Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Search & Seizure ❯ Search & Seizure ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: DB2020

Warning: Explicit content between two male characters of the sexual sense.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Search & Seizure

With a small frame and naturally pale, delicate features, Squall Leonhart was in a category outside of masculinity. Choppy hair of chestnut brown hung in disarray, like a curtain over stormy blue eyes. The lengthy strands did nothing to counter the general lack of manliness in his fifteen-year-old body. However, physicality aside, he could stop the most brave hearted and virile of men in their tracks with a single glance.

His eyes were most noted for their icy gleam, never failing to make a person feel like the temperature dropped a few degrees. His lithe body was lean, lacking any great strength but full of stamina.

He'd just begun his training and was in the beginning stages of adding that much needed edge of muscle mass. Mercenaries needed to be fit and toned. They needed to be strong, both mentally and physically. Being on the lean side, he'd acquired the compensating skill some of the female cadets had in lieu of not being able to bench-press a hundred and fifty pounds. He was fast and surefooted

At fifteen, Squall had become known for his speed along with his ability to learn techniques quickly. It was because of his aptitude in picking skills up that his choice to train with a gunblade was approved of. His instructor assumed that he'd grow into it.

It wasn't until the second knock at his door that Squall noticed he had a caller. Straightening up, his back cracked, having not moved for a solid hour from his hunched position. Tedious studying tended to draw him into a slumped state where posture was of little consequence and even his mind didn't pay attention.

“Door's open,” he mumbled just loud enough for the person outside his bedroom to hear.

At the hydraulic swoosh of the door, the brunet cast a furtive glance to the doorway before turning back to his work and marking his place. Shifting in the hard wooden seat, Squall regarded his visitor was a glare.

“What do you want?” the pale boy asked evenly.

“Come on Squally-boy, try to act a little enthused that I'm here,” Seifer Almasy returned.

The tall blond stepped through the open door, arrogantly glancing around in scrutiny. “Cozy,” he said in a manner implying insult. It wasn't even that Leonhart was a neat freak, but rather that there was such a lack of items in the room that everything could be strewn over the floor and it would still look clean.

Welcoming himself, he strode in further and unceremoniously threw himself onto the bed. The door shut automatically behind. He half expected the uptight brunet to grimace at the way his larger frame disrupted the orderly tautness of sheets and blanket.

Standing abruptly, Squall felt more than a little defensive to suddenly have Seifer showing up and making as if to spend the night. “Get out Almasy,” he said calmly.

“Chill out princess, I'm not here to fight.” In a show of good faith, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, calmly staying in place. “I was just checking the springs. I'm surprised you don't have back problems, it's stiff as a board.”

“…”

“Right,” the blond said, green eyes raking the brunet's casually dressed form. Baggy flannel pants in place of tight leathers, effectively shooting down the rumor that Leonhart slept in those tight pants. The plain white beater and absence of bomber jacket served to reveal just how lean the thin body really was. It was easy to forget when puberty boy kept proving a better challenge with each passing class.

It was a moment before Seifer realized he was staring and that Leonhart had taken notice of the fact. Clearing his throat, he said, “I came to ask you a favor.”

Fine eyebrows shot up as Squall stared wide-eyed towards the antagonizing blond. “A favor?” he questioned incredulously.

“Yeah,” Seifer returned with mock hurt, “Is it so hard to believe I can be civil for two seconds.”

“Only if those seconds aren't consecutive,” Squall spat with an involuntary rub to his stomach. It was just that morning that Seifer had kicked him after he'd gone down during their fight.

Chuckling good naturedly, Seifer rose from the bed. “Sorry `bout that, I thought you were gonna dodge it.”

Squall scoffed in disbelief.

“Come on Leonhart, I came here in a gesture of civility. Don't reduce me to begging, that's cruel.”

Stormy grey-blue eyes searched strikingly green ones for a moment. There was obviously something amiss, but any prospect of getting Seifer off his back every day was enough to make him not demand the blond leave.

Arms crossed, the brunet leaned against one leg in a show of impatience.

Seifer almost grinned at Leonhart's admission to speak his peace and make his request. For a distracted moment, he found himself enthralled with the jutting hip of his rival. The slender curve was decidedly feminine. “I need your assistance,” he managed to say at length.

Gesturing with a hand before replacing it to cross his chest again, the smaller boy signaled for the blond to continue.

“There's no one else I feel comfortable asking, and I know how tolerant you can be with shit like this, so here I am.”

“Almasy,” Squall said in exasperation, “I'm not agreeing to anything until I know what it is.”

“Well you see, for my class on SeeD protocol, I have to perform a proper arrest. I don't want to be the idiot who fumbles with the cuffs.”

“If you're asking to practice on me, the answer is `no',” Squall shot down flatly.

“Leonhart, I'm asking out of desperation. Come on buddy, be a pal,” the blond placated.

“Go frisk your girlfriend or something, make a night out of it,” Squall suggested, seriously trying to give the older boy options so that he wasn't bothered for the next hour.

“As tempting as that may be, I cannot in good conscience spend the night in the ladies dormitory. I'm on the Disciplinary Committee.”

With a suspicious study of the broad formed boy, Squall said, “Somehow, I doubt you'd lose any sleep over it.” He took notice of the slight bulge in Seifer's jean pocket, afraid to actually see the cuffs and have the entire notion of the boy's request confirmed.

“Don't make me beg,” Seifer said.

Rolling his eyes, Squall turned away from the older boy. Seifer would never beg for anything. The blond brute would just take something by force if…. `Shit!' Squall cursed mentally.

