Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Final Fantasy 8, Square or Alt-J. This is just for fun.
Chapter Two
Sleeplessly embracing
Butterflies and needles
Line my seamed-up join
Encased in case I need it
In my stomach, for my heart
Chain mail
~ Hunger of the Pine – Alt-J
When Quistis woke, the first thing she became aware of was the bright white light streaming through a small window. She had no idea what time it was, but noticed that she was lying in a bed. She blinked back surprise; Seifer must have carried her in here after she'd fallen asleep in the chair. Quistis had no memory of this; she must have slept deeply.
As she moved, she felt an ache ripple through her bones. Her head felt sore. She raised a hand to it and felt the bandage, remembering the crash with a start. Somehow, in the dark recesses of sleep, she had forgotten what had happened. Slowly, wincing at her bruised limbs and aching head, Quistis stood up and looked out of the window. What met her eye was snow, several feet of it, piled high almost up to the windowpane. She was shocked; how long had she been asleep? How could so much snow have fallen overnight? Had she only slept one night? Her head spun and she slumped back down on the bed. Quistis swiftly realised that this must be Seifer's bed and felt her face flush. She was surprised that he had given it up to her and wondered vaguely where he had slept instead.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. With weather this extreme there was little chance of being able to contact anyone back in Garden, let alone being able to make it home. All she would be able to do was wait for the snow to melt. Quistis groaned with annoyance. Being trapped in the orphanage for goodness-knows how long was not her idea of a worthwhile use of her time.
She lay there for a few moments longer, savouring the warmth of the blankets and the softness of the pillow underneath her head. Eventually, and with some disgruntledness, she roused herself from the bed, lowering her feet to the cold tiled floor, shuddering against the freezing stone against her skin. She glanced at the chair at the bottom of the bed and saw a fleecy jacket that had been left there and without a second thought pulled it on, inhaling the scent of soap that permeated its folds. It was huge on her; no doubt it must belong to Seifer. Quistis felt slightly embarrassed at having enjoyed the smell of it so deeply, but then she had always loved the crisp freshness of clean clothes and sheets. Quistis wondered if he had left it there deliberately. The kindness of the suspected gesture surprised her. Clearly time had changed them all.
The aged oaken door creaked as she opened it. Walking through a short corridor, she came to find the main living area deserted, but with a cheerful fire blazing away in the hearth. Quistis smiled at the sight of it, the dancing orange flames throwing out rays of warmth and comfort in to room. Quistis remembered how cold the living room could get in the depths of winter – flashback to herself as a child, bundled up in wool, pressed together with the other children in a desperate attempt at warmth as Matron prepared to light the fire early in the mornings, when it was still dark – and she was grateful for it. As to where Seifer was, that remained a mystery. Surely he wasn't outside in the blizzard that still whirled and roared at the windowpane? Quistis pulled the fleecy coat tightly around herself as she made her way to the window, her small white feet tiptoeing over the flagstones, looking more like a half-frozen fairy than a trained soldier.
The outside world was a swirl of white, the sea not visible at all, lending only its usual frothing roar to the high-pitched wail of the wind that clawed at the glass like a needy child. Quistis could barely see the steps that led down towards the beach. There was no sign of Seifer's tall frame amongst the whiteness and Quistis left the window, listening for the sounds of his heavy tread, or any sign of anyone else at all. The house was so silent and still that Quistis felt as if she had been marooned on some distant, icy planet, with only the sound of the weather and a creeping sense of foreboding for company. She wondered vaguely if the crashed ship was visible, but decided against going to look. Even if she could see it, what use would that make? Her body ached from the cold of the window, so Quistis pulled a chair close to the fire and sat, staring into the flickering ochre flames until her eyes felt drunk from their dancing.
A half hour passed and still there was no sight or sound of Seifer. Despite herself Quistis felt a strange tug of concern. Seifer may have been built like a tank, but the weather was fierce. She felt her jaw tighten at the thought of him outside.
