Two weeks had passed since Lady Hartley's ball, and Quistis easily fell back into her daily routine.

The life of a lady wasn't terribly exciting, but she was grateful for the fact that her father had yet to invite any more suitors to the house. A break from the repetition of meeting dunce after dunce was incredibly welcome, and she almost embraced the monotony of her daily activities. Almost.

Today in particular, she was sitting at the drawing table in their parlor, absentmindedly sketching the landscape outside of the window. She was concentrating on finishing her fifth sketch of the same view, and swore if she found nothing else to do in the next few minutes, she just might stab herself in the eye, simply for a bit of excitement.

Not a full minute after that morbid thought left her, Selphie entered the parlor and cleared her throat, which prompted Quistis to glance up. "Selphie. What is it?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, m'lady—"

Quistis interrupted Selphie with a shake of her head and replied, "By all means, Selphie. Interrupt me. Please."

Selphie giggled and replied, "You've a visitor."

Quistis tightened her lips into a thin line in resignation. "It's another suitor, isn't it?"

"Actually ma'am, no. I think you'll be rather excited to see this visitor." With that, Selphie stepped aside and revealed the blond man standing behind her, who had a wide grin on his face.

A gasp of surprise escaped Quistis, and she shot to her feet. "Baron Dincht! What a surprise—and a pleasure, to be sure!"

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Zell, Quistis?" he asked, before letting out a jovial laugh and bowing per custom, to which Quistis curtsied in return. He strode into the room and took in his surroundings without uttering another word. Once his eyes returned to Quistis, he lifted an eyebrow in jest.

She rolled her eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Zell. Habits are difficult to break. And—" she held up a hand. "—I know. My father's decorations are horrendous. This is the room I entertain all of my suitors in, so he decorates the room with that in mind."

Zell chuckled. "I'm so sorry, Quistis. That sounds...absolutely awful."

She cringed in response and gestured to the sofa opposite her as she sat down. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Zell wandered over and once he too was seated, he said, "I was actually wondering if you had plans this evening."

"This evening? Well, I don't know, I have quite a few more paintings to finish…" she trailed off, glancing at the pile of identical sketches on her drawing table.

He followed her gaze and saw what had kept her occupied the entire day, before he let out a laugh. "I take it you're free."

A wry grin spread out across her face and she replied, "Yes, Zell. I'm free."

"Good. I have an open seat at tonight's opera."

At the word 'opera', Quistis straightened in her seat and widened her eyes. "Did you say...opera?"

Zell smiled knowingly before he nodded. "The lady who was supposed to attend with me, unfortunately, fell ill. I can't very well not go, not after informing everyone that I was planning to be there. Barons do have a reputation to uphold, after all. I was hoping you'd come with me in her stead. I remember how much you loved the opera when we were younger."

When Quistis was a young girl and her parents still took her out on the town—instead of focusing on finding her a husband—going to the opera had been one of her absolute favorite things to do. Seeing the elaborate costumes, witnessing the spectacle that was the production, hearing the beautiful sopranos share their heart and souls with the world...it had been a magical experience every single time. By the time she'd reached the age of sixteen, they'd started to stay in more and more, and that was when her father had begun inviting over "eligible" bachelors every week.

The opera had been, by far, one of the things she missed the most about the past—even more than her supposed innocence and lack of responsibilities. Granted, her responsibilities hadn't necessarily grown quite that much; she was now required to be well-versed in...well, nearly everything, and to know when not to speak her mind—which was often never. Her bitterness had grown substantially over the years regarding her "new responsibilities", but it was a fact, and a life of privilege that she could not escape—no matter how much she might want to.

So, Zell's unexpected invitation to her favorite outing of old sent a ripple of excitement coursing through her. It also warmed her heart to know that he'd remembered something about her, even from all those years ago. Most people would find that bit of information trivial, but Zell had always been good at noticing the things that made people happy. Though he wasn't as serious about his title as he probably should be, he more than made up for his few flaws with his big heart.

"I would love to attend the opera with you, Zell. But...I cannot go with you unchaperoned. Selphie would need to come with us," Quistis explained, gesturing to Selphie who waved from the corner of the room.

Zell glanced over at Selphie for a brief second, but ended up doing a double-take. "Selphie?"

Selphie curtsied and cheerily greeted, "Good day, m'lord!"

"You...Weren't you Quistis' handmaiden when we were children, too?"

Selphie nodded and explained, "I've been with m'lady since we were young, yes. I first came to the house when I was 'bout six."