Just as the brunet made to turn back around, he was pinned against the wall. Attempting to push back, his arms almost pinned along with him, he gained a few inches before painfully slamming back against the unyielding barrier.

“Get off!” Squall cried in anger.

“I tried to be nice about it,” Seifer returned, reaching around to grab for on of the smaller boy's arms.

“Dammit Almasy!” Squall bucked wildly as his arm was pulled behind his back.

“You're under arrest,” Seifer practically lilted.

“Almasy,” Squall hissed in warning, not quite sure what he could use against the blond at this point.

“Spread for me Squally-boy,” Seifer whispered against the pale boy's ear, his breath blowing tendrils of soft hair out of the way.

The sound of metal cuffs notching into place seemed to echo in Squall's ears, more apparent than the feel of restricting vices against his wrists.

Seifer noted the bony nature of pale wrists as he successfully cuffed the smaller boy. It never ceased to amaze him just how much fight was in such a small creature. In a moment of continued observation, Seifer remained firmly in place behind Squall, mentally comparing every aspect of their bodies together.

Gritting his teeth, Squall tensed and attempted to jerk away again. The feel of being so completely helpless was causing panic to rise within him. Seifer wasn't necessarily a sadistic person, not that'd he'd seen at least, but he'd taken his share of beatings, enough to know being handcuffed was a bad thing.

“Spread `em,” Seifer commanded once more, nudging a knee between slim legs.

“Read me my rights,” Squall shot back, doing his best to keep his knees together.

“You have the right to do what I say,” Seifer returned, forcing clamped legs apart. The wild bucking stilled significantly as soon as he'd thrown the other's balance off.

Lacking the knowledge of any words that would make Seifer listen, Squall gave off a struggling grunt that sounded more like a growl.

“It won't take long, just play along,” Seifer assured, chuckling at the sound of the boy growling.

“Stop it Almasy, let me go.”

“I will,” Seifer soothed, jerking the brunet back to follow his movements.

The second he wasn't pinned to the wall, Squall tried to bolt, painfully tearing against the grip Seifer had on his hands. The crushing truth was that under capture he had no advantage of speed and his genetics didn't size him up to being a match for Seifer. He was dragged back as if anchored to a moving vehicle.

As much as it pained Squall to resort to petty threats, he was beyond his limit of tolerance. This wasn't even a fair fight. “If you're not gone in thirty seconds, I'm taking this to the Headmaster!”

“Empty threats Leonhart, you even hate the word `tattletale'.”

“This isn't funny Almasy, take these cuffs off.” He knew that his continued efforts were fruitless, but he wouldn't stop until Seifer was gone or he'd worn himself out.

Seifer rolled his eyes at Squall's continued struggling. Who was the boy kidding? In a few years, after twenty pounds of muscle and a foot or two in height were put on, then Leonhart might stand a fighting chance.

Wrapping an arm around the brunet, Seifer lifted Squall up and tossed him onto the bed. He didn't hate Leonhart or anything, but six thousand gil said he couldn't prove whether or not the asocial ice prince had a stick up his ass. For a gunbladist with his eye on the sleek new Hyperion model blade, six thousand was enough to make him bend over and put up with a cavity search himself.

Squall landed with a creak of springs and oomph, kicking at the blond as soon as he managed to find balanced leverage.

“Whoa,” Seifer soothed as if talking to a horse, catching a stray kick that might have done some damage. Holding the foot that yanked to get away, he pulled Squall closer. “This would be a lot easier if you'd stop struggling.”

“Fuck you!” Squall shouted, wondering how thin the walls were.

“Calm down Leonhart, I'm not raping you or nothing.”

The vehement brunet was a spitfire to handle, never willing to stay still for a moment. In the end, Seifer sported a bruised eye from a stray elbow and sore ribs from an intentional kick. Squall panted heavily, more than certain to have bruises in the morning. In Seifer's defense, he had never struck the pale boy, just manhandled him, which required excessive force at times.

A thin sheen of sweat formed at Squall's brow, his head pressed against a pillow. Stormy eyes glanced at his bound wrists, raw from unforgiving cuffs. He was now chained to the bedpost, which he'd thought might give way if he'd tried hard enough. Sadly, for all the creaking and clanking he'd pulled off, the bed frame remained stably intact.

With an exasperated sigh, Seifer realized he'd spent a good ten minutes just locking Leonhart up. If anyone asked, he'd done it in half that time. The kitten was a damn lion in disguise. “Well fuck Leonhart, you'd be dead if I were a kidnaper or something. Like anyone would put up with you.”

Raking golden blond hair back into place, Seifer reached in his other pocket and extracted a cell phone. After all, he needed proof of his exploits that evening. He wasn't a mean guy. With no actual camera, there were no negatives or chances of photos leaking. As soon as he had his cash, he'd delete the pictures.

Setting the phone on the edge of the bed, he reached into his back pocket and took out a single rubber glove.

Squall was on the verge of simply playing along, role playing a few times just to get rid of the arrogant, overbearing ass of an older boy. At the sound of snapping rubber, he shot a wild look over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” the brunet questioned frantically, afraid of the answer.

The day Leonhart cast him a fearful glance was a sweet day indeed. He'd held the boy at gunpoint before, and those stormy eyes hadn't even flinched. Although, that might have been because there was an instructor nearby, making it a given he wouldn't actually kill anyone.

Grinning at the upper hand he had, Seifer replied, “Just a standard cavity search.”

