Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Defining Love ( Chapter 39 )

Defining Love

Chapter Thirty-Nine

 

 

Seifer pealed out of the parking lot. Glancing anywhere but at the oblivious brunet beside him, he sulked. Bitter feelings churned inside him. He had been rejected.

 

“You're angry,” Squall said as he observed the sternly set expression on the ex-knight's face.

 

“Ya think?” Seifer groused.

 

Having stated the obvious to break the ice, Squall fell silent and tried to determine why the ex-knight was in such a bad mood. He recognized that the sudden turnabout revolved around the man's question of trust, but he didn't think the hot-tempered swordsman would become so fired up over the issue. It seemed unreasonable. “Why?” he asked, suspecting that there might be an underlying cause for the blond's irritability.

 

“What do you mean `why'?” Seifer returned brusquely. He wasn't too clear on why he wanted Leonhart's trust so badly, only that he did. It was important to have. He wanted everything the reticent swordsman had to offer. He hated being denied.

 

Brows furrowing, Squall appeared troubled and confused. “This is because I said I don't trust you,” he ventured. He expected the blond to tell him that there was more to it.

 

Scoffing his disbelief, Seifer muttered, “You deserve a prize for figuring that one out.”

 

Squall scowled. “I didn't think you were so sensitive,” he responded.

 

Looking at the brunet for the first time since leaving the restaurant, Seifer opened his mouth to make a rebuttal. No words came to mind.

 

A heavy silence filled the car. While Seifer fixed his attention on the road, Squall stared at the blond's stern profile.

 

Feeling the intense gaze of steely-blue eyes, Seifer bristled in his seat. “I'm not sensitive,” he defended. “Trust is important.”

 

Continuing his unrelenting study of the ex-knight, Squall tried to read the man's thoughts. He agreed that trust was important, but he also knew that there were many degrees and variations of trust. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

 

Answering succinctly, Seifer supplied a firm, “Yes.”

 

Squall gave the ex-knight a skeptical look. He waited expectantly.

 

Seifer shot the brunet a sidelong glance. Seeing doubt in sharp grey-blue eyes, he reflected on his answer. “Maybe,” he amended. “I don't know.” Gripping the steering wheel tighter, he became angry that his rival could cause him to feel such diffidence. He wasn't the sort of person who harbored doubt. He always knew exactly what he felt and what he wanted. Leonhart was making everything a hazy blur of `maybe' and `possibly'.

 

Squall was becoming frustrated. In the far reaches of his mind, he sensed a struggle. He imagined that the only possible way he could understand so little about himself was because he wasn't allowing himself to see the truth. Perhaps that was why he had searched for answers by asking Seifer. He couldn't trust his own perspective. Now that he couldn't rely on the blond's advice either, the lack of answers and mounting questions started to wear him down.

 

“You're a hypocrite,” Squall said, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic edge of heat.

 

“And you're a tease!” Seifer shot back.

 

Practically welcoming an argument, Squall allowed himself to be goaded. “What does that mean?” he rejoined, leaving himself open for an attack. Fighting with Seifer was familiar. He knew how to fight with the man. He could handle squabbles and exchange insults with ease.

 

Seifer failed to retort in a timely manner. He fell silent. At a stoplight, he spared a moment to directly address his rival. Shifting, he turned to the side and leveled the brunet with a piercing gaze. “You do something to me like you did back in my office, and then you withhold everything afterwards,” he said. Leonhart ran hot and cold. One minute, the man was sucking him off, drowning him in pleasure. The next minute, he received a slap in the face.

 

Eyes widening, Squall openly expressed his disbelief. “This is because I didn't let you watch me masturbate?” he remarked incredulously.

 

“That's not what I meant by withholding,” Seifer refuted. “Though, I would like to lodge a valid complaint over that too.”

 

“You're impossible to understand,” Squall declared.

 

“Me?” Seifer scoffed with an affronted air. “I'm impossible?”

 

Squall's lips pressed together, forming a straight line that seemed to reaffirm his statement.

 

Glaring at the road, Seifer announced, “I have news for you, Leonhart. You are the fussiest piece of tail I've ever tapped.”

 

Leveling the ex-knight with an icy glare, Squall quipped, “Bold words for a man who has tantrums for no apparent reason.”

 

Fingers clenching around the steering wheel murderously, Seifer bit out, “Hyne, I want to throttle you right now.”

 

“You could try,” Squall dared coolly.

 

Seifer took a sharp turn. Changing course, he began driving in the opposite direction of Leonhart's apartment.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“My training center,” Seifer hissed.

 

 

--

 

In a locker room, Squall undressed. Slipping out of stiff dress shoes, he glanced around at the pristine lockers and spotless tiled floor. The room was nostalgic, bearing a close resemblance to the men's locker room in Balamb Garden's training center.

 

Appearing from around a row of locker's Seifer approached with a set of neatly folded clothes in each hand. He had two pairs of sneaker's slung over his right shoulder. “Try these,” he said. He tossed a set of spare clothes at the brunet's head. Plucking the line of the smaller sneakers from his shoulder, he threw them to the ground near Leonhart's feet.

 

Catching the clothes, Squall let them drop to floor atop the sneakers while he finished undressing.

 

Seifer watched Leonhart for a moment. His continued irritation wouldn't let his thoughts stray too far. Tearing his attention from the sight of his rival's exposed torso, he began to roughly unbutton his own shirt.

 

Down to his boxer briefs, Squall examined the clothing he had been supplied with; a simple pair of black soccer shorts and white t-shirt. Shorts weren't his ideal for sparring, but considering the impromptu circumstances, he was grateful to have any alternative to his tuxedo.

 

Flinging his dress shirt inside an open locker, Seifer faltered when unzipping his pants. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Leonhart slipping into the shorts he had provided. The former commander had a firm and well-shaped ass. Though he stood by his assessment that Leonhart was fussy, the man was also the most enticing piece of tail he had ever encountered. One look at that pert ass and he was prepared to do anything to have his hands on it.

 

Squall found that the shorts rode low and the waist was a little loose. There was no drawstring, so he folded the waistband until he was assured that they would stay in place.

 

Still observing the brunet covertly, Seifer acted on impulse. Stepping up behind the scantily clad man, he set his hands on a narrow waist.

 

Squall jumped in surprise. “What are you doing?” he asked in an accusing tone.

 

Seifer smirked. “A month ago you would have told me to stop touching you,” he said smarmily.

 

Blushing, Squall realized that the blond was right. A normal reaction would have been rejection, not inquiry. “Let go,” he said, though he was too late to keep the arrogant man from becoming even more arrogant.

 

Gently squeezing firm flesh, Seifer measured his rival's waist against the size of his hands. “You're tiny,” he stated. Although Leonhart was taller than most women he had dated, the former commander had a slim figure for a man. The brunet's body wasn't scrawny, just lean and firm. He wasn't used to touching such a hard body. He was used to soft curves and flesh that had some cushioning to it.

 

Jerking away, Squall turned on the ex-knight and glared. “That never stopped me from beating you,” he pointed out.

 

“We'll see about that,” Seifer returned. However slim Leonhart appeared, the man didn't lack for strength.

