~ Chapter Twenty-Nine - Primal Urges ~
[The Presidential Palace, Sphinxara District, Sunday, 26th of October, 9:42 pm]
Entering the lavish guest room he'd been shown to, Squall dismissed the palace aid with a nod and waited until the door closed behind him before looking around with a sense of premonition. He'd never had any reason to come to this part of the palace before, but Seifer's foolhardy plan for their spar meant they needed the room to change.
A room that apparently came with a queen size bed and en-suite bathroom, along with Loire's offer for them to spend the night if they so chose. The adjacent room had been made available to them as well.
Not that Seifer would pay that fact any heed. Letting out a sigh, Squall tried to clear his mind. His nerves were frayed after the too long evening, the president quick to sour his mood once Seifer had left. He needed that spar. He would make Seifer pay for every second of boredom and unease he'd had to sit through.
Between Loire's oblivious babbling and having to maintain an unaffected facade, he hadn't had a proper chance to fully consider Seifer's earlier words. Even now, his pulse sped up as he recalled just what had been said. The genuine quality to Seifer's voice. The apparent ease with which he'd made his admissions. The lack of denial when Loire had called it love. To chalk all that up to an ill-conceived joke... Even Seifer wouldn't go that far. Would he? There had been amusement in Seifer's tone when the bastard had compared him to a fish that needed reeling in. The challenge of a difficult hunt; was that what Seifer was after?
As soon as the thought popped into his head, he dismissed it. A sense of trust had grown between them over the past week, and the man himself had said this wasn't about making some conquest.
Squall let out a sigh. There was too much at play. There was a definite risk of projecting his own feelings onto anything Seifer said or did, but even if he hadn't misunderstood, he wasn't sure whether it improved his situation. The longer this went on, the harder the end would be.
He allowed himself one conclusion. Seifer seemed genuinely affected by what was happening between them and intent on continuing down this path. He'd even been invited to stay at Seifer's place whenever he returned to Esthar. It was more than he had dared hope for at the start of it all.
Battling the upward tug of his lips, he thought ahead to their spar instead. He'd be damned if Seifer got the upper hand simply because he was too distracted. He had a lesson to teach. He hadn't forgotten any of Seifer's transgressions since staying with the vexing man, being dragged to the palace featuring first and foremost in his mind.
With that bit of resolve he walked over to the large bag that sat innocuously by the foot of the bed. Loire must've given the order to bring it over as soon as the man had left to arrange the particulars of their spar. Picking up the bag to put it on the bed, he zipped it open and looked through its contents.
Quistis knew him well. All of his favorite clothing items were included, along with a few sets of training gear. Rummaging through his things to select a shirt for the spar, he willed himself not to turn around when he heard nearing footsteps. The blond had to have hurried to get there so fast.
As Seifer opened the sliding doors to the guest room, his eyes singled in on where Squall was standing by the end of the bed, looking good enough to eat. Only then did the rest of their surroundings start to register. The room was ridiculously lush, from the expensive decor and the free alcohol lined up neatly on a desk, to the massive bed. The perfect setting for what he had in mind after their spar.
Moving to the desk, he placed their blades on top, then continued over to the bed and let the two bags with their changes of clothing drop to the floor with a soft thump. "How long do you think we have before it'll start looking suspicious?" he asked, a smirk growing on his lips.
Glancing beside him, Squall managed to summon an appropriately even expression. "Loire went ahead. He's already waiting," he pointed out, hoping to discourage even as his stomach made an eager flip. That damned suit.
"I could easily have spent ten more minutes finding the car," Seifer said with a playful smile, closing the distance between them.
Filled with anticipation despite himself, Squall didn't move away from the hand that came up behind his neck to draw him in. He'd been looking forward to some time alone with Seifer ever since leaving the penthouse. Just one kiss, he promised himself, molding his lips against Seifer's. The slight roughness of stubble against his skin was enough to send a host of pleasant sensations rushing through his body, the blond's deep musk finally starting to register past the cologne again. When another hand began to pull at his waist however, he forced himself to break the kiss that was turning decidedly more heavy than he'd intended.
"You owe me a spar."
Seifer hummed and leaned in to steal another kiss, only to immediately be cut off as Squall stepped away. The look to Squall's eyes said it all. Squall was ready to spar and Hyne be damned if anyone got in the man's way. "In the mood to maim?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Maybe a cut or two. Your definition of a good spar."
A slight chuckle left Seifer as he took a step closer. "I'll give you the spar of your life—" he said, watching Squall closely, "—if you give me the ride of my life. You on top. Afterwards. Making me come by riding my cock." He let his eyes travel down Squall's chest and waist, taking in his prize. "Deal?"
The spike of adrenaline Squall felt at the prospect was undeniable. Arousal began to mix with his anticipation for the coming fight in strange ways, bringing a new edge to an old dynamic.
"Deal."