“Hyne Almasy, don't play like this, it isn't funny.” Defensively, Squall scrambled to huddle his prone form closer. He pulled his legs in, away from the blond. He managed to sit up, arms still held in place, but his butt effectively planted on the bed and out of reach. Even in joking, he felt oddly protective of himself.

“Damn Leonhart, I'm starting to wonder if you really do have a stick shoved up there.”

“Fuck you,” Squall hissed in return.

Chuckling, Seifer shook his head. “That's the second time you've talked dirty to me princess, it's a real turn on.”

As a repeat of the same phrase fell dead on pout lips, Squall glared in place of harsh cursing. He darted firmly against the bedpost as Seifer made to close the distance between them. He'd sooner submit to giving the blond a blowjob than he would to bending over without a fight.

The following scuffling was even more of a struggle. Seifer was starting to feel guilty, which in turn made him angry since he never felt guilty about a damn thing his whole life. He tried to pull Squall to lie flat on a taut stomach, but he barely managed to hold onto an ankle for more than a couple seconds at a time.

“Would you hold still!” the blond growled, throwing caution to the wind and sitting atop the smaller boy.

Winded, Squall coughed for air. “Get out,” he forced out in a raspy breath.

“Look, I'll give you five hundred gil if you shut up and let me do this.”

Stilling completely, Squall sank limply against the bed. He should have known that money was involved. Seifer wasn't the type to pull pranks or even pick on him without an audience. Then again, Seifer also wasn't the type to do anything for money.

“Who put you up to this?” the brunet asked meekly, almost afraid of the answer.

Seifer grunted in a manner that seemed to express his impatience and relief over the complacent nature Squall was finally showing. Thinking that the brunet had been swayed by his offer of money, he explained, “It's the latest rumor. Some of the guys wanna know if you really do have a stick up your ass, maybe a pole or something.”

“What?” Squall cried in outrage. Morons like that didn't deserve to be in Garden if they had nothing better to do than speculate about the cause of his indifferent and introverted tendencies. Aside from the obvious answer to that rumor, it still didn't explain why Seifer was here. “So you came here to do what, stick a finger up my ass and find out? You've got less brain cells than I gave you credit for Almasy.”

“And here I was thinking you thought I didn't even have a brain. All this sweet talk is making me fall for you princess.”

“Why are you really here?”

Seifer eased his weight up, hearing the raspy breathing of the younger boy. He hovered not more than an inch above though, knowing any more room for struggling and he'd likely be bucked to the floor. “It's a prank bet Leonhart, chill out. I'll delete the pictures and there won't be any proof but for the jingle in my purse.”

“Who…” Squall didn't want to ask. “Who offered the pay?” Odds are, it would have to have been a lot of money, and not a lot of cadets had more than a couple hundred.

A deep-set frown overcame Seifer's tanned features. The dejected tone of voice Leonhart spoke in was slightly troubling, but not enough to actually make him reconsider. At this point, his new gunblade might as well have his name inscribed on it. “Some senior, real prick, but good for the money.”

“What's his name?” Grey-blue eyes were hidden behind delicate lids, the thick fringe of dark lashes brushing softly against pale cheeks. There was an apprehensive air to the question.

“Damian Gray,” Seifer replied. “So are you agreeing or not?”

Squall let the hurt wash over him, sucking in a sharp breath of air and gritting his teeth. Damian… that bastard. Squall was silent and distant just so he might avoid this very type of situation. He was a fool, an ignorant and gullible fool. He'd finally given himself to the rich boy's incessant hounding and not a day had gone by before this slap in the face was given.

All whispers of want and need, lustful cries of endearment meant nothing. It was all just one big lie, one giant practical joke that he'd fallen prey to. To think for a second that the senior ladies man actually cared about him, that it actually meant something when the older boy would sneak into his room at night and just curl up beside him.

Who was he kidding? He should have known the moment he woke up alone after their first time together, that Damian had gotten what he wanted. It wasn't about wasted virginity or the humiliation that would follow when Damian bragged about screwing him willingly. He could deal with the nicknames and taunts. What hurt the most was that for a very brief span of time, he'd considered the possibility of being wanted, that someone actually cared about him in a way that not even his parents had.

“Whatever,” Squall replied monotonously, the term spilling from his lips because he doubt he could form a proper sentence at the moment.

“I know you've been eyeing new gunblades, perhaps a Revolver, something you can actually carry without falling over.”

Forgetting his spurned hurt for a second, the brunet uttered, “How did you….” He trailed off his surprised question in light of remembering why his heart clenched tightly.

Seifer knew what the brunet was about to say. “How did I know?” he supplied for the other boy. “Come off it Leonhart,” he chastised as he safely clambered off of the unmoving form of his rival. “It's obvious that you're the only other person in this place that knows which end of the weapon to hold onto. I'm already better than the instructor, and you're coming along.”

Reaching out, the blond picked his phone up and flipped it open. He'd be quick about it. As it powered on, he continued to speak, “I'm gonna need someone to train with, and your pansy ass is all I've got. By the end of this year, you'll be privileged to train on your own, so long as you have your own weapon.”

Squall couldn't help but absorb Seifer's words, idiotic as they may have been. The idiocy must have been contagious, because before he could think about it, the brunet asked, “You're saying I should take a share of this bet money, because you need a partner?”

“If I took one less of your kicks tonight, I'd be happier for it,” Seifer responded. At length he added, “But yes, I guess I am saying that I need a partner.”

