Phone Call - Seifer/Squall - Giftfic
Title: Phone Call
Yaoi Angst Mild Lemon
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Summary: It ended just like it began. A gift for forgeterance
It began, with a phone call
Squall listening as smooth baritone filtered through the speaker. An invitation for some fun; A night out on the town. Soft tones sounded a refusal, but couldn't win against the impulsiveness so unique his boisterous counterpart. An hour found him perched on a barstool in a bar with an unknown name, with a glass of questionable liquid. Quietly, he watched the other enjoy himself, mild envy bubbling up at the ease of which he socialised.
Strangely, the muscular blond decided that he'd had enough after only a few hours, and proceeded to drag the reluctant brunette across town. A trip to the liquor and video stores later saw the two of them lounging on an over-worn couch, feeling a pleasant alcohol-induced buzz and watching meaningless names roll across the screen. Squall didn't question when a hand caressed his thigh; didn't object when an insistent mouth met his.
The whine he gave, when that hand found a place that made his body thrum, was an encouragement, if it required such a label.
Of it's own accord, his hand reached out, to grip the form that hovered above him.
Silent answer to the unvoiced question.
Time seemed to flow unsteadily; crawling and leaping. For Squall had no recollection of his clothing being removed, or of Seifer adjusting their positions on the couch.
Sensations blurred together as he was reduced to a writhing mass. Thread-worn fabric clung to his skin as he lifted his hips, seeking more. More touch. More pleasure. Just more.
Battle-hardened fingers found that knot of pleasure inside, mercilessly abusing it until all sense had fled in its wake. Lost to the mindlessness of it all, Squall didn't flinch when the fingers were replaced with something else. Something bigger. Something more.
If he'd been aware of himself, likely he would have been mortified to hear the noises that tumbled from swollen lips. Noises that jade-eyes revelled in. Perhaps it was best that he was unaware when it all became to much and all he could do was throw his head back and scream. Scream for the pleasure. Scream for the agony. Scream for more.
When he came back to himself, it was the soft glow emitted by the entertainment centre alerted him to how much time had passed. A glance at the window confirmed the time, soft light framing the edges of the water-stained blinds.
Silence reigned until need forced them to move. Hunger drove one into the kitchen. The uncomfortable feeling of dried fluids sent the other to the bathroom. They parted ways with little fanfare, perhaps neither knowing what to say. Maybe they knew that nothing needed to be said.
A routine was established. Seifer would call, Squall would be persuaded to come out. After a time, they stopped going to the bar at all, instead skipping ahead to the point of the evening. Sometimes no words were spoken. Often they didn't need to be. Both were content with the way thing were.
Of course, there were those who began to notice he'd disappear for a night, at least once a week, sometimes more. The questions started. When the brunette became annoyed they backed away, but always they were watching, waiting. Their interest in his personal life rankled the quiet one. This found him going to lengths to keep it hidden. Private.
Interestingly enough, it was their own carelessness that brought it out into the open. Blinds left open while they indulged on the couch. He never noticed the whir of the camera, but the evidence that it had been there waited for him in his office on his return.
All four of them were there, radiating disapproval as he'd rounded his desk waiting for them to speak.It was Quistis who forged ahead. Tightly bound hair reflecting her strict nature as she tossed a photograph onto the desk between them. As far as photos went, the obvious experience of the photographer was announced in the crispness of the image, despite the lack of lighting. To Squall however, it appeared to be a work of art.
It was of him and Seifer, seemingly taken in that moment before everything goes white and his blood sings. He admired the way they both looked; heads thrown back in abandon, hands gripping the fabric beneath them. Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed when she'd begun to screech. It took her several minutes to realise that she was being ignored, intentionally or not. Gesturing emphatically to the other's, she tried to gain his attention. All of them were speaking at once.
Noticing the noise, and their outrage, Squall laughed. Not the quiet chuckle he'd used when a certain blond gunblader amused him. No, it was cold and derisive, freezing them in place. It told them in no uncertain terms what he thought of their 'concern'. The distinct sound of a gun being cocked had them all taking a step back, rather hurriedly. Allowing a moment of amusement at their blatant fear, Squall reflected that perhaps all that time with Seifer had influenced him.
They left rather quickly, sprouting promises that he was making a mistake.
He'd watched them carefully from then on. Discreetly, of course, but they would know he had an eye on them all the same. Things began to settle down again, Squall still visiting Seifer at least once a week. The others had left him well enough alone, but made their displeasure well known. Perhaps too well known.
It was a day like any other. The sun rose, the sun set, the world continued to turn. Business as per usual. With one small difference. One that made Squall nervous.
Seifer didn't call.
Afternoon rolled into evening, followed by early morning. The sun was rising again as Squall's phone began to sound; the shrill sound piercing the thick silence and startling the stormy-eyed brunet. Hastily, be brought it to his ear without checking the caller ID. The voice that answered his wasn't the one he was expecting. Not the one he wanted to hear.
“Mr Leonhart? My name is Detective Polmer. I'm afraid I have some news...”
It ended, with a phone call.