Zell nodded vehemently, as if a mystery had been solved in that moment. "I thought you looked familiar. Of course you should come! But my box only has two seats...I might have to sort out a different seating arrangement, in that case."

With a frown, Quistis said, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. If it's too much trouble Zell—"

He held up his hand and cut her off with a shake of his head. "No, no. I invited you; you're going. I'll just have to talk to a friend of mine and I should be able to work it out. I'll come by and gather you ladies around six this evening?"

Picking up on his hint, Quistis rose to her feet, which prompted Zell to mirror her actions. "Six sounds wonderful. I can't wait."

After a quick, but nonetheless affectionate embrace, Zell left the manor. Quistis and Selphie glanced at each other before letting out identical squeals of excitement.

Six in the evening couldn't come a minute sooner.

When the sun had barely begun to disappear behind the mountain range in the distance, Zell arrived to pick the ladies up in his grand coach. When the vestibule pulled up to the front steps, Zell hopped out with an unnatural amount of energy in his gait. He bounded over to the door where Quistis and Selphie stood waiting, sweeping his arm low in a playful bow.

"Good evening, ladies," he greeted, his voice much lower than it normally was. He sounded like he was trying to imitate an eerie creature of the night, and it ended up being absolutely ridiculous. But, that was Zell, and Quistis wouldn't have changed him for the world.

She shook her head at his behavior, and when he held out his hand for her, she slid her gloved one into his with a smile. "Good evening, Baron Dincht."

"Are you excited?" he asked, aiming a wink in Selphie's direction.

It warmed her heart that he always included Selphie in his conversations. There were many in the ton who had a habit of ignoring handmaidens—or any type of servant, really—and it often was uncomfortable to witness. Selphie had been with her since Quistis was a young girl, and because they were only one year apart, she often considered her more of a sister; she was her closest confidant, and couldn't imagine life without her. So, when Selphie was snubbed by others who believed their stations put them above her in every aspect, Quistis didn't particularly care to converse with them any longer.

At Zell's question, Selphie bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, obviously having trouble containing her exuberance. "Oh yes, I am indeed excited! It has been so long since we—I mean, Lady Trepe—has been able to go to an opera. I know how much she loves it."

Quistis laughed and wound her arm through Selphie's as the trio made their way to Zell's coach. "Selphie, I know how much you enjoy it as well. It's perfectly all right to admit that you are excited."

The footman pulled open the door for them and once the steps were lowered, Zell helped the ladies into the coach's cabin. When they were settled, he climbed in after them and none too soon, they were on their way into the city.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, until Zell asked, "So Quistis, when was the last time you went to an opera?"

She glanced up at the satin upholstery on the ceiling and replied, "I...do not remember. It's obviously been quite some time. I believe the last one I attended was 'I Want to be Your Canary' when I was but a child?"

Zell pinched his eyebrows together in deep thought, before they shot up again in recognition. "You don't mean the opera that was put on by that traveling group? We were what, seven when they came through town?"

Quistis let out a quiet laugh, and said, "I believe so—well, I was eight. You two were seven."

"Yes, yes, you are the older and wiser one, we know," Zell teased, which caused Selphie to giggle.

"She is always using that excuse, isn't she?" Selphie ribbed. Quistis politely nudged her handmaiden in the side and Selphie yelped, before shooting a jestful glare in Quistis' direction.

With perfect timing, the coach came to a halt and they heard the footman clambering off the top of the carriage. A few seconds later, their door opened and the grand facade of the opera house loomed before them.

It was truly breathtaking.

The trim around the windows and the entranceway were edged in gold, and the filigree caught the dying rays of the sun in such a way that made it appear to glow. It contrasted greatly with the darker side of the sky behind the opera house, and Quistis found herself wishing she could have drawn this instead of the field behind her house, though she likely wouldn't have been able to do it justice anyhow. The finishing touches were the small, but no less noticeable maroon banners that flew from the buttresses along the top of the building, adorned with the tri-cornered crest of Deling.

In a new architectural fashion, the walkway leading up to the entrance was covered by something that appeared to be an extended roof. From that makeshift ceiling hung a grand crystal chandelier, which was currently illuminated by what had to be a hundred candles. The tiered crystals twisted the beams of light into prismatic patterns on the plush red carpet below; though it reminded her of the decor of the ton that she so hated, her love and joy for the opera greatly overshadowed that.