Something stirred within Squall, a ridiculous hope. He couldn't be angry with himself for it though, because it was safe. If he allowed himself this feeling of being needed, it wouldn't come back to hurt him. He was the only other gunbladist on par, or close to, Seifer's level. It was true even now that they paired up during class more often than not, despite the usually violent endings.

“Okay,” Squall agreed without second thought, “But I get half of what you're getting.”

“Five hundred it is then,” Seifer rejoiced.

Squall shot a glare over his shoulder, nearly missing his mark for lack of ability to turn his head far enough.

“Fine, a thousand,” the blond conceded.

A finely sculpted eyebrow rose as if to tell Seifer to try again.

“Hyne, do you always know when people are lying to you,” Seifer grumbled. “Three thousand is half, happy?”

Squall would have nodded, if he hadn't begun to wonder why he seemed able to see straight through most bullshit, but not Damian's sweet words. He wasn't even gay and he'd slept with another boy, how fucked up was that? At least there was a lesson to be learned. Never again would he underestimate the pathetically weak side of himself that craved human affection.

Green eyes watched in mild concern over the fleeting emotion displayed on usually impassive features. “Y'all right sweetheart?” he questioned mockingly.

“As good as I can be, considering,” Squall replied coldly. When searching green eyes stared at him, he bristled uncomfortably, wondering if Seifer suspected anything about his interest in knowing who'd set this all up. “Well,” he prompted impatiently, “Get it over with.”

“Aye, aye captain,” Seifer returned with a slap to the brunet's shapely butt.

Squall felt the mattress shift as the blond shuffled along on two knees, thankfully not weighing him down anymore. He wondered if he was out of his mind to consent to this. He probably was. He was also realistic. The reality was that if he didn't agree, he'd break the skin on his wrists struggling and Seifer would still do it in the end. At least his consenting meant it'd be done with quicker and he'd have three thousand gil to show for it.

At the feel of calloused fingertips ghosting the low riding band of his pants, Squall called over his shoulder, “Take the handcuffs off.”

“Unlike most guys, I'm both sexy and smart.” Seifer ignored the scoff Squall gave. “I'm not taking off the restraints until I've safely sent the picture to my computer.”

“I'll kill you if I don't get paid,” the brunet warned in a surprisingly threatening tone considering he was bound in place and about to lose his pants.

“Relax, you know I'm reliable.”

With a roll of his eyes, Squall straightened his head, letting it fall to the pillow. An eerie sense of déjà vu set in as he shifted to crawl onto his knees, propping himself on bent elbows.

Seifer's eyes widened. It wasn't that he'd forgotten how it would have to be done, but rather the image of Squall Leonhart actually bent over in such a submissive manner. Clearing his throat, he mumbled inaudibly to himself.

It wasn't like he'd never seen the brunet naked before. They showered after class together all the time.

Frowning, Seifer tried to conjure an image of Leonhart without clothes. Granted those tight leathers and form fitting t-shirt didn't leave much to the imagination, he still couldn't picture it properly.

Hadn't he seen Leonhart naked? Maybe not in the showers, but surely in the locker room. His frown deepened. It wasn't like he usually thought about it, so naturally he wouldn't have noticed if one single person slipped into a corner where his eyes couldn't see.

“Hurry up,” Squall hissed.

Swallowing thickly, Seifer nodded dumbly, Squall couldn't even see him. If his fingers slid along the brunet's lower back unnecessarily, the smaller boy didn't seem to take notice. Slowly, he slid the soft flannel pants down, his eyes never leaving their target.

When that pert ass that was always hugged in leather was displayed for him, he felt as though the room's temperature had gone up ten degrees. It was just an ass, nothing he hadn't seen before. If Leonhart happened to have particularly smooth skin and rather elegant curves, it didn't make a difference.

Seifer stared unabashed. Pale skin that he felt beneath his roughened hand curved along the fleshiest part of Leonhart there was. Biting his lip, he gripped one cheek and gave a light grope before spreading cleft for his own use. With his gloved hand, he ran an index finger over the rosy puckered entrance.

The friction was noticeable to Seifer, and he wasn't the one about to get a couple fingers up there. Tentatively, he pressed a finger against the ring of muscle.

Immediately, Squall stiffened. “Just take the picture,” the brunet ordered.

Seifer stirred from a world slightly detached from reality, a world where he was staring at Leonhart's rosy little anus and nudging a finger inside. Clearing his throat, he looked up as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “What?” he questioned slightly flushed.

Squall rolled his eyes. It sounded like the blond was the one uncomfortable, and here he was prostrated with his rival's finger pushing to get in. “Get a picture and get out,” the younger boy clarified, purposefully jingling the link on the cuffs.

“Just as soon as I give you a rectal exam,” Seifer returned, pressing his finger in. He managed to push it in to his second knuckle, but the tightness slowed his progress.

Biting his lip, Squall forced himself not to scramble away. “You don't actually have to do it,” he pointed out.

“If I'm honestly giving you half my share, then I'm honestly earning my own,” the blond explained. It was so fucking warm, something he didn't think possible of this boy nicknamed the Ice Prince. Though, he had been the one to make that name up. “You are a tight ass,” he commented as he wormed his finger around a bit.

“A little lube wouldn't kill,” Squall grunted, lowering his head.

Chuckling a bit, Seifer admitted, “Sorry baby, I'm flying dry tonight.” He wondered what constituted an official examination of having a stick up the ass. Gulping, he wondered how far he could go.

Mumbling darkly about how he couldn't believe he was doing this, Squall said, “There's some stuff in my desk drawer.” It was obvious at this point that something else had begun all together. Seifer was not the most honest of young men, which meant taking the picture now could easily bring an end to this ludicrous event. But, the blond seemed set on fingering him some more, and he'd actually encouraged it with the suggestion of lubricant.