 

 

--

 

In the center of the open stadium, Squall glanced around and assessed his obstruction free surroundings. Taking an interest in the dirt ground, he studied it for a moment. “Is there a retractable floor?” he questioned, wondering where the polished wooden floor had gone.

 

“It seemed like a good idea, but it put me way over budget,” Seifer said. He stood across from his rival, wearing a forest green t-shirt and black shorts. Silver gunblade in hand, he double checked the clip to make sure it was empty. It was a new Hyperion model he had wanted to test. It was heavier than what he was used to.

 

Wielding his favored Revolver model, Squall checked the cylinder for bullets. In a real battle, he had no issue exploiting the firepower of a gunblade. In a spar, it was about swordsmanship. Taking stance, he waited for the blond to start the fight.

 

Seifer launched forward to take the first strike. Advancing aggressively, his weapon cut the air with a menacing force.

 

Digging his borrowed sneakers into the packed dirt, Squall crouched low and raised his gunblade in defense. Eyes sharpening, he counted on his experience and instinct to tell him when to move.

 

As Seifer's blade arced down at the brunet, his eyes barely managed to register the swift fighter's movement. The clash of metal rung through the air, echoing off like discharged electricity throughout the empty stadium.

 

Squall ducked low, parrying the ex-knight's strike and then deflecting it. As he darted forward, his blade shaved against the blond's, pushing it off by using momentum that was already there.

 

They stood in exchanged positions. A clear offensive and defensive wouldn't be made until they had both warmed up.

 

Spinning around, Seifer faced the former commander. He flourished his weapon in an unnecessary show before holding it out defensively. He waited for Leonhart to attack.

 

Taking a deep breath, Squall calmed himself. Creeping forward, he approached the blond slowly. Suddenly lunging, he swung from the side. The ex-knight was quick to defend, and then force his blade away. Following with a second attack, he dropped low and spun a kick to the back of the tall fighter's knees.

 

Balanced lost, Seifer hit the ground. He rolled away in time to see a silver blade pierce where his head had been. Regaining his footing, he stood and met the chilling gaze of steely eyes.

 

Stepping in unison, they circled each other while biding time. Seifer broke form first, rushing forward to unleash a quick series of jabbing swings. The brunet artfully dodged, dancing from side to side.

 

Driven backwards, Squall ducked and evaded each dangerous stroke. When he detected a slight lag in the blond's swings, he made a stand. Raising his blade, he absorbed the strike instead of dodging. He blocked a series of hits, the metallic clang ringing violently in short bursts. He anticipated the moment when the ex-knight would tire.

 

Breathing heavily, Seifer felt the strain of wielding his gunblade with a single hand. His arm burned, the muscles working to slug the extra weight with force and precision.

 

Taking advantage of his opponent's temporary weakness, Squall feigned a move to defend, but dodged instead. The blond was thrown off balance by the unexpected move. Pivoting on foot, he spun around and swung at the tall swordsman's side. Without charging, there wasn't much momentum to make a powerful strike.

 

Seifer cast his weapon up in time, holding it vertically and saving his arm from being severed. A spar with Leonhart was never friendly. It was always dangerous, and he loved every moment of it.

 

Squall was about to retreat, but stayed his position at the sight of a mischievous grin. He met playful green eyes. Staring for a tense moment, he studied the raw emotion evident in honest eyes. He envied the ex-knight's ability to express every thought and emotion. Even with the bad reputation that such bluntness earned, there was freedom in it.

 

Warmth gathered in Squall's chest. The sensation swelled, spreading throughout his body. He felt his lust for battle give way. Reality began to fade as he became absorbed in the ex-knight's gaze. Unconsciously, the tension left his arms and he eased the pressure behind his weapon. His mind felt dazed, much like being under a spell.

 

Eyes narrowing, Seifer studied the abrupt change in his rival. Steely eyes softened, warmth replacing the cold calculative edge. Color rose in pale cheeks, a faint blush he recognized from when the brunet had writhed beneath him in bed.

 

Squall fought the urge to reach out touch the ex-knight. His eyes were drawn to the swarthy skin of the man's neckline. He had never found anyone so attractive. The roguish swordsman incited more lust in him than he had ever thought himself capable of having. He was embarrassed by such urges, but there was no denying what he felt.

 

Seifer nearly groaned beneath Leonhart's heated gaze. He could see the supplication in stormy blue eyes. Whether or not it was a conscious act, the pretty-boy was begging to be ravished.

 

Squall knew that if he dropped his weapon, the blond would take him. If he surrendered, he would be drowned in pleasure.

 

“Careful,” Seifer warned. “I'll do it right here.”

 

“I know,” Squall returned. His body ached to be filled. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady his breathing. He willed his desires away. He didn't want to be the sort of person accustomed to having such lewd thoughts.

 

Licking his lips, Seifer eyed the former commander with hunger. Knowing that Leonhart was having lewd thoughts about him turned him on.

 

As his arms grew tired, Squall made up his mind. In a quick break, he stepped back. Distancing himself from the blond didn't help. Despite the coolness of the air in the open stadium, the heat was overwhelming. His clothing felt constrictive and heavy.

 

Releasing a breath he had been holding unconsciously, Seifer stared at the brunet with sharp eyes. “Do you want to fight or fuck?” he questioned. He resented how easily Leonhart swayed his emotions. He was willing to do whatever the brunet desired. If Leonhart wanted to keep sparring, then he would continue to fight and enjoy it. If the man wanted sex, then he would become a willing slave and gladly fulfill the former commander's every desire. His willingness was pathetic.

 

“Fight,” Squall said tersely. He wanted so much more, but refused to articulate any of it. Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of his desire. It was useless. His body pleaded for him to abandon the spar for more gratifying activities.

 

Nodding his compliance, Seifer raised his blade. “I should warn you,” he said, his eyes still piercing in their stare.

 

Squall inclined his head and waited.

 

A devilish smirk came to Seifer's face. “You've got me hot and bothered. I'm gonna fight you like I want to fuck you,” he stated. The severity in his gaze suggested that he was quite serious.

 

Confusion registered in stormy blue eyes.

 

“Rough and hard,” Seifer elaborated. He laughed at the blushing swordsman. He loved teasing the reserved man. Leonhart tried so hard to hide every emotion. He considered it his duty to disrupt the man's cool.

 

Glaring, Squall muttered, “Whatever.”

 

As much as Seifer enjoyed getting a rise out of the brunet, he was serious. If he couldn't express his rampant lust through sex, then he would find an outlet in their spar.

 

When the ex-knight came at him, Squall's mind found its focus again. In the heat of battle, survival trumped everything else. He smiled as he raised his weapon to defend himself. It was a small and narrow victory, but he felt like he had regained some control.

 

--

 

In silence, Squall stood before the locker with his clothes neatly folded inside. Toeing out of borrowed sneakers, he glanced at the blond beside him. They were both a sweating mess.

 

Unlacing his sneakers, Seifer finished catching his breath. “That was good,” he commented. His words fell flat. The atmosphere was heavy. Standing up, he regarded the brunet.

 

Stepping closer, Seifer reached out and touched the side of Leonhart's face. A delighted shiver ran through his body when the man didn't flinch back or show the slightest bit of refusal. “You have dirt on your face,” he explained.

 

Squall bit his lip, trying to settle his racing heart.

 

“Do you want to take a shower?” Seifer questioned. He stepped even closer.

