Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Somatic Memory ❯ Somatic Memory ( Chapter 3 )

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

By: DB2020

Warning: Yaoi lemon in this part, entirely unavoidable and totally not suited for young readers (anyone under 17.) Mild non-con. Excessive swearing, since I still tend to write Seifer as the type to swear as much during casual conversation as he does while having sex.

Somatic Memory

Part III

Seifer's way of addressing the issue of having sexually mauled Leonhart was not to establish clear cut ground rules or reject the innocent affection the kitten showered him with. He didn't sleep on the couch or even stop accompanying the boy in the shower. He didn't discontinue his perpetual fondling of soft ears and petting of silky hair. His solution to the incident was something a bit more radical.

Instead of sleeping alone, he accepted the touch hungry creature with open arms. Instead of being careful about which parts of the body received too much touching, he made certain those parts were touched as often as possible. Each night, his hands ghosted south of the border and he became the one to give affection, the sort of affection that resulted in Squall spurting copious amounts of fluid into his fisting hand.

The kitten seemed to become accustom to it, and he suspected that if he didn't start something every night then the younger man would likely instigate something of a similar nature to compensate. It was a dark pleasure that he didn't care to analyze beyond the delicious gratification it brought.

Again and again, he wrought noises from the commander that could nearly make him come simply from listening. After a week, Seifer had become insatiable, slowly losing his ethical battle to not fuck the boy. He'd wrap a hand around both their engorged members and mercilessly stroke while gazing down at the uninhibited creature mewling in ecstasy.

It was frighteningly addictive and disturbingly wrong. While never hurting the trusting kitten, he abused that trust with every caress. He made Leonhart come until that lithe body was worn out and unable to do anything but lay limply with flushed cheeks and lips parted to take in gasping breaths. Sated orbs of grey-blue with wide oval pupils would flutter in and out of view as heavy lids tried to stay open.

Seifer knew his time with the boy was short. Approaching the fourth week, he suddenly felt like there wasn't enough time to get what he wanted from the whole experience. He didn't even know what he wanted, at least not beyond innumerable orgasms.

He couldn't actually bring himself to have sex with Squall. There were any number of ethical reasons, and even more ego centric ones. He felt like a pedophile any time the thought crossed his mind. The kitten's mentality was like that of a child, despite having the body of an eighteen year old. It was just wrong on so many levels, but it felt so fucking good.

Beyond masturbating to the sight of pure and unadulterated lust, Seifer progressively began to take things further. He could deal with the lack of breasts, easily admiring toned pectorals and the screams that came when he tweaked each underused nipple. He surprised even himself by being able to deal with the presence of another cock, but he supposed having one all his life aided in knowing exactly what to do when presented with someone else's.

The internal battle not to actually shove his dick into the boy's tight anus was becoming more difficult each time. He was to the point where he'd finger fuck Leonhart, lubing the entrance up and thrusting his fingers in and out with slick ease. In the end, he'd simply toy with the kitten's prostate gland enough to make the room reverberate screams of ecstasy, and then he'd leave the abused hole alone. The desire to insert something beside his fingers was steadily growing, and his mind was beginning to reason that after all he'd done there was no point in holding out.

The notion that he wouldn't be gay if he didn't cross that line was also a big part of what kept him from doing it. Not usually one to deny anything, Seifer knew he was in denial of just about everything. Being aroused by the sight of another man obviously meant that it appealed to him. He wasn't sure if liking Leonhart made him bisexual or if it'd have to be a couple more guys for it reach that point.

Women turned him on, yet he didn't make any attempts to meet up with Tanya or Leslie or any other girl he could have a quickie with. The excuse that he couldn't leave the kitten's side for even a second stood up like a house of cards during an earthquake. Similarly, the excuse that he needed to use his limited time carefully was obvious bullshit when he spent painfully aroused hours exploring every bit of supple flesh on the commander's body, figuring out what drove the kitten completely mad and conditioning certain areas to respond to his touch.

Somehow he'd become so enthralled, that when Kinneas showed up one morning to inform him that Tilmitt was ready to try and reverse Leonhart's condition, he very nearly lost it. If he'd known the previous night had been the last time he could spend with the kitten, he would have done so much more. He hadn't even screwed around enough to make the boy pass out.

Wanting to hold up inside the commander's apartment and refuse to come out, Seifer knew there was no avoiding the inevitable restoration of Leonhart's icy cold demeanor. With orders to show up at the infirmary as soon as possible, he found himself seated on the couch while feverishly ravishing the boy in one final go.

