Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Living with Heart ❯ Living with Heart ( Chapter 4 )

Living with Heart

Act IV

 

Tossing in bed, the emotionally strained President churned every thought over in his head. He was finding it more difficult to ignore the whirlwind of emotions that were associated with Squall.

 

He mostly thought about the brief hug he'd given. It might not have been brief at all, his mind had been lost and his senses thrown.

 

A small part of him had relished the feel of Squall's body pressed close ever since their shortly cut dinner. It was perhaps disgraceful that he had indeed felt more than just worry while the boy choked on air and blood, but he'd be lying to say he hadn't enjoyed it.

 

There was a cold sense of loss when they'd parted ways that night. Laguna imagined that he could still smell the leathery and woodsy fragrance, a scent he found intoxicating and that had nearly caused him to bury his face in the boy's silky hair. It was like sandalwood, addicting in its faintness and foreign arbor to Esthar.

 

Maybe it was because they shared genetics, but Laguna felt as though Squall's body was made to fit against his own.

 

Such thoughts were terribly difficult to keep clean, causing the President to wallow in shame and guilt. How could he possibly be sexually attracted to Squall? It was sick. At least the principles behind it made it so.

 

In reality, it didn't feel filthy or necessarily terrible. It felt warm and arousing, alluring with dark pleasure. It was very dark, in the deep recesses of his mind, where he only ever dwelled on within the privacy of his own bedroom. To even think such dark thoughts while around another person, especially Squall, was too risky. What if someone read his thoughts, or saw it in his eyes as he gazed with growing lust at the former Commander.

 

While it didn't turn him off, the shame and guilt still plagued him. He was ashamed that he could be so dishonorable and have such twisted thoughts. It was almost horrific of him to have cast the young man away at birth and then to step back in now and harbor feelings of lust. He was guilty over his lack of will power to ignore his thoughts. He was further guilty because he played host to impossible scenarios, adding to his misdeeds by not resolving to rid himself of his growing infatuation.

 

He was a sick man, to lie in bed with images of Squall running through his mind. He was far worse than those men at the celebration party, talking about the seventeen year old boy as though some male whore.

 

Laguna's stomach fluttered at the thought of Squall being a whore, wanton and loose with that perfectly sculptured body.

 

With a soft groan, the longhaired President shifted on his bed. His mind was somewhere between sleep and being awake, finding that the most vivid images formed the closer he was to unconsciousness.

 

Slowly, a seeking hand tossed the thick covers aside. Calloused fingertips trailed over the still toned ridges of defined abs, not nearly as washboard as they'd been twenty years ago, but he still worked out.

 

With a small gasp, consciously realizing what he was doing, he snaked his left hand beneath the elastic band of his baggy flannel pants and boxers beneath. In the darkened room, he kept his eyes closed in a lethargic haze of arousal, still drifting. Only being half awake made it excusable to start jerking off with images of Squall in his head. If he wasn't fully awake, then he couldn't take the blame for his subconscious.

 

As he gently grasped his soft organ, feeling the sensitive flesh slide within his loose fist, he pictured plush lips. The very same lips that he'd seen smile at him, a small and subtle movement, enticing and arousing. What would those lips feel like against his own, nibbling his neck, sucking on his penis. He could only imagine.

 

It only took a few stimulating strokes before his swelling length was completely hard. He was careful to manage his strokes, his hand wasn't the softest source of pleasure, nor the most lubricated.

 

The sudden knocking at the door in the other room was startling and quite annoying. Groaning at the intrusion, he didn't realize his unseemly predicament until he sat straight and felt his penis spring up, gravity having no effect.

 

Shimmying off to the side, he clambered to his feet and staggered across the bedroom and out into the seating room to answer the call. A stream of curses left him when he ran into a stray ottoman, narrowly avoiding the armchair that went with it.

 

When he was near enough, he called out, “Who is it?” There were only a couple possibilities. It was either his guard with urgent summons or Squall. The only person allowed to call at any hour was his son, who he highly doubted would be knocking on his door at two in the morning.

 

“It's Squall,” came a near inaudible reply.

 

Hazel green eyes widened.

 

Suddenly feeling jittery, flushing deeply, Laguna found his hand shook as it reached for the door handle. To face his son with an erection that came from picturing the young man was certainly not his greatest moment in life.

