Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Living with Heart ❯ Living with Heart ( Chapter 7 )

 

Living with Heart

Act VII

“So,” Seifer began amicably, eyes glancing around the room.

“…”

“Still as talkative as ever I see, especially now that you've got me here,” the blonde commented wryly. “I can't believe this place. What I wouldn't give to have the President as my dad.”

Squall made no comment, knowing Seifer was making fun of him on some level. Striding further in the room, he shrugged out of his bomber jacket before beginning to undo his belts.

“Leave `em,” Seifer said, “I like to take them off myself.”

Squall raised his eyebrows, but left the many belts alone. Everyone had his or her preference. “Can I count on you for this?” the brunet asked, his tone impassive, no pressure to follow through.

“I miss it man,” the former knight said seriously, half in thought. “Ultimecia was a bitch, but she knew how to use her power.”

“I recall,” Squall said sarcastically.

Seifer disappeared into the bedroom for a moment. “Are all the rooms like this? The bathroom is the size of my dorm.”

Leaning against the back of the couch, Squall crossed his arms and watched in slight amusement. It was a big change from what they were used to.

When Seifer returned, leaning his broad form against the open door, he crossed his arms in mimic of the smaller brunet. For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

At length, Seifer smirked and gave a subtle nod. “I'll do it. I seem to remember that Rinoa acted a lot differently when she was around me. I guess it's because I never had women troubles, she knew she had to shut up or I'd leave her.”

Squall gave a smirk of his own, both insulted and elated. “Thank you,” he mumbled quietly.

Unfolding his arms, the blonde sauntered closer, his jade eyes pointedly raking the younger man's form. The anticipation had been growing the moment they first touched out in that junkyard.

“There's something I'd like to know,” the blonde started, waiting for a reply to force words from the brunet's mouth.

“I can imagine there are many things you'd like to know, such as why I'm the better bladist.”

Chuckling, Seifer commented, “Cute, very cute Leonhart.” Closing the distance between them, he stared down. The introverted lion was all closed up, arms and legs crossed in what would have been a leisurely manner had he not known the boy so well. Despite Squall's valiant efforts to appear strong, to Seifer he'd always be the abused little lion who went through a ritual of gestures before doing something unwanted. “Relax,” he said softly, “You know I don't bite.”

A faint smile tugged pretty bowed lips upwards. Slowly, Squall uncrossed his arms, placing them to either side on the couch's back. Pointedly thudding his boots against the carpet, he uncrossed his legs, parting them wider than necessary.

Glancing up, Squall gazed from beneath a thick fringe of dark lashes. He might as well have been lying naked on a bed, beckoning for Seifer to come closer with an index finger.

“That's better,” the tanned blonde said as he stepped between parted legs. Raising a hand he brought it up to a pale face, cupping Squall's cheek. He could read those stormy eyes so well. “You're a little distant,” he observed.

“More than usual?” Squall teased.

“Yes, actually,” Seifer returned seriously, dropping his hand.

Annoyed that Seifer could read him so easily, Squall lowered his gaze. “I'm just thinking about what happens after this,” he explained.

“Well, I wouldn't mind having a little nap. I'm not big on cuddling, but I've always made an exception for you.”

Rolling his eyes, Squall scoffed. Crossing his arms once more, he shot an unamused glance up to the tall SeeD.

“Lighten up Leo, I got your number. Cid might blow a gasket, but you're all the way out here.” Finding that he felt more than a little angry on Squall's behalf, he dropped down on his knees and grabbed the brunet's slender hands. Tugging the hands away from their hugging of the boy's upper arms, he gave them a reassuring squeeze. “He can't touch you,” he stated firmly.

Sighing heavily, Squall slid forward, slipping from his half sitting position.

Seifer was mildly surprised, his eyes roving the room instinctively, not wanting witnesses to see that he wasn't always arrogantly acting like an ass. As his rival slid down, he leaned back and accepted the tacit request for consoling. Lean arms wrapped around his neck and lithe thighs straddled his lap.

Uncertain for a moment longer, Seifer hugged the boy back. It always felt good to have Squall close. It was a weakness he had, one that he resented after learning all about the brunet's escapades with Garden. There was just something about Squall that appealed to him, and countless others. He took pride in the fact that he was in a category apart from everyone else, even if he generally treated the younger SeeD the same as the rest.

