FFVIII: Unholy Hour
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Laguna/Squall
Warnings: Laguna POV, incest, sap, masturbation, phonesex
Rating: NC17
Summary: Laguna calls Squall early in the morning. For fated_children.
His voice was full of sleep, husky and almost purring, a sound that sent shivers chasing down my spine. "Laguna? What are you doing calling at this time?"
I checked the clock and winced sheepishly, making the calculation. It was about oh-five-hundred hours in Balamb; only an hour earlier than he usually woke up... but of course, he had been on a mission. It was a time I would have dubbed an unholy hour anyway. I should have left it a little later but I had been dying to talk to him for days. He had been on a mission for some weeks, incommunicado, and I had been worried. And I'd missed him, of course. "Sorry?" I offered.
"Whatever. What the hell are you doing calling this early?"
He was always a little more talkative when he was sleepy, if I played my cards right. He was half bitchy, half sleepily acquiescent, and if I played my cards right, he would indulge me. "Thought I'd be a good father and see how the mission went."
"Most good fathers aren't thinking about exactly how long it will be before they have their sons in bed with them again," he said, almost drolly, disguising a yawn as best he could while I smothered a laugh, even though I blushed and squirmed a little at the casual way we spoke of our relationship. I decided that I would call him early more often for the sound of his voice, rich with sleep.
"You're so cheerful this morning," I teased. "Did I wake you up from a good dream?"
There was a rustle of covers and a sigh, the bed creaking beneath him before he gave his reply. "Yeah."
"What were you dreaming about?" I asked, to make him talk more. I decided that when he next came to stay with me, and it would be soon, I'd tire him out and then we'd sleep in all day, and then, when we woke, we'd stay in bed longer just for the hell of it, and talk. And hopefully his voice would be just as sinfully, unconsciously seductive then.
"You, actually," he answered, after a pause, his voice dropping to a half whisper that sent my heart into my throat to make way for the butterflies in my stomach.
My voice dropped without me realising it, breathless, curious, "And what was I doing, in your dream?"
"We were in bed together," he said, drawing it out, and I think he realised by then what he was doing to me, what the sound of his voice was doing to me, what the image of him laying in bed, lazy and draped over the pillows, was doing to me. "And it was very early, and you were still asleep. So I leaned over - you were laying on your front, like you do - and I kissed and bit your shoulder and back until you woke up."
"And that's all?" I asked, knowing full well it wasn't, leading him on. I imagined the scene, could almost feel his light bites across my shoulder blades.
"And then you turned over, and you started touching me..."
I imagined it, as I'd seen it before so many times, my hands on his chest, one finger circling his nipple, teasing, drawing it out, pinching his other nipple. I couldn't help but slip a hand through in between the buttons of my shirt, doing it to myself. A soft groan from his end of the line told me that he was doing it too. "And what did I do then? What did you do to me?" I asked, and my voice was as husky as his by then. I couldn't help but be hopelessly aroused by this, and it had been too long, way too long, since we had been in bed together.
"I..." his breath hitched slightly, and I smiled slightly, knowing exactly what he was doing just from that hitch in his breath. He was slightly ticklish, and there was one spot, just above his hip, that made him squirm and gasp whenever I brushed my fingers over it or put my mouth to it. I had exactly the same ticklish spot. I guess it's genetic.
"Tell me," I whispered, holding the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I could put both hands to good use, undoing my pants and glancing over at the door quickly. It was locked and no one wanted me at this hour of the morning, not for another half an hour at least, and the office was supposed to be soundproof, confidential and all that....
"I..." he shifted again, sheets rustling, and then made a soft sound that might even have been a whimper, "we were jerking each other off."
I lifted my hips a little, getting my pants and boxers out of the way, and then wrapped a hand around my cock, moaning into the phone, my other hand gripping the phone again, holding it tightly to my ear to hear every pant and moan and gasp of his. "And then?"
"I woke up," he moaned softly, and I had to laugh, breathily, still stroking myself.
"Make yourself come," I told him, softly, squeezing myself and groaning loudly. He muttered something in response, and I listened to him moaning, imagining him there, flushed and moaning from his own hand and my voice.
"Laguna!" he cried out softly, when he came, and I closed my eyes, stroking myself quickly, wishing I had a hand free to stifle my loud cries and moans. He was whispering things to me, sinful things, things that made my stomach turn over.
I came, crying out wordlessly, almost dropping the phone, my hips pushing up high. I collapsed back against my chair, panting, and listened to him calming down as well, closing my eyes. I didn't say anything, didn't want to let go of what we had just shared, even though I had work to do and we were miles and miles and miles apart.
"Laguna..." he sighed softly, "Miss you."
"Miss you too," I whispered back, trying not to swell with pride at the idea that Squall Leonhart, the cool, collected Commander of Balamb Garden, the man who locked even his own friends out of his life sometimes, was missing me.
"I need to get some more sleep," he said, quietly, reluctantly.
I clutched the phone harder, sighing softly. I knew I couldn't keep him any longer - he needed to sleep. "Come and see me soon, okay?"
"I couldn't stay away," he said softly, and then, louder, "Bye."
"I love you," I said, quickly, and he paused.
I could hear a slight smile in his voice, and knew that he was thinking about how messed up our relationship was, even as he replied, his voice still sleepy and now almost gentle, "You too."
I still held the phone for a few moments, after he put it down.