 

Taking a steadying breath, he turned the handle and cracked one of the doors open just enough to peek his head out. It was rather dark, giving him the chance that even if he stood before Squall, his tenting groin would go unnoticed.

 

“Something wrong?” the longhaired man asked a little gruffly, not feeling up for midnight chats when a certain part of his body needed dire attention.

 

The brunet began biting that pout bottom lip again, a habit of the boy's Laguna had picked up on. It was a habit that caused his cock to twitch. `In death, I'll be punished for this,' the President thought.

 

Feeling oddly confident around the boy for once, Laguna waited for a reply without worry over seeming rude for not letting the boy in right away.

 

“I just wanted to see you,” Squall admitted shyly, “Can I come in?”

 

Cringing at the response he knew he had to give, Laguna tried to sound as regretful as possible. “It's almost two Squall. I have to stop by the office around seven.”

 

“Please,” Squall persisted, gazing up imploringly, his big innocent eyes gleaming in the trace amounts of illumination coming from the tall windows lining the corridor outside. “Will you let me stay with you tonight?”

 

Choking on nothing but air, Laguna forgot if he should inhale or exhale, not certain a person could even forget how to perform such an involuntary bodily function. “What?” he asked incredulously, inwardly cursing at the fast beat of his heart and the pulsing feel of his sore cock as it responded to the younger man's soft voice.

 

“I'm a knight,” the brunet explained, “I can't sleep alone like this. Odine won't let me near Rinoa. Please, I need company.”

 

Laguna knew of the bond between sorceress and knight, but he couldn't recall that it had such immediate effects. It seemed odd that a single night would leave Squall with the hollow feeling of abandonment over not being with his sorceress. It was certainly a legitimate symptom, just not proper circumstances.

 

“I'm not exactly decent,” Laguna hinted, willing to jerk off in the bathroom and then allow the brunet inside.

 

“I'm SeeD, it's nothing new.”

 

Laguna searched those enchanting eyes, finding them beautiful even without the proper lighting to see the unique grey-blue coloration. He didn't think the pale boy understood. He was quite embarrassed to reveal himself, not wanting to spell out that he had a major hard on and needed to relieve it. “I'm a little more than indecent,” he tried again, wondering if Squall could see how deeply he blushed.

 

With a small shake of mussed hair, the brunet expressed that it wasn't a problem.

 

Sighing, Laguna opened the door. “Give me a few minutes,” he muttered before turning from the open doorway to head towards his bedroom.

 

The sudden feel of warmth pressed against his back almost caused him to yelp in surprise.

 

“I know it's bothersome, but please don't leave,” Squall begged, a desperate whimper escaping the boy as his head pressed against Laguna's bare back.

 

“Squall,” Laguna gasped, feeling shivers wrack his body. To feel the young SeeD pressed to his back, to feel the needy clinging of arms that held onto him. It sent him spiraling to a place of dark wants.

 

Tearing away, the raven haired man spun around, roughly grabbing onto elegantly narrow shoulders and shaking the brunet. “Do you understand what I mean by indecent?” he demanded.

 

Confused and slightly frightened eyes stared at him, far too innocent in comparison to the tainted thoughts in Laguna's head.

 

Jaw clenched, Laguna pulled the brunet closer, pressing his bulging erection against the younger man's body. “Do you understand now?”

 

The last thing in the world that Laguna was expecting was for Squall to moan and droop against his shoulder, gently nudging beneath his chin. “I understand,” the boy assured, nearly giving the older man a heart attack upon rocking against the straining cock.

 

At a loss for words, Laguna was frozen in a mixture of shock and pleasure as Squall continued to rock against him, soft panting moans sounding every so often. “Wh-what are you doing?” he managed to asked in a husky voice of disbelief.

 

“Do you want me to help you take care of it?” Squall asked in turn.

 

Laguna couldn't help but question, “What?”

 

“I can suck you off,” the brunet replied right away, giving a swirling lick of his tongue to the President's neck.

 

“Squall!” Laguna cried, stepping away.

 

Squall sauntered forth, almost stalking the older man as he blindly staggered backwards. “It's okay, I know you want me to.”