As Seifer suckled every inch of pale skin along a slender and elegant neck, a contented mewling sounded and his conditioned charge arched back to give him room to work. The ex-knight didn't even care about marking pale skin, confident that he could come up with some excuse if the commander's group of bodyguards asked questions. The merry band of geniuses had pretty much stopped suspecting him of mistreating their dear idol after the first week, none the wiser to the fact that his seedy mistreatment began at that point.

“Hyne, why do I want you so fucking much?” he muttered against the boy's collar, teeth nipping and lips trailing in some pointless attempt to understand it all through his actions.

“Seifer,” the brunet called, finally having some inkling of what the word meant. It pertained to the blond, but could also bring about tickling and gruff fondling that lead to mind numbing pleasure. It was a very powerful word.

“Don't call my name,” the ex-knight reprimanded. It drove him mad and he couldn't stand to be driven any further towards the edge than he was.

Gasping as the man atop him ground down against his pelvis, Squall thrashed about, fingers digging into the armrest above his head. “Seifer,” he called again.

“You're asking for it,” Seifer growled, latching onto a pert nipple beneath the cotton t-shirt.

Having learned the general idea of how to interact when their time together took a heated turn, Squall's legs wrapped around the aggressive man above, begging for firmer contact. “Seifer,” he gasped as the man ground down once more.

Seifer attacked the boy's open mouth, for once uncaring of the sharpened set of canines. He simply couldn't be satisfied and his time was up. Humming a note of pleasure as Leonhart's tongue lapped against his, he encouraged the inexperienced action by rolling his hips.

Not retreating as the coppery tang of blood joined the exchange, Seifer ignored that he'd cut himself on sharp teeth and proceeded to consume simpering noises. Leonhart's voice was soft and smooth and entirely unrestrained. It wasn't shrill or annoyingly high pitched, and it definitely wasn't exaggerated to boost his ego. While he'd always firmly believed that his partner's cries of orgasmic abandon weren't false, he knew without any doubt when it was with the kitten.

As those cries reached the rafters, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. “What have you done to me?” he asked hopelessly, pulling back to stare into disoriented eyes that were so innocent even after all they'd done together. “I wouldn't be here if you hadn't crawled into my bed. I'll make you take responsibility,” the ex-knight said.

“Seifer,” came the panting reply.

Seifer stared into Leonhart's mesmerizing eyes, unable to punish such innocence. Fearing his inability to copulate with the boy was born not of his lingering sense of morality, but rather his strong feelings of care, he was greatly alarmed. Could it be he was trying to protect something precious?

With a pained expression of regret, Seifer climbed off his charge. The last thing he needed was to make a grievous mistake. He also didn't need to experience tight heat clamping around his pulsing member and truly become addicted. He couldn't stand to make it worse, preferring to wonder how good it might have been instead of finding that it was so much better than he could have imagined, only to never feel it again.

“Come on kitten, our times up,” he said quietly, his solemn tone drawing the brunet's attention.

Squirming about, not knowing the man's intent was to cut their activities short, Squall ran a hand over the front of bulging jeans. Rubbing and bucking at the same time, he gave a soft whine of pleasure while gazing up into lust filled green eyes.

“One last time,” Seifer immediately caved, reaching down to undo the boy's pants.

---

Seifer held his breath while the less than trustworthy Tilmitt attempted to cast a spell on Leonhart. Repeatedly telling himself that he didn't care in the least about the outcome and that it would only relieve him of a burden if things were righted, he was incapable of exhaling all the same.

With a bright flash of white light and sweeping breeze of cold air, the spell was cast and everyone but Seifer stared fixedly for any type of result.

“Squall?” Selphie questioned tentatively, feeling badly at the cowering complacency the commander showed while allowing her to cast her spell.

Ears perking up at the sound of his name, Squall opened his scrunching eyes and peered around in confusion.

Seifer stared resolutely at the ground, avoiding all eye contact with the younger man, as though not in the same room.

“Squall?” Zell called tentatively, not daring to approach. “Hey man, is that you?”

Brows furrowing, Squall gave the spiky haired boxer a doubtful look. He glanced from face to face, surrounded by the small group of people who all had the same mix of concerned hopefulness in their eyes. Seifer Almasy was the exception, leaning against the wall, farthest away while staring downcast. Settling for a moment on the blond ex-knight, Squall then noticed movement out of the corner of his eyes.

The commander was greatly disturbed to discover the likes of a long dark brown tail swaying about haphazardly. “There's a tail,” he muttered, more to himself than the group around him.