Pairing: Laguna/Squall
Warnings: Laguna POV, incest, sap, masturbation, phonesex
Rating: NC17
Summary: Laguna calls Squall early in the morning. For fated_children.
His voice was full of sleep, husky and almost purring, a sound that sent shivers chasing down my spine. "Laguna? What are you doing calling at this time?"
I checked the clock and winced sheepishly, making the calculation. It was about oh-five-hundred hours in Balamb; only an hour earlier than he usually woke up... but of course, he had been on a mission. It was a time I would have dubbed an unholy hour anyway. I should have left it a little later but I had been dying to talk to him for days. He had been on a mission for some weeks, incommunicado, and I had been worried. And I'd missed him, of course. "Sorry?" I offered.
"Whatever. What the hell are you doing calling this early?"
He was always a little more talkative when he was sleepy, if I played my cards right. He was half bitchy, half sleepily acquiescent, and if I played my cards right, he would indulge me. "Thought I'd be a good father and see how the mission went."
"Most good fathers aren't thinking about exactly how long it will be before they have their sons in bed with them again," he said, almost drolly, disguising a yawn as best he could while I smothered a laugh, even though I blushed and squirmed a little at the casual way we spoke of our relationship. I decided that I would call him early more often for the sound of his voice, rich with sleep.
"You're so cheerful this morning," I teased. "Did I wake you up from a good dream?"
There was a rustle of covers and a sigh, the bed creaking beneath him before he gave his reply. "Yeah."
"What were you dreaming about?" I asked, to make him talk more. I decided that when he next came to stay with me, and it would be soon, I'd tire him out and then we'd sleep in all day, and then, when we woke, we'd stay in bed longer just for the hell of it, and talk. And hopefully his voice would be just as sinfully, unconsciously seductive then.
"You, actually," he answered, after a pause, his voice dropping to a half whisper that sent my heart into my throat to make way for the butterflies in my stomach.
My voice dropped without me realising it, breathless, curious, "And what was I doing, in your dream?"
"We were in bed together," he said, drawing it out, and I think he realised by then what he was doing to me, what the sound of his voice was doing to me, what the image of him laying in bed, lazy and draped over the pillows, was doing to me. "And it was very early, and you were still asleep. So I leaned over - you were laying on your front, like you do - and I kissed and bit your shoulder and back until you woke up."
"And that's all?" I asked, knowing full well it wasn't, leading him on. I imagined the scene, could almost feel his light bites across my shoulder blades.
"And then you turned over, and you started touching me..."
I imagined it, as I'd seen it before so many times, my hands on his chest, one finger circling his nipple, teasing, drawing it out, pinching his other nipple. I couldn't help but slip a hand through in between the buttons of my shirt, doing it to myself. A soft groan from his end of the line told me that he was doing it too. "And what did I do then? What did you do to me?" I asked, and my voice was as husky as his by then. I couldn't help but be hopelessly aroused by this, and it had been too long, way too long, since we had been in bed together.
"I..." his breath hitched slightly, and I smiled slightly, knowing exactly what he was doing just from that hitch in his breath. He was slightly ticklish, and there was one spot, just above his hip, that made him squirm and gasp whenever I brushed my fingers over it or put my mouth to it. I had exactly the same ticklish spot. I guess it's genetic.
"Tell me," I whispered, holding the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I could put both hands to good use, undoing my pants and glancing over at the door quickly. It was locked and no one wanted me at this hour of the morning, not for another half an hour at least, and the office was supposed to be soundproof, confidential and all that....
"I..." he shifted again, sheets rustling, and then made a soft sound that might even have been a whimper, "we were jerking each other off."
I lifted my hips a little, getting my pants and boxers out of the way, and then wrapped a hand around my cock, moaning into the phone, my other hand gripping the phone again, holding it tightly to my ear to hear every pant and moan and gasp of his. "And then?"
"I woke up," he moaned softly, and I had to laugh, breathily, still stroking myself.
"Make yourself come," I told him, softly, squeezing myself and groaning loudly. He muttered something in response, and I listened to him moaning, imagining him there, flushed and moaning from his own hand and my voice.
"Laguna!" he cried out softly, when he came, and I closed my eyes, stroking myself quickly, wishing I had a hand free to stifle my loud cries and moans. He was whispering things to me, sinful things, things that made my stomach turn over.
I came, crying out wordlessly, almost dropping the phone, my hips pushing up high. I collapsed back against my chair, panting, and listened to him calming down as well, closing my eyes. I didn't say anything, didn't want to let go of what we had just shared, even though I had work to do and we were miles and miles and miles apart.
"Laguna..." he sighed softly, "Miss you."
"Miss you too," I whispered back, trying not to swell with pride at the idea that Squall Leonhart, the cool, collected Commander of Balamb Garden, the man who locked even his own friends out of his life sometimes, was missing me.
"I need to get some more sleep," he said, quietly, reluctantly.
I clutched the phone harder, sighing softly. I knew I couldn't keep him any longer - he needed to sleep. "Come and see me soon, okay?"
"I couldn't stay away," he said softly, and then, louder, "Bye."
"I love you," I said, quickly, and he paused.
I could hear a slight smile in his voice, and knew that he was thinking about how messed up our relationship was, even as he replied, his voice still sleepy and now almost gentle, "You too."
I still held the phone for a few moments, after he put it down.