Please don't read this if you're not a fan of incest, in this case, Laguna x Squall. This is in Laguna POV, and while it isn't explicit or anything, he and Squall are quite obviously lovers.
This is written for my wonderful friend, and I pause a moment to shamelessly plug her a little. Go read fics by iliyana, 'cause she rocks.
His legs are tangled with mine, his breathing slow. He's always far too tired. He tries to hide it, of course, but dark blotches under his eyes are telling, and the few times a yawn escapes his fierce self control make me want to keep him here, in my bed, forever.
Unfortunately, the minute I go off to tend to the business of Esthar – I swear they could do without me, but Kiros says not – Squall is up and refusing to rest a moment longer.
Of course, there are some times, like this one, where we both get to relax. He's on a vacation – he doesn't get enough vacation time, in my opinion, but he's the Commander of Balamb Garden, so it's understandable. And I'm keeping him in bed all of today, if I can.
I sit up, my hair slipping down to tickle his face. He wrinkles his nose, the scar crinkling a little – how I long to take that and so many others away – and making him look his age. Normally he looks too tired and run down to look like a teenager, but now he does.
Nineteen years old, and he's in bed with his own father. It makes most people cringe. It makes perfect sense to him, and to his mind, that's all that matters. That's something I love about him – if it's not his business, he won't inquire, and he expects other people to do the same for him. He wants to be here, knowing that I'm his father, and that's enough for him. And for me.
It's not like we've made a big thing of our relationship, any part of it, but people know, nonetheless, in that way that people have of finding out things that are none of their business. It doesn't matter if we're happy this way; people just have to butt in.
He stirs a little, his hand reaching up to run through my hair. "Go to sleep," he says, in a voice that's full of sleep itself. I just lean down, kiss him softly, and rest my head on his chest. His arm wraps round my shoulders, and then he sighs softly, his breath slowing even more.
It didn't take much for him to sleep. I love this moment every time, the first night spent back with me, the way he sleeps so deeply and so quickly. The way I can lay here and listen to his slow breaths, his heart beating slowly under my cheek, without him wanting me to move so he can get up.
We're unconventional, I suppose, but we're happy. I couldn't care less what people think, as long as he is here, as long as he's mine. As long as I can hear his breath and feel his heart.