 

Nodding faintly, Squall waited for the ex-knight to make the next move. He assumed there was hidden subtext to the man's question.

 

Eliminating the distance between them completely, Seifer hauled the pale swordsman close. He leaned in to kiss the man, but stopped short. His lips were a hair's breadth away. He felt Leonhart's hot breath. The torment of denying himself what he wanted was sweetly seductive.

 

Opening his eyes, Squall gazed up and tried to determine why the blond didn't kiss him. Releasing a shaky breath, he leaned forward to finish what the man had started.

 

Seifer evaded Leonhart's lips. He chuckled when the needy fighter fisted his shirt and demanded his cooperation.

 

Drawing back, Squall gave the ex-knight a look of petulant annoyance. He didn't want to play games.

 

“Soon,” Seifer assured. Hands set on slim hips, he hiked Leonhart up against his body. Lean legs quickly wrapped around his waist, bringing their pelvises together. He began to suspect that the torment he felt half the time was the price he paid for the pleasure he felt the other half.

 

Squall let the ex-knight pick him up, though he distantly recalled a time when he would have refused such manhandling. The blond walked him to the shower room, and then back against the cold tile of the shower room wall. Winding his arms around the man's neck, he finally met hungry lips.

 

Reaching out blindly, Seifer turned the tap on. Icy water rained from the showerhead mounted on the wall. When the spray hit him, he jolted in surprise.

 

“Shit,” Seifer cursed. Breaking away from his rival's mouth, he adjusted the water's temperature. Turning his attention back to his willing partner, he suggested, “Let's get you out of these clothes.”

 

Releasing his hold on the blond's neck, Squall leaned back against the wall. He tightened his legs to keep from falling. When the ex-knight tore at his sodden shirt, he lifted his arms and let the man remove it. Wanting to feel Seifer's skin against his own, he reached down and grappled to lift the man's shirt up. Water cascaded down, jetting over his head and hitting the arrogant swordsman in front of him. It ran between them, pooling where their bodies pressed tightly together.

 

Once they were both shirtless, Seifer hugged Leonhart's frame. Kissing the swordsman, he reveled in the feel of the man's exposed flesh pressing against him. As they became drenched, he let his hands slide down to grope firm buttocks. His fingers dug into supple skin, clawing at low riding shorts.

 

Squall gave a stifled sound of surprised when an invasive finger breeched his entrance. His shorts were pushed lower. Strong hands began to knead his buttocks, spreading him as a single penetrating digit sunk deeper.

 

“Is this okay?” Seifer questioned. Removing his finger from inside the brunet, he met stormy blue eyes and waited for permission. “Can I be inside you?”

 

Nodding, Squall ran his fingers through the ex-knight's hair. Clutching wet strands, he leaned in and kissed the man with fervor.

 

Seifer pressed against Leonhart's tight portal. Pushing inside, smooth walls clamped around his finger. The man felt twice as hot on the inside. He pushed deeper, wanted to sink farther into inviting warmth. His cock throbbed, pulsing with the desire to shove inside the tight entrance that his finger explored.

 

In a heated frenzy, Squall and Seifer touched each other. Tongues twining relentlessly, they kissed without any regard for swollen lips or starving lungs.

 

Squall rocked against the ex-knight. He could feel the man's bulging erection pressing against his own. He couldn't tell how many fingers were inside him. Spikes of pleasure radiated each time a stretching digit raked against his prostate gland.

 

Though Seifer tried to concentrate, he began to succumb to mindless pleasure. He didn't want to stretch Leonhart too roughly, and he wanted to keep a firm hold on the rocking body pinned between him and the wall. The harder Leonhart ground against his pelvis, the more difficult it became to focus. The heated friction of their rubbing bodies threatened to make him come prematurely.

 

“Wait,” Seifer said. He tried to break away from his rival's plush lips, but the vixen wouldn't let him stop so easily. A coiling tongue slipped into his mouth, urging him to continue their kiss. Unable to deny the stubborn creature a moment of pleasure, he lost himself in plundering the man's mouth once again.

 

When the ex-knight's fingers began to thrust in and out of him, Squall cast his head back with a moan. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he bit down to stifle the noises he made involuntarily. He arched his back, his hips thrusting against the blond's fingers.

 

Short of breath, Seifer took a moment to regain his senses while he drove his rival insane. His reprieve didn't last long. Leonhart's hand strayed down, wedging between their bodies to cup his groin. Before he could stop the man, frisky fingers slid inside his shorts and gripped his cock. He groaned when the brunet began to stroke him.

 

“You'll make me come,” Seifer warned. Seeing dazed stormy blue eyes, he realized he wasn't the only one nearing orgasm. Though he could think of better ways to find fulfillment, the first way being buried inside the swordsman's body, he understood that neither of them had the stamina to last very long.

 

“Seifer,” Squall murmured. Panting for air, he was unable to stifle unbidden moans.

 

“We'll do it like this,” Seifer said. With three fingers inside the gasping beauty, he thrust harder and deeper. The flush of color in pale cheeks and heavy lids over dazed eyes encouraged him to finish what he had started. The sounds Leonhart made were positively sinful. Each sweet moan shot straight to his cock.

 

Rocking more urgently, childhood rivals used their hands to pleasure each other. Squall stroked the ex-knight's manhood. Seifer thrust his fingers deeper into the moaning brunet's body.

 

In a blind haze, Squall climaxed. Clinging to the pretentious blond, he buried his face in the crook of the man's neck. Warm water gushed against the back of his head. He felt his body clench around the ex-knight's fingers, securing them deep inside himself. His legs tightened their hold, forcing pressure against his spurting manhood.

 

Seifer turned his head, nudging against Leonhart's sopping hair. Water hit his face. Leaning forward more, he pressed the brunet back against the wall, allowing for the water to skim overhead and roll down his back. Holding onto his rival, he felt the man's body tense and shudder as he drove his fingers deeper into clenching depths. He nipped at the man's ear. Still rocking his hips into the stroking hand down his pants, he finally came.

 

Squall gripped Seifer's cock firmly. He stroked the thick organ as best he could between their interlocked bodies. Pleasure coursed through him, making it difficult to concentrate on anything except the blissful experience. Minutes seemed to pass before his climax abated. His muscles strained to keep their position. Finally winding down from blinding ecstasy, he eased his legs' clenched hold on the ex-knight's waist. He felt sticky release coating his hand, confirming that his partner had also finished.

 

Seifer removed his fingers from the brunet's body. He sighed with satisfaction as Leonhart gently released his manhood. He loved what Leonhart did to him. The former commander excited him and tortured him. His sexual desires were always satisfied, though never sated. He couldn't get enough. He wanted to take the man home and stay in bed for days, living on a regime of fucking and sleeping.

 

Slipping his hand out from within the blond's shorts, Squall unlocked his legs. He stood tentatively, his feet gently meeting the wet floor. He didn't have good balance. Seifer held him close, keeping him steady. Bringing his sticky hand between them, he briefly studied the pearly fluid that webbed between his fingers.

 

Seifer grasped Leonhart's hand and directed it beneath the shower's spray. He watched as the water washed the delicate hand clean. As much as he enjoyed sullying the innocent fighter, he found greater satisfaction in cleaning the man up. He enjoyed washing his rival's body down and scrubbing it clean. He supposed it left a fresh palate to mark again, but there was something more to it that appealed to him.