 

“What?” Laguna questioned, his voice cracking.

 

“Watch out for the chair,” Squall warned.

 

Not processing the boy's warning quickly enough, Laguna found himself sprawled sideways in an armchair. Just as he managed to straighten himself out, the brunet was upon him.

 

Squall was kneeling before him, stroking his thighs. As one hand strayed far enough up, it brushed over the tent in his pants, causing him to throw his head back and groan. Before he could comprehend what was happening, the boy parted his legs and sidled closer.

 

“Squall,” the President said in warning. “You're my son,” he was at a loss for what else to say, pointing the fact out as if it had accidentally slipped the boy's mind.

 

“And you're my father,” Squall returned, reaching out to tug at the waist of his navy blue pajama bottoms.

 

While Laguna's was horror stricken, he couldn't help but remain still, knowing this was exactly what he'd begun to fantasize about. “Esthar might have some traditions you're not used to, like gay marriage and professional paintball, but we generally have the same customs for parenting. Parents don't do this sort of thing with their children.”

 

“Paintball?” Squall snickered.

 

“Yeah,” Laguna defended, his voice almost squeaking regardless of being forty-seven years old. “Holy Hyne!” he exclaimed when the brunet grasped his length and leaned forward. He thought he might orgasm right then.

 

“It'll feel good,” Squall assured, stroking the President.

 

Laguna gulped, never having been pleasured in such a way. He knew of oral sex, specifically fellatio, but he'd never experienced it for himself. At the feel of the younger man's tongue, teasing him torturously as it lapped at the head of his penis, he nearly cried out.

 

Suddenly, it didn't matter where the boundaries should be set, it only mattered that Squall continued. Laguna encouragingly placed his hands on the boy's head, grasping lightly at silky hair. “Hyne,” he breathed as a shutter wracked his body.

 

In sweet submission, he found his leaking member surrounded by wet heat. He watched in fascination as the brunet bobbed his head, gently sucking on him. Though he couldn't see the gyrating tongue, he could feel it at the underside of his engorged organ, slipping about in a manner indescribably pleasurable.

 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head when the boy seemed to swallow his length, gripping the sensitive head of his penis so delicious that he began to shake from the pleasure it brought. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd gripped Squall's head and began thrusting into the boy's mouth. He couldn't stop, it felt too good to ever stop.

 

In his days as a soldier, it had been a running joke that he was too much of a gentleman to deserve having the dick of a playboy. He was well hung, certainly not big enough to set any records, but large enough to earn respect from the seniors in his newbie years.

 

It seemed amazing how he deeply he could thrust, certainly sending his cock down the boy's throat, yet Squall simply moaned and gave shallow breaths, accepting it all. Sometimes, when brushing his teeth he gagged, so he couldn't imagine how Squall did it. But, such concerns were fleeting as he felt his balls clench up and prepare to ejaculate.

 

“Fuck yes,” he hissed, feeling he was close. He kept thrusting into that wet cavern, possessed with lust as he saw his dick pumping in and out of the boy's mouth.

 

The armchair protested, being pushed onto two legs every time the raven-haired President thrust upwards. Each time he pulled out, the chair fell back to the floor, thudding against the carpet.

 

Suddenly, the thudding of the chair began to sound like knocking.

 

**

 

Hazel green eyes suddenly opened, the light of morning flooding in far too brightly for the President's wishes. Feeling hot and sweaty, Laguna cast aside the thick down comforter that spread across the large king sized bed. It was with trepidation that he saw his engorged cock protruding from his loose cotton pants, painfully begging for release.

 

The realization that it had all been a dream did nothing to lessen the shame from it. His body had reacted, which was a real response. He was a sick, sick man.

 

When had he come to despise himself? He was no saint, carrying burdens from his past discrepancies. Being a loved ruler, kind and fair, did not make him perfect. He was a man who'd abandoned his children, he'd killed many men as a Galbadian soldier, and now he had developed incestuous fantasy for his son.

 

Further more, Squall was only seventeen, at least for another month. While Estharians were adults at sixteen, Squall was from Balamb, making him underage for all sexual activities.

 

The knocking just outside his bedroom door sounded again, the visitor was already inside his quarters.