It took a few more moments, but Squall eventually pieced a few things together. Staring at his hands, he observed his nails with more curiosity than fear. “It's my tail,” he observed after reaching behind himself and confirming that it was indeed a part of his body. Given that it shouldn't have been a part of his body, his attention quickly returned to the group that likely knew best about why he had a tail.

It was a fraction of a second later before Squall found himself dog piled by his friends.

---

“What seems to be the problem?” Dr. Kadowaki questioned as the commander stiffly approached her desk.

“Aside from the obvious?” Squall muttered darkly, scanning the area a second time and adjusting his ball cap to ride lower.

“Miss Tilmitt is working night and day to reverse the physical properties of her spell, but she's worried sick that your mind might inadvertently revert again, so there is no rushing her.” Taking her spectacles off, the older woman stood from her chair and walked around the cluttered desk. “Do I need to spend an hour coaxing you, or will you simply admit that you're here for a reason?”

“There is something wrong,” Squall admitted, likewise not game for beating around the bush and spending more time in the infirmary than necessary.

“What are the symptoms?” the doctor questioned, leading the commander over to a vacant bed.

Squall waited while the older woman retrieved a small stool. When Kadowaki gave him the sign to begin, her pen in hand and clipboard stabled to write on, he sighed. “I can't sleep,” he said, wishing the tip of the iceberg would make admitting the rest just a little less uncomfortable.

“I thought you looked tired. It's been three days since Miss Tilmitt managed to fix that head of yours, and you look like you've been awake four. How many hours of sleep have you gotten?”

“None,” Squall muttered, rubbing his eyes as they burned to be closed.

“Considering you haven't collapsed from it, I know something else brought you here,” the woman commented, entirely willing to spend an hour coaxing the young man into speaking even if she'd prefer not to.

“When I shower, the water never feels hot enough.” Squall carefully worried his lip, trying to express that while it sounded ridiculous, he thought it was of importance. “I thought something might be wrong with my sensitivity to hot and cold.”

Humming to herself, Kadowaki took a moment to consider it. “It may be some residual instinct, just lingering effects of a cat's mentality.”

Nodding his agreement, Squall accepted the logic of such reasoning, having also considered that as a cause. He wasn't about to admit that it wasn't just the temperature but also the feeling of dread that washed over him every time he simply looked at the shower.

“Though I suspect it will clear itself up in time, Mr. Almasy might know of something else,” Kadowaki stated.

“Dammit,” Squall cursed, a hand flying to his head as the hat toppled off. Not having slept in three days, with more than the usual garden affairs weighing down on him, he was a bit short fused. “That's the other thing,” he said darkly.

“I understand that your appearance right now must be very distressing,” the older woman consoled. “Squall,” she spoke informally. Reaching a hand out to grasp his, her eyes briefly scanned poorly trimmed nails.

“That's not it,” the brunet snapped, pulling his hand away and roughly replacing the cap over his ears. “Every time I see Seifer, or someone even mentions his name, something happens.”

Frowning, Kadowaki sat back and asked, “Could you be more specific.”

Scoffing in distaste, the commander explained, “These ears shoot up and this tail won't stop moving. I can't control it.” Steeling himself for a moment, he went scarlet while admitting, “I become excited.”

“Excited as in giddy?” the doctor questioned slowly.

Staring at the woman incredulously, Squall replied, “Yes.” What other form of excitement would he be feeling towards the ex-knight?

---

It was late. Squall lay on his stomach, too annoyed at the foreign feel of the tail to lie on his back. Head buried in a soft pillow, he tried to sleep.

He couldn't exactly say he that was annoyed by the pounding on his quarter's door, though sluggishly clambering out of bed was slightly less fun than counting each minute that ticked by. Exiting his bedroom, he picked up the pace when the pounding continued. If it was an emergency, he wasn't in prime shape to be dealing with it.

At the door, he suddenly remembered he should be wearing his hat. “Who is it?” he called out, figuring he could forgo covering up inhuman body parts if it was someone who already knew.

“Seifer, now open the hell up,” the ex-knight demanded, a final thump against the door expressing further impatience.

Squall gently bit his lip, cursing as a hand clutched at his shirt over his chest. His heart was beating rapidly, among other annoying responses to the older boy's voice. “What do you want?” he questioned, not bothering to open the door first.

“I took care of your sorry ass for three fucking weeks, and you can't open a fucking door?” Seifer bit out angrily.

Gritting his teeth, Squall opened the door. All at once the blond man was upon him. “What are you doing here?” the brunet hissed coldly, backed up to the wall with the looming ex-knight before him. He didn't take kindly to intimidation, finding it brought out the most violent in him.