Seifer's impatience increased exponentially at the unflinching reply. "Then let's get this show on the road," he said and began to loosen his tie.
Trying to return his attention to his own gear, Squall couldn't stop his eyes from darting to the tie that was being tugged free, exposing the man's throat, the dip between clavicles, the tanned skin. Forcing himself to look away, he pulled off his own shirt, only to immediately feel Seifer's eyes on him. His pulse quickened as he continued to undress under the intent gaze.
Seifer grinned and shrugged out of his suit jacket. Even if they weren't going to fuck until after the spar, he was going to enjoy the hell out of this. Squall's eyes had been glued to him as he had started to undress, so it only seemed right to ogle the brunet in return.
Dropping his slacks to the floor, he didn't miss Squall's glance down to the tented fabric of his boxers. His lewd thoughts had gotten him worked up in record time. Shame there was no way he'd be able to persuade Squall to suck him off. Squall wanted his best game and for that he'd need adrenaline, not the dazed sluggishness that followed an orgasm. He grit his teeth, knowing he'd have to deal.
Bending down, he fished out his training gear and drew up the more comfortable pair of pants. All the while his gaze never strayed far from Squall as the man put on a white tee and black soft leather pants that hugged his ass like they had been fucking melted onto him. When Squall pulled a belt from a bag he hadn't noticed before and proceeded to fasten it around his hips, he held his breath, his hands falling away from the shirt he'd just put on. Another belt followed. Then another one. Item after item, Squall was assembling the exact image he'd jerked off to countless times. Any hope of his erection dwindling was absolutely fucking zero now. To hell with this.
Squall startled when Seifer advanced on him, the look in the blond's eyes leaving no doubt as to what he had in mind. Unsure what had brought on the sudden change, Squall was barely able to turn and face the man before he was pushed down onto the bed. He fought to keep a clear head as Seifer's lips descended on his, the bastard already tugging at the clothes he'd only just put on.
Realizing he needed to move fast lest he lose himself in the exchange, Squall broke the kiss and tried to push Seifer off. When the bastard simply ignored him, pressing his whole body down against Squall's, he bit back a moan and glared at him even as his length stirred in appreciation. He'd never known it was possible to be pissed off and turned on at the same time.
He needed to put an end to this.
Pulling Shiva into a junction, he seized the surge of strength to throw Seifer off and leaped on top of the bastard. He held the blond down, staring into green eyes that were inflamed with indignation and arousal. Leaning in close as he kept the man's shirt curled in his grip, he almost forgot his intentions when his eyes flitted over Seifer's parted lips before darting back up.
"The deal was after," he said huskily, pressing a hard kiss against that dangerous mouth.
Running out of internal curses, Seifer stared straight into silver eyes. He hadn't thought he could be any more turned on, but Squall had just proved him very wrong. When the brunet moved off him, leaving him on the bed with a hard-on that wasn't going anywhere, he groaned and let his head fall back against the soft bed. If he'd ever wondered what getting involved with the commander would be like, then he certainly knew now.
"Foul fucking play, Leonhart," he commented as his eyes caught Squall's again. The man's irises were back to their usual gray-blue, the ice goddess no longer deemed necessary. He rolled his eyes when Squall ignored his complaint and simply looked at him with barely contained impatience, Lion Heart in hand.
Getting off the bed as well, he hoped to hell his dick would be limp by the time they made it to the ballroom. Otherwise he'd make Squall explain it to the man's dad. This was not his fault. "Wear belts like that again and face the fucking consequences."
Having his answer as to what had set Seifer off, however inexplicable, Squall raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He'd wear whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, no matter Seifer's opinion—or libido for that matter. "Less talk, Almasy."
Grabbing Kronos and walking over to where Squall was already halfway out the door, Seifer brought his hand up in a mock salute. "Yes, sir," he said before striding past the man into the hallway, the satisfying smack of his hand against Squall's leather clad ass earning him a nasty glare. "Just be ready to pay up, Princess."
Squall's glove creaked as he firmed his grip on Lion Heart's handle. The bastard definitely needed taking down a peg, and he'd be more than happy to provide. That infuriating grin would be the first thing to go. Stepping into the hallway as well, he shouldered past the man. "Keep up."
Taking the lead before Seifer could instigate anymore trouble, Squall kept a brisk pace as he took them from the guest wing into the palace proper, through wide, gleaming hallways and down one of the central lifts, until they emerged into a large foyer that housed a grand set of softly illuminated stairs that was clearly meant for pageantry. Despite several nervous glances landing on their blades, none of the guards they passed challenged them. Squall could only guess what they thought of Loire's demand not to intrude on the private demo that was about to bring their president in near proximity of lethal weapons.
When they reached the top landing, the large doorway that led to the ballroom stood open wide in invitation, the crystal chandeliers within already lit. Walking inside, Squall suppressed a snort as he looked around. It was a ridiculous locale for a spar.