 

“I'll take you home after this,” Seifer murmured, his tone sounding uncertain, almost a question.

 

Squall regarded the ex-knight with searching eyes. “Lore is expecting me,” he said. He detected reluctance in the confident man's countenance. Spending the night together would have been nice. He was comfortable around Seifer and found it easy to relax. He was able to sleep best when strong arms held him close.

 

Nodding in agreement, Seifer muttered, “Raijin and Fujin are at my place anyway.” He didn't bother suggesting that they could spend the night at a hotel. It was pointless. If Leonhart had intentions of returning home to that possessive brat, he stood no chance of compelling the dedicated father to stay with him.

 

Still holding the reticent fighter close, Seifer's thoughts raced. Their time together had gone by too fast. He loathed the prospect of parting. Convinced that he could persuade Leonhart to stay a bit longer, he let his hands wander. He pushed the brunet's shorts down until they fell in a heap to the shower floor, leaving the man completely exposed.

 

“Again?” Squall murmured in mild surprise.

 

“Hmm?” Seifer hummed a note of question while nuzzling Leonhart's neck. He groped firm buttocks. Splaying the cleft wider, he spread his rival for the taking.

 

“You're hard again,” Squall elaborated. Considering the manner in which the ex-knight touched him, he assumed that the blond wanted more. It was still early. There was time for more, and he certainly wasn't going to reject an offer for it.

 

Seifer hadn't even realized that he had become hard again. Smirking lewdly, he queried, “Are you up for it?”

 

Rolling his eyes at the blond's less than subtle innuendo, Squall slid his arms around the man's trim waist. He mimicked what the ex-knight had done to him, pushing wet shorts down until they fell to the floor. Running his fingers along the man's back, he felt toned muscle. Seifer was devastatingly sexy. Richly tanned skin, a muscular body, roguish good looks, piercing eyes, and liberal endowment gave the arrogant man plausible reason to have such a large ego. Despite the devil-may-care attitude, he was even fond of the man's company.

 

Setting his lips on Leonhart's neck, Seifer nipped and suckled until the brunet's body began to tremble in his arms. He worked his way to plush lips, but was denied permission when he tried to take what he wanted.

 

When the ex-knight tried to capture his lips, Squall evaded the move. Nipping the man's chin, he waited expectantly for Seifer to try and kiss him again. Dodging again, he almost laughed when a grunt of exasperation sounded and strong arms tightened demandingly.

 

“You're taunting me,” Seifer observed. He smirked, partly amused and partly indignant.

 

“You're quick,” Squall whispered. He was merely returning the favor.

 

Seifer reached a hand up and fisted the brunet's wet locks. Holding the man's head in place, he finally captured teasing lips. He would sell his soul if it meant he could kiss Leonhart forever. There were too many barriers between them, making it necessary to secure a proper time and location for any intimacy. He wanted unlimited access. He wanted to wake up in the morning and have Leonhart sleeping at his side. If the urge to kiss Leonhart arose, he wanted the brunet within arms' reach. “Hyne, you taste so fucking good. Why is it never enough?”

 

“I don't know,” Squall mumbled. Accepting the ex-knight's tongue, he sighed softly as it danced with his own.

 

Tasting enough to tide his hunger over, Seifer violently spun Leonhart around. Pushing the brunet's shoulders forward, he prostrated the fighter's body. Using a guiding hand, he positioned himself at his rival's entrance.

 

Biting his lip, Squall tensed at the feel of the blond's cock nudging inside. He forced himself to relax, taking measured breaths.

 

“Shit,” Seifer cursed in realization. Pulling out, he drew a deep breath to keep from losing control.

 

“What?” Squall asked, glancing over his shoulder. If his compliant behavior weren't enough to indicate just how much he wanted the blond to take him, he didn't know how else to send the message. Anticipating ecstasy, his body shivered with need.

 

“No condom,” Seifer said tersely.

 

The veil of lust lifted enough for Squall to process the situation, though his judgment was far from unimpaired. Debating the issue, he concluded that since they were in the shower, it would be fairly easy to clean up afterwards. “It's fine,” he said.

 

Recognizing that he barely had enough willpower to stop before he started, Seifer knew that he wouldn't be able to pull out before ejaculating. If he fucked Leonhart, he would finish with his cock buried deep inside the man. “I can't promise that I won't come inside you,” he said. The last time he had come inside Leonhart had been their first time together, which was not exactly his proudest moment. Since then, he had always worn a condom. It was a line he didn't want to cross without consideration for Leonhart's feelings. Somehow, it felt as though it would be a serious violation of the man, the kind that wasn't sexy.

 

“I said it's fine,” Squall reiterated. Still looking over his shoulder, he glared. He didn't like to repeat himself.

 

Though Seifer understood that Leonhart was ready and willing, he didn't think the man was giving the matter enough consideration. He always wore protection with women, lest little Almasys spawn from his mistake. The only time he had neglected to use a condom had been with Leonhart. Lust had clouded his judgment back then. Though he understood that Leonhart was a man, the irony of the situation was not lost on him. He was with someone he didn't run any risk of impregnating, yet it was the same person who had sired his only child.

 

A frown of consternation came over Seifer's face. Struck by a ludicrous thought, he realized with each passing moment that it wasn't such a ludicrous concern to have. “I have to ask,” he warned. He knew Leonhart would flip out on him, but he had a right to know. He forced himself not to wince as he anticipated his rival's caustic reaction. “Can you get pregnant?”

 

Eyes widening, Squall stood straight and turned on the blond. “Excuse me?” he bit out. He glared, his eyes taking on a dangerous steely edge.

 

“Calm down,” Seifer urged, holding his hands up defenselessly. “It's a legitimate question.” Feeling the unrelenting chill of his rival's icy gaze, he set his hands on narrow shoulders. Squeezing gently, he kept the man from shaking his hold off. “I realize it's a touchy subject to bring up. Hyne knows there are better times, but it's relevant now.” Sensing a slight change in the brunet's frigid demeanor, he continued, “You're telling me it's okay to do this without protection. I don't think of you as a woman, but that brat of yours at home makes things a little confusing.”

 

As angry as Squall wanted to be with the ex-knight, he couldn't keep the man's words from making sense. Seifer had never shown an interest in Lore as a son, and details of his pregnancy had certainly never come up. Understanding the blond's concern, he felt his agitation melt away. He murmured a quiet, “No.”

 

Seifer wanted to ask how it worked, but it wasn't the right time. “Okay,” he said. Kissing the former commander, he wooed the man back.

 

Still flustered, Squall didn't let go of his annoyance easily. His grasp loosened the longer the blond kissed him. He began to kiss the man in return. Eventually, the knot of anger faded. Concluding that the ex-knight hadn't actually meant to antagonize him, he accepted the question and let it go.

 

As the idea of taking his rival without a condom set into his brain, Seifer became intoxicated. There would be nothing between them, nothing separating their bodies. His lust flared. Turning the brunet around again, he waited for Leonhart to lean over without any encouragement from himself. When the willful fighter bent at the waist, waiting for him to enter, he knew he wasn't the only one who still wanted sex. Without further hesitation, he guided the tip of his erection to Leonhart's rosy little anus.