 

Frowning, Laguna looked around his bedroom. No, this wasn't his familiar room at the palace, but the general set up was similar. It was smaller, though by no means inadequate.

 

He was still groggy, finding that his mind wandered until he was frozen in shock at the sound of Squall's voice.

 

“Laguna?” Squall called out, unwilling to move further into the President's rooms until invited. As it was, the guard outside the door had instructed him to simply go on in, telling him the President should be waking up soon. He'd been knocking for the past couple minutes, seriously doubting that the man was there at all.

 

Frantically, Laguna yanked the bedding close to his body, hiding himself for fear the boy might step in and see him. “I'll be right there!” he answered in distraught franticness, searching about as though for a means of escape. “Let me get dressed!” he called again, realizing there was a bathroom connected to his bedroom.

 

Clambering off the bed, he sorely hobbled to the bathroom, finding it difficult to walk when his rock hard length was so ragingly ready for release.

 

Once within the safe reaches of the pristine white marbled bathroom, Laguna locked the door behind himself. Sighing heavily, he let the panic wash away, feeling for the first time a little pleasure over having an erection.

 

Groaning, he walked to the shower, opening its clear glass door and turning the water on. Directing the spray against the far wall, he began to stroke himself. He felt as though he'd just committed murder, guilty as sin. That dream had certainly put to rest any doubts or pathetic attempts of assuaging his conscience. He was lusting after Squall.

 

Licking his lips, he shuffled to stand with his feet wider apart. Closing his eyes, he wallowed in his guilt and brought forth images of his dream, imagining that Squall was sucking him off again.

 

It didn't take much. Ribbons of cum shot forth, coating his pumping hand and the wall he aimed for. The spray of water washed the pearly white essence away, swirling the evidence of his dirty deed down the drain.

 

After washing his hands and cleaning up a little, he hurried back to his room to jump into a pair of jeans. None of his usual stuff was here yet, only a few pairs of recreational clothes on hand. Shrugging into a light green dress shirt, he fumbled with the buttons as he rushed to see Squall.

 

He didn't want to keep the boy waiting any longer.

 

Squall paced the outside room, hands clasped behind his back in impatience. He stopped when Laguna finally appeared. From mussed raven tresses that fell loosely to the half dressed manner, it was obvious the man had been sleeping deeply. He felt a little guilty over disturbing the President.

 

Grey-blue eyes roved the older man's exposed chest, catching sight of it before the shirt was buttoned all the way. Squall hadn't expected the former soldier to be in such good shape, figuring the presidency was more likely to add a few pounds and ruin the fighter's body. However, the toned chest and defined six pack were something of a surprise, never guessing it would have been beneath all those heavy robes and suits.

 

“I'm sorry,” Laguna said, his tone so severely regretful that he feared Squall might suspect what he'd truly been up to.

 

Brows furrowed, Squall remembered that the longhaired man was prone to appeasing everyone, not unlike himself, and probably took it to heart that he'd taken so long. “It's fine,” the brunet assured, afraid the older man might cry or something equally unpleasant. “I needed to see you,” he explained his presence.

 

Hazel green eyes widened slightly, suddenly flashing to the sequence of images from his dream. His heart beat faster, almost expecting Squall to offer to give him a blowjob.

 

“Dr. Odine won't let me near Rinoa. You're the only authority here that overrides his.”

 

Considering it was ludicrous to expect the impossible fantasy of his dream to come true, Laguna was surprised he felt disappointed at his son's words. The brunet hadn't even come to see him as a father, but as the President.

 

Nervously scratching behind his ear, tucking stray strands of long hair back, Laguna questioned, “Did Odine say it was too dangerous?”

 

“It doesn't matter,” Squall stated harshly, cutting the air with his hand. “I'm her knight, if she wakes up without me there…” he trailed off, ashamed to admit he was more concerned about the pain she might cause him for not being at her side, rather than the lonely fear she might feel.

 

“Is it always like this?” Laguna asked, taking a step forward as he glimpsed fear in those pretty eyes.

 

Squall clenched his jaw, unwilling to admit how adversely his relationship with Rinoa had come to affect him in such a short period of time. Something always had to go wrong in his life. But, maybe it could turn out for the better. If Rinoa learned to control herself, then he wouldn't have to put up with her constant nudging tendrils, giving him headaches and pushing him to be someone he wasn't.

