Lost Complex

BY : currie
Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 534
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Title: Lost Complex. (Yay, another fic named after the 9-hour constant repeat of a spectacular song! Again, the title has nothing to do with the content.)

Author: Rhapsodisiac

Raiting: NC-17

Status: Sorta completed, for now, maybe... No, I'm not done. This is starting to turn into a series against my will... ^_~

Couple: Laguna/Squall

Warnings: M/M, yaoi, lemon, incest

Disclaimer: Squaresoft's characters. Yada yada. I'm not making money for this, so leemelone.

Summary: Six months have passed since Squall and Laguna's first encounter. Inevitable confrontation follows. An attempt at explaining Squall's OOCness in Shake the Disease.

Illustrated: Sorry, no. I don't think I could handle making art for this doozy.

* ~ Lost Complex ~*

"You may engage in a specific perversion once, and it can be chalked up to curiosity. But if you do it again, it must be presumed that you are a pervert."
-- *hugs Oscar Wilde because she luffs him*


"Six months." The simple statement rumbled quietly in Laguna's throat, the varying emotions it dripped with mingling into one undiscernable meaning. He began to slowly pace the office, old sneakers crushing patterns in the new carpet.

"Yeah, well..." Squall trailed off tiredly, poking at the cubes in his icewater with his straw. His other hand cupped his cheek as he propped his head up with an elbow on his vast expanse of oak desk.

"Not only did you not return my calls; you couldn't even drop me a net message." He stopped pacing in front of the desk and crossed his arms.

"I didn't see the need. I still don't."

The words dropped a cold rock into Laguna's stomach. He had forgotten how blunt Squall could be. His jaw slackened in surprise, even as he told himself that he should have known the confrontation would be difficult to handle.

"It happened. Once." Squall continued, "That's all." It sounded like the command he intended it to be.

"It didn't just *happen,* Squall. *You* set *me* up."

Squall shrugged. "I was in a mood and I drank too much. Kill me," he dismissed.

"Certainly didn't seem drunk." Squall didn't reply, so he continued. "You were already working when I woke up. I left because I didn't want to interrupt you. We never talked about it."

"What's there to talk about?"

"Well..." He swallowed. There were a million things to talk about. "We could start with the fact that I'm your--"

"Shut up. I know that already," Squall snapped, inwardly cringing at his own words.

Laguna bit his lip. He'd had no idea Squall would be so sensitive about it. As though trying to walk through quicksand, he opted to act against his own best judgement. "So... you just can't handle it then?"

Squall's eyes shot upward to meet Laguna's for the first time since he entered the office, slits of pure challenge. "The past is easy to handle. Of course I can *handle* it." A lie, probably (hell, he didn't even know himself anymore), but he didn't regret the words.

Laguna took a few steps forward, resting the heels of his hands on the desk as he leaned forward. "Can handle what?" He knew the press would likely get him hit, possibly killed. The corners of his lips turned upwards at his challenge, daring Squall to admit to himself what he had probably forced out of his mind for the last months. "What, exactly?"

Grey eyes hardened to stone. "That you're my father."

Laguna smiled and began to slowly make his way around the desk. "Was it that hard?" He scolded his own flippancy. Yes, it sure was. After two months of denial, he had fallen into self-hatred and disgust. Then, there was dismissal. By month four, he had started having dreams. *Good* dreams. Only one month ago had he admitted to himself that those dreams weren't nightmares. From then on, he progressed into acceptance, and spiraled all the way to longing and lust. Squall apparently hadn't gotten as far through the cycle as he had.

On the other side of the oak expanse, Squall was reeling behind the cover of his glare. He didn't know how to answer. He hadn't expected Laguna to come back. He had heard the man's voice on his answering machine two nights prior (a simple "I'm coming to see you.") and hadn't slept since. Insomnia had always been a part of his life, but in all his eighteen years he had never lost as much sleep as he had in the last few months. Thoughts of embarassment and confusion plagued him constantly, and although he had managed to sift through and label his own actions of that day, he couldn't bring himself peace. He thought he had gotten the message throughLaguLaguna that what had happened between them never would again by ignoring him; now he scolded himself for thinking Laguna's skull was something other than completely numb.

With a sudden jolt, he realized the man was leaning towards him. "No, Laguna. Not again." He backed away, just catching that familiar smell of sea. He clenched his eyes shut, willing it away from his senses as his desk chair rolled back a foot across the floor.

"It's okay; I'm not asking you to... dress up again."