"Ah, there you are," Laguna called out in greeting, a broad smile plastered on his face.
Catching a look from Squall that made it very clear who would be dealing with the president, Seifer flexed his fingers and walked towards their audience. Squall was already off the other way, further into the ballroom. "Ready for a demonstration?" Seifer asked when he drew even with Laguna.
"I can't wait," the president replied, his eyes briefly following his son's retreat. "I made sure we won't be disturbed. We have the place all to ourselves."
Seifer nodded, not really minding if they had a crowd or not, but Squall would probably appreciate it. The man had already started a warm up routine, completely focused on what was to come. "I'd better get ready too," Seifer said, inclining his head briefly in Squall's direction. "If I don't want my ass handed to me."
"Of course. Don't let me keep you," Laguna said with a nod. He glanced to where Squall was guiding his blade through a series of quick arcs. The lack of greeting as well as the intensity applied to a mere warm-up told him his son's mood hadn't improved appreciably. "I'll be up there," he said, pointing to the balcony that lined the east side of the ballroom, offering prime view of the floor below. "I thought it might be best if I stayed out of the way and gave you two the full floor."
"Alright," the young man said, turning on his heels and hurrying along. "Enjoy the show!"
Smiling at such eagerness, Laguna let his own excitement hurry him towards the stairs that led to the balcony. He'd never thought he'd get this chance. Part of him had even expected his son to change his mind and leave the palace without a word of goodbye. It wouldn't have been the first time. But here both men were, gunblade in hand.
He bounded up the stairs, unwilling to miss even their warm-up. He'd only ever heard the stories and had seen some of the unimaginative mission reports. Whenever Squall's friends talked about his achievements, his missions, there was a certain reverence in their eyes that implied total faith in their commander. They joked with him and talked freely as befitted friends, but as a fighter his son commanded respect. He'd always wanted to see why firsthand.
By the time he made it to the balcony his breath was coming in a bit more labored than he would've liked. Good thing Kiros wasn't there to chide him for it and remind him of the palace's gym for the umpteenth time. He picked his spot in the center of the balcony and leaned against the ornate balustrade, slowly catching his breath as he watched the two young men warm up. He found himself smiling again at how his evening had played out. He'd given many speeches from this exact spot, addressing guests and dignitaries below, but tonight he'd be the spectator. He most definitely owed Seifer a favor.
When both men finished limbering up and took their beginning stances, Laguna straightened at the changed atmosphere that seemed to permeate the room. The banter that had gone on just out of earshot had stopped, the two men slowly circling each other with their gunblades raised at the ready. The intense look to their eyes seemed almost too serious for what was essentially a friendly spar. Laguna raised an eyebrow and leaned forward with anticipation.
His son was the first to charge, the explosion of movement catching Laguna off guard. There had been no tells that he could see, but Seifer had countered the attack unflinchingly, turning it aside and countering the move. By the time the sequence of actions had registered in his brain, the two fighters were already several parries and blows further. It was simply too fast to follow.
Laguna blinked in disbelief, causing him to miss yet another clash of blades. At first he thought they had to be junctioned, but the few times they moved slow enough for him to make out their faces with some detail, he could discern no glow to their eyes. It didn't seem possible.
Recovering from his surprise, Laguna tried his best to adjust to the speed of their fight. If he focused hard enough, he could just about follow the snap of quick movements, the dizzying arcs of their blades, the bursts of speed that preceded the impossibly loud collision of metal against metal. Each deafening blow rang throughout the ballroom, aided by the acoustics that were meant for gentle music. Every grunt and cry brought a sense of gritty realism to the whole thing, as if they were true opponents on a battlefield.
He hadn't expected this assault on the senses; this absolute ferocity that informed their every move. Several times he winced when he was certain someone's limb or head would go flying, but every time the seemingly inevitable was averted with an equally impossible looking countermove. The two men wielded their blades as if they were an extension of their own bodies, with an ease that was astounding.
After a while he began to see their differences. Seifer reminded him of Ward in some ways; solid and unmovable even under great forces and a reserve of strength that seemed unlimited. The blond was much faster on his feet however and had far more grace, but not in comparison with his son. Squall flowed from stance to stance with impeccable precision and speed; a deadly blur of movement. Even Kiros couldn't move like that. And then there was the surprising fact that his son liked to fight dirty. A few nasty kicks had almost landed Seifer on his ass, the man only barely managing to evade all but the last one.
He wished his friends were there to see this. Kiros would probably point out all over again that it had to be Raine's genes that accounted for Squall's excellence. He would probably agree. He couldn't even imagine what Raine herself would say if she could see this. Her philosophy in life had been decidedly pacifist.
Leaning his arms on the balustrade, he absorbed every detail to recount to his friends later. The two young men were well matched, their reckless fighting styles clearly attuned to one another. They had to be, to not kill each other at those speeds. And then, the fight became more heated. He hadn't quite caught the blow that had caused it, but Seifer's abdomen now sported a long gash, his shirt cut to ribbons. First blood had been drawn.