 

“It's not like anything,” Squall stated with an impassive shrug.

 

Hazel green eyes studied the prominent shadows beneath the boy's eyes. Laguna found himself becoming angry. He also found that he was less anxious around the boy, having confidence in the fact that Squall had agreed to indulge his want for becoming closer, feeling as though his moments of klutziness and his bumbling nature would also be indulged.

 

“You look tired,” he commented, purposely straying off topic.

 

Squall's head shot up, feeling as though something had just changed. The tone of Laguna's voice was different, more assertive and smooth. It took a moment for the brunet to understand what it might be. Laguna Loire might come off as a goofball who cared too much about the world, but beneath that exterior was a man who ran an entire nation. There were probably many sides to this longhaired President that he knew nothing about.

 

A prickling remembrance of the older man's anger came to mind. Just outside the ballroom in Balamb, Laguna had raged about letting Caraway and Zimmer talk about him in such a distasteful manner. That had been the first time he'd questioned whether there was more to the man than met the eye.

 

“I am tired,” Squall muttered. He felt inexplicably drawn to speaking with this man, wondering how many of his assumptions were false and wanting to find out more.

 

Laguna had the distinct impression that the boy had stayed up all night, probably pining over his raven-haired girlfriend. Jealousy began to mix with his anger. He didn't even know what he was angry about. Though he knew quite well what he was jealous of.

 

Stepping closer, Laguna felt like he was on autopilot. He knew it was bold and unwarranted, yet he couldn't help it. Reaching out, he drew the small-framed young man into a hug.

 

Squall wasn't quite sure how to react, not believing the older man was indeed going to hug him until he felt the solid press of that familiar chest. He wondered if the President had some sort of affinity for hugs. Perhaps the man was trying to express fatherly affection, mimicking the sort of actions that were considered appropriate behavior.

 

Still, Squall felt that there was nothing appropriate about it, secretly beginning to enjoy the familiarity as he subtly relaxed into the hold. He nearly tore away when he felt a soothing hand begin to caress his head, but he ended up accepting this as well, gently letting the hand guide his head against a broad shoulder.

 

Deep down, Squall knew he should be outraged. He should feel scorned for being patronized and treated like a child, but he couldn't conjure such anger. Instead he found himself blanketed in calmness, as though temporarily relieved from every worldly trouble.

 

It was certainly far too intimate given their status as near strangers to each other.

 

“I think my heart stopped when you suddenly collapsed last night,” Laguna admitted in a low whisper, almost as if a spoken thought.

 

At this admission, Squall's heart began to beat faster. He didn't know why.

 

Laguna felt as though he were in another dream, almost certain that standing there hugging his son couldn't possibly be more likely than if the boy were to offer sexual services.

 

Eventually, when the seconds mounted and the silence remained unbroken, it became too inappropriate to ignore. Oddly enough, it never became awkward.

 

Laguna was threading his fingers through lengthy chestnut brown hair, stroking the boy as though he were something to be cherished. He could feel warm breath ghosting his neck once more, almost inclined to shift just to feel a brief press of those lips against his skin.

 

“You're hugging me,” Squall finally pointed out, wondering if he could hide the fact that he was quite enjoying it. Though he spoke, his head remained resting, almost nuzzling under the older man's jaw. He wondered what the fine stumble on the President's jaw would feel like against his cheek.

 

Laguna gave a deep chuckle, finding the spoken observation amusing. “Yes,” he agreed, offering no more than that.

 

Squall felt his stomach flutter as Laguna's chest vibrated and seemed to echo inside of his own. This was dangerous. He'd done some pretty atrocious acts in his life, but somehow his inkling realizations on this were beyond anything he'd done before.

 

A part of the young SeeD wanted desperately to write it all off as normal, to conclude that he simply didn't understand the intricacies of having a father and the attachments that came with it. However, he knew all too well what his stirring feelings were. He might not understand the love a child had for a parent, but he knew the sort of love that caused lustful desires to run rampant.

 

Resisting the urge to furl closer, finding that he was already too close, Squall remained lax. However, time didn't stop and the procrastination of parting from each other would eventually dally into the realm of a desire for something unseemly. Still, Squall felt as though he couldn't be the first to break away.