“Is Loire really your dad?” the blonde questioned after a few minutes, his legs going numb as he sat with them folded beneath him.

“Yes,” Squall mumbled, almost ready to fall asleep.

“Then why does he look at you like a lover?” Seifer nearly laughed at the way Squall stiffened in his arms. “No way,” he managed through his laughter, “No fucking way.”

“Is it that obvious?” Squall asked with concern, wondering just how many others might already suspect.

“A little. You should have seen the look in his eyes when I picked you up.”

Squall groaned, realizing for the first time why the blonde had greeted him in such an exaggerated manner. He thought about Laguna, an odd feeling of guilt forming within him. He generally didn't sleep with one person while seeing another, but he'd never felt bad about it.

“So, the President got a crush on you and now you're here. Man, you always land the guys with money.”

“Moron,” Squall muttered.

“Cid must be having a fucking field day. I don't think you have to worry about Rinoa, Loire kicks Caraway's ass.”

“He doesn't know,” the brunet admitted quietly.

Frowning, Seifer gripped slender shoulders and leaned Squall's frame back far enough to stare into secretive grey-blue eyes. “What is it then? You fell for him too?”

“No,” Squall said a little too quickly, sounding suspicious even to himself. “Nothing happened until after I came here.”

“I'm confused. Loire isn't paying for service?”

“It's not a service you bastard,” the brunet growled out, knowing that wasn't exactly true.

“Apparently not,” the blonde said with interest. “You're serious about him.” Green eyes searched the averting stormy blue ones of the former Commander. Seifer was in slight shock, having assumed Squall had always been too ruined to ever find someone special. “He's not really your dad then, is he? That'd be a little twisted, even for you.”

Grumbling silently, Squall replied, “He is my father.”

“You're screwing your own dad? How the hell did that happen? This is a story I'd like to hear.”

Frowning, Squall shook his head. “That's between me and Laguna. I trust you to keep your mouth shut about it.”

“Well fuck a duck,” Seifer exclaimed, “You're more screwed up than I thought Leonhart, no wonder you're the best lay I've ever had.”

Quirking a brow, Squall silently questioned the blonde's logic on the last comment. After a moment, he spoke further, realizing this was a rare opportunity to discuss a few matters he needed insight on.

“It just sort of happened,” Squall began, impervious to the fact that he was still sitting in Seifer's lap. “He felt like shit about it.”

Barking with laughter, Seifer concluded that there were a lot of men in the world who felt like shit for wanting Squall. “From what I here, he cries after squashing a bug.”

“It's not a bad thing,” Squall mumbled automatically, immediately regretting it.

Green eyes gave a serious study of the brown haired boy. Reaching up, he gripped a narrow chin and forced Squall to make eye contact. Searching those mixed blue eyes, knowing the best of men could lose themselves in the stormy depths, he found what he was looking for on the surface.

“What?” Squall asked defensively, knocking the blonde's hand away.

Seifer spoke with disbelief, “You're falling for him.”

Angrily, Squall pushed away, falling to the floor as Seifer grabbed him and tried to keep him in place. “Fuck off,” he hissed.

“Calm down,” Seifer ordered, vying for control at the frightened lion. The skittish feline was like a stray cat at times, stalking close for a kind petting hand and free food, but running away the second someone tried to pick him up and take him inside. Squall had major intimacy issues, never letting anyone get too close.

“I have to be somewhere,” Squall said, trying to turn over.

“Sure you do.” Seifer yanked at a couple of the bulky belts, forcefully pulling the brunet's smaller body closer. He straddled the struggling man, staying the legs while trying to get a firm grip on bony wrists.

“We'll do this my way, and I don't feel like raping your ass,” the ex-knight growled in frustration.

Squall settled down, remembering that he was there for a reason.

Sighing in exasperation, the broad formed SeeD gave his condolences to the President. “I pity him if he's serious about you too. I can only imagine how confused he'll be after he confesses his undying love and you run off in the middle of having sex.”

“Shut up,” Squall spat, not liking how far the conversation had gone.

“No,” Seifer taunted, leaning down and bringing his face close to the brunet's. “I'm just calling it as it is. If you want my advice, stay in Esthar, never come back.”