Zell stepped into her vision and she noticed that he had his arm held out for her, a knowingly teasing expression on his face. "Come along, Quistis. I know it's been a while for you yet, but we've got to make it inside sometime tonight."

Quistis scoffed and batted him lightly on the shoulder with her fan. "Keep your snide comments to yourself, Baron Dincht," she teased back.

He laughed and led her up the walkway, pausing for a moment when the attendants opened the door for them. Once they were through and inside the lobby, Quistis craned her neck back and gaped up at the high ceilings, her mouth hanging open in awe.

Her impression of the exterior was greatly overshadowed by her opinion of the interior. The designers had taken the grandeur and beauty of the facade and tripled it, clearly aiming to impress its guests. The crimson carpets from the walkway outside carried into the lobby and extended as far as Quistis could see in either direction; she suspected that it could be found throughout the entire opera house. Two curved staircases ran along either side of the room, and framed directly in the center, was a colossal chandelier that was even larger than the one outside. One was evidently not enough for the owners, for there were two smaller ones flanking the one in the center. Breathtaking, iridescent patterns adorned every inch of the walls and floors. As if she were a child again, Quistis reached out her arm to try and catch the crystalline reflections, and was elated when they reflected on her skin. It made her feel like a fairy, lost in some fantastic other world.

From behind her, she heard Selphie inhale and faced her friend with a knowing smile on her face. "Magnificent, isn't it?"

Selphie gazed upwards, taken in by the sights that surrounded them. "I don't recall the opera house being this incredible…"

At that, Zell piped up. "That's because it wasn't. It was remodeled about five years ago, when the opera house received a new patron."

"He must have an enormous pocketbook," Selphie mused. A little belatedly, she realized she'd said that aloud and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Quistis groaned inwardly, and opened her mouth to apologize for her friend until she noticed that Zell was laughing, rather than appearing to be offended. She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, to which he replied, "I know the new patron personally—he's actually the one I sorted out our seats with; you'll be occupying his box tonight. If he heard you say that, he would've lost his mind. A large pocketbook...ha!"

"Your friend sounds...rather peculiar, Zell," Quistis commented.

"Peculiar is one word you could use to describe him, though there are probably a few others that would fit a little better," he said with a chuckle as he turned and headed towards the left-most staircase. "You'll see what I mean in a moment. I told him we'd meet him at his box."

Once they reached the second level, they passed through a smaller, though no less ornate door, and headed up another small flight of steps. Eventually, Zell came to a stop in front of a velvet curtain—also crimson and embroidered with spun gold—that had been drawn shut. When he reached out and pulled the edge back, he called out, "Almasy? You in there?"

Quistis tilted her head as she thought, Almasy? That sounds oddly familiar…

When a blond, exceptionally tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with a one-of-a-kind facial scar came out from behind the curtain, Quistis couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped her. "You!"

The Marquess of Balamb glanced over at Quistis before looking away again, seemingly uninterested—though he did appear irritated at her reaction. It only took a second for him to realize who she was, and why her statement seemed so familiar, and he turned back to her again with his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Ice Queen," he greeted with a smirk.

Quistis sighed inwardly before curtsying as custom demanded. With a slight grimace, she thought, I should've never admitted that to him. Then again, I never thought I'd see him a second time. Aloud, she replied, "Marquess Almasy. I do admit that I am surprised to see you here."

"Likewise, Lady Trepe," Seifer replied, though from his tone, Quistis could tell that he'd prefer to stick to her nickname. Whether it was simply for the sake of goading her along, or whether he was truly just that irritating, she couldn't say. Then again, both of those things were rather similar in nature. Perhaps that was just the way he was, and that had been what Zell meant when he said that "peculiar" was not the first word he would have chosen to describe the Marquess.

After all, it wasn't as if she knew him.

Zell glanced at Quistis before looking back at Seifer. "Wait, you two know each other?"

That prompted Selphie to join in and ask, "I'm with the Baron. How do you know this gentleman, m'lady?"

Quistis stammered, "I—I, um…"

When he saw that she was clearly at a loss for words, Seifer took over and explained, "We met briefly at Lady Hartley's ball. A mutual acquaintance introduced us. I wouldn't say we spoke for more than a few minutes. Isn't that right, Lady Trepe?"

After she cleared her throat, Quistis agreed, "Yes, that's right, I apologize. I was still so astounded at your appearance—and at the fact that you know Baron Dincht—to form a response."

"Indeed, although the latter point is a story for another time," Seifer added as he stepped up beside Zell and placed his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Well ladies, we'll leave you to it. Because we're such gentleman, we'll go and take Dincht's box, which has the worse view by far."