"You don't get it, Laguna. I... I needed you, that day. I was tired. I broke. I needed to escape." His voice was soft in an attempt to quell the shaking within his throat, reminiscent of the last leaf on a November maple.

Laguna backed away a few steps and sat on the edge of the desk, a quizzical expression on his face. "But... What, you're saying... you'll never need to 'escape' again?" Strangely, he felt like he was being dumped.

Squall slammed the side of a fist down on the desk, scattering a few papers and making his water glass tremble. He seemed to flinch at his own movements. Laguna stiffened, but didn't say a word. "You are so fucking thick." Squall paused, bringing a gloved hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes, took a few steadying breaths, and tried to continue. "I will never want to escape like that again. In persuing some kind of connection," he explained slowly, "I became another person. It was incredible, but then I got scared. I ended up watching it -- feeling it -- through someone else."

Laguna didn't know whether to feel flattered or frightened. Did Squall have multiple personality disorder or something? "Squall... I... I still don't understand you."

Squall wanted to grab Laguna by the collar of his shirt and shake him, and then throw him out the door. And lock it. Yet, he feared the touch, the smell he would have to face upon getting close. He would not risk losing himself again. "I played a role more enthusiastically than I should have. I got lost, and it felt like I was going to drown if I didn't remove myself. I wasn't... I wasn't your son anymore. I was your fling. And I wasn't responsible for what was happening."

Laguna didn't say anything. He had begun to chew on his lip.

"Do you understand now?" Squall made his exasperation quite obvious. He hated having to explain himself so thoroughly.

Coal lashes hovered over eyes screwed up in thought. "Maybe... But I don't know if I believe you."

Squall simply glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Laguna shifted his gnaws to the corner of his mouth and stared glassy-eyed at the floor in thought. "I'm not sure. Meet me in my room later. We both need to think."

"I don't. It's all pretty clear to me." Squall almost felt ashamed of his ability to lie so easily. "You're the one complaining about the agony of waiting half a year. Now you want more time? I think you should just go back to Esthar."

Laguna grinned. "Sorry, nothing to do there right now. I'm on vacation for the next five days. You're stuck with me."

"Go find Selphie, catch up on the girl talk or something," Squall grumbled, knowing he sounded like a child and unable to care that he did. He scowled into his drink as if he'd just been insulted by an ice cube.



"Look at me."

Squall raised cold eyes. "*What?*"

"I'm not here to hurt you, you know." Laguna's voice was low, sounding like he was confiding a secret. Squall's face shot back down to his water glass. He suddenly felt like he was leaning over a pot of boiling water, the blush only intensifying as he willed it to fade.

"I'm going now." Laguna pushed himself from the desk back into a standing position, and began searching his pockets. "I'm in twenty-one." He fished out a card and tossed it onto the desk. "See you in three hours."


"Not another word." Laguna turned to the door and walked out before Squall could tell him 'no'-- before he could commit to a protest that he might regret in a few hours.

*~ One Hour Later ~*

Squall hadn't moved from his chair since Laguna left, aside from leaning forward to pick up the key card that was now being flipped over methodically in his hands. Palms sweating, he paused to remove his gloves and continued to play with the card distractedly, finding minute pleasure in the cool plastic against his fingertips.

*~ Another Hour Later ~*

He had tried to get back to work. He had tried to listen to music, to put down that infernal key card, to take a nap, to get up off his ass and go for a walk, to get out of this situation. To escape having to make a decision. It would be easy to fall asleep and claim the nap to have been accidental-- if he could have managed to fall asleep, but that was a lost cause.

His mouth was dry. He reached for his water glass to find for the millionth time that it was empty-- the last ice cubes had even melted and disappeared without his realizing it.

"This is fucking stupid," he murmured, standing and stretching. He needed to get out. A walk in the halls would do him good. Maybe he could even bite the heads off a few students to lighten his mood. As soon as the thought entered his mind, however, he felt guilty. No, he wasn't Seifer. He'd have to settle for glaring silently to spread his stormcloud around.

*~ Yet Another Hour Later ~*


Laguna jumped up from the guest room's navy loveseat at the sound of the door opening. No, it couldn't be. His eyes found the doorway. It was. And suddenly, he was very, very uncomfortable. "You... actually came." He couldn't deny his surprise as he jumped to slightly shaky legs.

"Yeah." Squall stepped into the room so the door could close behind him and leaned on the doorframe with crossed arms. "I know you would just end up following me around for the next week if I didn't get this over with now."