Wide eyed, Squall stilled completely, staring up into serious jade green eyes.

“Yeah, that's right,” Seifer said as though he were six and just sworn without care for the consequences. “You've been taking it from him your entire life. Aren't you just a little confused by now, after proving that you're better off in the field and that he's just a piss ant who shouldn't have any form of control.”

“It sounds more like you've got the vendetta against him,” Squall observed.

“Well one of us should dammit!” Seifer snapped. “Are you just gonna let things go back to the way they were? You're stronger now, so why take it?”

“And what exactly would I do?”

“It's not what you would do Squally-boy, it's what you wouldn't do. Or rather, who you wouldn't do.”

Frowning, Squall considered his rival's words. “Leave Garden?”

“Why not?” Seifer urged. If the brunet couldn't see the opportunity knocking, he'd point it out.

“Would you leave?” Squall questioned evenly.

Blinking, Seifer considered this. “Never,” he answered honestly. Being a mercenary was his life's work. It's all he was good at, all he'd been trained to do. He was fighter at heart, nothing else in life would satisfy him.

“Then how do you expect me to?”

Shaking his head, the blonde refuted to implied claim that they were the same. “You're a great fighter Leonhart, I can't deny that. But, think about your life as a SeeD so far. How much time have you spent in the battlefield?”

“Everyday during the war,” the brunet replied slowly, not sure what Seifer was getting at.

“And since then?” the blonde asked, not waiting for answer since they both knew it. “You'll never see the field again. Cid wouldn't risk you getting another scar on your precious body. He just about hung me up to dry for these beauties we gave each other.”

Dejectedly, Squall's eyes fell, unfocused in blank remembrance. It had been his hope that after proving himself in battle, he'd be placed there more often.

“If you've got the heart of a fighter, you know that being SeeD isn't the place to be. You could stay here for the rest of your life and be the President's fuck toy, and it wouldn't be any different than if you came back to Balamb. Except, you'd probably be passed around a whole lot more if you came back.”

Frowning deeply, Squall let the words wash over him like a much needed reality check. “I'm not his toy,” he refuted absently.

“Course not,” the blonde returned, shifting to stand up and release the younger man from his weight. “But, you also realize that not being his toy means the relationship is serious.”

Thoughtful grey-blue eyes searched the blonde's, trying to find more meaning behind it all. He wanted to curse Seifer for giving him far more to think about, adding to the many concerns plaguing his mind during all hours of the day. At the same time, he was grateful for the unbiased words of advice, knowing Seifer always spoke bluntly and honestly.

Grunting his annoyance, Seifer stretched out a bit, cracking a few knuckles and twisting to do his spine. “Well now that I'm not in the mood any more, let's grab something to eat. Then you can show me where the gym is in this place. I feel like kicking your ass.”

Brightening at the prospect of a spar, Squall scrambled to stand up. “No gym, but we can just go outside.”

“Sounds good to me.”

--

Fluffy white clouds drifted across the sky, blotting out the sun every so often, but moving along quickly.

In a ritualistic fashion, Squall and Seifer flexed their grips on their respective gunblades while circling each other. They didn't speak, no words ever used when they fought. Actions were the only thing they needed. Swift swings and striking blows were all the words they'd use.

From a distance, none too accepting of the spar, James stood resolutely. Beside the sandy blonde guard stood an extra detail assigned to Seifer Almasy. Solomon Minor was there to make sure the ex-knight didn't cause any trouble. Both guards felt like reaching for their phone when informed the President's son was going to be having a one on one match with the SeeD who looked like he might be Hyne's son.

Seifer was the first to break, which was usual given his impatient nature and the fact that Squall would stubbornly stand there all day.

Feinting an outer swing with his right arm, he changed direction and momentum to spin around and slice upwards. The flapping of his long grey trench coat mixed with the sailing sound of his sharp blade cutting the air. Squall dove to his left, preferring not to block the strong blow that was likely to throw him backwards off his feet.

Rolling on his back, Squall was quite grateful for the soft grass instead of the rocky grounds of their special spot in the near the cliffs in Balamb. There was nothing jagged that might tear his worn leather jacket. His body could be mended, but he'd probably sulk for a week if anything happened to his favorite fur collared bomber jacket.

