing your father with him.”

 

Turning the television off, Lore scowled. There was a bitter edge to his expression. If only because the professor was the lesser evil, he missed the man. “Don't you think it's too soon?”

 

Laguna shrugged. He was certainly no expert. “There's no timeframe for these things,” he surmised. It seemed reasonable to conclude that everyone handled loss differently. Some people might never move on, while others would move on quickly.

 

“Well, if he started dating the day after the funeral, wouldn't that be too soon?” Lore proposed. Speaking in hypothetical context, he knew he was desperate. If he didn't find an ally in his grandfather, he might be forced to admit that Seifer Almasy wasn't as bad as he thought.

 

“I guess,” Laguna said in a placating tone. “We have different perspectives.” Standing from the couch, he snatched the pizza box from the coffee table.

 

Lore watched his grandfather's progress to the kitchen. Swiveling around, he knelt on the couch and leaned forward against its back. “What's your perspective?” he called out.

 

Materializing in the kitchen's entrance, Laguna stood empty handed. He gazed heavenward with a thoughtful expression. At length, he replied, “I like seeing your father with Seifer. He's been real torn up since Cale's passing. His date tonight proves that he's on the mend.”

 

Given yet another reason to abandon his dislike of the arrogant ex-knight, Lore clung to his disapproval of the man. “Uncle Irvine mentioned something about Dad just looking for a distraction,” he commented.

 

Scratching the back of his head, Laguna gave his grandson a sheepish smile while saying, “Your uncle is about as over protective as you are. I wouldn't trust what he says when it concerns who your father dates.”

 

Shoulders sagging in a defeated air, Lore argued, “Seifer's mean though.”

 

“How is he mean?” Laguna questioned with genuine surprise.

 

Perking up, Lore ranted, “He barges in here whenever he likes. He's always making fun of me. He plays grabby hands with Dad. He's always trying to get under my skin. He's beyond disrespectful with the things he says about Dad.” He stopped short, running out of breath.

 

“He taunts people,” Laguna interjected. “I remember that much about him. Your father seems to think it's harmless.”

 

Blue-green eyes narrowing suspiciously, Lore asked, “Did Dad say that?”

 

“Yes,” Laguna confirmed.

 

“When?” Lore followed. His father hadn't spoken to him about Seifer's behavior.

 

Perplexed by his grandson's intense expression of interest, Laguna wondered if he had said something wrong. “When I asked him to tell me about Seifer.”

 

“What?” Lore appeared flabbergasted. “Dad talked to you about Seifer?”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He didn't tell me about him,” Lore muttered sullenly.

 

Moving to the couch, Laguna leaned against it while standing. “Did you ask?” he questioned knowingly. For sixteen years, his grandson had been privy to almost every aspect of Squall's life. Everyone else had to cope with the reality that Squall was not an open book. Doors were closing on Lore. There were certain things Squall wouldn't want to share freely, but would probably express if prompted. Lore needed to learn how to open those doors like the rest of them, and to accept that some doors were locked.

 

“Not exactly,” Lore admitted. He assumed that if there was something to know about Seifer, his father would have told him.

 

Ruffling the youth's wayward hair, Laguna lectured, “If there's one thing I've learned being president, it's that you can't count on being given answers without asking questions.”

 

A crease formed in Lore's brow as he frowned. Elbows propped on the back of the couch, he let his head fall to his hands. He lamented the countless questions he could have asked over the past week. “What did he tell you?” he questioned, his eyes darting a curious glance up at his grandfather.

 

Crossing his arms, Laguna related the summarized points of extracted information. “He told me that Seifer is a good fighter. That he believes in hard work. That he's secretly an idealist.”

 

Interrupting, Lore sounded a complaining groan. “Any bad stuff?” he asked hopefully.

 

“He's arrogant, but not without merit. He's a bully, but he doesn't pick meaningless fights,” Laguna offered. “Those were your father's words,” he added.

 

Resigned to losing his grandfather to the dark side, Lore slid sideways and flopped against the couch cushions. Stretching out languidly, he muttered, “Uncle Irvine will always be on my side.”

 

“I'm sorry I can't hate him for you,” Laguna said. Gazing adoringly at the boy, he explained, “Half of you comes from him. That makes him a good person in my books.”

 

Lore's eyes widened. Shooting upright, he gazed at his grandfather accusingly.

 

--

 

Walking across the parking lot, Rinoa linked her arm with Squall's and pressed close. “Is everything alright?” she questioned.

 

“Fine,” Squall answered. He raised his free arm and adjusted his tie to better hide the missing buttons from his shirt.

 

Dark brown eyes studying the former commander's proud profile, Rinoa said, “You and Seifer were gone a long time. You rushed off all of a sudden. I didn't want to bring it up in front of everyone, but we're alone now. What was that all about?”