Laguna's mouth went dry. Squall looked... perfect. It was strange, really-- he wore what he always wore: bomber jacket, belts, black pants. And yet, something about the slight flush on his cheeks or the softness of somewhat disheveled hair made him more beautiful than he remembered. The young ma sta stance, however, told him outright that the task he was about to undertake would be as difficult as he had anticipated, if not more so. He cleared his throat softly.

"D'you have anything to drink?" Squall asked then, echoing Laguna's own needs.

"Um, yeah, good idea. There's a mini-frige in the back..." He gestured and rushed to the back of the room.

"Nothing alcoholic." Squall needed to be completely lucid for this. He had also promised himself during his walk earlier that he would stop lying. He could refrain from answering all he wanted, but he wouldn't lie any more-- it just made things more difficult by giving him too much to keep track of. He kicked off his boots and eased over to the loveseat, where he sat down to stare at the black-screened television before him and force himself to relax. They'd just be talking. There was nothing to worry about. He could handle *talking,* for Hynesakes.

"Hey, catch."

Squall looked up in time to deftly snatch a bottle of water from the air. He mumbled his thanks as he opened it, watching Laguna uncap and down about half of a bottle of juice in one gulp. The raven-hared man then flopped down onto the cushions beside him, looking like the drink had relaxed him. Squall sipped from his bottle before speaking. "Did you... tell anyone?"

Laguna turned to him, pulling a knee up between them. "What, about--"

"You know what about." Squall didn't look at him-- just kept staring at the television. He considered pretending he was watching an interesting program to distract himself, but then remembered that TV was trash. He hadn't found an interesting program in his life.

"You don't actually think I would, do you?" Laguna almost looked hurt.

Squall shrugged and started picking at the paper label. It was already damp from the condensation on the bottle. "I don't know. I guess not."

"I'll promise you now, then: anything said between us, here or anywhere else, in private or not, remains between us. And it'll stay that way as long as you want it to."

Squall closed his eyes for a second at the sudden desire to smile. Fighting it, he mumbled, "Thanks."

"That goes for anything *done* too."

Pressure lodged itself in Squall's chest. Was Laguna suggesting that more would be 'done?' Or was he just referring to the past? He tensed as actual pressure fell upon his leg. Looking down, he found Laguna's hand on his knee. Images flashed through his mind at the touch: that same hand, lifting a skirt, fingers smooth and cool as it snaked up his thigh; that same hand, entwining itself in his hair as he-- He shivered and shifted in his seat, his hip pressing into the side of the armrest. He was very alarmed that his stomach *hadn't* turned at the memories.

Laguna dropped his arm at the rejection and decided to persue with words instead. "I just put my hand on your knee."

"No shit," the words bit from Squall's mouth, and Laguna already recognized the scowl as the defense mechanism it was.

Feeling proud of his interpretive skills, he continued. "That's all I did. I've done a lot more, and you know it. You *asked* me to do those things. Face that."

Squall's only response was his eyelids fluttering closed. *That doesn't mean it has to happen again.*

"Why are you fighting me?"

"Because, as I already told you, it's not going to happen again. It was nothing. It was a fling. A one-night stand." How many more blasted times would he have to say it?

Laguna began twisting a lock of hair in his fingers distractedly. After a few breaths, he tried another tactic. "How much have you really thought about it?"

"Hyne, Laguna, you don't want to knowHe sHe smirked coldly, with a light shake of hisd. d.

"So you've done a lot of thinking... and it's been six months... and you're still this upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm *not.*"

"Look at your water bottle."

Squall looked down. The label had been completely torn off and lay in tiny shreds on the carpet. *Oh... shit.* He looked at Laguna to find him enveloped by a self-satisfied smirk.


No, this could not be happening. Laguna was not starting to understand him. No one was allowed to do that. "Fuck you."

"Woah, hey." Laguna raised his hands, taken by surprise. "You did it, not me."

What the hell? Why wasn't he mad? Why hadn't he kicked Squall out of his room? Laguna's willingness to put up with it only fueled shame for his outburst. "Look, I'm sorry, I just..." He glanced up to find the man watching him, and looked back down again. He had to do this now. "I... have been thinking. Maybe too much, I don't know. The thing is... I hate that day. I hate the memories. I hate myself for letting it happen."

"You hate youself for sleeping with me?"