There was a click in the main entranceway and Quistis spun from her place in the chair, all her attention in the direction of the sound. Then came a great yawning creak as the heavy doors opened, followed by a sound that sounded rather like a dog shaking itself. Quistis pulled herself up from the chair, and limping slightly, headed towards the main doors. There, stood in his grey greatcoat, was Seifer, shaking snow out of his hair and from his shoulders. Quistis blinked at him, taking in the sight of Seifer draped in snowflakes, making him look simultaneously old and young.
"Holy shit," said Seifer, seemingly speaking more to himself than Quistis. "It's goddamn freezing out there." He shook against the cold, pulling off the greatcoat to place it on a nearby peg, where it hung limply like some forgotten ghost, melting snow dripping on to the hard tiles.
"What were you doing out there?" said Quistis, baffled.
"Went to go inspect the crash site," said Seifer, in the same tone as someone would say that they had gone to get a sandwich.
"The crash site? In this weather?" Quistis shook her head. "Are you crazy? It's the worst blizzard I've seen in years. The craft could've waited, surely?" She stood with her hands on her hips, unconsciously adopting the pose of an instructor lecturing their wayward charge.
Seifer seemed to notice this and a half-smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "You gonna write me up for it, huh, Instructor Trepe?"
Quistis flushed and awkwardly dropped her arms to her sides, where she felt even more off-kilter, before crossing them over her chest, glaring at him. Suddenly she was at a loss of what to say; being reminded of her brief time as an instructor always inspired an unpleasant frisson of pain. No doubt Seifer noticed this, she realised, but as they were seemingly stranded together in the orphanage till the weather cleared, she decided against spitting a barb back at him.
"Fire still going?" said Seifer, walking towards her with an intent of getting to the living room.
"Uh, yeah," said Quistis. She felt awkward now, an unsettled feeling resting in the pit of her stomach. "Look," she said, causing Seifer to pause and turn towards her. "Thank you. For … uh… saving me. Yesterday."
Seifer didn't respond, his face as passive as if it had been carved and placed on a plinth.
"I don't know what happened," Quistis said, a note of anger rising in her voice. "That's never happened to me before. I don't know why the thing just… stopped working." She fixed Seifer with her icy blue stare. Her cheeks were flush with frustration and annoyance. "I've never crashed anything before."
Seifer blinked. "Sometimes stuff just fucks up," he said. "It happens."
"I know, but… still…"
Seifer took a deep breath and turned back towards the living room, striding across the floor before squatting down and prodding at the fire with a black iron poker. Quistis followed, sitting back in the chair with her legs pulled up to her chest. She touched gingerly at the bandage on her head.
"How's your head?" said Seifer, still looking into the flames.
"Hurts a little," Quistis said. "To be honest with you, everything kind of aches at the moment."
Seifer gave her a wan smile. "No shock there," he said. "You were lucky."
Quistis bristled. "No such thing as luck about it," she said. "I ejected out of the ship as soon as I knew what the situation was."
Seifer sighed. "I wasn't making a dig at you. I was just saying. You were lucky." He paused and looked at her, his green eyes looking strangely tired for once. "And you're welcome, by the way."
Quistis still felt her insides simmering at his comment, but was powerless against the fact that he had potentially saved her life. She felt lost for words and suddenly exhausted. Seifer looked at her. "You look pale," he said. "Well, paler than usual anyway."
Quistis gave him a small mocking smile. "Paler than usual, indeed." She did feel wobbly though, and put a hand to her head to see how warm she was. Her hand came away cool. She exhaled with relief; the last thing she needed was a fever on top of recovering from the crash. Her bones ached. A wave of fatigue rolled over her, despite her having so recently woken up. "How long did I sleep for?"
"About twelve hours," said Seifer, adding another log to the fire. "You must've needed it. One minute you were awake, the next…" He made a passed out face and pretended to snore. Quistis laughed, despite herself.
"I don't snore," she said.
"How would you know?" said Seifer. "You're not awake to hear it. Trust me, you snore."
Quistis laughed again, feeling blood rush to her face. "Well, that's the first I've heard of it."
"Whoever's been lying next to you has just been too polite to tell you," said Seifer. "If there's one thing I ain't it's polite." He got to his feet and peered at the smouldering log. "I guess you're probably hungry. I'll get us something." He looked down at Quistis, his face serious. "You look exhausted. Just stay here." And with that, he swept from the room and towards the kitchen, leaving Quistis curled up in the armchair, her head lolling against the arm-rest, trying to ignore the pain in her head.