Seifer had warned him about this, but it still dumbfounded Laguna that this wasn't enough cause for them to stop and assess the damage. Far from it. Seifer was now doggedly harassing his son's every move with a burst of speed that the blond had refrained from before, and within moments Squall was sporting a bleeding slash of his own, on his bare right arm.
Hyne above.
They'd been holding back until now. Laguna shook his head at the realization, both awed and dismayed as the fight devolved into a frenzied blur of lethal attack after lethal attack. Or so it seemed to his eyes. He wasn't sure his heart could handle the suspense. The newly kindled fervor they brought to the spar didn't spare the ballroom either. So far he counted three long gashes in the east wall, along with an abundance of nicks and marks in the reflective surface of the floor. Neither man had shown any sign of even noticing.
Laguna grimaced at the damage that followed in their wake. He'd have one hell of a time explaining this to his staff, but he didn't feel the least bit of regret as he watched Squall and Seifer give each other chase and fight with utter abandon. This was his son in his element, more so than any official occasion or reluctant dinner that had provided the backdrop for their past interactions. This was the man his son had grown up to be. A lethal fighter. It wasn't what he would have chosen for any child of his, but he couldn't help but feel immense pride. He was also happy to see Squall had a friend who could match him in this.
Even though he had vowed not to, he was definitely getting maudlin. He watched a while longer, his chest swelling with love and pride for his son. He managed to let go of his anxious concern, deciding to trust the two not to inflict any serious injury. It made their fight a joy to behold. No doubt he was smiling like a loon the whole time. He wished he could watch them like this for the remainder of the night, but he'd have to call it a night soon.
When the two men finally stopped their barrage for a brief moment to catch their breath and size each other up, he seized the moment to announce his departure. It was getting late and they didn't show any sign of stopping soon.
"Uhm, hey!" he called down awkwardly, but got no response. "Ah, sorry for interrupting!" he called out again, waving this time to catch their attention. The two men finally noticed him and turned to look his way, his son in particular looking none too impressed. "I know I promised no interruptions, but it's getting late. I'd love to stick around, but I have an early start tomorrow and well, you don't need me around to continue, right?"
Realizing he was babbling, he smiled apologetically. "So, I'll be heading to bed. In case I don't see you guys anymore before you head out; I had a fantastic evening. We should do it again." Pausing, embarrassed by his clumsy interruption, he finished his ramble. "Good night!" Before he could incite any more annoyance, he waved a final time and turned towards the back stairs, all the while still smiling.
Squall scowled at the swiftly vacated balcony. It was jarring to be interrupted like that, just as it had always been jarring in the past to suddenly discover they had an audience. To him their spars were a personal thing, but Seifer had always liked to flaunt his skills, especially in this.
His lips curled upwards. They were alone now. No one to play nice for. He flexed his arms and swung Lion Heart into an attack stance as he met Seifer's gaze.
Grinning at the wild look to Squall's eyes, Seifer sidestepped just in time to avoid being sliced in half, the man's blue blade digging into the floor instead. He let out a low chuckle. Squall was not holding back. Definitely no mercy for daddy's ballroom.
He rushed off to the side, creating distance between them before planting his feet firmly on the ground, ready for Squall's next attack. His muscles were aching, his pulse high and ears ringing with the beat of his heart. Before the brunet could close the final distance, he jumped forwards, blocking Lion Heart's path. A series of parries sent sparks flying as he pushed the man towards the other end of the room, those gray-blue eyes narrowing until they were mere slits.
A twist of blades and he had to step back. Jumping to the side, Squall was on his tail, swinging Lion Heart in a blur of blue. Neither of them were close to breaking. They kept hounding each other, taking and giving as their stamina started to falter. For every cut that was landed, another followed in retaliation, their breaths falling more heavily from the continuous exertion.
Seifer lost himself to the frenzy. Dancing with his blade, he loved every single intense moment. He never felt as alive as this. Sex was amazing, but this was living right at the edge. Only a handful of people in the entire world mastered this skill and Squall was right at the fucking top. The perfect challenge. He grinned when a thin cut caused pain to bloom along his right bicep, his penalty for losing even a fraction of his concentration.
He swung his blade high and landed a heavy strike that tore at Squall's strength. The man was still light-footed, but sweat was clinging to his brow and his parries didn't hold the same strength as when they'd started. Chasing Squall with Kronos, Seifer landed his blows with all the force he could muster, loud clangs resounding in the large room. Even in this Squall was sexy as fuck; all determination, focus and calculated moves. He couldn't wait to lick at the pulse he saw thrumming wildly against that pale throat—
Another blunder. Squall's blade bit at the back of his thigh. Jumping out of the way just in time, he pivoted around and bore all of his strength down onto where Kronos impacted against Lion Heart. Squall became a blur as the man sped out of the way before twisting in the air while swinging Lion Heart at him. Stepping backwards to prepare a parry, Seifer was abruptly halted in his retreat when his back crashed into the ballroom wall. Squall had him trapped. Fire was burning in those gray-blue eyes and there was no way he could wait any longer.