At that, Selphie piped up and said, "If the view is worse, then why are you going over there instead of staying in your own box? Er, my lord."

Zell scoffed. "We can't very well leave him here with Lady Trepe unchaperoned, can we? That'd be highly inappropriate."

Seifer glanced at Quistis with a knowing grin. "Yes, and Lady Trepe despises anything inappropriate, doesn't she?"

Miffed, Quistis straightened and replied, "I'm not a prude."

To which Seifer crossed his arms and leaned back, inspecting her with hooded eyes as his grin widened. "I said nothing of the sort—though I find it fascinating that that's the route you took with your defense."

"Are you trying to bait me, Marquess Almasy?"

"I would never," Seifer responded, though Quistis noticed the utter lack of sincerity in his tone. They stood there, staring each other down.

Zell and Selphie's heads swiveled back and forth with each response, until Zell held up his hands and said, "I think I'm confused. Do you want to stay in your box, Almasy? Or not?"

Seifer broke eye contact with her and turned back to Zell. "Well, we've already established that the view from my box is better."

"Fine, then we'll stay here! Quistis, you and Selphie can take my box," Zell suggested.

Selphie pouted, clearly unhappy with that solution. "But it's been ages since we've been to the opera, remember? I'm sure m'lady would like the best view. That is, if the Marquess wouldn't mind."

Seifer raised an eyebrow at Quistis, and she found herself narrowing her eyes in suspicion at his expression. He cleared his throat and offered, "What if you two take Dincht's box, and Lady Trepe and I remain here? After all, there are attendants all around us, and Dincht, you can see my box from yours. You'd know in an instant if anything...inappropriate, were to happen."

Zell frowned, studying Seifer intently. Though they were friends, he didn't appear to trust the Marquess enough to be alone with Quistis. "And if you're found alone and unchaperoned, Quistis? What then?"

She found herself glancing at Seifer out of the corner of her eye. They were in a public place, it was hardly scandalous to be found alone in an opera box while the opera was playing out on the stage. Afterwards, or at intermission was a different story, but during? Something about the thrill of the situation excited her, and to her surprise, she found herself playing along. There was a certain something about the Marquess that made her feel bold, made life seem thrilling, and she wanted to push herself out of her comfort zone. That rarely happened in any situation for her, and when that spark of excitement appeared, she found herself wanting to grab onto it.

"We're in an opera house, Zell. I highly doubt society will require us to marry for watching an opera together. Besides, like the Marquess said, you'll be able to see us the entire time. So will the rest of the opera house," she said with a shrug, acting none-too-concerned.

Seifer placed his hand on Quistis' back, and the unexpected touch caused her to jump. She had to suppress a shiver at the warmth that spread throughout her body, which was such a contradiction. It was such an intimate place for physical contact, and again, she was surprised that she didn't pull away. He steered her towards the curtain, pulling it aside as he said over his shoulder, "There you have it! We'll see you two at intermission, hm?"

Zell raised his hand in protest, stepping forward as he called out, "Wait, Almasy—"

"Do enjoy the show!" Seifer exclaimed, letting the curtain drop behind them.

They heard Zell mumble, "Tch," before his and Selphie's lighter footsteps faded into the distance.

Seifer chuckled before leading her to their chairs. After they sat down in the plush velvet seats, Quistis looked at him and asked, "You enjoy teasing him, don't you?"

"I do, indeed. I mean really, it's far too amusing. He's just so easy to rile up."

She shook her head at him before looking down at the stage. The first set was almost completely set up, and the opera would likely be starting in just a few minutes. "I take it you've known each other long, then?"

To her right, Seifer's rich, deep baritone was much closer than she'd anticipated. It sounded like he was hovering just behind her shoulder. "I would say so. We attended Balamb Garden together."

When she faced him again, she ended up quickly leaning away in surprise; he had been hovering over her shoulder, and their lips had nearly brushed when she'd turned back. "Y-You did?"

She saw his eyes flicker down to her lips, before meeting hers again. Even in the dark, his blue irises were intense and radiant—as bright as the bluest lake in the early morning light, when the sun was reflecting off of the surface. At a volume that was barely above a whisper, which caused his voice to become rough and, dare she say almost sultry, he said, "Yes...we did."

"I-I—" Quistis began to say, but she was interrupted by the applause that suddenly erupted from the audience below.