Seifer busied himself in the kitchen, scrambling some eggs and grilling some bacon he had retrieved from the back of the freezer a few days ago. He'd never felt more grateful to pigs and hens in his life.
"Goddamn shitty snow," he grumbled to himself as he moved the eggs about the pan. He was raging about the crash – all those supplies! Food, drink, building equipment, all destroyed in a blink of an eye! He knew it wasn't Quistis's fault, as much as he would have delighted in ribbing her about her piloting abilities. If there was one thing that woman was, it was a damn fine pilot.
Must've been an electrical fault, he thought. Such bad luck. It's gonna be another few weeks at least till I can get those materials re-ordered. Damn expensive too.
At least Quistis wasn't hurt. There was that one bonus.
Seifer had been surprised at his own sense of panic when he had found her. She had looked so small and fragile in the snow, her blood blooming scarlet flowers in the white. Thankfully it didn't look too serious – a cut on the head, some cuts and a patchwork of bruises on her body, but nothing that wouldn't heal by itself. Seifer had never considered himself a deeply caring person. With a few notable exceptions, people had never really interested him. It was something he didn't like to think about, his lack of attachment to all but a rare few. Matron, his Posse, Rinoa for a while, until that had evaporated like dew in sunlight before he had even realised it. So his concern over Quistis's health, despite the apparent lack of serious injury, startled and confused him.
He shook his head, as if to expel the unease. The eggs were done, the bacon crisp with golden edges. His stomach growled.
Worry about food now, he thought. Food and the weather. It's bound to break in a few days, then you can send her back to Balamb.
The logical solution, as ever. So why did he feel a trepidation that he had never experienced before in his life curling in his gut?
No, there's no time for this. Food, weather, work, in that order. Get a hold of yourself, Almasy.
"I hope you like eggs," Seifer bellowed, as he left the kitchen.
The weather didn't break.
Seifer and Quistis spent a long day watching the weather like hawks, until the sun dipped below the horizon and cast the world into a velvet blackness that no lamplight inside the orphanage could touch. Neither of them wanted to venture outside with a torch to check if the snow was subsiding, but when they woke the next day to find yet more snow blanketing the ground, and yet more snow the day after that, it became apparent that they might be trapped in the orphanage for a while yet.
Seifer seemed like a caged animal, bored and pacing. He would pick up a book, flick through it for a while, before tossing it down in an apparent fit of mild bad temper, only to return to the window to glare at the dove-white sky, daring it to snow more and ruin his day, which the sky was only happy enough to oblige.
"Goddamnit," he snarled. "I'm going crazy in here! When this going to end? I've never seen a snow storm like this in my life."
"Is there enough food?" asked Quistis, feeling a tinge of worry. They had eaten well the past few days, simple things, chicken, eggs, more bacon, toasted bread, but she had no idea how full Seifer's stocks were or how long they would last.
"Oh yeah," said Seifer, dismissively. "There's plenty. You don't live here for months without stocking things up, just in case, you know? You wouldn't be the first time my delivery hasn't gone to plan, although admittedly this is by far the most dramatic way my stuff hasn't arrived."
Quistis smiled thinly. "I just wish there was a way to get a message out to Balamb," she said. "Maybe then they could send a ship instead. No way would anyone fly in this."
"I'll try the receiver again later," said Seifer. "Sometimes this place really feels like the end of the world." He shook his head and sat on the windowsill, one long leg perched on the edge. "All this nothing is driving me nuts."
"Just try to read or something," said Quistis lamely. She knew that a life of being trapped indoors reading was something of a nightmare for Seifer. He had always been full of energy, always striving towards action, always wanting his hands filled with a gunblade or a hammer or a drink. "Do you have any board games?" she said hopefully.
Seifer turned and gave her a look so withering that Quistis regretted mentioning anything.
"Do I look like I play board games to you? Who would I even play them with? The seagulls? My own ass?"
"It was just a suggestion," said Quistis. "Hyne knows I'm as bored as you are."