"Yes," Squall answered automatically, then backed up when the word tied his stomach into a knot. "No... no. I don't know." He pressed the heel of a palm to his eyes as they began to burn, propping up his head in the process. When Laguna's hand found his shoulder, he realized he was shaking. Part of his mind screamed at him to shrug the hand off, but he didn't.

"If it was nothing, why are you so upset?" Laguna's voice was much quieter now, not to mention closer-- he had shifted and leaned forward on the couch. "Why have you dwelled on it this long?"

"Because I made a mistake. I stopped thinking. dra drank from his water bottle again.

"So what, you didn't think for one day. That doesn't mean you're doomed to torture yourself with it for the rest of your life. Hell, if I did that I'd've killed myself by now." Laguna allowed himself to tentatively massage that stiffened shoulder, white fluff tickling his hand, and was surprised when Squall leaned into the touch.

Squall's head was reeling again. Laguna was working very tense, neglected muscles, and it felt damn good. He couldn't shy away; it wust ust his shoulder, not intimate at all. Of course, he hadn't been touched by another person at all in the last months, a deprivation that only served to heighten his senses and make it seem like something more. He let his head fall forward and closed his eyes again as the massage deepened, stifling a groan by clearing his throat.

Suddenly, his shoulder was being pushed back, turning him to face Laguna. Before he could protest, the man's lips were on his-- soft, closed, but trembling. Laguna's hands gripped his shoulders. He froze, dropping his water bottle to spill what remained of its contents on the carpet. *Shit, why do I always do that?*

Laguna fought to keep his eyes closed. If he opened them to find anything resembling hate, or fear, or discomfort on Squall's face, he knew he would run. But then, just as he took one more chance and ran his tongue over the boy's lips, a near-silent moan erupted from between them. Laguna's eyes shot open at the parting of Squall's lips to find none of the expressions he feared on the young man's face. He forced himself to pull away as he slid a hand to the back of Squall's neck and started squeezing. "I'm surprised you didn't just kill me there." He chuckled uncomfortably. It had been a gigantic risk. He thanked whoever might have been listening for the result he had gotten.

"So am I," was the reply. Squall's lashes fluttered, but didn't lift. His head drifted forward until it rested on a shoulder of stiff cotton.

Laguna fought hard not to fully embrace him, and was doing well until Squall let out a strong puff of breath, some of which tickled his neck. He pulled the rapidly relaxing teen onto his lap, shifting so Squaluld uld straddle him and drape his arms lazily about his shoulders.

Squall had become quite groggy as Laguna's scent overcame him. Something was present that he hadn't noticed before-- it brought the essence of a memory to the front of his mind, one without sight or sound. In combination with the hips beneath him, it was pure comfort, but despite this Squall dropped his arms. "You left me," he remembered, the knowledge shifting into focus from where he had shoved it into hiding. He leaned back, halting the caress that still lingered at his neck.

"What..." Laguna searched his face for an explanation for only a second before his own expression dropped into guilt. Squall was staring at him now, his eyes sharpened and awake. "I..." He didn't know what to say, or how to explain himself.

"You left me." Squall's tone was-matter-of-fact as he repeated himself, feigning acceptance.

"I..." He stuttered and took a deep breath. "I left you in the care of an old midwife in Winhill. No one knew where I was when she died... I didn't know where they had sent you until you were six. By then I figured you'd be better off without me."

"That's a lie. Don't cop out on me, damn it," Squall growled. Sweat broke out on Laguna's forehead under the intensity of his scowl.

"Okay, fine. I sent you and Ellone there myself. Happy?"

"No. Why?"

"To protect you."

"Me? No, you were protecting Ellone. No one was... no one wanted *me.*"

Laguna cringed at the implications of the words. Thinking about it now, he didn't blame him. "I couldn't handle being a father alone. And then when I went to take her back home... I realized I didn't know you at all. I knew her, but you were a six-year-old stranger."

"You didn't even visit me before you took her away."

"That would have made it harder. I watched you, though, from the windows in that lady's office after I signed Ellone's forms. I probably stood there for an hour. You were at the beach, digging holes in the sand with a stick." He chuckled sadly at the memory, but when he looked up he found that Squall didn't share in his amusement. "Look, that night six months ago... it was the first time I'd held you in more than seventeen years. And it was... something."

Squall's head fell. "This is so fucked up," he admitted, suddenly exhausted.

Laguna leaned forward, winding his arms around the small of Squall's back. The following kiss was very soft, and Squall returned it, albeit reluctantly. "Just tell me what you thought of that." Although the words could have been taken as cocky, Laguna's tone held pure tentative curiosity.