Taking a deep breath, Seifer realized he had a rather unseemly urge to keep Leonhart just like this for as long as he could. “Which drawer?” he inquired as he drew his finger out. His voice was slightly husky, which he attributed to his habitual gulping.

“Top right,” the brunet answered.

It seemed odd to Seifer that introverted Leonhart would have lube on hand. Somehow, he just couldn't picture the younger boy jacking off in this clean little room. “Studying for that explosives test tomorrow, I see,” the tanned boy commented upon examining the notebook and thick textbook that lay forgotten on the desktop.

“It's first thing in the morning if you recall, so hurry up.”

Seifer nearly laughed, not at Squall's impatience, but at what he found in the drawer. A small container of Vaseline for keeping borrowed gunblades in tiptop shape. He wondered if Leonhart had a single sex driven bone in that lithe body.

Turning back, Seifer almost tripped over his own feet. Why did his cock twitch at the sight before him? Shaking his head he refuted the conclusion that any part of what he saw turned him on. That slender curve from the brunet's lower back to smoothly displayed round cheeks. Had he not been able to see Squall's manhood, he'd swear he was looking at a young woman with a flat chest.

Shaking his head once more as his thoughts began straying, the blond returned to the bed. Silently, he rid himself of his rubber glove, rather curious at the odd texture of smooth tightness he'd felt clamp around him.

Opening the container of petroleum jelly, he dabbed a finger in before hastily shuffling back into his earlier position. Glancing up towards the resting mop of chestnut hair against the head of the bed, he decided to just do whatever he wanted.

Seifer tugged the pants down further, mildly surprised when Leonhart complied and let him discard the clothing all together, dropping them haphazardly onto the floor. He gave a small nudge to one of the boy's knees. The brunet took the hint and shuffled to spread those pale legs a little wider.

Licking his lips, Seifer rubbed the lubricant over the puckered opening before hastily pushing his index finger back in. It was weird in a way that should have been disgusting, but somehow wasn't in the least.

Worrying his lip frantically, Squall scrunched his eyes shut and hoped the blond brute would be contented soon. The lubricant had been a bad idea. Any part of this that didn't feel bad was bad. If Seifer managed to brush over him in the wrong place, then the repercussions would be monumental.

Seifer was quite certain there was no stick crammed in there. Silently, he reached for his phone. He held the device against his chest, muffling the click of buttons against his green t-shirt. As he took a picture, it occurred to him that he didn't really have a wide enough scope to prove it was actually Leonhart. He'd have to get a head shot.

Seifer's heart beat a bit faster as he attempted to stretch his arm far enough back to encompass the shot. Leonhart's face was turned to the side, eyes closed. He kept his finger's exploration up, afraid those eyes would open and see that continuing was no longer necessary.

In the moment that Seifer's finger wriggled to place pressure right over Squall's prostate gland, the brunet winced at his body's reaction. A gasp escaped him while his back arched to raise his butt higher, basely wanting a stronger pressure without consideration for the situation.

Seifer fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it to the floor. “What the hell was that?” he questioned, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

Blushing furiously, Squall buried his face in the pillow.

Mouth dry, Seifer stared. A rising heat crept up his neck as he tentatively tried to repeat whatever he'd done to invoke such a reaction from the brunet. He squirmed his finger deeper, driving it as far in as he could.

Hesitating for a moment, the blond teetered on the edge of blatantly overstepping the fine line between a prank cavity search and something else entirely. Wetting his lips, he brought his free hand up to brashly grope a pale cheek before pulling his finger out and plunging it back in.

Seifer wasn't sure what made him do it exactly. Perhaps sheer curiosity over that odd reaction Squall had. He inserted a second finger and raked against the gripping heat.

Squall's chest was pressed against the bed, arms raised above his head, which was still buried in the pillow. As Seifer managed to brush over that sensitive spot inside of him, he arched further, a stifled moan wringing from his throat.

Morbidly embarrassed that he should find any enjoyment from this, with Seifer Almasy as witness, Squall became angrily defensive. “Dammit Almasy, watch it!” he cried a bit more harshly than was warranted considering he'd gone into it all willingly, for the most part.

“What the hell was that? You act like it feels good,” Seifer shot back in accusation.

“Because it does, you moron,” Squall returned just as heatedly.

Seifer's mouth fell open. Gaping like a fish, his brain seemed to momentarily shut down. “You're a fag?” he managed dumbly.

Blushing more deeply, Squall bit out, “No, I'm not gay you idiot! You're hitting my damn prostate gland.”

Bristling in anger at being insulted so frequently, Seifer puffed his chest out and drove his fingers in a bit more roughly, scissoring them a bit. “What's that got to do with you liking it up the ass?”

Squall forced down his anger in lieu of giving a plausible excuse for the sudden turn this prank had taken. “Learn how to read that anatomy book of yours. It controls ejaculation.”

“How so?” the blond followed up, purposely trying to hit the gland again. He hadn't felt anything like a gland in there.

“Hyne, you can look it up later, just don't- ahh!” Squall cried out, hating himself for being so damn sensitive. Oddly enough, he hadn't felt quite so stimulated even with an entire cock buried inside of him.

“Right there?” Seifer questioned with an impish grin, stroking the same spot again. “What happens if I keep this up?” Truthfully, it was so much easier to pick up his usual antagonizing manner than to admit he was doing this for himself. It was okay if he were just bullying Leonhart, but to outright say that he was finger fucking the pretty boy for his own benefit was just out of the question.