They were rapidly losing light. Another long evening of reading, bickering or staring at the fire loomed ahead of them. "Don't suppose you've got anything to drink?" Quistis asked.
Seifer glanced at her with surprise.
"Well, it might make the night go a bit faster. What else is there to do?"
Seifer threw his head back and laughed, a barking joyous sound, so at odds with his usual storming and glaring. "I can get on board with that," he said, his face transformed by a radiant smile.
Quistis felt a thump in her stomach at the sight of it and then cringed inwardly. Only someone made of stone would be able to ignore the raw beauty of the man. No matter how bad-tempered or arrogant or rude Seifer was more than capable of being, there was no doubting the overwhelming aura of his looks. Whenever he used to face off against Squall or any other male member of Garden prior to the war, no one had ever been able to deny that Seifer's appearance made whoever he was fighting look like nothing more than a callow boy, win or lose.
"Got any preference?" said Seifer. "And you sure you should be drinking after that war wound?" He pointed at her head. The bandage had been taken off earlier in the day, revealing a red but healing scar just at the base of her hairline.
Quistis touched the cut gently. "It's fine," she said. "I've had worse. I'll have wine if you've got any, but to be honest I'd drink turpentine if it would make the day a little more interesting."
Seifer laughed. "Now, turpentine I have in bulk, but I'll see what else I've got. And if you get shitty-ass drunk, that's your problem, not mine."
"You're such a gentleman, Seifer," said Quistis drily.
"You know me," he said, as he disappeared towards the stock room.
The light was almost gone by the time Seifer re-emerged armed with a bottle of whiskey and a pair of tumblers. Inside the glasses a few ice cubes clinked. Upon closer inspection Quistis realised that they weren't ice cubes at all, but tiny icicles. She laughed as she rolled them around the glass, before looking at Seifer incredulously.
"No ice, would you believe it," said Seifer, a grin quirking the corner of his mouth. "So I thought on my feet. Found the icicles hanging from the roof out the back door. Glad I did. Warm whiskey makes me wanna throw up in my mouth."
Quistis laughed. "Not bad at all," she said. She held out her glass and grinned. "Fill it up."
Seifer smiled, amused. "Sure thing," he said. "Never would've thought you for a whiskey drinker."
"I'm not really," she said. "But it's better than nothing."
Quistis watched as the amber liquid was poured into the glass tumbler, relishing the barely audible whisper of the whiskey against the ice, followed by the low grumble of the ice as it cracked. Quistis preferred wine, as a rule, but there was something enchanting and delightful about the thought of whiskey on the rocks, in the darkening room, with the fire crackling merrily, throwing gold and scarlet light towards her slim hands. Seifer's face was an aurora against the fire, his green eyes smouldering in his shadowed sockets. He filled his own glass, swirled the whiskey around, listening to the ice clink, raised it to his mouth and took a large sip.
"Oh yeah," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "That'll kill the boredom."
Quistis took a sip of her own, grimacing slightly, before enjoying the slow burn of the whiskey as it travelled down her throat, coming to rest in her stomach. It felt as if it was emitting a gentle glow as it sat there. Quistis looked out of the window, the light now deepest blue, with the snow swirling wildly, and felt strangely cosy. She pulled crossed her legs as she sat in front of the fire, enjoying the almost-painful level of heat. She glanced up at Seifer, who was peering at the contents of his glass with an expression of benign satisfaction.
It was odd, but Quistis felt strangely at home. With the warm buzz of the alcohol settling over her, the room had somehow transfigured itself from a snowy prison to a glowing sanctuary, free from the rigors of day to day life in the Garden, where all there was to do was read, eat, chat and drink in the company of a man who looked as if he had stepped down from a plinth in a museum, marble made flesh. She flushed at the thought.
I'm only human, she told herself. He's good-looking, he's the only guy around for miles. What does it hurt to have a look? Any man would do the same if there was a beautiful woman in the room. She shrugged internally and decided to enjoy the atmosphere.
Despite this, there was an anxious twinge in her stomach. The soldier in her said that this situation had the potential to get out of hand if the weather didn't break soon. Boredom was dangerous, there was no doubt about that.
Stop it, she told herself. Just enjoy having some time off for once.