 

In fact, at a rather inopportune moment, Squall raised his arms and returned the hug, linking his arms around to softly grasp the loose dress shirt at the man's back. The sudden fierce tightening was unexpected, but obviously prompted by what he'd done.

 

Laguna squeezed the boy tightly, not giving credence to the fact that Squall looked like a fragile porcelain doll that could break. His back felt on fire, not painful, but as though a wave of heat struck it. He found that his caressing hand had ceased its ministrations, opting to instead cradle the boy's head and press it closer. He dared to imagine that those plush lips were indeed against his flesh.

 

“Laguna?” Squall whispered in question, held in place so securely he couldn't even keep his lips from brushing the man's neck as he spoke.

 

A soft groan escaped the President, relishing the feel of those lips, the very same ones he suddenly felt the carnal desire to be kissing. Not even realizing he'd made any noise, he commented huskily, “You smell like sandalwood.”

 

Squall stiffened, suddenly so afraid he felt frozen. This couldn't be happening. What had he done? For this, he surely deserved a fate worse than death. All at once, it became clear why he'd been subjected to the life he'd lead thus far, why his troubles only seemed to grow. He deserved every bit of pain and sadness that came his way.

 

Somehow, inadvertently, he'd seduced his own father. He prayed for Ifrit to strike him with hellfire and take him to the depths of a fiery underworld to live out an eternity of torture.

 

What could he do? He hadn't meant to catch Laguna's eye in the same manner he'd been instructed to do so for countless others. Yet he had, and now he had to figure out what to do about it. Admittedly, he found the man quite attractive, recently acknowledging that his body reacted to even the simplest of gestures made by the Estharian President.

 

But, Squall had never even begun to host the idea of acting on such feelings. He had too much self-control to even allow himself to imagine what it would be like.

 

The brunet couldn't even remember how he ended up in the older man's arms, let alone what had brought him into the President's rooms that morning. All he could think about was the repercussions of pushing Laguna away and refusing any possible advances.

 

Cid had always told him that refusal was never an option, ever. It didn't matter what sort of fetish the person had, he was to play his willing part. Still, accepting his father's advances was a far cry from allowing himself to be chained up and whipped for some sadistic governor.

 

If he rejected Laguna, would the ex-soldier become angry? Would the President deny all relations with Balamb for sheer shame and embarrassment?

 

Finding that his desperation grew paramount, Squall squeezed his eyes shut and wished he were somewhere else.

 

Laguna mistook the boy's clinging nature. Although Squall's body stiffened within his arms, the hands at his back clenched tightly, as if desperate to hold on. In turn, he wrapped his arms around the brunet's lithe torso and buried his face in unruly locks of silky brown hair.

 

Inhaling the pleasant sent of sandalwood, the President found himself floating as if he weren't really awake. It suddenly occurred to him that he probably wasn't awake. He'd experienced dreams within dreams before. And so bizarre was their closeness that it most definitely seemed like a dream.

 

All at once, Laguna began kissing the boy's head, soft pecks against silky hair. In his mind, at least he didn't have to deal with the repercussions of acting on his darkest desires.

 

In frantic trails, constant for the lack of finding what he truly wanted, Laguna made his down the former Commander's temple and cheek. He savored the moment when he finally kissed the boy's lips, feeling how soft and pliant they were. Slow and savoring quickly turned into feverishly possessive.

 

Laguna held the brunet's head, having stepped back to better continue. All at once, it hit the President that Squall wasn't responding. Filled with horror, he drew back and felt a due sense of dread when he gazed into frightened and startled grey-blue eyes.

 

“Gods, what have I done?” the longhaired man murmured.

 

Squall was at a loss for words. In a matter of minutes, everything had changed. He was so lost. He wasn't sure he was even this nervous and scared upon entering Ultimecia's castle. The older man had obviously blanked out for a few moments there, not realizing what he'd done.

 

Squall tried to make his brain work, to figure out the options he had. His sharp tactical skills were failing him. Should he offer to forget the whole thing, act like it never happened? Should he just walk away? What should he do?