Sweeping his blade out, Squall gave the grass a slight trim while forcing distance between himself and Seifer. Buying the time he needed to take position, Squall was up and ready for the next move.

The pair carried on for two solid hours. Coats discarded, they dripped with sweat and panted for air. Though their muscles protested the continued hefting of heavy gunblades, neither caved to the desire for a break.

As a rather large cloud cast cool shade over them, their eyes locked and a silent agreement came between them.

Squall tightened his grip, wishing he had some powder for the inside of his gloves, but glad all the same that his hands weren't bare and slipping on the hilt. His arms flexed as he straitened them downward, Lionheart pointing out from his navel. His thin white t-shirt felt like a second skin. He'd probably be better off without any shirt on at all.

Grinning broadly, Seifer took a moment of preparation as well. Stabbing Hyperion into the ground, he reached for the hem of his soaked red t-shirt. Pealing it off, he tossed the garment aside, arrogantly nodding toward his partner as if agreeing with some unspoken compliment about his muscles.

With a golden tan, Seifer slowly cracked his knuckles in a show of prolonging the moment for watching.

“Have you gained weight?” Squall queried with a mischievous smirk.

Glaring, Seifer returned, “Don't be jealous pretty-boy, you know you wish you had my body.”

Rolling his eyes, Squall dug a booted foot into the grass as warning that the blonde should hurry up.

All at once, the distance between them closed and the alarming clash of metal sounded in frighteningly quick succession. Hit after hit followed fast, no pattern in place, only attack and blocking instincts coursing through the fighters.

At this point, though both strength and speed were drained from the two, they still carried the same advantages. Seifer was stronger, and would remain such to the very end. Squall was quicker and would remain such to the very end.

The stronger hits of Seifer's were becoming difficult to defend against, especially without dodging, but Squall managed to get in nearly twice as many returned strikes of his own.

At that point, Seifer wouldn't have minded losing. It had been months since his last spar with Squall, seven months to be exact, coincidentally also the last time he'd managed to wrangle the brunet into giving him a blowjob.

Suddenly, it seemed like a much better idea to be having sex than to be sparring.

“Let's draw it here,” Seifer announced.

Squall stopped his swing midair, eyes wide with surprise.

“I'm in the mood again. Let's go back. You can suck me off in the shower.”

Brushing damp strands out of his eyes, Squall shrugged in acceptance. It had been a good match, cutting it short before a definite winner was made didn't change that. They often ended in draws.

Exhausted, they sheathed their gunblades before traipsing to retrieve their discarded clothing.

--

“Do that thing,” Seifer urged, his breath becoming short as he gasped at each sensation.

Squall rolled his eyes. Kneeling on the smooth marble floor of the cubicle like shower, the brunet flexed his fellatio skills and swallowed with the tip of Seifer's penis against the back of his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” the blonde cursed, prone to swearing even when he wasn't having the greatest blowjob of his life. No one could deep throat like Squall, and no one looked as damn sexy while doing it. The brunet had this look of relaxation, making it seem like it wasn't the difficult task that it was, which made it sexy to watch.

Pulling off, Squall used his tongue to lap at the reddened tip, licking away the precum from the slit. They were both washed down, which made his task better. Prolonging the act, pushing the moment of release further away, he nuzzled the course patch of dark blonde hair near the base of Seifer's penis. Sucking on the older boy's balls, he almost laughed when his rival's knees gave out.

Seifer slid down the wall, not ashamed to admit just how much Squall was affecting him.

“It'll be easier if you're standing or sitting on something,” Squall complained.

“You'll manage,” Seifer returned, twining his hands in sopping dark brown hair and directing Squall to continue.

Changing tactics and deciding to speed it up a little, for sake of not getting a stiff neck, Squall took the engorged penis deeply in his mouth once more. Sucking and swallowing, he bobbed along the length. The grip on his hair became a little too tight, but he ignored it. He could tell Seifer wanted to thrust upwards, but given the odd position couldn't.

“Fuck!” Seifer cursed again, wanting to ram his cock into Squall's mouth, but knowing the brunet could get the job done without such force. “Hyne dammit!”

The stream of obscenities continued to flow from Seifer's mouth. Those pout lips surrounded his pulsing organ as that wet cavern beyond stimulated him with a gyrating tongue and urging sucking.