Quistis took a gulp of her drink, causing Seifer to raise an eyebrow.
"Enjoying it, huh?" he said.
"Well," she said. "You have to make your own fun."
"I hear that," said Seifer, reaching for the bottle to top up her glass.
It was a strange, joyful evening. The whiskey made them woozy and the room dissolved into glowing embers and laughter that reached the high ceilings. The only light came from the fire, throwing wild shadows dancing across the walls. The wind moaned outside. Seifer plugged in an old record player and after some hunting, found a decent album to put on. Raucous, dizzying jazz winged its way around the house, the notes bouncing off the stone walls.
"I remember this album!" cried Quistis, slightly unsteady from the drink. "Matron used to play this all the time!"
"Especially when the weather was terrible," said Seifer. "And we were all stuck indoors."
"You used to go out in it though," said Quistis. "I remember. One time you went out in a thunderstorm so loud that Zell hid under his bed and wouldn't come out till it was over."
Seifer laughed. "You came with me!" he said. "You had to be involved in everything!"
"You teased poor Zell for weeks," said Quistis. "You kept jumping out from behind him banging pots together, asking him if he was going to hide under the bed again."
Seifer flushed with the embarrassment of the memory. "Poor chicken-wuss," he said. "I gave him a hard time."
"You gave everyone a hard time," teased Quistis.
"It was character-forming," said Seifer, sniggering into his glass, his face rosy with laughter. Quistis laughed along with him, and Seifer found it hard not to notice how beautiful she looked in the firelight, her hair loose around her delicate shoulders. He tried to shrug it off, reasoning that he'd been alone in Centra for months, with no sign of a woman for miles around. No wonder he couldn't help fixating on the only one in proximity to him. He took another sip of whiskey and tried to ignore the queasy flurry of butterflies that seemed to be gathering in his stomach against his will.
Quistis rolled on her back in front of the fire, exposing fine collarbones, her long eyelashes casting shadows like spiders on her cheeks. Seifer felt himself gripping the glass tighter and forced himself to look away from the graceful bones that dipped back inside her loose shirt like a magician's secret. It was his shirt, really. He'd offered it to her once the third day had passed and she had complained about starting to smell. Of course, she hadn't smelled, but he had offered it to her and laughed as it had swamped her slight frame. Now she wore it like a princess, a drunken one, admittedly, but still. It was becoming on her. He smiled to himself – 'becoming' was a word Matron would have used.
"You know," she said, smiling. "I suppose it was character-forming, in a way. You were like our very own drill sergeant, even if we didn't appreciate it at the time."
"Or ever," said Seifer.
"Or ever," Quistis agreed, raising her glass slightly.
"I could've taught you a few things," Seifer grinned. "If you hadn't been so stubborn with that damn whip."
"There's nothing wrong with that damn whip, as you put it!"
"It's nothing on Hyperion," said Seifer, casting a dreamy glance over to his gunblade that sat propped against the wall in the corner.
"You kept it?" said Quistis. "Why?"
Seifer shrugged. "Once a soldier, always a soldier, I guess." A slightly awkward silence fell. Seifer hated to be reminded of losing. Quistis hated to be reminded of the war, of everything that had come between them. Despite her childhood crush on Squall, as a child she had meshed with Seifer as strongly as anyone else in the group. Their personalities were similar, although they never admitted it. Seifer may have been fierier, but they both had their stubborn streak, their unyielding sense of right and wrong, their own romantic dreams.
Quistis broke the silence. "So, where did you go, after here… but before Garden?" Seifer looked surprised at the question. "I mean, I went to a foster home, then Garden when I was 13. What about you?"
Seifer paused for a moment. "Foster home," he said. He took another drink of whiskey. "I was nine. It didn't work out."
Quistis blinked at him. "I always thought you went straight to Garden."
"No," he said. "I was twelve when I went. Almost thirteen."
"What happened?" said Quistis. She saw the consternation on his face. "I didn't get along with my foster parents. I think they expected someone sweeter. Instead they got me. All books and martial arts. Not what they wanted." She pulled a face. "It never felt like home."
