Two years ago….
"You don't have to talk," the sniper said softly, the gentle accent of his speech opening the vowels, more seductive in its way than the dark emotion in his eyes or the rich auburn fall of his unbound hair. "You don't have to care. You can forget all of this by dawn. Just kiss me."
"Kinneas…"
"Irvine for tonight. Squall, please, I can't-I can't be alone tonight. I just need…"
The sentence was left unfinished, dying into shameful silence, but there was little more left to be said, after all. Squall understood need. He knew he should refuse, knew he should make it an order for the sniper to never come to him like this again. If the man had come to him in passion or bribery he would have done just that, would have turned his back on the offering and suffered anger for it. But need…he understood need, understood the aching hurt that was more painful than any sting of the blade. And the night was cold, the moon a ball of glowing red that shone a dismal light, and there was a plea in the cowboy's blue eyes that he could not deny.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to a mouth that was soft and burning hot, opening eagerly for his advances without hesitation. "Only for tonight, understand?" he whispered against the full lips, though it felt unnecessary to demand such a promise, even crass. They both knew the rules of the game they were playing and the terms of engagement. It seemed clear to Squall that his bedroll was hardly the first Irvine had visited in his lifetime, driven by pressure and the fear of dying alone. It seemed he should see it as weakness, something to be despised…but there was only pity in him, pity and perhaps a gentle sort of affection. There was a chance the world would end tomorrow if the sniper's bullet did not fly true. He could not begrudge the man any last scream of fury at fate…and he knew too well just how many different ways there were to scream.
Irvine responded wholeheartedly to his kiss, sighing in relief or pleasure, the lean body relaxing into a sprawl. "I'll be gone before you wake," he said, a solemn oath that was tempered by the glint of mischief in his eyes. "Touch me."So Squall did. And for one night neither of them was really alone, though not exactly together either. But it was enough. Had to be enough. Squall wasn't sure he had it in himself to offer anything more…and he knew Irvine wasn't looking for it.
But now, laying chained and waiting for torture and remembering, he realized he had wanted to give more, to take more, to speak…and that small thought scared him more than anything that might be coming. He strained against his bonds, feeling the metal grid at his back, and remembered how it felt to be warm.