Author's notes: And here's the second half of part 20. At 7 pages it brings all of part 20 to 18 pages total. Ack. Now everyone knows part of why it took me so long grin>. And to give you an idea, if you already didn't know, how big a monster this fic became, total pages: Approx. 131 !!! (at 11 pt. font) Ouch!

'Sort of' warning: I played around with double-meanings and twists of phrasing with this section. It's a little more abstract at times, and the innuendo is thick. And I'm not referring to sexually, although there's a teeny bit of that too. So some things mean several things at once.

The Bloodcross Key Arc2: Reversals
by Lady Tempest

Part 20-b:

Squall tried to rouse himself from the dream, or even just shift it to something less... pleasant. But it only became more vivid: Seifer's skin so hot and smooth and sweat-damp and trembling under his fingers. Trembling for him. Trembling with want and need for Squall's touch, for his lips suckling wet and fiery at the gorgeous blond''s throat, his collarbone, his chest, nipples, stomach, hip...

Oh!... Oh Fuck!

Resting the back of his head against the headboard, Squall shut his eyes and tried to will away his arousal. The last thing Seifer needed was to wake with an erection inches from his face.

Cid. Thoughts of Cid naked should deflate anyone's libido. Even one as rarely used or 'aroused' as Squall's. But the frightening images of the Headmaster, naked at his desk, sweaty skin burping against the leather of his chair, were overlaid by the far stronger and consuming images from his dream: Seifer's mouth on his flesh, wet and hot, licking up his thigh, breath searing a trail towards...

Damn!

He tried again. Rinoa. She had been a effective dunk into a Shiva-cold lake in the past. Especially when he intended to be intimate with her. He bit his lip and let his mind drift back to several days before, when she had interrupted another dream: her fingers crawling up his thigh, towards his erection, giggling and whispering with a grating attempt at seductive... Yes. His blood calmed slightly. It was working...

When she asked who he dreamt about, presuming it was her, as if the world revolved around her. But it had been Seifer and all he wanted was for her to go away so he could return to that wonderful dream where Seifer had shoved him against a wall, pressing himself against him, wet with rain and panting, and smothering him with kisses...

Squall gasped, licking his lips, then sucked on his lower one to stifle a moan. Shit! Back to square one. At the twitch in his pants, he amended the thought: Damn! Back to square negative one.

Before he could return to his attempt at a mental cold shower, he yelped at the sudden touch on his crotch. His eyes shot open and he glanced down. Gorgeous, sleepy aqua eyes stared back at him.

Seifer nuzzled against his stomach, the upward creep of his t-shirt exposing bare skin. As distracting as the heat and moistness of Seifer's breath and the satiny brush of his cheek on Squall's flesh, the tentative hand fondling his groin drew his full attention and every ounce of willpower he possessed.

"Don't," Squall snapped, quickly grabbing Seifer's wrist and removing his hand.

"But I..."

"No!"

Seifer's brow tightened, narrowing his scar to a thin, wiggling line. His eyes quivered, luminous and turbulent, like a sea in a tropical storm.

"Don't you...?" Seifer bit his lip. "I... I must.. I..."

Squall sighed, his tone gentling. "You don't owe me anything, Seifer."

"I do. I hurt you. I..."

"I thought we dealt with that earlier? You. Don't. Owe. Me."

With a bewildered blink, Seifer just stared. Silent.

"I'm not going to use you, Seifer." His thumb slowly stroked, soothing, along the pulse of Seifer's pink-scarred wrist still grasped, less tensely, in his hand.

"So you don't..." Seifer ducked his head, burying his face in Squall's side, his hand clenching white in a trembling fist. "You don't..." his voice was muffled and choked. "... want me?"

Dammit! He did. He did, like he never wanted anyone or anything before. Except he couldn't. How could he let Seifer know he wasn't rejecting him, but refused to take advantage of him. He could never use him. Seifer meant too much to him to treat like a thing. He wasn't going to let anyone treat Seifer like a thing again. Never. Even if that 'anyone' was himself.