Squall's heart had begun to thunder at that day's second touch of their lips. He didn't know what he thought of it, though it *felt*perfect. He had spent time inside Laguna's mind; they shared blood; he found himself longing to trust the man more than he'd trusted anyone in his life. How could that be? He had hurt him more than anyone else could, as well. Yet, he couldn't even picture trusting someone so much at any time in the future, and the sudden intensity of the thought scared him to death. Was this his destiny? To fall for his own father? He reached up to press a hand to his face and drag it downward in an attempt at sobering himself. It didn't work. "Will you leave again?"

To Laguna, it sounded like he was suggesting a deal; a promise. However, he wasn't sure which answer Squall was hoping for. "If that's what you want, I'll understand."

"No." Squall whispered, falling forward to press his forehead to the junction between Laguna's neck and shoulder. The shift inadvertantly brought their hips flush. "I don't want that."

Laguna couldn't hold back his gasp at the gesture. "You know... all of this... it feels good, and right, and it's getting harder and harder to try to dermine what kind of good, what kind of right." Squall's arms made their way between his back and the couch, seeming to agree with or at least understand his rambling. "And I have to wonder if that matters at all."

Squall made a soft wordless sound and inhaled deeply, shifting his weight slightly as he leaned sideways to rest his forehead on Laguna's shoulder again.

"And... the way you keep moving like that..." Laguna grinned as they brushed together again, a familiar heat growing in his groin at the friction. "I'm not going to be able to just sit here and take that forever." He took Squall's chin between thumb and forefinger and lifted his face until their eyes met. A second later they were kissing again, and this time Squall's lack of hesitation had Laguna unsure of who initiated it. He reached up to the back of Squall's head as his other hand remained at his back, deepening their kiss past the boundaries of those he had introduced earlier. The tongue he greeted with his own battled him, muscling for dominance. After a few seconds, he allowed Squall to have what he worked for, accepting him hungrily into his mouth. Squall's hips jerked forward in time with the first thrust of his tongue, and it was all Laguna could to not to goan around him. He reached for those cumbersome red belts, and each fell heavy to the floor with a clank. Upon reaching the third, the one that actually held his pants up, he found Squall breaking the kiss. Squall's eyes remained closed as their lips hovered a millimetre from touching, and he didn't say a word.

Actually, Laguna realized, he hadn't said much of anything since their bodies had come so close together. Slightly worried, he let his hands fall away, the backs of them thumping mutely to the cushions at his sides. "You're in control here," he whispered, "Look where you're sitting."

Squall opened his eyes and found that yes, Laguna was below *him* this time. "My pace," he mumbled, lips a bit swollen from their near-bruising kiss.


Squall's desire to be close, to feel Laguna's skin against him, became overwhelming. The fair, dark-haired man was pure envigorating comfort. He began pulling at the buttons of his deep green shirt and worked his way down, lips following his hands to trail kisses down his chest. This was where he would find peace. Somewhere, deep down, despite the lack of a real explanation, he knew it. *This* was the only way he could finally rest. He pushed the fabric from his shoulders and Laguna leaned forward to help him. As soon as his arms were free Squall fell between them, his face pressed hard into silken black locks.

"Here, why don't we get this jacket off?" Laguna offered, remembering suddenly how much clothing both of them had worn the last time. He had only shoved his own pants down as far as was needed to complete the act, and Squall had still worn his jacket, skirt, even shoes-- not exactly romantic. He decided that this would have to be a very different day.

"Yeah," Squall replied quietly, finally acknowlegding the suggestion. He leaned back reluctantly and shrugged the leather from his shoulders to crumple on the floor, then swifty pulled his shirt over his head to pool on top of it. Laguna's hands were gracing him even before his Griever pentant thumped back onto his chest, lightly trailing blunt fingernails down his ribs in a way that would maliciously tickle anyone else. Squall arched back at the touch, catlike, and Laguna brought bothds tds to his lower back to keep him from falling too far. He smoothly pulled him back to press against him, let Squall arch back further over his grip as he wrapped his lips around a tender pink nipple. Squall's breath quickened above him as he lightly nibbled at the hardening bud, the angle of Squall's back lifting his hips so that it was his rear, now, that pressed into the older man's groin.

"Wait," Squall gasped, swallowing hard as Laguna's lips left him lea leaned forward to regain his balance, shifting away from the bulge that teased him so ruthlessly, and reached back to pull Laguna's hands away.