 

Squall cast the sorceress a reluctant glance. “Lover's quarrel,” he muttered dryly.

 

Laughter filled the crisp night air. Rinoa doubled over, clinging to her friend's arm for support. She laughed until her diaphragm ached and her eyes watered. “Oh Hyne,” she exclaimed. Straightening up, she pressed a hand to her stomach and continued to laugh.

 

An amused smile graced Squall's lips. Rinoa's laughter would have been contagious if there weren't an uneasy weight in his chest. There was truth to his words, but they were a mere mockery to others. The idea that he and Seifer were lovers was ludicrous. He felt sad all of a sudden.

 

“Never mind,” Rinoa said. Wiping her eyes she recomposed herself and began to walk forward again. “If you're desperate enough to make jokes to keep me from prying, then I won't pry. I haven't had a good laugh like that in a while.”

 

Squall hummed a noncommittal note of agreement. He wondered how she would react if he informed her that after dropping her off for the night, he intended to go out on a date with Seifer and would likely spend the night having passionate, unbridled sex with the man.

 

Unwilling to disclose the most recent insanity in his life, Squall followed after Rinoa. There wasn't anything about his relationship with Seifer worth telling. If the relationship changed, if his feelings for the ex-knight changed, then he would tell her.

 

 

--

 

By the time Squall drove Rinoa to her hotel and returned home to his own apartment, Seifer was already waiting for him. Leaving his car in the parking garage, he felt strange when he left the apartment building. Being so close to his son and not seeing the boy felt wrong, but Lore wasn't expecting him back until midnight.

 

Outside, Squall moved towards the ex-knight's idling car. Through tinted windows, he glimpsed the man reach over to open the door from within. He didn't want to cast judgment before the date even began, but he couldn't help but wonder what role he was playing. Seifer had assured him he wasn't being treated as a woman.

 

Loosening his tie, Squall worked on removing the stifling bit of fabric from around his neck. Wherever the blond had made reservations, he doubted he needed to be wearing a tuxedo.

 

Slipping into the passenger seat, Squall felt knots form in his stomach. As he fashioned his seatbelt, he berated the anxiety welling up inside.

 

Seifer observed the brooding swordsman. “Look a little happier why don't you,” he clipped.

 

Stirring from his thoughts, Squall regarded the ex-knight with surprise.

 

Frowning, Seifer studied stormy blue eyes. “Welcome back,” he said. He knew his rival had a bad habit of drifting off, but he thought such occurrences only happened during uneventful moments of the day. “Absent minded doesn't suit you.”

 

“It's the opposite actually,” Squall replied. He couldn't stop thinking. Sitting there beside the ex-knight, his thoughts ran wild and his heart wouldn't settle down.

 

Smirking, Seifer prodded, “Is the prince of composure nervous?”

 

Squall simply glared in response.

 

Smirk broadening, Seifer put the car in gear and pulled out. “It's sweet really,” he continued, his eyes casting a quick glance to the less than amused brunet beside him. Delicate features were set in a hard expression. He decided not to tease the man too much. The night was still young. “I'm messing with you,” he said, still grinning.

 

“I know,” Squall muttered.

 

“Are you going to brood all night or will you tell me what's stealing your attention from me?”

 

Squall quirked an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

 

“Yes, actually,” Seifer grumbled. “Under the circumstances, I have a right to be the only thing on your mind.”

 

Squall couldn't help but smile faintly. “It is you,” he murmured quietly, speaking more to himself than the ex-knight.

 

Eyes on the road ahead, Seifer asked, “What's me?”

 

Settling back into his seat, Squall watched the passing buildings outside his window. He hesitated for a moment. Thoughts were easy to have, but difficult to explain. “Tonight, this date. I'm confused.”

 

Seifer understood Leonhart's confusion. He was not a stranger to the uncertainty surrounding their tentative relationship. Wanting to address any concerns head on, he prompted, “Confused about what?”

 

Not answering immediately, Squall simply stared out the window. After several moments, he answered, “About how I feel.” Before the ex-knight could laugh at his insecurity, he questioned, “Where do you see this going?”

 

“I don't know where it's going,” Seifer answered succinctly. His tone was stern, impressing just how serious he took the subject. He needed Leonhart to understand that he wouldn't make jokes, not if it meant discouraging the man from opening up to him. “That's the point of dating, to see how things work out,” he added.

 

Squall remained silent for a while. He appreciated the blond's level of sobriety. His confusion and concerns remained unabated. There was nothing normal about what he was doing. Fourteen years of rivalry followed by sixteen years of having nothing to do with each other wasn't some precursor to romance. He wondered if he had changed, or if Seifer had changed.

 

Seifer detected something amiss. “I can't drive and read your thoughts at the same time.”