A dampness spreading across his side and chilled by jerky, choked breaths against his skin woke Squall from his thoughts. Seifer's arm hung loose in his hold, and quaked like the hunched shoulders pressed against him. Seifer was crying.

Fuck!

"Seifer, shhh..." Squall nervously patted Seifer's back. "Shhh... I... I do."

The sobs shook his side, almost tickled with the wisps of Seifer's golden hair against patches of Squall's bare skin, or the peal-rub of his tear-spotted shirt. Squall's hand curled at the nape of Seifer's neck, the soft strands of gold falling through his fingers. He nearly broke-down himself, feeling totally helpless in the face of the muffled, choked weeping and whimpers from a once strong and proud young man.

"Seifer, I do...uh..." Squall drew his arm and Seifer's to his chest. His fingers stretched, lingering on skin to skin, along the still-sensitive pink flesh of the blond's wrist to lace between Seifer's. He held their hands, clasped, almost over his heart.

"... want you..." Dammit! He was no good at this sort of thing. What the hell was he supposed to do? "I do. But I won't use you. I won't let anyone use you ever again! Do you know what I'm trying to say?"

The shakes at his side lessened. With a sudden twitched shiver, Seifer lifted his head, red-rimmed eyes peeking up at Squall over the plain of a damp, white t-shirt.

"I'm..." Seifer rasped with a coughed stutter. "I'm... not sure."

Squall took a deep breath. "You're not yourself, Seifer. And until you are again, I can't trust you..."

"What? You can't... but..." Seifer spluttered, shocked and a little hurt -- even though it was true.

"I trust you, in everything, except concerning you."

"But I don't matter. I'm ..." Seifer's tear spiked lashes dropped, and he examined, with sudden interest, the weave of Squall's shirt.

Shifting to his side, so both their heads rested on the pillow, face to face, Squall looked Seifer in the eye.

"See," he said as he squeezed Seifer's hand, needing the solidity and reassurance of the gesture for himself as much as Seifer did. "That's why. You do matter."

Squall combed his fingers through Seifer's hair, staring into his watery aqua-red eyes, yearning to communicate all that he meant and felt with more than words: with a look.

"You matter..."

Seifer gasped a quick breath, nuzzling into Squall's caress as if by instinct of need, not conscious awareness.

"You..."

A tear glistened a trail along Seifer's nose to across his lips. Without thinking, Squall wiped it away with a soft brush of his thumb. Yet, he lingered, mesmerized, on Seifer's lips: peach-pink, soft as velvet, pliant, warm, gusts of Seifer's breath bathing Squall's roaming thumb in stuttered, moist heat. Squall's mouth went dry and he licked his own lips.

".... you matter to..."

Their breath mingled, becoming one warmth in the bare inches between them. Another tear rolled down Seifer's face, following the same path. His mouth still dry, Squall lowered his head the tiny distance and captured the shimmering tear between his lips.

His tongue flicked out and tasted the sweet salt, suckling it first from its traces around his mouth and then slowly, tenderly, from Seifer's cheek, traveling with fleshy, wet nips until Seifer's breath was his breath. He drew Seifer's upper lip between his own, still suckling, drinking Seifer's tears. And then, in the same drinking-devouring caress, Squall was kissing him.

Kissing Seifer. Mouth to mouth. Consuming. Wet. Warm. Sweet. The heat of lips to lips, breath to breath. Soft. Electric. More. Wonderful. A dream.

Every fragment of his being quivered and tingled with fire and electricity and the deafening thump thump of his heart. And the thump thump pulse of stiffening, hot flesh chained under a steel zipper and tight leather. The intensity of it all almost brought a whimper to his blissfully kiss-swollen lips. He could barely breathe, barely think, barely move except to wrap Seifer more tightly in his arms. Never letting go. Wanting to...to...

Oh Fuck!

"... me," Squall breathed into Seifer's kiss-flushed lips.

The last thing in the world he had wanted at that moment was to pull away. But he needed to pull away. And seeing the flow of tears down Seifer's face and the growing light in Seifer's beautiful eyes, realizing he hadn't hurt Seifer, -- only, by some mystifying turn, made him happy,-- Squall knew with a certainty it had been the right thing. Seifer had needed to hear the words and Squall, more than any time in his life, had needed to speak them.