“S-stop,” Squall urged, his body speaking an entirely opposing command as it arched onto plunging fingers.

“I'm getting mixed signals here Leonhart. Since you know what an idiot I am, you're gonna have to make it real clear.”

Hyne, he was falling apart. Squall was halfway hard and being plundered by his rival's fingers. Considering Seifer must have known exactly what was going on by then, it was hardly his fault. Maybe this would be one of those nights that remained a secret between two people, a night they never mentioned or referred to ever again.

“This stays between us?” Squall asked breathily.

Seifer felt the blood rush to his groin at the question. Some unconscious part of him knew exactly where all of this was going. He knew Leonhart was referring to everything that happened beyond the simple cavity search, everything the occurred after the moment he started rocking his finger in and out. “Scouts honor,” he replied, his voice dropping a note.

“Ahhn.” The moan was uninhibited by the pillow.

Without really knowing for certain where it was all going, Seifer reached down and unzipped his pants. His penis was hardening in record timing. The darkened length stood proudly, a prided asset the blond never took for granted. Giving himself a single stroke, he groaned at the throbbing feel.

Inserting a third finger, Seifer pumped himself in time with his plunging fingers. He watched was the younger brunet writhed against his hand, rocking back like a little slut. Hyne, he was finger fucking Leonhart while jerking off. It was wrong on so many levels.

“No one can know,” Squall breathed desperately, wanting a firmer confirmation that this never left his room.

“It'd be as bad for you as it would for me Leonhart,” Seifer reassured, all the while thinking that none of this was truly bad at all.

“Then fuck me already,” the brunet said.

Seifer stopped all ministrations, leaving his cock wanting more and the writhing brunet hanging. “What?”

Aside from panting breaths, no reply came.

Seifer straightened up, kneeling behind the pale brunet, suddenly finding every supple bit of flesh a complete turn on. Leonhart was a rather beautiful person, graceful and striking. “You sure?” he questioned again, wondering if he'd stop if Squall really did change his mind.

“Yeah,” Squall answered, spreading his legs a bit wider.

Seifer groaned at the action.

At sixteen, Seifer's body didn't need any more encouragement. He was horny and before him was a willing partner. Given the unexpected nature of it all, Seifer nearly decided not to use any more Vaseline. However, just before he started to insert his engorged penis, it occurred that it might be necessary.

Once he'd slicked himself up, he gave a testing nudge, sliding the mushroomed head along the cleft of Leonhart's butt. When no protest came, he nudged against that puckered entrance. He felt a bit inept, not certain if he was too big for the boy or how much force he should use while pushing in.

“It's okay, just push in a little ways,” Squall said, wondering if Seifer was really as big as he'd gathered from the feel of the hot length rubbing against him.

Seifer heeded the brunet's words, putting more force behind it. He watched as first the tip pushed beyond the tight opening, and then the entire head. He continued to push more in, but the pale boy gave off a stifle whimper and he went rigid, suddenly afraid he'd hurt the brunet.

Squall knew what Seifer was going to ask him. Instead of letting words be used, he gave a small thrust backwards, pushing the blond a little deeper. Seifer was certainly bigger than Damian. He was slowly being split, seared from the inside. Yet, despite the pain, he wanted more.

Shaking his head, Seifer decided Leonhart was the type of person who should be gay, being more tolerant of pain than most.

Pushing further in, Seifer gripped slim hips to steady his progress. He tossed his head back as each slow movement deeper became unbelievably tight and hot. “Hyne,” he muttered, his breath becoming labored without any physical strain as cause. Was it supposed to feel like this? He had a girlfriend, more than one in fact, so he questioned whether or not it was supposed to feel this damn good to a straight man. Did that make him gay, or maybe just bisexual? For this tight heat, he could tolerate being bi.

Once sheathed as far as tight, clamping muscles would let him go, Seifer exhaled heavily. “For fuck's sake, you're tight Leonhart.”

“Give…” Squall panted, sweat beading at his forehead. “Give me a minute,” he said, needing time to adjust. He clenched his hands, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his palms, tugging the restraints against raw wrists in distracted pain. If it had been anyone else other than his rival, he'd have called it off and said to take it out. Hyne, it hurt. It was all he could do not to cry out as the blond had pushed deeper.

“You okay?” Seifer questioned, running his hands over propped up hips and along the smaller boy's sides. Given that he currently had his cock buried in Leonhart's ass, he doubted a little more touching was out of the question. He snaked his fingers beneath the boy's shirt, smoothing his hands along the soft flesh of the younger boy's lean torso.

Bending over, Seifer pressed himself against his rival's back, resisting the sudden urge to press his lips against any part of the brunet's body. He pushed the undershirt up, exposing the unblemished pale skin of the Ice Prince's back. His hands sought out knotted muscles, stopping to feel the ridges of outlined ribs, almost chastising the boy for being too thin.

It was a moment before Seifer snapped back from his exploration, realizing how daringly he was fondling the boy, and how the brunet's breath had become less even, almost as if his touch were having an affect.

“Move,” Squall said, more a request than an order.

Seifer's eyes rolled in ecstasy as he pulled out a bit and pushed back in. It was almost too tight, but he wouldn't have preferred it any other way. “Sweet Hyne,” he grunted as he rocked in and out shallowly.

Squall winced as the pace of shallow thrusting was set. The stretching and splitting was unforgiving, but as the pace continued, the pain slowly began to recede.

