fuckyeahfinalfantasy | FYFF: MISSION ONE, ACCEPT Y/N?

FYFF: MISSION ONE, ACCEPT Y/N?

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Seifer is nothing if not an expert on sorceress-knight bonds. He's read all the research that's publically available, and some of the research that's not. He's read bits and pieces of Odine's, the abstracts of his papers that are only available within high security government databases in Esthar, research papers only meant for other scientists, not Garden cadets. He had his own fucked up bond, screwed by time and space, non-consensual and acidic and poison. He only really cares about two of those. It had been real while in use, for various values of real, but not real enough to matter once Ultimecia had gone away. It drove him fucking crazy, and there are huge chunks of his past he doesn't remember, huge chunks of the war he led he thinks he'll never get back, but he came out the other side.

He knows what a bond does to the knight that accepted it. The physical stuff, sure, but the mental benefits. Mild telepathy, the ability to access magic from the sorceress instead of needing draw points, being able to feel where the sorceress was and how she was #8212; and vice versa. He knows. He wonders if Rinoa knew what the hell she was fucking with. He wonders if Edea had had the foresight to take her aside and spread that pretty fucking important piece of information.

He watches Squall as the excitement of the train news fades away over the next week, and with it Rinoa's face. He goes from looking a lot manic to just a little, and one night he tugs Squall off his stool and out of the bar. Squall's shitty apartment is in the opposite direction, so he pulls Squall along with him. "What are the side-effects?" he asks.

Squall's shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. "I don't touch magic anymore at all," he says. "I get sick."

"Did she know?"

Squall makes a noise. "Not until it was too late," he says. "She thought she was helping, she thought it would be better, and I wanted--" His breath skips. "I loved her, but I wanted to be alone inside my head, I wanted --"

"It's not a shitty thing to want some privacy," Seifer says. "Did she think about doing a little research before jacking things up? Did you?"

"No," Squall says. "She was so...you know. She thought she knew." His shoulder bumps Seifer's. "Zell did it when I started getting sick and told the others what the symptoms were."

"Yet they didn't run her out," Seifer says. "Of course they didn't."

"It's not—I don't blame her." Squall jerks to a stop on the sidewalk. "It was just a mistake."

"Let me guess. She says she can fix it."

"She did, yeah." Squall shakes his head. "Edea said no. She said she needed to train and practice before she messed with my head anymore." He laughs, but it's broken, destroyed. "I couldn't even touch her, before I left. I couldn't even touch her anymore."

This, Seifer understands. The Rinoa he remembers was touchable, tactile and warm and soft. She liked it, too, she was a loving person. It's this, more than anything, that breaks his anger into pieces. For all she is, she wouldn't deliberately create a world where someone she cared about couldn't touch her. Seifer knows that.

She had done the same to him, hadn't she. Or maybe he had forced her hand. Seifer doesn't know who to blame anymore.

They stare at each other. Around them, the faint noises from a city that never sleeps anymore fills the silence between them.

"Come home with me," Seifer says.

Squall bites his lip. "I already am."

It's so fucking stupid, and Seifer knows it, as they walk in silence to Seifer's apartment, not touching at all. There's too much between them, and her, like a goddamn ghost, and Seifer just doesn't care.

Once Seifer has the door closed and locked behind them, he presses Squall into the wall, licks into his mouth. He tastes like terrible beer and salt and he's burning up, hot under Seifer's hands like the beginning of a fire spell. Squall's lips are dry for a moment before everything gets slick and wet, and Seifer presses a leg between Squall's thighs and runs a tongue along his bottom lip, slow. Squall shudders against him and kisses back, almost biting, and it would almost be familiar if before it hadn't been with fists and blades and violence.

It's a flurry of shoes and coats as they move across the room. The bed whines under them when Seifer shoves Squall down, angry, abused wires grinding. Seifer ignores it to unhook Squall's belt, yank it out from under him and toss it. Squall arches up under him. It's almost too dark to see, crappy streetlight through the suicide-proof window, but it's enough for the light to catch the glint when Squall licks his lips, saliva shiny for a brief moment, and Seifer goes hard so fast it almost hurts.

"How long has it been?" he asks, pulling the buttons on Squall's ridiculous pants, tugging them over slim hips.

"Do we have to talk?" Squall groans, when Seifer cups him through well-worn underwear, the cotton thin and soft and already wet. It's answer enough. Seifer runs a thumb over the wet spot, listens to Squall's voice catch.

"I think so," Seifer says. "This is a big day for me. Don't you know how much I've been pining?"