“Swallow,” came the blonde's single worded request. It was so difficult to find anyone willing to swallow, something he found entirely arousing.

A warning spasm signaled Seifer's orgasm. Squall gave a final swirl of his tongue to the leaking head before taking the length as deep as he could and accepting the release. Wave after wave of the warm, thick liquid filled his mouth. Salty and bitter, he swallowed it all. Squall had no qualms about it. The differences in the taste of semen from one man to the next weren't what created his distaste for it. It all depended on the person.

If Squall didn't like the person or the cock, he loathed swallowing the cum. Seifer had been the only person he'd ever willingly done it for, generally appeasing other clients by letting it spray in his face. There was one other exception, one he'd made without even being asked. He'd swallowed for Laguna, the older man too consumed with pleasure to even care that he'd done so. Yet, without being asked, he did it for the President.

Squall waited until he felt Seifer's penis soften, assured that the blonde had ridden the orgasm out completely. Letting the organ slide from his mouth, he straightened back up, sitting on his haunches.

“Come here,” Seifer mumbled, making a weak gesture with his hand.

Complying, Squall crawled closer. The water was still running, the spray angled so it wasn't directly on them, but still spattering their naked forms.

Seifer gathered the brunet to him, riding the post coital euphoria out as he relished the feel of another's warm body against his own. He'd always have a soft spot for his stubborn rival, even if he never got another chance to enjoy the perks of being the Balamb Lion's closest acquaintance.

“I've got a whole week of guaranteed time here,” the blonde mumbled, his eyes closed as he flopped his head lazily against Squall's shoulder. “I'll have to screw you some other time.”

Situated between Seifer's legs, Squall tentatively reached up and ran his fingers through golden blonde hair, the strands far shorter than the ones he was becoming used to stroking.

Mildly surprised, Seifer's eyes opened, but he remained limp while leaning against the brunet. It felt nice to have those fingers raking across his scalp in a massaging manner, even if it felt a little more intimate than either of them usually went. There were certain gestures they never expressed for each other. They rarely kissed when having sex, and usually parted ways shortly after they finished up. Caressing one another after the fact was generally not done, indicative of some sort of attachment.

After a few moments of their bodies being so close together, Seifer realized he'd been slightly self absorbed. “Want me to return the favor?” he asked with an apologetic gaze towards the brunet's own erection.

“Just your hand,” Squall requested.

“Of course,” the larger man replied, having known Squall wouldn't accept his offer. Squall never accepted the offer for a favor that placed his mouth anywhere near the brunet's penis. Seifer figured it had something to do with trust issues again, the brunet being afraid that he'd bite.

Bending his legs and folding them with his knees facing outward, he made Squall more comfortable in his lap, supporting the smaller boy with one arm around a pale back. Seifer soaped his hand up, gently doing the same for Squall's hardened length. As he did this, the brunet spread his legs wider, leaning back against his arm a bit.

Slowly, Seifer began to stroke the brunet, careful to keep it gentle. Soon after, the aroused lion was purring and writhing, bucking into his hand.

“Nnnh,” Squall cried out in a stifled moan, biting his bottom lip as he arched and came into the pumping fist.

“Damn,” the ex-knight cursed.

“It's okay,” Squall said, relaxing once more. As he felt his release slide against himself, he also felt Seifer's erection.

“You're not too tired?” the blonde questioned, suddenly in the mood for that fuck.

“No,” Squall sighed, his body quite ready for a nap, but knowing it wasn't essential.

“A suck and a fuck,” Seifer rhymed whimsically. “Will this be our last time together?” he asked seriously, secretly wondering just how serious Squall's tryst with the President was.

“Probably,” Squall admitted, unable to know for certain what the future held. Secretly, he'd been pining over the ideas Seifer had planted in his head.

Staying in Esthar and not having to go back to the way things were before the war was a life choice he hadn't considered before. The trouble was the President. The longest anyone ever wanted him around was for a few months at a time, finding the joy of having him as a lover wore out quickly when the physical pleasure was all he gave.

How long would it take for Laguna to be done with him? When would the warmhearted President become overwhelmed with guilt again and decide that carnal pleasures were not worth it anymore?

“It was fun while it lasted,” Seifer said with mock sadness. In a few weeks, he'd probably start missing the extreme pleasure Squall gave, but he'd also be a knight and find that he didn't need anything else but his sorceress.