"Sorry..." Assuming things as been going too fast for Squall's tastes, he leaned back to the cushion to await his next move. Squall stood, the removal of his weight leaving a longing ache across Laguna's lap.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Squall replied. He unclasped his belt with trembling hands. Laguna must have noticed the shaking, as a hand gripped his wrist to get his attention when he went for the top button of his trousers.

"You don't have to," Laguna assured, watching him with concern.

"I want to," was the reply, as he forced the corners of his lips into a minute nervous smile. "Don't worry." He shrugged off the hand.

"You're shaking."

"I know, I'm fine. You worry too much." With a series of swift movements the four buttons were undone and his pants and briefs had been whisked to his ankles. Laguna chewed ruthlessly on his lip at the sight-- he hadn't yet seen him completely exposed-- as Squall kicked the trousers away. He looked terribly awkward, but nonetheless stunning, already hard and glistening with need.

"Here." Laguna smiled a small smile and removed his own, struggling a little to get them past his left ankle before tossing them across the floor. "Now we're even." He extended his arms. "C'mere already, I'm not asking you to put on a show."

Squall practically stumbled forward into him, relieved to be out of the proverbial spotlight. Their erections brushed one another as Squall crouched, making both men shudder. Laguna's hand made its way between them while the other brushed Squall's face; he rubbed a thumb tenderly over those pouting lips, spreading moisture from the centre outwards. Finding his permission in Squall's half-lidded gaze, he graspsed him in his lower hand, repeating the gesture and using that moisture to aid him as he began to pump.

Squall's eyes widened as he released a surprisingly loud groan. The muscles in his neck threatened to give out at the new heaven of Laguna's touch, but the man held his chin up, kissing the corner of his mouth. The kiss soon spread until Laguna's lips feathered all over his cheek, jaw, ear, temple. He thrust forward into the milking constriction, trembling ankles reverberating up to his knees. It was only bliss, not shame, that ran its course through his veins now. Laguna was pleasuring *him*-- wasn't using him for his mouth or his body, wasn't treating him like a whore. That fact held its own pleasure, one he hadn't anticipated. "L-ag-guna," he managed, "I have to tell you-- No! No, keep going, just-- just listen."

"Okay..." Despite the reassurance, his voice held hesitation as he searched Squall's face. He slowed to give him room to speak.

Squall pulled his chin from Laguna's grasp to again fall to his shoulder, unwilling to look him in the eye, and concentrated on the heat building within him, a distraction from his sudden embarassment. He didn't want to say the words-- they made him sound like such a girl, even inside his own head-- but he forced them out anyway. The man had a right to know. "Before that last time, I hadn't... I... Laguna, I was a virgin."

He froze. "You *what*?" Squall ground up into the now-stilled hand silently, urging him to continue. He did, his mouth running at a quickening pace in time with it. "Shit, shit shit... Gods, you lost it like *that*? I swear, if I had known--"

"I know." Squall interrupted, "That's why I didn't--" he gasped deeply as a particularly strong arc of pleasure ran through him "--tell y-ou."

Laguna only pumped harder, the speed partially fueled by anger as he pressed Squall's face to his neck. Why hadn't he asked? He'd just assumed based on the talent of Squall's mouth that he'd already been around the block. No, that wasn't true. He hadn't assumed anything either way, just ignored the idea altogether. He mentally smacked himself. It wasn't Squall's fault at all-- this was a mistake he had to own alone. He was older; more experienced in life in general. His supposed 'prime' had passed when he was only a few years older than the young man now writhing in his arms. How could he allow himself to think so carelessly with his cock? "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"N--ot your ... fa-ault." It was that feathery voice again, Laguna noticed. Squall was nearing the edge, his breath morphing into erratic gasps as his hands clutched white-knucked to Laguna's shoulders. Laguna massaged the brunette's scalp and inhaled deeply with anticipation.

Agonizingly close to spilling over, Squall realised with a jolt where the self-hatred that he still felt within a corner of his mind came from. An epiphany? *Now?* The wave built, nearly shattering his thought processes. It wasn't for getting close to Laguna; "I hate myself"--here it was, happening now, right now, oh Gods his heart was stopping-- "for being a c-oward," he choked out, the words enunciated suprisingly well as the tsunami hit and washed into Laguna's hand. He promptly collapsed, his pulse loud in his ears as he waited blissfully to regain control of his limbs.