Seifer stared down at Leonhart. He couldn't pretend any longer, not after Dr. Kadowaki had spoken with him earlier. “You said you'd compensate me for my trouble,” he reminded, a deep huskiness to his voice while his eyes gazed into wary grey-blue orbs.

Nodding hesitantly, Squall tried to keep eye contact, but broke away and stared with uncertainty at the man's chest. His heart was racing for no apparent reason. The damn tail was shifting against the confines of his pants, thankfully out of sight.

Mourning the loss of his kitten, it was almost too much for Seifer to handle. Having Leonhart before him, looking exactly the same, he wasn't confident he could temper his urges. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Swallowing thickly, Squall muttered, “It's late. What do you want?”

“Don't kid yourself Commander, we both know you weren't sleeping,” the ex-knight said, one hand finding placement on the wall behind the brunet, mere inches from the boy's pale and effeminate face.

Glaring, Squall returned his focus to jade-green eyes. “If you're looking for compensation by way of rank, then you are entirely out of order.” Three weeks of making sure he hadn't torn the couch to shreds did not give the arrogant blond the right to expect anything from him.

“You know, even when you didn't know how to speak, you talked more to me than usual. I suppose it's just the fatigue speaking right now.”

“…” Squall's jaw clenched and unclenched.

“I am looking to be paid for all the trouble I went through, but I don't want your money or some rank that I could earn without even trying,” the blond spoke, his other hand sliding into place to box the commander in.

“You should leave,” Squall said, suddenly apprehensive about what the older boy wanted.

Slowly, Seifer shook his head. “No, I quite like it here,” he replied huskily.

Practically melting with the wall, Squall sunk as far back as possible. The look in the ex-knight's eyes was beyond intense, rendering him thoughtless. “Seifer,” he said in warning, not knowing if throwing the man out bodily would be an overreaction.

“I think you know why I'm here,” the blond spoke seductively, hinting at what he was after.

“Because you want to be expelled?” Squall questioned with cold fury, hating how the older boy was still capable of pushing his buttons after so many years of building a resistance to it.

Chuckling darkly, Seifer leaned in closer, bringing their faces level. “Kitten,” he spoke deeply, “when I'm done with you, you won't let me leave.”

It was suddenly clear to Seifer why he'd held out. The awareness and icy rejection in stormy blue eyes was what he'd been waiting for. He'd lost his affectionate kitten, a saddening thing indeed, but now he had Leonhart back and that set his blood on fire like nothing else. He had already tamed that body, but not that willful spirit. It was time to show Leonhart what it felt like to be taken.

Glaring fiercely, Squall attempted to be defiant despite his cowering disposition. “Leave,” he hissed in warning. He didn't want to wind up throwing punches. He hadn't fought Seifer since the war ended. While he'd hoped to keep their relationship civil, he would kick the man's arrogant ass if he weren't the only person standing on that side of the doorway in five seconds.

“The doc says you've been having a little trouble,” Seifer said, a small smirk playing across his lips.

“Get out,” Squall reiterated.

“I came here to help,” Seifer returned. Not giving the commander another chance to protest, he eliminated the remaining distance between their lips and kissed the boy roughly. Three days had been an eternity for Seifer, especially when he'd finished tripping over his heterosexual ego in the first twenty-four hours.

Making a tactical assault, Seifer's arm wound around a slim waist and pulled the brunet close. Slipping a hand beneath the loose t-shirt and trailing down beneath the waistband of baggy flannel pants, he quickly found the base of that carefully tucked away tail and massaged it. He knew the boy's body remembered when it arched closer. His other hand ran through thick, silky hair. Rubbing one of those ears, he felt that tense body melt in response.

Squall was lost. Though his hands were clenched in tight fists, ready to retaliate such shocking actions with violence, he did nothing but grasp at the man's shirt collar for some purchasing hold. The exulting moan that sounded made him wonder if someone else was there, but he quickly realized he'd been the one to make the noise.

Seifer broke away from a slick lipped commander. Staring down, he took a moment to relish the sight. Continuing to rub and gently tug at the base of the tail, he worked until pointy ears flattened in the overwhelming need for more. “That's it,” he whispered, his free hand moving to cup the nape of a slender neck.

Barely capable of registering anything beyond the pleasured shivers than ran through his body, Squall gazed up in slight disorientation. “Stop,” he managed to order, hands pushing at the ex-knight's solid chest.

Chuckling, Seifer dipped low, nuzzling the boy's pale neck. “Say it like you mean it,” he returned, his lips brushing over smooth skin before finding a beating pulse and sucking at it hard.