Because, how could any relationship with Rinoa ever measure to what he had innately with Seifer? They had been doomed from the start. Rinoa could never have been what he needed, because he already had it, and more. He had just been too much of a blind idiot to see it. Until now. It wasn't friendship or comradeship, it was more. All that and much more. It was in his blood, his bones, in his very identity, who he was. And Rinoa had seen it so clearly while he couldn't. He was a moron.

The dreams, the urges, the weird feelings in his gut, and the tingling under his skin whenever he was close enough to Seifer to touch and feel his warmth. Sometimes just by looking at him. He wanted Seifer. Wanted. Wanted him in every sense of the word: his humor, his strength, his passion, his fire, his confidence, his vulnerability, his pride, his fear, and his lack of it, his dreams, his beauty, the silk of his hair, the light in his gorgeous eyes, his smug smirk, his melting smile, his lips, his kisses, his taste, his smell, his skin, his touch, his warmth, his heart, his ...

... Him. All of him.

Because, as further mystifying and incomprehensible as the fact may be, an aberration to the very structure of the universe, a cosmic joke... She was right.

"Seifer, I...uh... "

Little Miss Clueless Princess had been fucking right. He wanted Seifer. He...

Love.

Always him.

Always.

*******

"... You... you ... rest," Squall mumbled, caressing his thumb along the scar on Seifer's brow.

Seifer gasped. Any and every thought was brushed away with each gentle touch. And that kiss. That amazing kiss. Seifer tried to swallow, but his stuttered breath choked. He tried to think, but his confusion and shock strangled his mind. He tried to not want, not fall into the sensation, but his hope wrapped around him and drowned him in it.

It was only his love that broke through, determined that Squall be happy, have the best, and knowing he wasn't it. No matter how much Squall's face, his eyes, his hands, his... oh, god, -- he took a deep breath-- lips, appeared to care. No matter how much Squall appeared to be happier than Seifer had ever seen him, it couldn't be.

He opened his mouth to let Squall go; To resist what he wanted most. For Squall's sake. But Squall, like he somehow knew, broke off the protest before it started. Taking advantage of his parted lips, Squall brushed his against them. Warm and wet, their mouths caressed in another kiss. A kiss more slow and lingering. Savoring. Searching. Wet and warm, and so sweet. Drawing Seifer in, desperate, craving, drowning. His mind blanked. Their lips moved together, like one hungry entity. All that existed was them, their mouths, lips, full, moist, and yearning, suckling. Their hot breaths panting down each other's throat, like one breathed for the other. As one.

Squall released Seifer's hand from his and wrapped his arms around the blond's larger frame, holding him close, so close, never breaking the kiss. Only deepening it with slow breathless kisses, lips kneading, coaxing Seifer's between them. Slow. Easy. Tingling every nerve in his body. Like silk on skin. Shivering. Whispering of breath to breath. Sweet. Sensual.

He didn't know when it started, his mind too overloaded in bliss to notice, but he was sobbing. Tears poured down his face, the gusts of their shared breath chilling his damp cheeks and sending a shudder along the length of his body. Weakling that he was, he had cried earlier, perhaps mere minutes, although it seemed like hours since their kiss had started. But he felt it was different: part joy, part overwhelming, part disbelief, part grief over all he had foolishly lost to his own stupidity, but mostly blissful wonder that, even so, Squall wanted him.

Squall must have sensed the change. Trailing quick fleshy pecks along Seifer's lips to his chin, he leisurely pulled away and gazed into Seifer's eyes, his storm-dark and fiery. Brushing away Seifer's tears gently with the backs of his fingers, Squall studied his face.

"Okay?" Squall asked, his voice a breath.

Seifer nodded, cheeks flushed searing pink, and attempted a small smile.

Smiling in return, almost shyly, Squall nestled Seifer closer to him. He placed a kiss in Seifer's hair as he tucked the blond head under his chin.

