Being safe was good. If he was safe, he didn't care about what other people did. It was almost a second shield from a chance strike that slipped past his guard, but it wasn't a surety. That was okay; Squall was good enough with his blade that the shell was just a precaution.
It kept people like Rinoa from worming inside where he didn't want them, kept her firmly outside with no way of entrance to his heart.
Of course, there were times when he was all too happy for the shell to be peeled away, for someone to find the little entrances and enter inside, make him love them - or at least want them. Few were skilled at it, but one or two could always find a way in, and Seifer was the only one who really mattered.
Seifer's hands were always skilled at unshelling him, undoing buttons, pulling down his zipper; making him hard, hot, wanting, until he didn't even try to protest, lost in heat and the unsuspecting world opened to him by the lack of a tough shell. He wasn't sure if he liked it, it stung a little sometimes when he didn't have a shell to hide in. But most of the time it felt good, very good; Seifer made sure of that with his hot kisses, and his warm hands, burning just a little.
At those times, he would find himself wondering whether denim would be easier, as he rather liked feeling vulnerable that way. But leather was more fun to get off.