“Stop it,” the commander ordered again, gasping at the feel of teeth grazing his neck. “Seifer, stop.”

“Say it again,” the blond ordered, his free hand twining in dark chestnut hair.

“Stop,” Squall bit out, almost managing to push back enough to break free.

“Not that,” Seifer chastised. Using the leverage he had on the boy's hips, he nudged a leg between slim legs and rubbed his thigh against Leonhart's groin.

Gasping, Squall's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His body was reacting to the blond's touch. He was already hard, and beginning to wonder if killing his subordinate for such a thing was murder or self defense. “Seifer,” he bit out in warning.

“Better,” the ex-knight commented, tightening his grip on silky hair. “But next time scream it.” Attacking plush lips once more, he held Leonhart close as he walked backwards, navigating the way to the bedroom easily.

Brows drawn as though anguished while the ex-knight plundered his mouth, Squall felt helpless. It was as though Seifer had more control over his body than he did, and it was a bit frightening. It felt good, but his mind was pleading that it ended. He was embarrassed, ashamed, angry, and still confused.

As Seifer stepped back, the barefoot commander had little choice but to follow, stumbling along when his embrace gave no room for hesitation. The sharp prick on his tongue told him that he'd once again cut himself on those teeth, but he didn't stop. By the time his legs collided with the bed, he had Leonhart's pants pushed down to free that tail.

“Bastard,” Squall hissed as he was pushed down onto the bed, quickly topped by the larger man.

“You're already this hard kitten, don't tell me you don't want this,” Seifer purred, his hand rubbing the front of the commander's arousal.

As Squall bucked into the touch, he felt the greatest wave of shame as his eyes burned with tears. It was a disgrace to be rendered helpless so easily and frightening that his body seemed to have a mind of its own. It felt good, but he didn't want it.

Seifer slid along that lithe body, riding the brunet's shirt up until dusky nipples were exposed. Teasing a hardened nub with his teeth, he carried on until that sensual body arched beneath him. Eventually making a trail of kisses back to petal soft lips, he delved as deeply as possible into wet heat, wringing soft moans from the boy as his fingers continued to play with each nipple. Grinding down repeatedly, the pleasured friction grew.

Deciding to be rid of all constrictive clothing, Seifer broke away and sat back. Pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it to the floor, he set to work on his pants. Freeing his stiffened cock, he sighed in relief.

Squall eyed the large length protruding from the ex-knight's pants. While a shiver of anticipation ran through his body, fear seized his mind. What the hell had gone on that brought Seifer barging into his place, doing something like this?

Slowly, it dawned on Seifer that something wasn't quite right. Hovering above the brunet, he took a moment to analyze the arousing expression on that pretty face. “Open your eyes,” he ordered, a hand reaching up to pet a soft ear. Even when that head turned into his touch, big grey-blue eyes remained hidden from view.

Figuring Leonhart needed more incentive, Seifer grasped the boy's erection and gave it a firm stroke. With only a gasp resulting, he continued until plush lips were parted in moaning. It was then that dark lashes fluttered, eyes peering up and glistening with tears.

“Leave,” Squall spoke quietly.

“If you want me to leave, you have to show me that you mean it,” Seifer chastised.

Biting his lip, Squall fought against his body's strong desire to accept every touch the ex-knight had to offer. “I can't,” he hissed in frustration. “Something's wrong, I can't.”

Frowning, Seifer gazed more attentively into stormy blue eyes. He saw fear and anger, not lust and desire. “You mean that,” he observed in disbelief. “You're fucking moaning when I touch you, and you don't want it?”

“No,” Squall managed, about ready to take a knife to the tail that began moving as though impatient that the blond didn't continue.

“Too fucking bad,” the ex-knight said, crushing his lips to the younger man's. He hadn't had much of a choice in taking care of the kitten, and none of this would have happened if he hadn't ended up in such a position. Now he wanted Leonhart. That lithe body without inhibition responded to his touch so beautifully, he couldn't let it go.

Consumed with tasting the commander, Seifer's guilt was rather delayed. When it finally sunk in, he angrily pulled back and stared into anguished eyes. Cursing, he debated the rights and wrongs of the situation. “Why don't you fight me?” he asked, half expecting to receive no answer after three weeks of dealing with a kitten that knew little else but his name.

“…” Squall turned his head away, staring off vacantly in some attempt to not preside over what happened to his body. He wanted more than anything for it to not feel so damn good.

“I've done a lot more when you didn't know what was going on, don't expect me to show some sense of morality now. Tell me or I'll fuck until you can't stand,” the ex-knight bit out irritably.