Laguna smiled a little. "Then it needs to be you, this time, right now. No stupid cigarettes, or lip gloss, or flaunting, or giving up control." More than just help him remain comfortable, he had to make sure Squall continued to take responsibility for what was happening. He didn't want to see him fall into a facade and hurt himself the way he obviously had once already. And Hyne, was he ever aching. He hoped with all his might that Squall wouldn't deny him after finding this release.

It took Squall several seconds to figure out that Laguna was responding to what he had said. "I know," he replied, still a bit breathless. The breath caught as he felt Laguna's finger already pressing to his entrance. The feeling was familliar-- too familliar; that was the whole problem. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Laguna felt him tense up like a board in his arms. "Woah, woah there..." He pushed him back to look at him, carefully brushing away a strand of hair that had been caught in the corner his mouth. He found apprehension painted starky across that beautiful face, possibly bordering on panic. "Squall... Squall, you've been inside my head. Remember? You *know* me." He leaned forward to press their foreheads together and repeated himself, "You know me. It won't be like last time."

Squall felt indescribably odd. Last time? He had loved every minute of it, he admitted, yet the mere thought of going through it again was enough to prickle at the corners of his eyes. He let out a quivering breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding and lifted his eyelids. "Okay." He wanted this. He had to trust that Laguna was right, else he would waste years wallowing in regret.

Laguna didn't respond to the word outright; instead he held him there, locked onto his gaze in careful search of a lie. Finding no such thing evident, he carefully eased past one ring of muscle, then the next, sliding in fluidly after that. The result on the brunette's face had him biting a hole through his lip-- he could see his own movements in the growing crease between Squall's eyebrows, the quiver of copper lashes over unfocused stormclouds.

"Gods," escaped from the corners of his mouth as Squall's muscles twitched around him, finally relaxing and allowing him to move around within him.

"Enough," Squall whispered hoarsely. "I'm ready. It's fine."

Raising his eyebrows, Laguna withdrew, shifting to position himself beneath him. "I'm not doing this mysef," he explained as he coated his shaft with the remainder of Squall's release, "You're going to."

Squall froze as Laguna's erection, blunt and frighteningly large in a way it hadn't been before, pressed against him. A million fears rushed into his cousciousness at once. What the hell was he doing? Half of him was *made of* this man, a man that had screwed his mother, for Hynesakes. He could already hear the shunning, the jeers. It was disgusting in every way he could think of. The world would want to imprison him for this.

"What's wrong?"

Soft. Comforing. Fucking *fatherly.* Squall let out a short sarcastic scoff. When Laguna's hand found him then, he was only only half-hard. With just a few strokes, however, Squall was solid again, already trying to dismiss his fears. He risked an apprehensive look at Laguna's face, finding him worried, but not overly so as passion had flooded his expression, bringing crinkles to the corners of his eyes. Silk ink spilled beautifully down his shoulders, a stark contrast to his skin. There was no way he could be past forty-- he didn't look thirty. Squall pushed the faceless voices from his mind and forced himself to focus upon his own. This was right. He ached for it with every part of him, and never having had such a longing in his life, he couldn't find the power, let alone a good reason, to fight it.

"Fuck it" was the final dismissal of his apprehension. He lowered himself slowly, carefully, bracing himself as the bulbous intrusion threatened to tear him to pieces. It hurt. A lot. This he hadn't been ready for. "I can't..." he let out in a rush of held breath that almost sounded like a sob, "I just--"

"Before, you were relaxed." Laguna breathed, "Now you're a freaking piece of wood, and shaking like a thief. *Re-lax.* Hyne sakes, the last thing I want to do is hurt you. Here." He took Squall's hands and guided them to his shoulders, holding them there. "I'll support you; it'll be easier than leaning on the cushions." He leaned upwards and kissed him, the softness of his mouth almost seeming to encompass and soothe Squall's entire body.

Squall was starting to feel embarassed by his self-centredness. There Laguna was, probably ready to scream with the frustration of having to wait so long, yet still patient, still concerned. Squall wanted mackmack himself. In a way he did, in choosing that very moment to continue his descent. He called out as the crown passed his resistances and found the remaining inches much easier to take. "Hm, not so bad," he mused as his bottom met Laguna's hips.

Laguna writhed beneath him, his head falling back as he fought desperately to keep from thrusting up further. Despite the obvious turmoil, he managed a grin. "That's better. You do know you're ... supposed to enjoy this, right?"

In truth, Squall had almost forgotten. Again he lifted and fell, acquainting himself with the dulling burn and press to his insides. Hands twined together at the small of his back again, a wall to keep him from falling. "Lean back," Laguna urged. Squall complied, lean muscle stretching as he curved back into those hands, a cat all over again.