His chest heaving with ragged breaths, Squall didn't move a muscle as he kept Seifer pinned against the wall, Lion Heart's sharp edge a nudge away from drawing blood. The blond was at his mercy, unable to move without pressing his throat into Squall's blade, but Seifer didn't seem to mind. They stood staring at each other, suspended in a moment of exquisite tension.
Knowing what would happen the moment he released the man, Squall let his blade linger just a heartbeat longer before he lowered it.
Like a storm unleashed, Seifer grabbed him by the front of his shirt and spun them around until Squall was the one thrown against the wall. Their lips collided before Lion Heart even hit the floor. Seifer's hands were all over him, groping him roughly, snaking underneath his clothes, demanding access. His eyes snapped shut when Seifer ground into him hard. He wouldn't last. If he'd have to endure much more, he'd come then and there.
Glancing down when Squall shuddered against him, Seifer caught the almost pained expression on the man's features. He cursed and fumbled for the man's belts. No way in hell he was going to let Squall come until the man was impaled on his cock.
"I need to fuck you," he demanded hotly as he started undoing the clasp of Squall's top belt, immediately moving in for another rough kiss. "Right—" As the belt came undone he yanked down the man's pants, "—now," he added, before whipping Squall around in front of him, leaving the man's ass naked and exposed. His cock jolted. With a bruising grip he pulled at the man's hips and forced him closer.
Heart hammering, Squall listened with bated breath as Seifer unzipped his fly, followed by the rustle of fabric and the sound of spit. He was painfully hard, his erection giving a keen throb when Seifer pulled his buttocks apart and pressed into him without warning. Sucking in a lungful of air, Squall braced himself against the wall as Seifer sank into him with a few shallow, sharp thrusts. He gasped at the rough entry, the pain of it lancing through his body even as his length jerked in pleasure.
"Harder," he hissed, unwilling to wait for what he wanted.
Thrilled by the command, Seifer firmed his grip on Squall's hips and pushed in all the way to the hilt despite the lack of lube, despite the impossibly tight friction. Rewarded with a loud and unrestrained moan, he repeated the move, faster this time. Quickly settling into a frenzied pace, he cursed and groaned in between thrusts, the jangle of belts and the feel of leather slapping against his thighs spurring him on. In front of him Squall was bent over, the leather of the man's gloves creaking with the effort to brace himself against the continuous thrusts.
Forcing all of his pent up lust into their fevered coupling, he let out a low grunt. Squall took every mad thrust without a sign of hesitation. In fact the brunet tried to push back against him to take as much of him as possible. As hard as possible. Squall was fucking hungry for his cock and he'd give him every last inch.
Looking down, his eyes feasted on the sight of Squall stretched wide around his cock as he thrust in and out of the man. Squall's ass cheeks were starting to redden from the repeated impact. A loud moan left the brunet and they both rocked forward as some of the man's strength faltered. Squall's whole body tensed and he knew exactly what that meant but he didn't let up, so very close himself.
He dug his fingers in harder as his cock started spurting into Squall. The friction disappeared, come seeping past his cock, but he kept fucking Squall with all the speed he could muster until the last of his orgasm was spent. When he finally stilled, he dragged in a deep breath and leaned against Squall, his right hand sneaking around the man's waist and up under his shirt.
Panting hard, Squall straightened himself just enough to ease the complaint of his lower back. The fog was slow to clear from his mind as he relished the impact of Seifer's harsh breathing against his neck, the man nuzzling his hair in a way that was almost ticklish in his sensitized state. Seifer's length was still hard within him, the man's release slick against his buttocks. He was tempted to push back onto that hardness, to instigate more, but his discomfort was starting to register now that the bright burn of arousal had subsided.
He blinked as he looked down at himself. His pants hung at his thighs, shoved down just far enough to facilitate quick access. He'd come straight onto the floor and wall. The ballroom wall. He stared at the incriminating sight for a few seconds as mortification started to set in. It didn't seem possible that he'd just let Seifer fuck him in a public space. In the palace no less. Anyone could've walked in. Loire could've walked in.
"Seifer," he said hoarsely, pulling at the hand that was still stroking his skin. When all he received was a content hum rumbled into his skin, he redoubled his efforts. "Let go."
Bringing a hand down to steady the move, Seifer pulled his cock out of the slick heat, causing the brunet in front of him to inhale sharply. He tucked himself away, his eyes never leaving the sight of Squall's ass coated in sticky white. Placing a hand at the man's hip, he junctioned Bahamut and set off a Cure.