He leans forward, kisses Squall again while he fumbles around on his side table. He comes back successful, and Squall catches his wrist, pulling away. "You are not fucking me, Seifer." He ruins it by grinding up against the rough material of Seifer's pants. "Take those off, but no, no."

"You're not making much sense, Squall." Seifer works his belt and everything else off, Squall's hands fumbling on waistbands and the skin of his hips. "Yes, no, yes, no, which is it?"

"You're not—" Squall's voice stutters when Seifer drags his underwear down. "Oh, god," he says, when Seifer licks his hand and wraps it around his cock. He practically goes liquid, and then he's thrusting into Seifer's hand with so much abandon that Seifer almost lets go.

"Who are you?" Seifer murmurs, and strokes up, listening to Squall whine and feeling him shake. "I would have fucked you into the ground years ago if I knew you would be like this."

"Seifer." Squall's voice is sharp. He tugs at the elastic of Seifer's underwear. "Come on."

"Oooh, Commander voice," Seifer says, and Squall laughs, breathlessly. "I'm not sure you can boss me around, but we can try that later." He pops open the bottle, and although Squall goes tense, he doesn't move away. "Relax," Seifer says. The liquid is cool against his fingers and when he touches Squall, his eyes go wide and he bucks up so hard he almost throws Seifer off the bed.

Squall whines as Seifer shifts forward, laughing.

"She never did this, I bet," Seifer said. "Not to you." Squall's eyes are blown wide, and Seifer can see him picturing it, mouth wet and open and eyes wide and startled into relaxation. It makes it easy to bend and kiss him, stroking their tongues together as he slides a fingers in. The angle is fucked up, but Squall is panting into his ear, tense and trembling, and when Seifer curls his fingers Squall follows him, his cock hard and hot on Seifer's stomach.

"Did she really never?" Seifer asks, voice low, breath ghosting over Squall's collarbone. "Not even once? Because she did it to me and made me fucking fall apart." He adds a finger and Squall arches his neck, makes a low, keening sound and grinds into him. Seifer thinks if he keeps doing it, neither of them are going to last much longer. "She could take me apart with just her hands, just like this." He's outright fucking Squall with his fingers now, and he's sweaty and shaking and pushing back.

"Seifer." Squall's hands are pulling at the sheets and his voice is wrecked.

"Hmm?" Seifer asks. "What, you want something?"

"Fucking touch me already," Squall says, viciously. "I can't—" He groans when Seifer takes his fingers away, presses his arm up to his eyes.

"I guess you don't need to ask nicely." Seifer sucks at his jaw, rubbing his bottom lip over the stubble, and shifts so he can wrap his wet hand around them both, sliding their already slick cocks together in his fist. Squall chokes and rocks up, frantic and desperate. It's everything Seifer has always wanted to see, Squall lose his shit under him. When Squall comes all over both of them, one of his hands gripping Seifer's bicep like an anchor, Seifer lets himself go, too, shaking with it. He pretends that the name he hears Squall whine into the air is his.

------------

When Seifer steps out the back door of the restaurant for his break, Squall is there.

"Stalking me, now," Seifer says, taking a seat on the top step.

"You left a note," Squall says. "It's not stalking if you tell me where you're going to be." The skin around his mouth is pink, rubbed raw. Seifer knew if he were to tug the fluffy white shit out of the way, he would see red marks all over Squall's skin. Seifer had marked him, but they would fade. The only mark Squall will keep from Seifer is already on his face, and even that is beneficial. Character, Seifer thinks bitterly. Seifer always gets erased.

His hands always feel weird after coming out of the gloves he wears to guard against scalding water. He rubs them together. "You could probably use the sleep."

Squall smiles — actually fucking smiles — and comes to sit near him, diagonal from him on the bottom step. He doesn't say anything, he just sits there until Seifer has to go back in, but he's there when Seifer finally checks out for the day, leaning against the brick, casual-like.

Intimacy is addicting, and Squall, well. Seifer knew enough about Rinoa to fill in the blanks, here. He had spent hours opening Squall up, taking him apart, fucking him open, and he wasn't a goddamn moron, he had done it all using a girl neither of them had anymore. She built the roads; Seifer is just using them.

He keeps doing it, too, like a moron. Spending all his free time with Squall. Fucking Squall against walls, licking him open, wet and filthy until he humped Seifer's bed, letting him curl up with his faced mashed into Seifer's neck. Waking up with Squall, eating dinner, acting like a couple. The problem remains — Squall is filling the hole Rinoa left and Seifer gets to be the damn dirt — he sure feels the part every time Squall whimpers her name, when Seifer is buried balls-deep inside him. He thought unraveling Squall would be enough, but it's not.

It's not.