 

“It's nothing,” Squall said. His expression remained impassive.

 

“It's something,” Seifer countered. Glancing over at the brunet, he observed an indifferent demeanor. If he didn't capture his rival's attention, the man would fade away. He didn't want to spend the night with a recluse. He needed Leonhart's attention for himself.

 

“No,” Squall denied. There was indeed something bothering him, but he needed time to sort through his jumbled thoughts. Sitting beside the handsome blond, he was faced with the reality of his actions. He was on a date with his nemesis. If he disregarded his frightening uncertainty, he was actually content, excited even. The math didn't add up.

 

“Leonhart, I know you well enough to know when something is bothering you. You can say it now or wait until we're eating dinner.”

 

Biting his lip, Squall hesitated. With a million concerns running through his head, he couldn't suppress the desire to express at least one of them. He had been fine all week, even at the training center earlier that evening. The moment he had spotted the blond's car outside his apartment building, doubts and concerns had bred like rabbits.

 

There was one issue that Squall was willing to divulge. He concluded that it wouldn't be fair to lead the blond on, and that he should admit to a certain level of ineptness. “This is new to me,” he informed.

 

“It's new for me too,” Seifer pointed out. Glancing at his side, he saw worry etched in the delicate lines of the former commander's face. “Just relax,” he soothed. “It's hard enough to be civilized without tension in the air.”

 

“I didn't mean it like that,” Squall refuted.

 

When no further explanation was forthcoming, Seifer prompted, “Care to elaborate?”

 

“It's new,” Squall impressed. Gazing at the ex-knight, he beseeched the man to understand his meaning without any embarrassing explanations.

 

Brows furrowing, Seifer studied earnest grey-blue eyes. “Are you referring to Bernhein?”

 

“No,” Squall said firmly. “This has nothing to do with Cale.”

 

“Then explain it to me,” Seifer urged. “In full sentences, if you can manage that much.”

 

Sending a withering glare, Squall's annoyance quickly dissipated. His expression softened with the knowledge that the ex-knight was sincerely trying to understand his meaning. Gathering the right words, he felt compelled to successfully relate his reservations about their date. “I've never been serious with anyone,” he admitted quietly. “Cale was the first person I ever really dated, but it was more friendship than courtship.”

 

A smile threatened to tug at Seifer's lips. Hearing that Bernhein hadn't been much of a lover was satisfying. Clearing his throat, he concentrated on the point his rival had made. “I'm not asking you to move in with me,” he said. His thoughts returned to what Leonhart had said about the professor. He grinned victoriously.

 

“I know,” Squall stated. Turning his attention to the passing scenery, he decided to let the matter drop.

 

By the time Seifer finished mentally gloating over Leonhart's deceased ex-boyfriend, the window for responding had closed. Backtracking, he realized what ailed his reticent partner. “You want to know where this is going,” he reiterated. “In case there comes a time when I do ask you to move in with me.”

 

Stirring from his thoughts, it took Squall a moment to find his focus on the blond. He gave the man a supplicating look. Seifer understood his concerns, which was some progress towards laying them to rest.

 

“I get it,” Seifer assured. “The thing is, you can't know something like that.” Seeing the inexperienced confusion in stormy blue eyes, he understood how new all of this was to his rival. “This is a first date. Given our history the night is likely to end with bloodshed.”

 

“Then why are we doing this?” Squall asked.

 

“You tell me,” Seifer returned. “I asked you to go out with me because I felt differently about you. For me, this is about exploring that difference. Why did you accept?”

 

Brows furrowing, Squall stated the obvious, “I wanted to.”

Pulling into a parking lot, Seifer spoke with divided attention. “When you figure out why you wanted to, then you can move on to the bigger questions.” Slowing to a stop, he hastily cut the engine and turned his all his focus on his rival. Reaching over, he drew the brunet closer. Kissing soft lips, he tasted Leonhart's sweet flavor. He relished the pureness of it, untainted by his seed. Drawing back, he grinned with satisfaction. “The question I'm working on is why does it feel so damn good kiss you?”

 

 

--

 

 

Smalltalk wasn't exactly what Seifer anticipated from his date. Leonhart was quiet, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. He enjoyed watching, observing how the picky eater exiled the onions in the salad to the side of the dish. He caught his rival's eye and smirked.

 

“What?” Squall questioned, realizing he was the subject of the blond's amusement.

 

“Nothing,” Seifer answered, his smirk becoming a grin.

 

Squall frowned.

 

“I like to look at you,” Seifer explained. He chuckled when the brunet's frown became a scowl accompanied by a flustered blush. “I thought this might be awkward,” he admitted.

 

Expression softening, Squall took a sip of wine. He had harbored similar expectations of an uncomfortable evening. “Me too,” he said.