Squall grit his teeth as a wave of magic washed away every last bit of pain, including every nick and bruise he'd earned during their spar. He quelled a frown, unsure how he felt about Seifer taking the choice out of his hands. Pushing away from the wall, he pulled up his pants with as much dignity as he could manage. The result was an uncomfortable wetness that he only had himself to blame for.
As he turned around he glanced to the ballroom's several exits and was only briefly relieved not to spot any scandalized palace staff. Anyone that might've seen them would have long bolted by now. Seifer was smiling at him stupidly, as if nothing untoward had just happened. The soft kiss that followed was entirely anticipated yet inevitable. He let out a sigh against Seifer's lips, unable to deny the man even now.
"No Cures next time," he stated firmly the moment Seifer pulled back. He would've liked to hold on to all the aches a little longer. Now it felt as if they hadn't fought or fucked at all.
Seifer rolled his eyes. He could see Squall's annoyance in the set of his eyes; how the man felt cheated. "You're such a fucking masochist. You wouldn't have been able to walk straight."
Frowning at the unflattering epithet, Squall steeled his gaze. "It's up to me. Not you."
Seifer held up his hands in surrender. Fine by him if Squall wanted a limp from being fucked raw. "We can do it all over again when we're back in our room."
Interest stirring at the cocky grin, Squall knew he stood no chance of refusing the room for the night. He'd known they'd end up in that queen-size bed the moment he'd laid eyes on it. And he had a deal to honor. His gaze traveled down to Seifer's ruined shirt, to where a shallow but wide gash of his blade had sliced the fabric to hang open and reveal much of the blond's abs. A thin graze of congealing blood followed the same arc along glistening, tan skin.
"Your shirt," he said, holding out a hand in obvious demand as he met Seifer's gaze.
"Why?" Seifer asked with a slight chuckle. At the no-nonsense "I want it off" he received in reply, his grin widened. He couldn't deny the brunet some eye candy, not with how Squall was already eyeing him up. Pulling the fabric over his head and dropping it into Squall's waiting hand, his amusement was promptly snuffed out when Squall turned towards the dirtied ballroom wall.
"Don't you fucking dare!" he exclaimed with a grimace, but Squall was already wiping down the wall and floor. And if that wasn't bad enough, his reflexes fucking betrayed him the moment Squall turned around and threw the stained fabric his way, his hand catching it effortlessly.
"You're gonna pay for this," Seifer promised as he stuffed one end of the shirt into his pocket and wiped his hand.
"It was already ruined," Squall stated evenly, studying Seifer's naked back when the man bent over to pick up Kronos. "And better yours than mine," he added, fighting the curl to his lips as he retrieved his own weapon. He saw no need for sympathy when his own pants squelched uncomfortably with every move he made.
"Is that so, Leonhart?" Seifer asked with a raised eyebrow.
At the return of his last name and the dangerous edge to Seifer's tone, Squall felt the old familiar thrill that came with provoking the man. Only this time he was certain any retaliation Seifer decided to mete out would be far more interesting than anything in their past. Swinging his gunblade onto his shoulders in a casual show of unconcern, he fell into place next to Seifer, all the while holding the blond's intent gaze.
Seifer smirked at Squall, then glanced back at the ballroom one last time before he let the brunet take the lead. One hell of a spar and one hell of a fuck. When Squall calmly strode a foot ahead of him, he followed closely behind. It wasn't until the bottom of the impressive staircase that they encountered a guard. Squall just looked blankly ahead, but Seifer couldn't help himself from sending the man a wide smirk. When the guard quickly averted his gaze, a frown tugging at the man's brow, Seifer held back a chuckle. Probably wasn't every day gunbladers strut through the palace's hallways shirtless, armed and bloody.
As they continued through multiple hallways, into the guest wing, he became more and more impatient. He'd only just come, but already he wanted more. Much more. When they arrived at their room, he stopped Squall in place. "Showtime, Princess. Be quick when you clean up."
Fighting the urge to kiss Seifer, Squall pushed past the man and into their room for the night. Striding straight to the bathroom, he felt Seifer's eyes rake his backside as the man followed close behind. Neither of them attempted anymore banter, the air between them having shifted subtly with their shared purpose.
His eyes traveled to Seifer while he began to remove his belts and placed them on a bench. Seifer unceremoniously stripped out of his remaining clothes and headed to the large shower, unperturbed by Squall's lingering gaze throughout it all.
A brief hiss sounded from Seifer's lips when hot water impacted against several cuts and grazes, the blond washing away sweat and blood with rushed moves. Enraptured, Squall was slow to peel off his own clothes and by the time he'd stripped down to his boxers, Seifer was already out of the shower again, dripping water in his wake and looking ridiculously attractive as he gave his hair a quick tussle with one of the huge and plush towels.