Like the rake she suspected he was, he lifted a finger to his lips and gestured for her to be quiet. With a not-so-subtle, seductive wink, he then leaned back in his own chair. However, the way he positioned himself was so that he was leaning over the edge, into her space. Since she'd planned on actually enjoying the opera, she sincerely hoped that he'd move sometime soon. His overwhelming presence was...distracting, to say the least.

The orchestra started up then, and when the actors began milling about the stage for the first act, Quistis glanced sidelong at Seifer. She hoped that he'd see her non-verbal hint, but of course, his eyes remained riveted on the stage.

After fifteen minutes had passed and he still hadn't budged an inch, she sighed in acceptance—he likely wasn't planning on moving at all for the remainder of the opera. Whether he was intentionally trying to fluster her, or whether he just naturally invaded others' personal space—the memory of how he'd convinced her into dancing with him at Lady Hartley's ball flitted through her mind—she wasn't quite sure.

All throughout the first act, she continued to shift in her seat, trying to focus her attention on the opera rather than the Marquess' close vicinity. A sudden wave of heat flashed through her and she pulled her fan out of her reticule, snapping it open with a flick of her wrist.

When she started fanning herself, in a low, sultry voice, Seifer asked, "Are you hot, Lady Trepe?"

Quistis cleared her throat and mumbled, "Just a bit. I'm sure with all the people in the room, the temperature has likely risen."

"Mmm...I'm sure that's exactly why," he murmured into her ear.

She jerked away in surprise at how close he sounded, and when she leaned away to look up at him, she lowered her eyebrows in consternation. "Or perhaps it's because of how close you're sitting to me. Would you mind staying in your own seat, my lord?"

Seifer chuckled before acquiescing to her request, training his eyes on the stage once more. She followed suit, glancing back at him one last time before she too focused her attention on the opera. Thankfully, the Marquess respected her wishes and remained at a distance for the remainder of the first act. As a result, she fell into the opera's storyline, feeling herself scoot to the edge of her seat as the tension continued to build.

When the main heroine donned her disguise and left the safety of her castle, she gasped at the character's strength and determination. They were traits she wished she had a bit more of herself. If she were like the heroine, then perhaps she too could run from her responsibilities, chase her dreams, and follow her own agenda. Alas, reality was far harsher than the plot of an opera.

The remaining hour until intermission flew by, and before Quistis knew it, the curtains were being pulled shut. When their means of entertainment during the intermission, in the form of a few actors dressed like jesters, came out onto the stage, she figured now would be a good time to make conversation with the Marquess.

She faced him and was surprised to find that he was already looking in her direction, as if he'd been waiting for her to do that very thing.

When they locked eyes, a slow grin spread out across his face. "So. How did you enjoy the first half, Lady Trepe?"

"I...I thoroughly enjoyed it. Thank you, Marquess Almasy, for allowing me to use your box."

"You are most welcome. It is nice having company who doesn't feel the need to fill the silence with incessant chatter," he commented.

Is he referring to Miss Caraway…?

Seifer moved to look over the edge of the box at the audience below. She followed his gaze, and out of the corner of her vision, a ghostly, opalescent head of hair caught her eye. A slight gasp escaped her; the almost unearthly shade quite literally stole her breath away. It was as pale as the moon's soft glow, in the middle of the night. However, when she peered over the railing even more, she was surprised to find that it didn't belong to a woman—the hair belonged to an extremely slender gentleman. People often commented on her own figure and flaxen hair, but it was truly nothing compared to the man who stood below.

Quistis looked away from the man with the beautiful brocade, and glanced over at Seifer. He seemed otherwise distracted by the audience, and she took that opportunity to rise to her feet, brushing the skirt of her dress to occupy her hands. "I think I should go find Baron Dincht and my handmaiden. They're likely about to come and find us, anyhow."

At that, he looked up at her and nodded in agreement. "Yes, you're probably right. I'll come with you."

He too rose to his feet and they made their way over to the curtain at the back of the box. When she reached out to brush aside the heavy velvet, the Marquess reached out and placed his hand in front of her, crossing her vision and barring her path.

Confused, she tilted her head back and peered up at him. "Is there a reason you're blocking the way, Marquess Almasy?"

"That depends...is there a reason you're denying the attraction between us?"

What in the world? "The attraction?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

"I don't believe you are hard of hearing, Lady Trepe. Must I repeat myself?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my lord. There is no attraction between us," Quistis denied, breaking eye contact as she glanced away.