 

A gasp escaped Squall's lips as the ex-knight slowly pushed inside of him. He had come to like the pain, his body remembering the pleasure that followed.

 

“It's so hot inside you,” Seifer hissed. The inside of his rival felt on fire.

 

An inarticulate simper was all Squall could manage to answer with. The ex-knight pushed deeper. He had thought the man was already buried, but inches more pressed inside, filling him until his eyes watered. It felt so good.

 

Seifer ran his hands over the bent brunet's lean back. He kneaded knotted muscles, working to relieve tension. “It's all in,” he informed in a soothing voice.

 

Hands pressed against the wall, Squall arched his back and rocked his hips. He inhaled sharply as both pleasure and pain radiated from the same place.

 

In slow, tentative movements, Seifer pulled out and pushed back in. Tight muscles gripped his cock like a vice. “Relax more or I'll come,” he directed. Leonhart was too tight. If he didn't know any better, he would think the man was a virgin.

 

“I can't,” Squall muttered. There was only so much he could do to relax his body. The muscles that clenched around the ex-knight's cock weren't exactly the easiest to control, especially when they were being stretched beyond their limit.

 

Seifer tried to fill his head with thoughts that might lessen his arousal, in the hopes of holding out longer despite the heavenly body his cock penetrated. It was impossible. Even if he closed his eyes, Leonhart was all he could think about.

 

“Just wait,” Squall advised. After a few minutes, his body would stretch to accommodate the foreign girth.

 

Groaning in ecstasy, Seifer drew out again and gave a hard thrust back in. In a husky voice, he murmured, “You expect me to wait?”

 

A shiver of delight ran through Squall. He didn't know what caused it; the feel of his rival's throbbing manhood moving inside him or the sound of the man's baritone voice. His body responded favorably to both.

 

“If you can't loosen up, I'll just have to do it for you,” Seifer explained. Gripping slim hips, he set a pace. He drew out slowly, and then thrust in quick. Each stabbing assault rocked Leonhart forward and forced delicious noises to sound from the man.

 

Squall wanted to reach down and touch himself, but he needed both hands against the wall to keep steady. The ex-knight began to pull out nearly all the way, only to drive back in with rough force. Bowing his head, he bent lower, his fingers clawing the wall for support. His knees felt weak, making it difficult to keep standing, but it felt too good to stop. He didn't want a reprieve. He wanted more.

 

“Harder,” Squall hissed. He wanted the blond to pound into him and never stop.

 

“My pleasure,” Seifer returned. Moving faster, he began to nail his rival in a very literal sense.

 

“Ahhn!” Driven mad, Squall let go of everything. Pleasure rang through his body without pause. The ex-knight seemed to hit his prostate with every thrust. He had always known such stimulation could feel good, but he had never known just how good. Seifer wasn't the first man he had had sex with, but he was the first to make it addictive.

 

Seifer used his hands to pull Leonhart's hips back while he thrust forward. He sensed the increasing instability of his rival's stance. Recognizing that he was being quite rough, he still couldn't ease up. Slipping an arm around the lithe fighter's torso, he pulled the man upright. Pressing the moaning brunet against the wall, he kept the man pinned while continuing to pound into the compliant beauty.

 

Writhing with blind passion, Squall felt his senses go haywire. With the cold surface of the wall in front and the heated friction from behind, he felt hot and cold at once, unable to distinguish between the two.

 

Thrusting faster, Seifer felt his pleasure mount. He was close to climaxing. Leonhart's cries of ecstasy assured him that it was okay to come. He knew his rival was also close.

 

Reaching an arm over his shoulder, Squall ran his fingers through the ex-knight's wet hair. He clutched drenched strands and tugged hard.

 

Seifer took direction well. At the urging of Leonhart pulling his hair, he buried his face in the crook of the man's neck and bit down on supple skin. Though he hadn't meant to bite hard, he climaxed in that moment. His teeth broke delicate skin.

 

Crying out at the feel of teeth sinking into his neck, Squall came blindly. His arousal rubbed against cold tile, the cool surface supplying strange sensations. The ex-knight kept slamming into him, making each jerk of his ejaculating organ last longer.

 

Cock spurting hard, Seifer wrung every jerk out in shallow thrusts. Leonhart's hot body clamped sporadically, gripping him tighter with each spurt his length gave.

 

When it was over, Seifer didn't move. He kept Leonhart pinned, his softening manhood still inside the panting brunet. Tasting blood, he released his mouthful of tender flesh. He set a trail of soft kisses over the injured shoulder, silently apologizing for biting too hard.

 

Arm raised somewhat awkwardly, Squall stroked the ex-knight's hair. He shivered as the man repeatedly kissed his shoulder. His body began to regain equilibrium, and the cold wall felt even colder.

 

Feeling the brunet shiver, Seifer suspected it was more than the sensation of being touched by him. Reaching out, he adjusted the shower's tap and made the water warmer. “Are you cold?” he asked.

 

Squall gave a bare nod. He was cold and feeling less comfortable by the moment, but he didn't want to move. The ex-knight was still inside him. He didn't want to feel emptiness of losing their connection.

 

Wrapping his arms around the lithe fighter, Seifer drew the man back from the wall. He let his manhood slip out of the brunet's slick entrance. His entire body felt degrees colder. The warmth from gushing water didn't abate the chill, but keeping Leonhart's body pressed close seemed to help.

 

Though Squall thoroughly enjoyed the feel of strong arms holding him tightly, he needed to wash up and return home. Patting one of the blond's arms that crossed over his chest, he said, “I need to wash up.”

 

“I know,” Seifer returned. Nuzzling the uninjured side of the swordsman's neck, he squeezed the man tighter. He didn't want to let go. “I don't want to let go,” he admitted. He wanted more time together. He didn't want the night to end with their parting.

 

Squall wriggled in the ex-knight's hold, the feel of semen leaking out urged him to wash up. “Let go,” he said.

 

“You have time,” Seifer urged, estimating that it was only a little after ten o'clock.

 

“No,” Squall said, his voice taking on a pleading edge. “I need to shower.” It wasn't a matter of returning home on time.

 

Detecting a note of troubled discomfort in the brunet's voice, Seifer realized that Leonhart wasn't concerned about punctuality. He smirked with dawning understanding. Reaching down, he drew a hand along Leonhart's inner thigh. He felt sticky release dribbling down the man's leg. “Let me look,” he said.

 

Before Squall could protest, the ex-knight had him pressed against the wall again. “Don't,” he ordered. The man proceeded anyway, kneeling behind him.

 

“Sweet Hyne,” Seifer exclaimed, staring at the winking hole that seeped his own seed. He watched trails of semen escape, dripping down pale thighs. His heart raced, rushing blood to his groin. Reaching closer, he let his fingers rub against the abused anus, nudging inside and feeling the sticky slickness of cum. In that moment, he almost wished he could get Leonhart pregnant. The notion that his release could do more than mark his territory, but also react and bond with the brunet's body on a biological level was terribly appealing.

 

“Stop,” Squall urged. The detriment of having sex with Seifer was that it never stopped. A single round turned into ten, and he was powerless to refuse the attractive blond. He submitted to passion each time. He feared that thoughts of Lore wouldn't be enough to tether him to reality and lure him home that night.