Before he was really ready for more, Squall heard himself call out, “Harder.”

At the word, Seifer's thrusts kept pace, but drew out further and pushed in deeper.

“Ahhn!” Squall sounded in moan as the first real pang of pleasure rang through him. When another followed, he cried out again. It was a shuddering pleasure from deep within, causing him to thrust back as Seifer thrust forward.

“Harder,” Squall panted. Hyne, he knew Seifer of all people could keep going harder until he broke.

“As you wish,” Seifer grunted, nearly pulling all the way out before crashing back in with violent force.

“Seifer!” Squall cried out, shooting ecstasy spiking through him.

Leaning back, gaining better leverage to continue the forceful thrusts, Seifer's green eyes roved Squall hungrily. The younger boy had just called out his name. Lustful and wanton, his name had rolled of his rival's plush lips. He wanted to hear it again.

As the bed creaked in complaint and the slapping sound of their joining echoed through the small room, Seifer felt his balls clench in warning. Reaching around, he grasped Leonhart's leaking member and gave it a stroke.

“Ahh-Sei-Seif-er!” the brunet cried, feeling his climax at hand.

Seifer wanted to hear his name screamed loudly, like some form of proof that for the sake of getting into it, Leonhart wasn't picturing someone else. Yet, there wasn't time for requests or orders, just fevered thrusting.

“Squall!” the blond called out. Pumping his hand faster, he felt the need to not come first, perhaps just another form of rivalry.

Squall was torn between two pleasures. It was all he needed. With a final cry, he came, too blinded by pleasure to be surprised that Seifer didn't seem care about the mess of cum that spurt and coated the bed beneath and pumping hand.

As that lithe body arched in orgasm, warm liquid spilling over his hand, Seifer met his own end. He thrust a few more times, driving himself into the deepest reaches of that searing, tight heat. The muscles that clamped around his cock sent him over the edge. He felt it start, balls clenching, cock jerking as it spurt waves of ejaculation into that tight hole he was buried in.

The magnitude of pleasure was overwhelming. Seifer thought he'd gone blind for a moment, until his darkened vision only danced with spots and then cleared. Out of breath and slick with a thin sheen of sweat, the blond carefully slid out from within his rival. Green eyes watched in disbelief as the stretched ring of muscle seemed to spasm at the loss. He gulped as saw his own semen leak out, dribbling down a slender thigh.

Squall remained posed for a few extra moments, uncertain he could move at all. However, when he realized Seifer had withdrawn, he collapsed to the bed entirely, sinking into the bedding, not caring of his own release beneath him.

Seifer almost felt nervous, wondering what happened next. Did he have to lie down and cuddle with Leonhart, or just tuck himself away and leave?

Drowsily, Squall mumbled, more to himself than Seifer, “That was good.”

An arrogant grin spread across Seifer's chiseled face, his ego immeasurably boosted. He remembered that even when dealing with a special case like Leonhart, he did whatever he wanted to do. If he wanted to stay longer, he would.

Reaching an arm up, Seifer grasped the material of his shirt, tugging it from his back and pulling it overhead. After a brief moment of further indecision, he used his t-shirt like a rag. Mopping up his seeping cum, he tenderly wiped his rival's pretty little behind before taking it further and cleaning up the rest of their mess.

As Seifer moved about, unlocking the cuffs and making preparations for the night, Squall lay half asleep. It wasn't until the brunet felt the blankets being tugged that he realized his wrists were unbound and he'd been shifted in place slightly.

Mixed grey-blue eyes opened to see that Seifer was still there, only wearing a pair of boxers. His discarded pants were amicably tossed at his head. He gave a half hearted glare before lethargically slipping into them, simply grateful that Seifer didn't tease him for going sine undergarments during sleep.

“This wouldn't be the first time we've shared a bed,” the blond mumbled, almost defending his actions against curious storm blue eyes. His reference was to their time at the orphanage, when beds were in shortage and they paired up a few times.

The narrow bed was not the best for fitting two people, at least not side by side. Seifer figured that if everything that happened stayed between them then there was no harm in spending the night. Besides, he was tired and his room was too far away.

Squall wasn't exactly complaining, though if his eyes roamed the blond's tanned and muscular body, it was simple admiration. But he felt a little fearful that Seifer might have assumed there was more to it that a simple one night stand.

As Seifer drew the brunet close, the drowsy haze setting in with the scent of sex still heavy in the air, he felt an odd contentment. Leonhart's smaller frame molded to his own. It was less fleshy than was he was used to, but just as warm and pleasant to hold against his chest.

It was an odd absence of words, where they simply watched each other while thinking to themselves.

Squall's eyes still remained curious, regarding the blond with question.

Seifer trailed his gaze along the delicate features of his rival. Before he could really consider what he was doing, he dipped his head and captured pout lips. They were warm and soft just like everything else about the boy.

Pulling back, Squall looked at Seifer with slight alarm. Kisses were meant for lovers. Kisses were what Damian had used to follow sweetly spoken lies. “I need a sparring partner, not another Damian,” he half whispered.

Green eyes widened before narrowing darkly. “What do you mean?” Seifer asked, his tone harsher than he meant it to be.

“I mean, tonight just happened. It didn't mean anything… right?”

“Right,” Seifer agreed hesitantly. After a moment, he inquired with false impassiveness, “How do you know that prick?”

Stormy eyes blinked, not knowing whom Seifer was referring to right away. With a small shrug, the brunet admitted, “This bet is his way of breaking up with me.”

“You were dating Gray?” Seifer hissed out in question.