Silent, they lay quietly in each others arms, Squall stroking his hair. He may be pathetic, may be undeserving, may have been violated, abused, tortured in horrible ways that only his nightmares and memories could imagine, but the pieces of his shattered soul drew together with each of Squall's touches. Priceless touches as much for his lack in deserving them as the rarity of their giving.

The passion he had thought he had lost, Squall had returned to him in sweet and sloppy wet kisses, full of a fire Seifer had only seen in the younger boy a few times while sparring. Aside from the passion, and the pure sensuality, the last kiss had carried more than their first, as melting as it had been. Squall was giving himself, in a way and with a fondness Seifer had only dreamed of. Squall did want him. And not like the others. But like he wanted Squall. Maybe not with the same love, or love at all, but Squall did care. That much was clear to even him.

He had tried not to want. Tried not to dream. Tried to protect everyone from himself. Even tried to return what his worthless dreams had stolen. But he couldn't escape. His dreams and desires were too much a part of him. And Squall seemed determined to keep them and him alive. A Squall determined was a force few could outlast. Anyone who knew him would never accuse Squall of not being stubborn, because if anyone was more stubborn than Seifer Almasy, it was Squall Leonhart.

He loved Squall. Loved him more than life. And he loved Squall enough to try to bear the horrors of the pathetic life wayward dreams had created. A life made worth wanting to keep with Squall to help him piece together the shattered remains of everything he was and possessed. Squall was everything to him. Always was and always would be. The only one who ever understood him. Truly understood him. Without him, he was nothing. Nothing, but a weak, blubbering monster.

Yet, Squall did care. For him. In spite of it all. He should have known: Squall did everything 'in spite' of what was expected. Why not care for a has-been Sorceress' Knight with more crimes to his name than hairs on his pathetic head?

Snuggled securely in Squal's arms, Seifer licked his lip, trying to taste any remnant of the smaller boy. He sighed at the memory still tingling his skin of Squall's kiss. Maybe, someday, as undeserving as Seifer Almasy was, he could become someone Squall could love in return. Even just a little. Just enough that for once in his life Seifer would know how it felt to be loved. To be loved and wanted for no reason. Just for him. Because he mattered. To someone. Even if only for a moment. To know, once, just once, Squall loved him too.

Fresh tears streaked down his face. "Love me," Seifer wept, his voice a bare whisper, shaking, as he buried his tear-stained cheek against Squall's shoulder.

Squall's arms tightened possessively around him, his face nestling in the crook of Seifer's neck, like he was trying to crawl into Seifer's skin. He didn't say anything, but Seifer didn't need him to. The fierce, wet kisses being tattooed along Seifer's throat and collarbone, along with Squall's muffled sobs, were all the words he needed.

**********

(End Bloodcross Key: Arc 2: Reversals)

*********

(To be Continued in The Bloodcross Key Arc 3 (tentatively titled 'Knight's Return'))

Author's additional notes: Hope you all liked the monster epic that Reversals became. Oddly, many of the main scenes and plot points had been planned, just went more elaborate than intended or the 'bridging' scenes to get there expanded a 'tad'.

This chapter is definitely a case in point. I had thought of including a detail of Squall's dream, and although within a dream was the only way I saw there being a consenting sex scene in Arc 2, I felt subtlety might be better and the scene would be too long, making the chapter even longer. And I hope the kiss was 'hot' or at least sweet enough to satisfy.

I struggle quite a bit to get this chapter (all of 20) to feel right. Sometimes Seifer was 'off'', others it was Squall (usually). I had alot of character development to juggle to get it 'right'. I hope I did. The last spoken line was almost the hardest, because it was something else, which by the time the rest of the story caught up with it, no longer felt like it fit. But there needed to be some sort of progress and closure. I just went with Seifer's emotional state leading up to the line and that's what he seemed to be saying. Desperately. So if it seems sappy, sorry. But I felt it fit. shrug>

As always, I'm open to any constructve input. And while brief comments like a character seems OOC, or it's too sappy do give me pause to reevaluate, more detailed comments explaining why are even more valuable to me. Thanks for reading.