"Yeah," said Seifer. "Garden always felt like home to me. Apart from here. Here always felt good to me, even knowing we were all orphans. Matron was a hell of a mother."
"She was," said Quistis. She saw the distant look on Seifer's face. "You don't have to say why it didn't work out at your foster home, if you don't want to. I didn't mean to pry."
Seifer took another gulp of whiskey. "No, it's fine," he said. A strange smile spread across his face, almost a grimace. "I'll tell ya." A breath. "You know how handsome I am, right?" They both laughed at that. "Well, foster parents and adoptive parents, they loved that shit. No one wants an ugly kid, right? Gotta complete that picture perfect family."
Quistis remembered Seifer as a boy. The same short blonde hair, the same bright emerald eyes, a face that was almost too pretty, like Squall's and Irvine's. Delicate features, but with a hard glare, the look of a child who knew on some level that they were alone in the world.
"I thought it was all going to work out," said Seifer, gaze drifting towards the past. "The mother seemed nice. The house was big, great garden. They sent me to a good school, even though I wasn't really interested in learning that stuff. I was always about weapons. I remember the first time I saw a gunblade in a film…" His eyes glazed over at the memory. "Anyway-" his face took on the strange fixed smile again. "The dad was something else. He liked me." His face became hard. "Oh, he liked me alright."
Quistis felt her blood run cold. "What do you mean, Seifer?"
He tried to laugh, in an attempt to lessen the terrible gravity of what he had just said. "You know what I mean, Quisty," he said. "He wasn't interested in me as as son."
"God, Seifer," said Quistis. She wanted to reach out and touch him. It felt as if she was seeing Seifer as a boy and a teenager in a whole new light. The betrayal of a child who just wanted to be loved. She felt as if she could be crushed by the weight of it, the sadness of it.
"He didn't… he never…"
"Oh, he tried. Once. Touched my face. I knew the way he did it was wrong. I wasn't a stupid kid. He tried… Well, I was strong for my age." Seifer took another drink of whiskey. "He didn't try again. His broken nose was a testament to that. After that I told my social worker that it wasn't working out and I went to Garden within a week."
A terrible silence fell.
"Oh, Seifer," said Quistis. "I'm so sorry."
Seifer tried to laugh. "Don't be sorry for me, Quisty. I broke that motherfucker's nose. He never had a chance." He paused. "Besides things ended up alright. I went to Garden. I lived my romantic dream. I saw things that most people will never see."
You idiot, Seifer told himself. The drink's made you way too talkative. What are you gonna do next, bitchboy? Show her your fucking diary?
Quistis edged closer to Seifer's chair and hesitantly, as if she was going to pet a tiger, moved her hand towards his.
Oh no, thought Seifer. Not pity. I don't need fucking pity.
Quistis placed her tiny white hand on Seifer's large, tanned paw. The sensation of skin against skin was oddly exhilirating, like being plunged into cold water. Seifer felt his heart begin to thud in his chest. Quistis raised her eyes to his.
"I don't need your sympathy," said Seifer suddenly. "Or your pity."
"I don't pity you," said Quistis, blinking. "I'm sad for you." A pause. "And I'm glad you told me. It took guts."
"Guts?" said Seifer. "It's the opposite. I've just had too much to drink and was talking shit. It's nothing." That smile again, the smile that wasn't.
"It's not shit," said Quistis, suddenly serious. "You're brave, Seifer. Bravery isn't just a sword or a gun. It's different kinds of strength."
Seifer looked down at the pale hand against his. He looked into Quistis's glacier blue eyes and felt something in his chest contract. He felt his eyes burning and looked away, feeling a well of shame rise up in himself. Shame and anger. Her kindness made him sick. He went to stand up, but her grip on his hand was strong and she wouldn't let go.
"Seifer," she said. But she didn't know what else to say. He looked at her with such intensity that a lesser woman would have run a mile. Instead, she touched his face. She expected him to recoil, but instead he let her. She ran her hand across the smooth golden skin of his face, took in his hard, handsome mouth and his piercing eyes, usually so full of self-control and arrogance, now as soft as a fawn's.