 

Seifer searched stormy blue eyes. Many moments passed, but he simply continued to stare. He didn't feel the need to fill the silence with words or useless gestures. With Leonhart, silence was never empty. There was always some communication or understanding between them that didn't need to find expression. He only needed to observe the man's eyes to know. He heard questions and gave answers by sight alone. Nothing was lost or wasted.

 

When Seifer realized he was marveling over a level of intimacy that was actually rather disconcerting, he turned his attention elsewhere. “This place is a little stiff, but I wanted to take you somewhere nice. It makes things more official.”

 

The restaurant had a private atmosphere. The tables were spaced far apart. Though the vaulted ceiling threatened to echo conversations, they were stationed near a partitioning wall.

 

Casting a cursory glance around, Squall considered the blond's meaning. It was definitely the sort of restaurant where couples dined. “You're erasing any doubt,” he concluded.

 

“There's enough ambiguity between us. If we're going to date, then it should feel like a date,” Seifer declared. “In theory, it should make this less confusing.”

 

“It's still confusing,” Squall replied.

 

Seifer studied the former commander. Regardless of his own confusion, he felt it necessary to eliminate his partner's uncertainty. He didn't know how else to express the reason for their date. “It was more than just sex for me,” he said bluntly. “Maybe not at first, but it became something.”

 

Though surprised by the ex-knight's abrupt declaration, Squall appeared indifferent. “What is it now?” he questioned. There were too many vague terms. He didn't know what `something' meant.

 

Seifer grasped for a solid term. “Interest,” he said. “I'm interested in you.”

 

Eyes darkening, Squall appeared affronted. “Like a toy?” he questioned evenly.

 

“No,” Seifer groused. Eyes narrow, he silently scolded Leonhart for suggesting such a crude manner of treating a person. He might have been a real bastard at times, but didn't play with people like toys. “Why are you so insecure?” he muttered.

 

Squall's reply was too quick to be anything but honest. “Because you affect me more than anyone,” he replied succinctly. The scowl he wore suggested his disapproval.

 

Seifer's heart drummed faster upon hearing Leonhart's reply. He wished the man didn't show such disapproval. He wanted his supposed affect to be esteemed as good. “I've always known your weaknesses,” he reasoned. “You were never insecure before.” Insecurity meant distrust. He viewed trust as invaluable. It was frustrating for him to receive hope and discouragement at the same time.

 

“You make me feel things,” Squall defended. He couldn't help having insecurities. “I lose control around you. It's…” He didn't want to admit the truth.

 

Eyes alight with shared understanding, Seifer offered a single word, “Terrifying?”

 

Squall stared into jade-green eyes for a long moment. Seeing that he wasn't the only one feeling frightened of the unknown, he nodded. “You have power over me. It's unsettling.”

 

Seifer smirked. “In case you hadn't noticed, you have the same leverage against me,” he stated. “Whatever power you think I have, it's pointless to have it when I can't think straight.”

 

Squall dropped his gaze to the center of the table. He became introspective, giving no response to the ex-knight's reassuring words.

 

In an uncharacteristically tender move, Seifer reached out and gently nudged his rival's chin higher. Directing the thoughtful man's gaze back to himself, he met the tumultuous depths of stormy blue eyes. Still cupping a delicate chin, he let his touch linger. With an unspoken promise never to intentionally hurt the swordsman, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

 

Squall's lips formed an answer automatically. “No,” he said evenly.

 

Hand dropping away, Seifer sat back and appeared as though he had just been struck. Hastily masking his reaction, he swallowed his spurned emotions. He didn't understand Leonhart's distrust. “You could at least take a minute to think your answer over,” he muttered.

 

“I don't need a minute,” Squall said. With so much he didn't understand about both himself and the ex-knight, he couldn't trust anything about their relationship. He knew what he felt on a physical level, but he couldn't touch an emotion or confirm its existence. He didn't trust himself, let alone the man who caused such upheaval.

 

“Why not?” Seifer snapped. The desire to possess Leonhart unwavering trust grew each passing moment. He needed to have it. He glared harshly, resenting the brunet for withholding.

 

“I trust you in battle,” Squall offered uncertainly, not understanding why the ex-knight seemed so upset.

 

Seifer's expression only hardened. “Thanks for the bone, but I don't need any consolation prizes.”

 

“I didn't mean-”

 

Seifer interrupted. “Forget it,” he bit out. Pushing back from the table, he rose from his seat. “Come one, I'll take you home.”

 

 

TBC…

 

Author's note: Oh my, that ended on a much more sour note than originally intended. A steamy goodnight kiss was what I had in mind, but this is where their clashing personalities led me instead. I'm sorry for the long wait. My semester is officially over, so look forward to more timely updates. ^_^ As always, I adore reviews, so rant away and send it to me. (Sorry for any errors. The proofreading was rushed.)