 

Laguna raised a hand to his face, covering his mouth as he gaped in shock. He wasn't dreaming. Why had he ever thought he was dreaming? “I think I'm losing my mind,” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled.

 

Staggering back, the older man fought to keep his legs steady, feeling as though he would fall down any moment.

 

Squall's brows drew together in anguish, cursing the day agreed to come to Esthar in the first place.

 

“I'm sorry Squall, please, please, I'm irrevocably sorry.”

 

Needing to sit down before he collapsed unceremoniously to the floor, Laguna searched around for that chair he knew to be nearby. He was dismayed to see that there wasn't one, since these were not his usual rooms. Instead, he managed to make it to his open bedroom door, grabbing the frame for support.

 

Breathing erratically, Squall stopped thinking all together. On the verge of hyperventilation, he stalked forward and approached the horror stricken President. He had no answer for how to make things right again, assuming they'd been right in the first place. But, he knew he couldn't let Laguna feel as though he'd been violated or wrongly crossed, knowing that making someone feel like the bad guy never worked out for making alliances later on.

 

It had to be convincing, Squall knew this. He had to do this like any other time, master himself and gather his wits. It was like battle, he couldn't fall apart so easily. He needed to take the lead.

 

There was no limit to how far it could be taken, Squall had learned early on the difficulty boundaries could make. He'd prompt Laguna, and from there he'd indulge the older man to any extent. Making nice with the rulers of other countries could mean many different things. It could imply offering friendship to an isolated dictator or it could mean offering sex to a closet homosexual governor. It meant whatever the situation turned out to call for, and Laguna was no exception, blood relation included.

 

Laguna saw nothing but the dark slate colored floor, eyes fixed on flecks of black within grey threads of the rug. He heard nothing but the pounding of his heart, blood rushing through his veins and echoing the beat in his ears.

 

The former soldier was quite taken aback to suddenly have cool hands touching his cheeks, gently running over his jaw and nudging his head straight. He stared in disbelief, eyes wide and his mind reeling from the insanity of it all.

 

And then, Squall's lips were against his, making it all better. Frantic once more, torn between what was right and what he wanted, Laguna gave in to his desires again. He grabbed hold, pulling the smaller man close and taking advantage of the responsiveness to this kiss.

 

Squall maneuvered his head, angling it to the side as he slowly relinquished the lead. He let Laguna anchor him in one place, crushing their lips together so forcefully that his head was pushed back, forcing him to give up any standing of dominance he might have had in initiating the exchange.

 

Laguna was a man consumed, on fire with lust. He held a burning ache in his chest, demanding that he continue and never stop, to take all he could and then take more. For something that was so terribly wrong, he couldn't believe how right it felt.

 

Black and white, wrong and right, had come together to form a mass of grey territory that the President couldn't possibly navigate without committing sins in the name of making himself happy. It was all mixed. It was incestuous, theoretically grotesque, not to mentions illegal. But for all the black the spotted the act, he felt he'd never be a sane again if he didn't do it.

 

He hadn't been with anyone since Rain, never really making it past the third date with a woman. Maybe that was the cause, repressed feelings coming to light and projecting towards his only reminder of his unwed fiancé.

 

“Squall,” he moaned, attempting to make the kiss something deeper.

 

Squall almost winced at the call of his name, hearing the lust it carried and knowing just how consumed by it the President was. As he opened his mouth in response, finding that Laguna was almost desperate to taste him, he began to respond for his own sake as well.

 

Though wet and sloppy, Squall found the passion was contagious, unable to fake his willingness. He asserted his trained mouth, gently sucking on the man's tongue, drawing it in once more as he widened his mouth to let Laguna deepen it to the point of giving him a tongue fuck.

 

Always assuming he'd been many years past his prime, Laguna never expected his sex drive to be so insatiable. Blood rushed south, giving him his second erection in under half an hour. His hands seemed to come alive, remembering that there were many pleasures aside from kissing the beautiful young man, such as groping every inch of supple flesh on that perfect body.

 

The loose waist of denim pants made it easy for the longhaired man to brashly slip a hand beneath the band and gruffly squeeze shapely ass cheeks, kneading them in childish proclamation of touching something long awaited and needing to let everyone know it.