She would rather meet another of her father's suitors than admit to the man's face that yes, she was attracted to him. Surely he already knew the truth, otherwise he wouldn't have brought it up. Over the course of the night, she'd tried her hardest to ignore the fluttering in her stomach that happened every time he leaned closer to her. She'd also tried to pretend that the way his silken voice drifted over her didn't affect her in the slightest. Apparently, all that, in addition to their last encounter, hadn't worked to discourage him.

After all, a rake likely knew with absolute certainty when women were attracted to them, despite how much they tried to deny it.

Seifer chuckled under his breath at her words, confirming her suspicions. When he leaned down, bringing their faces closer together, she tried to back away to maintain an appropriate amount of space between them. In response, he placed his other arm behind her back, causing her to bump into it and effectively trapping her in his embrace.

"Very well, then. I'll believe you if…"

Trying to inhale as surreptitiously as possible, Quistis prompted, "If…?"

"If, when I kiss you, you don't react. At all," he whispered, tracing his lips along the curve of her ear.

"I...that is...highly inappropriate," she mumbled.

A puff of air against her earlobe told her that he'd laughed—again—at what she'd said. His lips ghosted along her jaw and when he was face-to-face with her once more, he hovered just above her. The anticipation of what she expected him to do was killing her, and part of her wanted to stand up on her toes to kiss him herself.

In a deep, gravelly tone, he murmured, "Somehow, I thought you'd say that."

With that, he closed the distance between them, and his lips were finally against hers.

She let out a surprised, though muffled yelp, and he moved his hand from the wall behind her to cup her cheek. They stood there with their lips pressed against each other, unmoving. I expected this to be…a bit more earth-shattering. Perhaps it will be easier to mask my attraction if that's truly how kissing feels...

As if he read her thoughts, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and the slick feel of his tongue tracing along the seam of her lips caused her to jump. He pulled away and whispered, "Open for me. Let me show you what you're not experiencing."

Though a small part of her wished to accept his challenge, she found herself hesitating at his words instead. If anyone were to catch them in that compromising position, they would definitely be forced to marry; there would be no running away like the last encounter.
Despite the fact that the sensible side of her was fighting for its voice of reason to be heard, the very slight, risque side of her was starting to take more hold. Like their first encounter, she was...thrilled at the intrigue, the risk of it all. If she were truly doomed to never find a man she wanted to marry, then perhaps she deserved this bit of pleasure. Perhaps she truly had no reason not to kiss the Marquess. After all, she'd already established that he was handsome.

In a sudden, uncharacteristic bout of daredevil carelessness, Quistis pushed herself up on her tippy-toes and pressed her lips against Seifer's, closing her eyes in sheer determination. He was clearly caught off guard because his hands flew to encircle her waist, and he caught himself on his heel when he stepped back.

It was rather obvious when he realized that she was the one kissing him this time, because he increased the pressure of his lips, snaking his tongue out to trace along hers like he had before. This time, she acquiesced and opened her mouth for him.

What she experienced next took her completely aback.

His tongue slid along the length of hers, sending waves of pleasure rolling through her body. If her mouth weren't otherwise occupied, she would've gasped in surprise. Every stroke of his tongue caused her lower abdomen to tighten like it had when she'd first thought about the feel of his arousal against her stomach, that night in the garden.

She was unable to stop the low moan that crept up her throat, and when Seifer felt it reverberate through his body, he answered in kind, crushing her against him with his strong arms. Quistis brought her hands up to touch his face when she heard a gasp of surprise come from over her shoulder.

A sharp spike of panic lanced through her and she broke away from Seifer, who tried to sweep her behind him in an attempt to shield her from view. When Quistis saw that it had been Selphie who'd gasped, she breathed a sigh of relief.

That was, until Zell stepped out from behind her, his mouth gaping wide open in shock. "What the hell, Almasy?"

A/N:

So so so sorry about how long it's taken me to update this. With my other WIPs and everything going on with school, I am ashamed to admit that this story has fallen to the wayside. I still love writing for it, though! So don't worry, it won't be ever be abandoned : 3

It's been awhile since, but thanks to Yadda Wadda BaddaBoom, LaylaEvercrest, AJ Maxima, and my wonderful guest reviewer EnigeIets for the reviews! Thanks to everyone who has favorited and followed :)

Lastly, thanks to Strings805 and StarryNight101 for beta-reading my horrible, rough drafts, haha.

I'm hoping the next chapter will be out sooner, but I have to cycle through all of my other WIPs before I come back full circle to this one :( Thanks for continuing to read, everyone!