 

“So what if you're a few minutes late,” Seifer commented. He slipped his fingers deeper, stretching the opening and watching in fascination as his seed continued to drip out.

 

“We have to stop eventually,” Squall pointed out. Biting his lip, he kept from moaning. He wanted to be taken again.

 

“Not if we meet up in the afterlife,” Seifer jibed. He would gladly fuck Leonhart for all eternity.

 

Squall gasped when the ex-knight stroked the sensitive nub inside him. “Bastard,” he muttered ruefully, rocking back involuntarily. That tiny bundle of nerves triggered arousal whether he approved or not.

 

“I never pretended to be anything else,” Seifer reminded.

 

 

--

 

Seifer returned home to a quiet apartment. Now living in the forty-fifth district, only a ten minute drive from his training center, he had finally settled down. There were no towers of boxes stationed in the corner. He had an Estharian ID and had already mapped out a large portion of the city.

 

His new apartment was a significant upgrade. There were two bedrooms instead of one, and he had a complete kitchen.

 

Tossing his suit jacket over the back of the couch, Seifer moved through the spacious living room. The entire apartment was dark. Light filtered in from the large window at the far end of the room. Six stories up, he had a decent view of the city's nightline.

 

Making his way to the kitchen, he flipped the ceiling light on. A clean white light flooded the room, reflecting off every surface. The floor was tiled in black and white squares. The counters were a black marble swirled with smoky gray. White cabinets lined the wall, giving him more storage space than he needed. He was a decent cook, but usually stuck to simple meals.

 

Seifer was surprised to find another occupant in the kitchen. At the other end of the room, holding the narrow door of the refrigerator open, Raijin stood frozen.

 

Glancing at his watch, Seifer determined that it was nearly midnight. “Midnight snack?” he queried.

 

Raijin grinned. “You scared me coming in like that. I thought you were Fujin, ya know?”

 

“Next time I'll ring the doorbell,” Seifer muttered.

 

Raijin turned his back on the ex-knight and proceeded to rummage around in the fridge. “Fu wants something sweet. She finished off what Leonhart gave her in a day. All you have is healthy stuff.”

 

“I don't eat junk food,” Seifer pointed out. Eating healthy had been a lifelong habit that he didn't intend to break just because his pregnant friend was spending the week at his place.

 

Raijin gave his blond friend a supplicating look. “It's better to cater to Fu's cravings than deal with the consequences, ya know?”

 

Quirking a speculative brow, Seifer watched as his burly friend searched for sweets. “There should be strawberry jelly on the second shelf. That's about the sweetest thing I buy.”

 

“I think maybe I'll run out to the store real quick,” Raijin said, his shoulders slouching in dismay.

 

Opening a cabinet near the sink, Seifer grabbed a mug and filled it with water. He was glad to find Raijin awake, but couldn't figure a subtle way of bringing up his date with Leonhart without seeming like an overeager fool.

 

After setting the water for his tea to heat in the microwave, Seifer glanced at his dark haired friend. The man had moved onto the pantry, rustling around in the hopes of not having to make a trip to the store.

 

Smirking, Seifer casually commented, “If I'd known you were desperate, I would have asked Leonhart for something when I dropped him off.”

 

Raijin's head poked out from the pantry. He appeared reluctant to say anything that referenced the former commander. With a frown, he ventured tentatively, “Is Leonhart still coming over tomorrow?”

 

“A deal's a deal,” Seifer stated. He hadn't let Leonhart leave his car until reaffirming that the man would be visiting the next day. Excitement swelled inside him.

 

“I found peanut butter. Does that count as sweet?” Raijin asked.

 

“It has my vote,” Seifer assured.

 

The microwave beeped. Retrieving his mug, Seifer watched Raijin leave the kitchen out of the corner of his eye. He was somewhat disappointed that he had no one to talk to. It was difficult to keep everything bottled up.

 

With a sigh, he stalked to the pantry. Searching through various boxes of tea, he eventually settled on having green tea. He had enough on his mind to keep him awake that night without caffeine making it worse.

 

Raijin reentered the kitchen. He found Seifer walking out of the pantry. “She fell asleep,” he explained, holding up the jar of peanut butter.

 

“You didn't feel like joining her?” Seifer muttered.

 

Grinning sheepishly, Raijin explained, “Ever since she got pregnant, she likes to sleep diagonal. There's no room for me.”

 

Inclining his head in understanding, Seifer said, “I used the couch when my bed was delivered late. It's a decent substitute.”

 

“Thanks man,” Raijin said as he moved across the room to return the peanut butter.

 

Tugging the teabag's string, Seifer tried to hurry the steeping process. He appeared lost in thought. He wondered what peculiar habits Leonhart had formed while pregnant. Hogging the bed and craving sweets were Fujin's latest stunts. As his imagination ran wild, he smiled and chuckled to himself.

 

Startled by the gentle expression on the ex-knight's face, Raijin stared with wide eyes. “What's so funny?” he questioned cautiously.

 

“I'm just thinking,” Seifer dismissed. Raijin couldn't possibly appreciate the humor he found in thoughts of a pregnant Leonhart.

 

Eying the ex-knight, Raijin tried to gauge what went on in the man's head. “You're in a good mood,” he observed. The blond's behavior was strange. He couldn't identify what was amiss, but something wasn't quite right. It wasn't so much in the man's words or actions, but rather an aura of excitement.

 

A mischievous gleam came to jade green eyes. “That's what generally happens after a good fuck.” Seifer laughed. He didn't bother explaining how much of an understatement his words were. Leonhart was far more than a `good fuck'. Although dinner had ended on a bad note, the night had been an overall success.

 

On his way home, Seifer had realized the hitch in his relationship with Leonhart. They had always been good at fighting each other. Causing pain and doing damage came easy. More recently, his rival had proven to be every bit as viable a bed partner as a sparring partner. Their mode of operations was based on extremes. It was a sordid mixture of pleasure and pain. A dinner date didn't fit into the mix. Civility without the sex was neither pain nor pleasure. It was an outlier, unaccounted and untested. He was confident that, in time, they could situate all sorts of things in between fighting and fucking.

 

Grimacing, Raijin held his hands up. “Come on, man. You're talking about Leonhart, ya know?”

 

Still smirking, Seifer pointed out, “I've been talking about Leonhart for two months now. You have to get used to it at some point.”

 

Shaking his head, Raijin said, “I'm holding out for when you call it off.”

 

Seifer's smirk fell. His expression sobered. “What makes you think I'll call it off?”

 

“Common sense, ya know?” Raijin returned. Oil and water didn't mix. At some point the two would separate.

 

Seifer studied his burly friend's sour demeanor. “You don't like that I'm dating Leonhart,” he concluded. He could understand a lack of enthusiasm, but what he saw in his friend's eyes was disapproval.

 

“Dating,” Raijin reiterated thoughtfully. He understood that his blond buddy had taken a fancy to the notion of wooing Leonhart, but that didn't make it a respectable cause. “What happened to that plan of yours to seduce him to prove a point? Haven't you already proven your point? Why drag this on any longer?”

 

“This isn't about that anymore,” Seifer groused. He set his mug on the countertop with a harsh clack. “I'm not trying to prove a point.”