Smirking at the badly veiled look of appreciation on Squall's face, Seifer tossed the towel aside and made sure Squall got a good eyeful as he walked out of the bathroom. In the bedroom, he hurried to get things underway. Dimming the lights to a setting that was still bright enough to enjoy every detail of what was about to transpire, Seifer placed Squall's bag on the floor and pushed the large silk comforter off the bed to join it. He went straight for his bag, tossing the small tube of lubricant from one of the side pockets onto the bed. He'd let Squall decide how slick he wanted his ride.
Eyes returning to the open bag now placed on the floor, Seifer grabbed one of the belts he could see lying just beyond the zip. Taking it with him, he bounced onto the bed and lay back in wait, his eyes taking in every little detail of the belt as he turned it around in his hold. It still seemed like such a twist of fate that he was lying here, waiting to have sex with the owner of said belt.
Looking over at the bathroom door when it swished open, Seifer grew impatient at the sight of a slightly damp Squall, wearing nothing but a loosely wrapped towel. He let the belt fall out of his hand and out of sight, his eyes never leaving the brunet.
Squall stilled for a moment as he took in the scene Seifer had set. As frantic as their encounter in the ballroom had been, this was something else entirely. There was a level of premeditation that hadn't been there before. Seifer was lying in wait, stretched out naked on the bed like a big, lazy cat. The opulent backdrop suited the man far better than Squall could've imagined. Those green eyes studied him intimately, unapologetic in their appraisal.
His feet carried him closer despite a sudden twinge of nerves. Even though Seifer remained unmoving, there was an almost predatory gleam to his gaze. The man's quiescent length stirred to life before his eyes, stiffening as he approached and moved onto the bed. Squall's breath momentarily faltered. Seifer looked dangerously sexy, yet in that moment he was giving Squall the reins.
Setting aside his self-consciousness, Squall gave himself over to instinct and moved to straddle the man. His towel fell loose around his hips with the motion, so he pulled the impeding item away and discarded it on the floor. Seifer's hands came up to rest at his hips, the man's fingers flexing against his skin, but they didn't tug or guide. A heady sensation flooded him as he met Seifer's heated gaze. Once again he had the man pinned in place, this time with the squeeze of his thighs rather than a blade.
Emboldened, Squall leaned down and pressed his lips to Seifer's in a passionate kiss. Seifer yielded to him instantly, their tongues seeking and twining with barely contained hunger. Drawing as close as he could without lying down on top of the man, he guided his hands along well-defined obliques, over firm pecs and further up, until his fingers tugged at fine blond hair. He would never tire of kissing this man.
Breaking away to catch his breath, he let his gaze travel down Seifer's body, to where their hard lengths were just close enough to brush together. His pulse sped up as he regarded their differences and their like responses. As in all other respects Seifer was by far the larger one, but rather than intimidate, the sight instilled a growing need to touch the blond. He reached down and trailed his fingers along the hot skin of Seifer's cock, before closing his hand around its thick girth.
Sucking in a greedy breath as he jerked beneath Squall's touch, Seifer stared at those gray-blue eyes that were entirely focused on where the man's fingers were slowly massaging his cock. He moaned as Squall started pumping him in a slow rhythm, and let his head fall back into the soft pillows. The heat of Squall's legs and buttocks pressing against him along with the tantalizing touches were making his head spin.
He let his own fingers travel along Squall's sides, until the brunet leaned further back and out of his reach. His eyes followed Squall's moves as the man briefly let go of him to take hold of the lube. No words, just that ever present intensity. Drawing in a sharp breath at the slick cold of lube against his length, he watched Squall slowly lathering up his erection.
A deep rumble of a groan left him as Squall continued the torturous slow glide of his palm and fingers up and down his length. It throbbed as he studied the lean and muscular fighter before him, dark bangs hanging low, a wild strand contrasting against pale cheekbones and determined eyes. He grit his teeth as Squall drew his cock straight up and eyed it in appraisal. In preparation.
Raising himself onto his knees, Squall got into position and slowly lowered himself onto Seifer's cock. After the unwarranted Cure it was just as tight as the first penetration, bringing that same sting of pain and restoring what the healing magic had taken from him. The moment he sank past the resistance of the thick head of Seifer's cock, the blond bit out a curse, green eyes transfixed on his every move. He could feel himself stretch wide as he sank all the way down and he allowed himself a few seconds to relish the sensation before he lifted himself again.
Stability was key, so he steadied his hands at Seifer's sides as he got a feel for the new position that awarded him more control than he'd had so far. After a few testing thrusts onto Seifer's length he began to move with confidence, chasing every stab of pleasure as he looked down into Seifer's heavy lidded gaze. Seifer's hands groped and caressed without constraining him, the man ceding all control to him. He hadn't anticipated the possessive thrill of holding the blond in place and taking what he wanted.
Seifer had asked this of him. Seifer wanted this.
His arousal flared at the thought and he lost himself to the primal rhythm of his body's needs, his gaze roving over Seifer's body and face. Arching his back, he furrowed his brow when he found just the right angle. His entire awareness singled in on the feel of driving himself down on Seifer's cock.