 

Squall moaned softly, feeling his usual arousal over being fondled in such a way. Sex just wasn't good for him unless it involved a thick cock thrusting into him. He'd been conditioned to love it, making it easier to take it when it came from partners he couldn't look at without wanting to heave the contents of his stomach up.

 

But Laguna didn't nauseate him in the least, a rarity he cherished. He would definitely enjoy indulging the President. As a show of what the older man should do other than knead his cheeks, he arched into the touch and gave another moan.

 

Saliva trailed between them as Laguna continued to ravish and plunder the younger man's mouth, not caring for making it perfect, but preferring the wetness and slick mess. In the far reaches of his mind, he managed to process that the enticing brunet wanted something. Obviously enjoying his fondling, he was unsure what it was.

 

“Touch me,” Squall managed to beg before finding himself once again sucking on Laguna's tongue, entangling it with his own.

 

Laguna groaned in frustration. Removing his hand, he sought to caress flesh more north of the boarder, snaking both hands beneath the brunet's thin white t-shirt. He let his palms map the soft skin over hard muscles, feeling the sexy contours of the boy's back and enjoying the subtle contractions made when Squall arched further.

 

Appreciation for the art that love making could be was thrown away as baser needs surmounted everything else. In a frantic tearing of clothes, Laguna found that he didn't even have time to remember he'd never been with a man before. Somehow, that little factoid remained off the President's radar, turning out not to be an issue since Squall took the lead where he was weak.

 

It wouldn't seem odd that Squall was so practiced until much later. Nor would it seem odd that Squall knew so well how to be with a man. For Laguna, he was an Estharian thru and thru, and Esthar no longer held any distain for same sex partnering, not after Adel's tyranny. But, Balamb was one of many places that didn't exactly promote homosexual relations.

 

Laguna found himself sinking his teeth into the tender flesh over Squall's right shoulder blade as he thrust into the brunet. It was such a tight and clamping heat that he doubted he could do more than rut in demanding thrusts. Laguna didn't even remember his own name until it spilled out in the form of a cock-twitching moan from Squall's throat.

 

Squall was overwhelmed by the needy thrusts, unable to even buck back as he was mercilessly fucked. His muscles were becoming tired, his body having difficulty keeping himself in one place as Laguna furiously pounded into him. Giving in, his arms collapsed, prostrating his lower half up while his chest pressed against the bed.

 

Laguna cried out at this, finding that the change in position allowed him to thrust even deeper. He gripped slim hips with bruising force, his pelvis slapping harshly against the boy's shapely butt.

 

Squall managed to slip a hand underneath himself, stroking his own penis to achieve proper stimulation. It was certainly not a session that was focused on his wants, but that didn't mean it wasn't good for him. Laguna was endowed with a cock that made him long to have the man buried inside him upon seeing it. The bigger it was, the more pressure placed against his prostrate gland. If a man knew how to pleasure another man, then size didn't matter. However, Laguna was just lucky as hell that his dick kept raking across his sweet spot so often.

 

With a firmer grip, Squall stroked himself, able to tell the longhaired man was nearing climax. Figuring Laguna might enjoy the clamping muscles around his length, he decided to come first. As he spurt his release into his fist, much of it landing on the bed beneath, he gave a satisfactory smirk as the President cried out once more.

 

Laguna felt the tight heat become impossibly tighter, gripping him in a way so pleasurable he was convinced he must have been dreaming again. Throwing his head back, dark tresses whipping back, he slammed into that delicious body several more times as he shot his load deep inside that tight hole.

 

It was too much. The ecstasy was beyond Laguna's ability to experience it all. As the last few spikes of pleasure shot through him, he doubled over, his vision darkening.

 

Squall was spent, already feeling the consequences of being taken so roughly. His ass was sore, having protested all along but having been drowned out by the pleasure that topped it.

 

The brunet didn't realize that Laguna had passed out until the man collapsed to the bed after he started to move out from beneath him. Though at first afraid something was wrong, Squall soon assessed that the older man simply had a sensory overload, likely to wake up within the minute.

 

He hadn't slept all night, pacing his room over what he should do about Rinoa. So, when his body lay on the comfortable bed, the sated euphoria of post coital acts set in. He gave a yawn before allowing himself the sanctity of slipping off to sleep.

 

TBC…