 

Raijin appeared skeptical. “I'm all for you satisfying your ego, ya know? But this is going too far.” After running a frustrated hand through his hair, the short strands stood on end. Since learning of the ex-knight's latest penchant for a prickly, cold, enigmatic, male, and recalcitrant partner, he had accepted it under the assumption that it was some elaborate joke. “It's Leonhart, Seifer. What the hell are you doing?”

 

Seifer scoffed. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

 

“No, it's not obvious,” Raijin disagreed. There had been many times when he didn't agree with Seifer's master plans, but he generally held his tongue. He trusted the man's judgment implicitly, or at least he used to. This was one scheme he couldn't keep quiet about. “You can't just date someone like Leonhart.”

 

“There's no scheme involved,” Seifer grumbled. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

 

“You can tell a lie enough times to make a person believe it, ya know?” Raijin posed. “But that like doesn't make the lie true.”

 

“I'm not lying!” Seifer snapped. Advancing on his friend, he glared. “I want Leonhart,” he declared. “I like the fussy bastard.”

 

Swallowing a note of fear, Raijin stood his ground. He was taller and bigger than the ex-knight, but under the narrowed gaze of sharp green eyes, he felt puny. Mustering his voice, he said, “You don't just wake up one day and decide to be gay, ya know? If being into guys weren't bad enough, do you really have to go after Leonhart?”

 

“I'm not fucking gay,” Seifer stated vehemently. “Leonhart's an exception.”

 

“This isn't a board game,” Raijin countered. “There aren't exceptions to the rules.”

 

Jaw clenching, Seifer struggled with his mounting anger. Raijin was denying what he felt for Leonhart. “You're starting to piss me off,” he hissed.

 

Raijin cast a cautious glance to the kitchen door. He didn't want to wake Fujin. “I'm just looking out for you, ya know?” he soothed. “This thing with Leonhart can't end well. Since when do you ever chase after someone like you're doing with him?”

 

With a sigh, Seifer released some of his frustration. He never fought with Raijin. Fujin disagreed with him on a daily basis, but never Raijin. “Maybe I've finally found something worth chasing,” he reasoned. Perhaps Leonhart was playing hard to get, but it wasn't the sort of coy game that turned him off. Leonhart was wary of how unpredictable their relationship was, and he understood that. Their date that night had only confirmed his suspicions of how good they could be together. Now, he would stop at nothing to make the former commander his lover.

 

“You haven't found anything,” Raijin refuted. “You've known him your whole life. Whatever he's worth to you now, he would have been worth to you twenty years ago.”

 

“That's bullshit and you know it,” Seifer muttered. “Twenty years ago you and Fu did nothing but fight. She means more to you now than she ever did.”

 

Appearing sheepish, Raijin dropped his gaze to the floor and considered Seifer's words. He wanted to deny any similarity in their circumstances, but the ex-knight had a valid point. Twenty years ago, he would have cringed at the idea of dating Fujin. Now he was married to her and about to become a father.

 

“I expected you of all people to show a little support,” Seifer added.

 

With a frown, Raijin considered what his responsibilities were as a best friend. A crease formed in his brow as he struggled to explain his continued aversion to Seifer dating Leonhart. “I can't condone what I think will be bad for you,” he stated.

 

“How is this bad?” Seifer questioned in exasperation.

 

“Should I make a list?” Raijin returned.

 

Scoffing, Seifer stared at the raven-haired man for a long moment. “You never said any of this when I first told you my intentions to date Leonhart.”

 

Raijin scratched the back of his head. Shuffling in place, he explained, “Honestly, I thought you were joking.”

 

“You mean when I repeatedly told you how serious I was?” Seifer queried heatedly.

 

“Don't be like that,” Raijin muttered. “I'm your friend because I don't lie to you. That's what friends do, ya know?”

 

“As my friend, you should support me.” Finally becoming fed up, Seifer brushed past the raven-haired man and left the kitchen. He resented Raijin's disapproval. There were enough people against him already.

 

Raijin didn't follow the blond immediately. He stood alone in the kitchen for a silent moment, reflecting on his side of the argument. A part of him wanted to back down and concede to the ex-knight's wishes, but he couldn't give his wholehearted support. Turning around, he pushed the swinging door open with force. Forgetting about his sleeping wife, he declared in a firm voice, “If you decided to kill yourself, I wouldn't support you in that.”

 

Halfway across the living room, Seifer paused. The room was dark. Light filtered in from the kitchen while Raijin held the door open, but it did little to brighten the large room.

 

Without turning around, Seifer bowed his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Killing myself is not an analogy for dating Leonhart,” he said in a chilly voice.

 

Swallowing reflexively, Raijin braced himself for the consequences of defying the short-tempered ex-knight. “It might as well be,” he commented.

 

Lifting his head, Seifer gazed outside the wide arching window along the far wall of the living room. Absently looking at the neon skyline, he concluded that there was no winning his friend's vote of confidence. “He's coming over here tomorrow to help you, but feel free to let him know what you think of him,” he muttered darkly. Raijin's opposition stung.

 

“Hey man, this has nothing to do with me not liking Leonhart,” Raijin hastily asserted. He had no qualms with the former commander. “I made my peace with him a long time ago. This is about you.”

 

“I'm not asking anyone's permission,” Seifer stated. “Whatever happens, happens.”

 

Not giving Raijin the opportunity to respond, Seifer continued to walk away. Disappearing down a hallway leading off the living room, he made his way to his bedroom.

 

Raijin stood frozen in the kitchen doorway. He dreaded facing Leonhart tomorrow. If he couldn't make Seifer understand his concerns, he would have to try reasoning with the levelheaded commander.

 

--

 

Squall arrived home a few minutes after eleven. The night had seemed longer than it was. From the stiff opening ceremony, to a dinner that was cut short, to his spar with Seifer and everything that had followed.

 

He anticipated an inquisition from Lore. He suspected that his return was eagerly awaited.

 

Hair still damp from his extensive shower, Squall did not present the refined image he had left with. His suit jacket was draped over the crook of his elbow and he hadn't bothered buttoning his vest or tucking in his shirt.

 

Lore rushed to the entryway. His welcoming smile fell at the sight of dishevelment his father presented. “What happened?” he asked, approaching closer to assess the damage.

 

“Nothing,” Squall assured. When Lore rushed to meet him, he saw the young boy who used to tackle him with a hug after he was away on a mission.

 

Fingering damp hair, Lore asked, “Why is your hair wet?”

 

“I showered after sparring,” Squall answered. As expected, he faced a stream of questions. Inwardly, he smiled at the concern his son expressed.

 

“Sparring?” Lore mumbled suspiciously.

 

Coming up behind his grandson, Laguna intoned, “Is that what they're calling it these days?”

 

Whipping around, Lore exclaimed, “Grandpa!”

 

Squall made an effort to hide his surprise, instead appearing curious at the older man's remark. He couldn't deny that he had done a great deal more than spar with Seifer.

 

With a blithe air of innocence, Laguna commented, “You're home earlier than expected.”

 

Brows furrowing, Squall pointed out, “It's after eleven.” He had established eleven as a sort of quasi curfew. He knew Lore would await his return, and hadn't wanted to make the boy stay up late.

