Mhm. Another one! Two days after the first! I fucking can't get these two out of my head. I just can't. Not that I'm complaining, y'know, but still. Just sayin'.
(Goddamn it, Seifer, get out of my brain, if only just for a few seconds. It's six am, and I don't feel like being ghetto.)
Anyway. Another one for RubyNightseyes. I've listened to her squeal with happiness upon reading it, and it makes me far happier than I could ever hope to be with the arrival of something like this. My Squall belongs to you, darling. Him, and a piece of my heart. Always.
Blahblahblah, I own absolutely nothing. I'm a jealous bitch.
He's dreaming again. He knows, because there's no way Seifer would ever smile like that. Maybe, but … it almost doesn't feel right.
The touch of hands on hips, fingertips ghosting over his skin beneath his shirt, and he figures it doesn't matter. Dreams are dreams, and no matter how desperately he clings to them, they always fade at first light.
He enjoys it while he can.
The blond shifts a little closer, fingers dancing over the cage of his ribs, and Squall groans low in the back of his throat. The other grins, and leans down to press a small, teasing kiss to his lips. "I've barely even touched you," he murmurs, voice already reduced to a husky growl.
Doesn't matter, the brunet thinks, and deepens the kiss with an artful curl of his tongue that sends a shiver down the other's spine. He can feel it, and it's the times like these that it almost feels real. It's times like these that make waking up almost painful.
He's stretched beneath him, stripped bare and drawn tight beneath teasing little touches -- a kiss here, a nip there, a lap of his tongue there. He arches with a muffled groan as his cock is engulfed by the moist heat of the other's mouth, shuddering a curse that slips through parted lips and burrows beneath the surface of Seifer's composure. He feels it begin to give, spider-web cracks weaving throughout and weakening his very foundation. The blond growls; a hollow, nearly dangerous sound.
Squall isn't sure that anything could ever feel this good, whether in dreams or consciousness. It's too sweet, too perfect. He is sure that if anything were to happen between them, it couldn't compare to this. This … drew on something deep within him that he couldn't quite place, that nothing else could even touch.
When they come together, it's the culmination of every unspoken desire, every word he couldn't bring himself to say. Even here, he couldn't trust himself to say it. To say anything.
He wakes with a shudder, a chill to his skin despite the flush on his cheeks, and sighs. He's so hard beneath the cover of sleep pants and bedclothes that it hurts, and as he reaches to stroke himself through the cloth he can't help but think that his hand will never feel as good as his. Seifer's.
His hand slips beneath the fabric and he wraps cool fingers around his length, arching lightly into the touch and imagining that it wasn't his, because that returned some of the fabricated reality to his dream.
His breath hitches, coming in ragged gasps as his eyes slip closed again and he moans softly into the darkness of his room. He would say his name, but somehow he figures that it wouldn't taste right. He wants to, but he wants a reason, not one of his selfish excuses.
He comes with a muffled growl, teeth clenched, jaw tight. His body shudders a release that shakes him to his very core and as he fights for breath, he can't help but think this is the closest he'll ever get. To him.
Stay awake.
Dedication takes a lifetime, but dreams only last for a night.