Glaring icy daggers that he wished could actually do damage, Squall returned his focus to the assaulting ex-knight. Slightly less captivated when he wasn't being groped, he stated, “I can't control my body's reactions. Get the hell away from me.”

For a long moment, Seifer studied the commander's eyes. “I would,” he spoke while gently stroking a flushed cheek, “if you had any conviction in your voice.” Reaching down, he once again stroked the brunet's member.

“I heard a little rumor,” the blond whispered into the commander's ear. Positioning himself atop the smaller man, he ground both their hardened lengths together. “You're gay. Isn't that why you can't refuse me? You won't get anywhere if you delude yourself.”

Not replying, Squall thrashed beneath the ex-knight. Both pained and pleasured by what was happening, there was slight dread in his pending climax. He was beginning to wonder if it might not be so bad after all. While there certainly weren't very many men as attractive as Seifer in the world, there were too many reasons why he wanted nothing to do with the imposing bully.

“Come on kitten, be more vocal than that,” Seifer chastised, stretching an arm towards his forgotten pair of pants. A little lube was all he needed when pearly threads of precum were running down the commander's penis.

Seifer took great care in pressing his finger against Leonhart's rosy little entrance. Considering the way his actions had been taken so far, he knew what to expect. Nuzzling a soft ear, he whispered, “Squall.” Seemingly just a name, it was so much more between them. As he made a mantra out of Leonhart's first name, his finger invaded that lithe body, pushing into tight heat.

“I never had to teach you to like this,” Seifer informed, raking over the boy's prostate gland and hearing the first real cry of pleasure since his arrival. “Your body already loved it.”

Mortified, Squall threw an arm over his face, desperate for some level of control. Experiencing sheer ecstasy, he resented the force behind it and how exposed he was. The few people who had ever dared to order him around hadn't done so without repercussions.

“It's okay,” Seifer assured, fingers working in and out of the slicked entrance. “Let yourself enjoy it.”

“I can't,” Squall told the blond, rubbing at shaming tears spilling from his eyes. He wanted to be throwing punches, but his hands trembled and seemed incapable of forming fists with such intentions as to harm the ex-knight.

Seifer was not a sympathetic man. He cared for Leonhart on some level, which was why he was there that night, but his approach in life had always been to take what he wanted. “Look at me,” he ordered. When the brunet continued to hide from him, he eased into place between parted legs and lubed his stiffened length up.

Taking a deep breath, Seifer enjoyed the moment for all its worth. “There is no possible way you could be gay and never have undressed me with your eyes. Look at me now.” He was confident that no woman alive could resist his handsome face and built body. As far as gay men were concerned, he was still a wet dream. Leonhart didn't seem the narcissistic type, which made him the only other eye candy around.

Still receiving no response, Seifer nudged the mushroomed head of his cock against that puckered opening. Pushing in, he let out a deep groan and hung his head as he fought the urge to come. It was indeed far better than he'd imagined. It was so tight and hot, clamping sporadically around the tip of his manhood.

Taking several deep, calming breaths, Seifer waited a moment to let Leonhart's body accommodate the intrusion. He hadn't taken very much time to stretch the tight opening. “Squall,” he called, forcing the commander's hands away. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, dazed grey-blue eyes focused on the blond man above. His fingers flexed around the ones twined with his. He couldn't remember the last time someone had held his hands, and never in such a manner.

Seifer gazed into slightly reddened eyes, the result of little sleep and distressed tears. Leaning closer, he promptly licked moistened cheeks, earning a surprised gasp. Down along each temple and over each eyelid that scrunched shut when his tongue came close. “Don't cry,” he murmured. “Never cry.”

Shocked, Squall stared with uncertainty when Seifer was finished.

With a smirk, Seifer declared, “I'm not here just to fuck you. I'm here to make you mine.” Following his words, he pushed deeper inside the boy. Rocking in and out shallowly, he groaned. Nipping at the tip of Leonhart's ear, he muttered, “Sorry if it hurts. I can't wait any longer.”

Feeling his pride and dignity trumped out by what his body wanted, Squall arched up as he was split painfully. “It's fine,” he gasped, legs spreading to better welcome the intrusion.

Seifer froze for an instant, wondering if he'd heard correctly. When he realized his overbearing assumptions had been correct, he took the time to lace his fingers with delicate ones more comfortably. With their palms pressed together, he propped himself up, muscles tensing in his upper arm. Rocking in and out, shallow and slow, he watched Leonhart's face avidly.