Another rise and fall at the new angle, and fireworks exploded before his eyes as Laguna dragged as ths that depth which he'd almost forgotten he had. He gripped Laguna's arms as the man helped him find his rhythm, head tilted back as far as it could go. Repeatedly his centre was hit dead-on, shaking him in an earthquake of shudders. "Laguna..." the word eased from his lips, beyond his control, beneath the weight of his euphoria.

"Don't say my name. Say *yours.* I need to know who I'm with right now." It was only a half-truth. Squall had to recognize it for himself; the concept that the young man clenching maddeningly around him and hitching his breath at quickly shortening intervals was pure and complete Squall was impossible for him *not* to grasp. Maybe what he needed to know was that Squall recognized such a truth; that he was feeling every stroke as himself, within himself, bared rather than hiding within the shell of his mind... but his thoughts were getting too complicated now; suddenly he found that he was already beginning to spiral towards his own release, and had to fight to keep from exploding too early.

"Squall." The brunette's own name tasted odd as it passed his passion-slick lips, but Laguna had asked for it, and he was willing to fulfill any request if only it allowed this maddening plethora to continue. He reached down to take himself into his hand as he pushed his thrusts to the limit, slamming down onto Laguna's taut hips almost painfully. He surely would have found himsef on the floor had those hands not been locking him so tightly in place. "I'm... Squ..." His voice trailed to nothing as he was catapulted into the sky, the familiarity of his own touch for that last second all he needed to find release for the second time that evening.

A bead of sweat ran down the column of his throat; it was a pearl rolling over ivory.

Laguna's eyes followed it, fascinated, just as he followed Squall into oblivion-- the lightning-fast clenches of those deep, slick muscles around him, the splash of heat that fell to his stomach-- all were too much to take. His stomach clenched and his back arched spasmodically as he forcefully set his seed free, the loud cry that escaped him sounding distant. He reached up for a handful, an armful, any part of Squall he could manage to bring down close to himself. The result of such wild grasping was a rag-doll that was once a young man collapsing into his chest. He wrapped his arms around Squall's quivering shoulders, feeling a heartbeat against him that was much faster than his own. The pair waited a few minutes, coming down slowly as both tried to steady their breathing, eyes closed.

"Holy... shit."

The spear those high-pitched words sent through Laguna's gut was nothing compared to Squall's reaction. He sat up, head whipping sideways to face the door.

Selphie, face paler than the moon even in the near-darkness, stood like a statue in the doorway, both hands over her mouth. Squall jumped up, tumbling pathetically onto the floor as Laguna's presence left his body. A rage more vehement than any he had felt even under the cast of a Berserk spell overtook him as he scrambled to his feet and lunged toward the yellow-clad intruder, Laguna's terrified holler of his name barely passing through the roar of blood in his ears. Suddenly, the tiny girl's throat was pinned to the wall beneath his forearm. She struggled, grasping at him. In any other situation, she would have been able to escape with ease. But this was Squall, looking ready to break her neck on the spot, not some wild creature or anonymous Galbadian soldier. She struggled limply as Squall's weight began to cut off her air supply. Instinctual tears rolled down her purpled cheeks.

"If you *ever* breathe a word of what you just saw to *anyone,* I will personally slit your throat so deep that no phoenix down will be able to bring you back," he hissed, his own words seeming alien to him.

"Squall! What the fuck are you doing?" Laguna's hands were grasping at his sweaty shoulders now, yanking his weight back until both of them fell backwards to the carpet. Selphie coughed only once as she embraced the air, losing no time as she scrambled out the door and down the hallway, bent over nearly double in an attempt not to throw up.

Squall pushed up from the ground and found his pants. "Are you fucking insane? You could have.. you, you..." He ignored Laguna's exasperated cries from the floor as he struggled into the trousers and threw his jacket around his shoulders, stonefaced. "You could have crushed her windwipe for Hynesakes!" Laguna finally finished, "It wasn't her fault; she was probably just looking for *me*!"

"I don't care." Squall's calm unnerved even himself as he slipped on his boots and headed into the hallway. It wasn't long before he broke into a run.


Oh, why do I torture the poor boy so? Meh. One always tortures the characters one loves most. Or at least, I do.

Pleeeeeeeease review! I will luff you to pieces for it!
(look how pathetic I am, begging at your feet for input... come on, you've gotta pity me here...)

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