Spellbound and panting heavily, Seifer couldn't stop himself from staring as Squall rode him, not hard and fast but with a sensual abandon that put all his fantasies to shame. Shit, the man was a natural. Fucking gorgeous. His gaze darted down to where Squall's cock was jutting out between them, a sight he'd wanted to get a better look at the other times he'd fucked Squall. So hard and pumped red with arousal, bobbing whenever Squall's buttocks made impact with Seifer's hips. It was begging to be touched. Steel covered in velvety softness.
He grabbed the lube and squeezed a dollop into his hand before fisting the head of Squall's cock, letting the man slide into the warmth of his palm every time the man impaled himself on his cock. The brunet's body pulled into a sensuous arch at his touch, those intense eyes snapping shut. Low moans started to spill from slightly parted lips.
"I—" Seifer started without having any idea of what he wanted to say. All he could do was feel the exquisite pressure all around his cock, the build-up of ecstasy deep in his balls, almost ready to explode. "Fuck, Squall," he growled as he spread his thighs wider and added a slight lift of his hips to meet the man's downward glide, forcing Squall to take in more of him. Judging from how Squall's cock jerked in his hold, he must've hit the man just right. He let his hands drop to the bed. This time he wanted an unimpeded view of Squall coming. Fuck, he wouldn't ever want to see anything else.
Another few moments of meeting Squall's slow thrusts and white ribbons of liquid shot forth from Squall's length, Seifer's own cock choosing that fucking moment to undo him. He had to shut his eyes at how raw the unhurried pace made every throb of ejaculation feel. The visual of Squall's cock erupting like that played back on repeat. He breathed deep and fast. "Squall," he said softly as he looked up, feeling at home the moment the man leaned in and kissed him.
The call of his name, uttered in that breathless voice, pleased Squall to no end. The languid meshing of their lips and tongues fed into the pleasant hum of his afterglow, his entire body buzzing with it. He let Seifer draw him closer, as close as was possible in their current position, but his sweat was starting to cool on his skin, the softening length within him slowly slipping free.
Pushing up far enough to move off Seifer's length, Squall lowered himself to the bed. Not once did Seifer let go of him, the man using the opening to roll on top. At the touch of warm lips, Squall let go of the vague notion that he should maybe deal with the mess he was leaking onto the bed in his new position.
Kissing Seifer like this was intoxicating. It was slow and intimate, and it required him to ignore the many alarms that were going off in the back of his mind even as he melted into Seifer's touch. It felt a lot like forcing back one's fears to cross a deadly chasm. The thrill of the deed, the danger of the fall. It felt good. Just as it had felt good to make Seifer look up at him with need; a near reverence as they had moved together. Squall could remember seeing that expression only once before, during their night on Avalanche. Being on top definitely had its benefits.
Sliding his fingers down firm muscles, Seifer loved the way they fit together, the way Squall felt against him. Warm yet rough around the edges. He smirked as he let a hand travel up the inside of Squall's thigh, wanting to see that pained expression of building pleasure back on the man's face. Gray-blue eyes honed in on him, catching on to his intent, just before he slid two fingers into slick heat.
Squall held his breath at the intrusion and dropped his head back with closed eyes. The fingers slid back out teasingly, a third one joining the next slide in. The ache he felt from sex was more a sensitized throb than any real pain and the feel of Seifer's fingers raking against him, inside him, quickly kindled the still lingering pleasure to life. The man found just the right spot within seconds.
Watching as Squall's fingers clenched into the bedding and one of the man's legs subtly fell to the side, Seifer grinned, then leaned in to steal a kiss against the nape of Squall's neck. "You lived up to your part of our deal," he admitted lowly, letting his breath warm Squall's skin. "But you still have to pay for my shirt." He trailed his tongue down the brunet's neck, just as he pushed his fingers in deep.
The words and the more forceful thrust of Seifer's fingers had Squall harden fully. Opening his eyes, he watched with increasingly labored breath as Seifer drove his fingers into him and brought him closer and closer. Seifer's own libido had clearly recovered, the man's erection standing proud and awaiting touch. When Seifer suddenly leaned back and lifted him by his knees, Squall raised his hips to let his buttocks rest on the pillow the blond shoved underneath it. The look in Seifer's eyes as he let the man pull his legs wide meant only one thing.
He moaned when Seifer's cock thrust into him hard enough to displace the pillow. His eyes rolled up in pleasure, his view of the ceiling shifting with each rough thrust into him. Any exhaustion he felt from their spar, any thought of sleep vanished from his mind as the certainty settled in that they would be up all night. A contest of stamina. It wouldn't be the first time, even if their methods had changed radically.
Looking back down into Seifer's face drawn tight with pleasure, Squall accepted the challenge with a groan and a push of his hips. All night then.
~ o ~