Squall couldn't tell if he was just being swept away in the moment. While he was still entirely adverse to the idea of Seifer stripping him of control, he couldn't imagine sex with the ex-knight panned out any other way. He wanted it, but he wished he hadn't been won over so easily. There was at least some consolation in silently vowing that it wouldn't happen again.

Lips forming a disapproving line, Seifer searched for meaning in the sudden acceptance he was being given. Pressing closer, his hips undulating all the while, he brushed his lips over the boy's temple. “This won't be the last time,” he informed solemnly. “Your body is mine. You can't be satisfied with anyone but me.”

Fear seized Squall again. He detected nothing but sincerity in the blond's husky voice. “Hyne,” he murmured with consuming trepidation. What betrayal had his body committed?

Grieving the loss of his ever joyful and affectionate kitten, Seifer found comfort in Leonhart's body. He didn't care if Squally-boy continued to rule while sitting on a throne made of ice, but in the bedroom, he would tame that willful spirit and regain the unrestrained attachment he'd been basking in for the past three weeks.

Wondering what grounds he could conjure up for Seifer's expulsion, Squall left such planning when the ex-knight began to thrust harder. Squeezing the man's hands, his head craned back, partly on the pillow. His attempt to bite his lip hard enough to keep from moaning only left him with the sharp prick of his teeth in his lower lip and an embarrassing cry of pleasure.

“You like that?” Seifer grunted in question, thrusting in more roughly.

Unable to form a coherent reply, Squall found himself wrapping his legs around Seifer's trim waist. He'd never had sex with another man before, but Hyne knew he'd wanted to. It wasn't exactly a secret among his friends that he was gay, though no one talked about it. He wasn't open about it, considering his position as commander. Rinoa had left peacefully with promises to keep his secret, and since then he hadn't given credence to the notion that everyone should have someone.

Seifer tightened his grip on elegant hands, pushing in as deep as tight heat would allow his throbbing cock. “Yeah, you love it,” he said with an accompanying groan. “Fuck kitten, you're like a damn finger trap around my dick.”

“Ahhn,” Squall moaned, pleasure spiking beyond anything he'd experienced before. Sex with Rinoa had been temporarily sating but hardly satisfying. This was terribly satisfying, and he'd resent Seifer for the rest of his life for it.

“Is this your first time?” the blond questioned, oddly talkative given the situation that called for little more than grunts and unintelligible sounds of approval. “I think it must be,” he answered for the panting brunet. “Any asshole that could manage to bag you would be bragging to every other asshole that would listen.”

Squall shook his head, not exactly sure what he was answering and not really caring either. Moving his hips to meet the ex-knight's thrusts, their flesh slapped at each joining while the sound of Seifer's cock sliding in and out squelched. He managed to find a rhythm intuitively, eyes closing as he listened to the arousing sound of what they were doing.

“Fuck yeah,” Seifer hissed encouragingly before crushing his lips to Squall's. Every inch of his body crawled with the carnal need to thrust harder and deeper. A tingling sensation of pending fulfillment ran along his spine. He broke away before either of them could pass out from oxygen deprivation, going to the brink heightening his senses in a weird way.

Writhing beneath the larger man, Squall still hadn't climaxed and he was already at a point more pleasurable than any orgasm he'd ever had. Everywhere the ex-knight touched felt good, even the subsequent contact that wasn't consciously done for any purpose.

Despite assurances, or rather threats, that this wasn't the last time, Squall felt as though it was a onetime deal. It occurred to him, among his many broken thoughts, that he might never experience such pleasure again. Wanting just once, if he were truly going to throw his inhibition to the wind, to experience what Seifer had called being fucked until he couldn't stand, he made a request.

Panting at the physical exertion involved, Squall managed to convey what he wanted in two words, “Not glass.” For his own wounded pride, he added, “You bastard.”

“You should have saved your breath on that one, I already know what I am.” Seifer knew he was a bastard, but he wasn't willing to change. Taking care of the kitten had been the greatest act of kindness he'd ever done, and as current circumstances showed, he hadn't done it for free.

Releasing abused hands, Seifer uncurled his stiff fingers. It was probably too much to hope for the commander to hug him close in full acceptance, but he was willing to win Squall's favor with whatever it was that bastard ex-knights did to win the heart of the person they loved.

“Fuck,” Seifer cursed, mentally checking himself on the off chance that he hadn't meant to simply woo the person he liked. He'd deal with his emotional analysis later, not needing any proper titles when he was about to come like a horny pubescent boy screwing for the first time. Given the go ahead to let loose, knowing first hand that Leonhart wasn't made of glass, he was ready to let his desires take over.