Frowning, Squall shook his head. “Not really.”

“Then what?” Seifer pressed.

Squall wasn't sure what to make of the blond's interest in the matter. Thinking back on the past few months, from the first time Damian had approached him until yesterday, grey-blue eyes became lost in reverie. Scoffing at his blindness to it all, the brunet said, “I was just a few points in his score book. He got what he wanted, and now I'm certain he's laughing about it somewhere.”

Seifer felt rising anger. He clenched his jaw, realizing that he'd been used in some joke against Leonhart. No one used Seifer Almasy for their own purposes, not without paying dearly, and six thousand gil was not nearly enough. Further more, that prick dared to toy with his rival. It was well known that no one picked on the silent boy except for himself.

“We'll get his money and get even,” he muttered darkly, several painful scenarios already forming in his head.

“Almasy,” Squall returned to the distant title, despite being within the man's arms after sex. “It isn't your problem. It doesn't even matter. I'm an idiot for thinking he wanted anything but another virgin for an extra few points.”

Seifer stiffened, his arms gripping the pale boy a bit too tightly. He made no comment on the nonchalant attitude Leonhart had over it all. If Seifer felt jealousy and protectively possessive of his rival then it didn't matter. He didn't need a plausible excuse for beating someone up, which meant he wouldn't analyze the swarm of mixed emotions he felt over this new discovery.

Giving into his earlier urge to kiss the brunet, he leaned in to press his lips to Squall's. He told himself it was just a consoling comfort for the boy, not the least bit spurred on by his own want.

Squall's reluctance was steadily worn away. His body warmed up, seeming to melt under the gentle meshing of their lips. He should be angry with himself. This was not a safe comfort to take, which he'd learned the hard way not more than half an hour ago. So why did it feel safe? Why did he feel like even if he let himself go and relished the feeling of being wanted as more than just a sparring partner, that he wouldn't end up hurt? Was it because it was Seifer?

The kiss grew, becoming decidedly passionate as their tongues eventually ventured out to entangle. By the time either boy knew it, they were groping at each other frantically, wetly tasting each other.

Squall's hands had nearly memorized the feel of the older boy's strong back before twining in soft golden hair. Seifer had shifted, nearly on top of him while cradling his head as if he were something fragile to be careful with.

Breathing heavily, an odd need coursing through their veins, they broke apart. Stormy blue eyes stared up into jade green, simply staring, nothing more.

Seifer didn't know what had come over him, he was well on his way to becoming aroused again. He couldn't break the gaze, feeling entranced by those eyes, which seemed unguarded for once. “I don't understand this,” he spoke softly, thinking aloud.

Licking slick and kiss bruised lips, Squall whispered, “It never happened.”

Seifer wasn't sure what to make of the slight pang of hurt he felt at those words. To think that none of it meant anything or that the brunet would carry on the next day as if nothing had happened between them. He would not let this exchange be forgotten, some memory to fade away.

Dipping down once more, Seifer's target was a slender shoulder, the creamy skin previously touched only by his hands. He suckled at the pale skin, grazing his teeth along to inflame his mark. In the days to come, Squall would see it and remember. Beyond that, he'd have to find some other way to impress the meaning of this exchange.

Once finished, finding little more to do but to break the skin and leave a bite mark, Seifer pulled back and stared down at his complacent partner. Like a porcelain doll, pale and beautiful, just staring at him with big bright eyes and lips tinged rouged. So fitting was the image that from that day forth, Seifer would never glance at Leonhart without making the comparison. Delicate features that were just like a porcelain doll. But that pale skin was not hard and cold, it was soft and warm. It was an image forever ingrained in his mind, and a feel his body would never forget.

“I'll stay here tonight,” the blond said, more for want of words to fill the space growing between them than for explaining what should have already been obvious.

Squall gave a small nod.

The longer they resisted the urge to kiss again, and perhaps do even more, the easier it became. Neither wanted to be the first to break. Instead, they settled on the bed after Seifer stretched out to flip the switch on the lights.

Cast in darkness, where the true partaking of secret affairs should have been set, the two forms pressed against each other while drifting off.

Though Seifer felt inclined to wrapping his arms around the brunet's lithe form, he didn't own it up to anything more than a sudden chill that couldn't be assuage by the drawing of the blanket and the need to conserve space on the small bed.

Squall curled closely against his rival's body, finding little more enjoyable than body heat. His head tucked near the hollow of Seifer's throat, his breath gently ghosted tanned skin as the heavy tug of slumber pulled him under.

The next morning, Squall found himself staring at a blank wall, the space beside him empty. Should he have expected anything else? It seemed cold somehow, not a chill, but from deep within.

It was a few moments before he realized that his wrists were bandaged, neatly taken care of. A small smile tugged his lips upward. He'd never understand Seifer.

“You awake already?” called a familiar voice.

Wide eyed, Squall turned, almost rolling right off the edge. There was Seifer, sitting at his desk, his own notes strewn about the surface.

“Don't get pissy on me or anything, I'm just reading your notes. I forgot about that test we have.”

Squall almost laughed, though he couldn't be sure for what reason.

“You know,” Seifer commented slyly, “You're like a leeching cuddle bug, I couldn't get you off of me all night.”

Frowning, Squall glared. “You were the one holding onto me,” he refuted. When green eyes seemed to sparkle in amusement, he added, “You snore and you take up too much room.”

Chuckling lightly, Seifer sobered up after a moment. “This is a temporary truce, until I've gotten my revenge and the money.”

With a small nod, Squall conceded to those terms; a temporary truce.

THE END