 

A goofy, and somewhat mischievous smile brightened Laguna's face. “I planned on spending the night. I didn't think you'd be back until tomorrow.”

 

Eyes widening, Squall stared at his father in uncertainty. He wasn't entirely clear on what the man intended to imply, but he suspected what it might be. “I said I would be home by eleven.”

 

“Love is unpredictable,” Laguna returned, still smiling. Hazel green eyes sparkled with secretive knowledge.

 

“Love!?” Lore intoned incredulously. Turning around, he gave his grandfather a look of petulant disapproval. “Grandpa, do you know what you're talking about?”

 

“I know a good match when I see one,” Laguna said to his stubborn grandson.

 

Staring in disbelief, Squall was speechless. He blushed when he realized his father was actually supporting his relationship with Seifer. The man's words were wildly unexpected.

 

Expression sobering, Laguna glanced past his grandson and regarded his damp haired son. “Since you're back, I should take off.”

 

It was a moment before Squall could say anything. He was amazed at the longhaired president's ability to change subjects without even blinking. “Spend the night,” he suggested.

 

Shaking his head, Laguna responded, “There is always work to be done.”

 

Still in a numb state of disbelief, Squall absently nodded his understanding. Laguna usually tried to find excuses to shirk presidential duties. If the man actually intended to pull overtime, then there was an enormous workload to be done. “Thank you for coming over,” he said.

 

Leaving the entryway, Squall passed his son and father. He called a quick, “Goodnight” over his shoulder and proceeded to his bedroom. His son was close to follow.

 

“Is there going to be a second date?” Lore asked from the bedroom doorway.

 

Standing before his long dresser, Squall glanced over his shoulder. “There won't be if you're not okay with this.” Opening the top drawer, he procured a grey t-shirt and black flannel pants. His body was sore and ready for bed. Laguna's words echoed in his head, making him even more exhausted.

 

“It's not like I'm not okay with it,” Lore muttered. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment. Moving forward, he trudged to his father's bed and collapsed on to it. Gathering his thoughts, he explained, “We've been through this already. Single people date other single people.” Eyes following his father as the man disappeared through the open bathroom door, he asked, “But, why now and why him?”

 

Inside the bathroom, Squall stripped his vest off and began to unbutton his dress shirt. “There are a lot of reasons,” he said, speaking towards the doorway to let his voice carry clearly. “It's hard to explain in any exact terms.” The truth was, there were no exacts terms. He had no idea what had changed between him and Seifer. The attraction he felt to the arrogant ex-knight could not be denied or even resisted.

 

“Do you like him?” Lore questioned. The answer seemed obvious, since no one would willingly date someone they didn't like, but he wanted to hear the words directly.

 

Arms already through the sleeves of the t-shirt, Squall paused for a moment. He caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink. At the junction of his right shoulder and neck, two rigid lines curved in the shape of a bite mark. The skin was a scarred pink color, standing out against the paleness of his entire body. Surprised by this discovery, he stared for a long moment. He had taken a potion before leaving the training center, but he hadn't noticed that Seifer's bite had scarred. The man seemed to have a penchant for permanently marking him. His eyes lifted to stare at his face. The clean cut running from above his right eye and across the bridge of his nose was now a smooth white line. Over the years, the scar had become less prominent.

 

“Dad?”

 

Stirring from his lost examination, Squall cast a startled glance at the open bathroom door. He certainly didn't want his son to see the evidence of the lewd things he had done that night. Quickly donning his shirt, he covered the bite mark. Recalling the young man's questioned, he answered, “Yes, I like him.”

 

Lore simply could not comprehend his father's feelings. The former commander was an excellent judge of character. With a sigh, he rolled over on the bed and lay on his back. “Did the date go well?”

 

“It didn't go as planned,” Squall murmured.

 

“So the spar wasn't part of it?” Lore questioned. A smile formed on his lips as he considered the implication of a date ending in a battle.

 

Leaving the bathroom, dressed for bed, Squall regarded his son with a thoughtful expression. Recalling the spar, he smiled softly. “No, but I love to spar,” he murmured. He had gone so many years without a good sparring partner. With Seifer back in his life, he would never want for a challenge.

 

Smile faltering, Lore strained his head back to clearly see his father. The gentle smile he saw was not for him. He flipped about to better see the expression on the man's face.

 

“What's wrong?” Squall asked. His son's eyes fixed on him intently, searching for something.

 

“You tell me,” Lore returned. Eyeing the skilled fighter, he felt a pain in his chest as he realized there was a subtle glow about the man. He was an expert at reading his father's expressionless countenance.

 

Squall fought the urge to make sure his shoulder wasn't exposed. He knew Lore couldn't see the mark, and he wasn't about to give anything away. “Nothing's wrong.”

 

“When are you seeing him again?” Lore questioned. He knew without having to ask that his father intended to see the ex-knight again. More dates would follow. He was afraid to consider what came after that.

 

Studying his son's reaction closely, Squall answered, “Tomorrow.”

 

With a groan, Lore fell to the side, collapsing with a gentle thud. He buried his face in the plush pillows at the head of the bed. Mumbling incoherently, he let a stream of curses fly from his mouth and attack the absent ex-knight.

 

At the feel of the mattress sinking beside him, Lore turned his head and cast a pitiful look up at his father. He wanted to be happy that the man had returned home unscathed, but Seifer had done more than not harm his father. The ex-knight had managed to put a smile on the reserved fighter's face. “What time tomorrow?” he muttered in a sullen tone.

 

Reaching out, Squall petted his son's head. The boy was stubborn and distrustful, but he sensed less resistance than before. Continuing his play with short raven strands, he responded, “In the morning.”

 

Closing his eyes, Lore tried to hold onto his bitter feelings towards Seifer. The more his father stroked his hair, the less resentful he felt. “It seems like you can't wait to see him again,” he said, his voice sounding far less cynical than he wanted it to.

 

Squall blushed. “It's not a date.”

 

Pushing upright, Lore regarded his father in earnest. “It's not?” he questioned, sounding hopeful.

 

Giving his son a look of wry speculation, Squall wondered just how much progress the boy was making towards acceptance. “I'm helping Raijin with something. Since I'll be at Seifer's house, we'll see each other.”

 

“It's really not a date?” Lore questioned skeptically.

 

“No,” Squall affirmed. Although he was looking forward to the next morning, teaching Raijin how to bake did not constitute a date.

 

“Then, can I come?”

 

Eyes widening in surprise, Squall stared at the impetuous youth and tried to determine if the boy had any sincere interest in hanging out with Seifer. He suspected that Lore simply wanted to monitor the ex-knight. “If you really want to,” he conceded. Regardless of Lore's motivations, it would be a good opportunity to place his son in the same room as Seifer.

 

“I can't avoid him forever if you're serious about dating him,” Lore reasoned. His motivations weren't entirely pure, but he wasn't out to sabotage the boisterous ex-knight. He was curious how someone so annoying could possibly put such a warm smile on his father's face. He needed to see the two together to better understand what it was his father saw in such an insufferable man.

 

 

TBC…

 

 

Author's note: Wow, this was a really long chapter. Sorry for the long wait, especially considering it was supposed to be a shorter wait. I can't believe it's almost July. Time goes by too fast -_-

 

I hope you liked the chapter. I look forward to reading the reviews on it ^_^