Standing up, Seifer playfully hefted the smaller brunet over his shoulder. Slapping the boy's exposed ass, he stalked from the shower and headed for the bedroom. He'd draw it out as long as he could, a special farewell to their times of screwing each other.

Seifer was making ready to leave, tossing Rinoa's bags in the truck of the car that would drive them to the train station. He received an angry glare from his sorceress, but shrugged it off. It wasn't like there was anything breakable.

“You bought too much shit. I hope you know your carrying it all.”

“But Seifer,” Rinoa said with a pouting lip, her glare nowhere to be found, “You have such big and strong arms, it's like exercise.” It was a pathetic attempt, her voice belying that she wasn't exactly serious, but that she also assumed she'd get her way in the end.

Roughly pulling the young woman to himself, Seifer leaned down and kissed her deeply. Just as she began to lose herself, arms winding around the tall SeeD's neck, he drew away. “You're carrying every damn bag that has your stuff in it,” he affirmed before turning away to load the last couple bags in.

Downtrodden, Rinoa left the matter alone. She stepped closer to the stoop of stairs at the main entrance of the estate. She was sorry to be leaving so soon, having only spent a couple weeks in the luxurious home, even if she wasn't catered to.

Shifting brown eyes gazed up at the President, falling to the ground with guilt. She felt really bad about not controlling her powers, and not listening to the suggestions of seeing Dr. Odine. The doctor turned out to be a half decent man, when he wasn't in mad scientist mode. Now her powers were suppressed, thanks to a lovely little method Odine had created for sorceresses who weren't insane and wouldn't try to break the minor seal.

But, Squall wasn't her knight anymore, which made it kind of awkward to see the brunet's dad. Currently, her ex-boyfriend was cooped up within the estate, not seeing her since he had yet to go through the stage of losing his knighthood.

“I'm sorry things didn't work out as planned,” she said to Laguna.

Scratching the back of his head, Laguna blushed mildly, secretly thinking that things had worked out quite well. He had Squall all to himself, now just the two of them within the estate, bodyguards and few caretakers not counting. Seifer would be leaving, which was a great relief since the blonde was spending way too much time with his son.

“As long as you're happy, it's fine. I'm sure Squall is glad that you'll be better off with Seifer.”

“Oh, thank you Laguna!” Rinoa cried, her worries easily consoled with a few simple words of assurance. She gave the President a hug before darting away and disappearing into the car.

Seifer strode up to the longhaired Estharian, formerly a Galbadian. Offering a hand, he firmly shook the older man's hand firmly.

Debating for a moment longer, the blonde said, “Leonhart's the only decent sparring partner walking this planet. If you hurt him, I'll kill you.”

Blinking in confusion, Laguna was utterly lost and taken aback. With his bodyguard only a few steps away, he was grateful the threat wasn't overheard.

“Don't just fuck around with him like a toy. I think he's getting attached to you.”

Wide eyed, Laguna blanched at what he thought the knight was referring to. “How'd you know?” he asked without thinking.

Chuckling, Seifer tightened his grip. “I have your son's confidence.”

Frowning, Laguna squeezed the blonde's hand with equaled strength. “What exactly did he say?”

“That he's afraid of rejection and getting too close,” Seifer lied, speaking the truths he knew and not the ones Squall had told him. “Look, there are a lot of things you don't know about him. I'm telling you that you'd better not be playing with him, and that if you are serious then don't back down. He's a pissy little shit, but I imagine the end result will reward your efforts.”

Easing off, Seifer ended the threatening shake.

Laguna watched in confusion as Seifer and Rinoa left his estate, on their way out of Esthar. He couldn't help but considered the blonde's words, less worried about his relationship being known to another and more consumed with the implications made.

Despite all his observations that Squall was generally distant, never quite making love and always just having sex, he felt assured that the brunet was feeling something for him.

There was no reason for concern about whether he was playing with the Balamb Lion's heart, since Squall already held his completely. Laguna knew their first night together that he was in love, no other reason explaining why he was so willing to ignore the fact that they were related.

Every time he saw Squall, his heart beat madly and his spirits soared. Just being in the same room was enough to make him smile for hours. He couldn't fathom that the brunet might feel so strongly in return, but he could hope.

TBC…