Seifer felt his skin burn at Quistis's touch. He knew this was leading to a place where it shouldn't go. The combined mixture of the alcohol, the two of them alone and essentially stranded, and his confession had ignited something that it would be hard to stifle. He took a deep intake of breath and as if guided by someone else, felt his own arm rise, felt his hand cover hers on his own face. He saw her mouth open slightly and felt his stomach dip as if he was going over the peak of a rollercoaster.
Don't do it don't do it don't do it
Powerless, yet full of a strength he didn't know he possessed anymore, he pulled Quistis towards him and pressed his lips against hers. Quistis gasped, shocked, but responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his back and allowing herself to be crushed into him.
They fell to the floor, kissing one another with the desperation so profound, it felt like drinking water after a lifetime in a desert. Quistis gasped as Seifer's mouth found her neck, glittering pleasure sparkling through her veins. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, before he fell back on to her, kissing and grasping and touching, marvelling at his beautiful form, like some lonely Apollo come to earth to couple with an ice nymph.
Seifer paused and took her face in his hands, drinking in her raw, delicate beauty. His heart soared. He had been lonely, so lonely, for so long. He had gone years without exposing any vulnerable part of himself to anyone. It felt as if he had been chained in a dark cave for half of his life; kissing Quistis, tasting her skin and feeling her tongue on his, feeling her hands on his body, it was as if he was stood in the blazing sun, naked and unashamed, burned clean from the sheer delicious beauty of it.
As they pulled their clothes off, abandoning them in a heap, Seifer paused. "Are you sure?" he said.
Quistis paused, her skin prickling with anticipation. He was so beautiful, so sad. She wanted to envelop him in her arms, to bring a true smile to his taciturn features. She wanted to bring back the wild, shining boy she had known. Yet, he was who he was. No angel, not by any means. There was darkness there, and there probably always would be, but now, in the fire's ochre light, all she could see was his gentleness. All she could feel was the pause in his breath, his need to make sure that she was alright, that this was alright. But how could it be alright? He was Seifer Almasy. He had tried to kill her and her friends. He had been a boy who wanted to watch the world burn.
She couldn't see that boy anymore. He had become something else.
"I'm sure," she said, barely a whisper.
She cried out then as he moved inside her, drowning in his shuddering gasp. He started to move, gently at first, the pair of them adjusting to this new experience, to bodies that were not their own but which they wanted to disappear into. Quistis pulled him towards her, hard, and she saw fire ignite in his eyes as he began to move harder and faster. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, lost in the rhythms, feeling her muscles turn to liquid gold as the pleasure grew more intense. Sweat beaded his brow and Seifer groaned as he thrust into her. Neither of them had expected this, this raw passion. She raked her nails down his back and he hissed with pain and delight.
Seifer picked her up, still inside her and moved her to the table. He lay her down on it and resumed thrusting, gasping with desire as Quistis cried out beneath him. They locked eyes, and instead of eyes he saw blue fire. How had he ever thought her an ice queen? She was an azure flame, writhing beneath him. He changed his rhythm, grinding himself against her as he thrust, and Quistis felt her body start to burn as her climax began to rise. She thanked Hyne that the house was empty, because it was impossible to be quiet. Seifer felt her body start to shudder as her climax began to peak, feeling his own orgasm start to rise like the crest of a wave. Her movements became frantic, before she gave a great cry, her body trembling powerlessly against the intensity of her climax. Seifer could contain himself no longer and came hard, breathless with pleasure and joy and the sheer overwhelming shock of it all.
He pulled her from the table and carried her bodily to his room. She was practically limp in his arms and he couldn't suppress a grin that he was responsible for it. He lay Quistis on the bed and brushed her sweaty hair from her brow. Her eyes opened slowly and she fixed him with a smile so beautiful and tired and drunk and sated that he laughed.
"Some ice queen," he said, grinning.
Quistis smirked, wordless and suddenly shy. She pulled the blankets over herself. "Shut up, Seifer," she said. "Climb in."
They didn't need any more words. Seifer sighed with pleasure and got into bed, pulling her close. Within minutes, whether from exertion or whiskey, they were both asleep, breathing softly in each other's arms.
Outside, the snow finally stopped.
I hope you all enjoyed! Sorry for the wait in chapters. R&R!
Lux