Hands free to roam that perfectly sculpted, lithe figure, Seifer took his time to give the commander a good groping all over. Eventually, he settled his hands at the back of each bent knee. Directing those lean legs to unhook, he hitched them up and successfully maneuvered Leonhart into place for a harder fucking.

With most of the motion coming in a rutting action, his abs working to push his hips forward, Seifer was happy to oblige any whim that wasn't his own while fulfilling his own needs. “Remember, you asked for it. Don't break on me half way through, cause I'm not stopping.”

It took Squall a moment to comprehend what was going on. When he understood what Seifer was up to, he almost whimpered at the expected onslaught of more intense penetration, entirely hopeful that it would feel every bit as good as it did rough.

Without further warning, Seifer thrust in as far as he could manage. Putting enough force behind it to shake the bed, he proceeded to use every bit of leverage he had. He knew he'd struck gold when a scream of his name mixed with Hyne's was called out. He was mildly concerned about sheathing himself completely when he felt certain it was the brunet's first time taking cock. Most women couldn't take him all and they'd been designed for it, so to have his cock buried in the boy's ass so deeply made him wonder if was indeed going to make an invalid out of the commander.

“You've taken it all Leonhart,” the blond announced through gritted teeth, the effort of giving it so hard and fast taking its toll. While his concerns arose, they didn't plague him or cause guilt when the younger man only cried out in pleasure.

For Squall, it was over before he was able to relished being screwed so hard. Not even given the chance to attempt to hold out, ribbons of pearly white fluid spurt out of his throbbing length, coating his stomach in sticky release. Every continued thrust inside of him caused his cock to jerk and spasm more. There seemed no end to it, just wave after wave of ecstasy, copious amount of cum still finding a way out through the tip of his erection.

Seifer forgot his own name when Leonhart climaxed. Briefly, he was able to enjoy the sight of flushed cheeks and that sexy expression of passionate ecstasy, but he was quickly distracted when the boy's tight anus contracted like every other muscle in that tautly arching body. His cock was squeezed to a point teetering on painful, and it took more effort to pull out and slam back in.

Taken over the edge, Seifer frantically milked his jerking cock in animalistic fury. The skin between their joining was raw from unforgiving slapping, but his spurting length was forever grateful. He spilled himself deep inside searing heat, shooting hot sperm within Squall's body.

Mind blank, Squall couldn't remember where he was or why he felt such euphoria. His body was thankful for something, ready for sleep even while shivers of pleasure coursed through him. Sighing contently, it was several more moments before reality sunk in again.

Seifer's body was shaking as each tremor rolled through him. Starting from the top of his spine and running down, every nerve ending danced as it rushed the shooting pleasure straight to his cock, which was still spurting threads of release. Wondering if the process of milking such a long orgasm had lead right into receiving another erection, he eventually sighed with satisfaction as it ended. His length softened, the raging need to thrust dying out and the post coital bliss of mind blowing sex setting in.

Finally relenting his grip on spread legs, he caved into his desire to rest a moment. Before doing so, he haphazardly tugged the commander's shirt off, consequently causing dazed eyes to sharpen in understanding. Swiping the sticky mess coating Leonhart's stomach, he managed to finish the cleaning task before collapsing against the body beneath.

Sighing once more, Seifer felt the tug of sleep coerce him into staying in place and drifting off. He nuzzled a slender neck, humming his appreciation and contentment.

Squall was asleep before he could form words to complain about the heavy weight atop him. Blissfully unaware of his transgression, he lay unguarded beneath the ex-knight, with a softened penis still buried inside of him and semen messily leaking out.

Seifer groaned in complaint, feeling spent himself and not wanting to move. When he became privy to the fact that Leonhart was out for the night, he was resigned to taking some responsibility for his actions.

Easing off of the brunet, his flaccid length slid out of the winking hole, a trail of release following. If all gay sex felt like that, he'd start talking with a fucking lisp. That was too amazing to care about the strings that came with it. There was no way of matching such an experience. No number of willing ladies could amount to such ecstasy, not even if he compared the amount of orgasms collectively. If there was anything the commander wasn't aware of at the moment, it was how much he was a captive of it all. He had as much control as Leonhart, which was none.

Cleaning up with the boy's t-shirt again, he tossed the sodden rag to the floor and happily drew Squall close after turning the bedding down. Feeling confident that he'd be waking up sooner than the brunet, he settled in for the night without worry about being beaten as a wake up call.

Calming himself, Seifer stroked soft hair, his lips softly kissing the boy's forehead repeatedly. “What an ironic end we've met,” he murmured quietly. “It must be fate.”

TBC…