Office Follies

BY : Shehanitan
Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 759
Disclaimer: SquareSoft owns Final fantasy VIII and I make no money from writing this story

Disclaimer: SquareSoft owns the game and the boys. I’m borrowing them without intentions to gain anything from my writings.
Warnings: ooc, lemon, anal, oral. None for this chapter
Parings: SxS, not this chapter
Beta: Jupitor Knight
Notes: This is a collaboration between me and my friend Jupitor Knight. I will write it though.
The story is about CEO Squall Leonhart having the hots for his oblivious secretary Seifer Almasy. Those of you who had read my earlier stories should know that I can’t write Squall being top. So he will be bottom, though he will also be the dominate one... this is the content of the request Jupitor gave me...

Please tell us what you think of the opening of this thing and I’ll continue with it ;)


The office was huge with the modern black, white and steel-grey architecture that told one the amount of money spent just on environments. It had the necessary desk and chairs and a sofa group with a table needed for extended private meetings. There was the large bookshelf with rows of red leather bound books of different natures. They had never been opened, would probably never be opened because that was the life of a decoration.

It was well past lunch and well into the afternoon. Still not so late that a person could reasonably call it a day. The sun was slanting in through the huge windows. Being one of the three tallest buildings in the crowded city gave the office a magnificent view, unhindered by other buildings. At least this high up.

At the desk, together with computer, pens, papers and what not, was a long gold-plated sign saying “Squall Leonhart”. The person belonging to the name was immersed in the papers on his desk. With a sigh, the CEO reclined back, dragging a hand through thick chocolate colored hair before stretching until the ache in his back subsided to a tolerable level.

Squall gazed at the ceiling while reclining back. He threw a quick glance at the watch and made a sour look. Still too early to quit. For a man well into his thirties, Squall carried his age well. Most people took him for ten years younger than what he was. Something he had found to be quite an advantage in business. Seeing as his peers were either older or the same and looking their age, it made them underestimate the brunet. Thinking him to be inexperienced and gullible was the first mistake everyone did.

The grey-blue eyed business man was anything but.

Squall shifted forward again and tapped his fingertips against the wooded surface of the desk. He eyed the intercom. He could send for his coffee… An interruption that might take ten-fifteen minutes. Then he’d have another three-four hours before he could leave. He hit the button.

“Yes, sir?” a deep male voice asked.

“I’d like my coffee,” Squall ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the secretary answered before the link was disconnected.

Squall waited impatiently on the coffee. It wasn’t the coffee in its own he was waiting for, but the carrier. He swirled in the chair, a rather childish thing to do but a habit he hadn’t quite been able to quit. He drummed manicured finger nails against the desk again, growing irritated at the wait.

When a good ten minutes had past he started to reach for the intercom again. Just then, the door was knocked and the tall secretary entered. Squall reclined back and smirked, barely containing a purr. This was what he had waited for.

At first glance, no one would believe the tall, broad blond to be a secretary. The man’s bulk and height and short shining blond hair and breathtaking green eyes were so far from the stereo type secretary that it made peoples head spin. Squall personally had thought it to be a joke when he read the application. Seeing the picture of the man made him quickly throw away the rest of the candidates at the time. The picture hadn’t done the real thing justice.

“Sorry for the wait, sir, you ordered earlier today,” the secretary excused as he walked over.

He had, hadn´t he?

“Are you not prepared for sudden changes of the routine, Seifer?” Squall purred, making sure to let the name roll off his tounge.

As expected, the man looked up at the sound of his name. For a short moment green eyes was locked with his and Squall dared him too look away. Then the blond smiled and took the last steps to the desk.

“Of course, but coffee is best when newly made,” Seifer answered respectfully and with an amused quirk at his lips.

He deftly balanced the silver tray in one hand while serving a cup and coffee. Squall inhaled deeply when the other was so close. He had that cologne on again. It didn’t do him justice. It was a vague smell that Squall had never been able to discern just what it was. It didn’t suit a man looking like he did with the name Seifer Almasy.

Squall admitted the name was the first to draw him in among the applications, then there had only been the photo. He had, of course, glanced over the resume which had been short. The blond placed a plate with a biscuit beside the cup of coffee before pouring the dark, steaming liquid.

He had nice hand. Large with distinct fingertips and knuckles and calluses. Squall had seen and felt them in handshakes. Made him curious just what the man was doing to earn such calluses. Made him even more eager to feel them stroke his body. Seifer started to add sugar and Squall caught the hand, frowning. He didn’t use sugar. Green eyes looked down questioningly, the spoon of sugar hovering over the black surface. The brunet didn’t hold hard, just a light touch of his fingers to the wrist of the tanned arm.

“No sugar,” he reminded.

“It’s the afternoon, you need it,” Seifer scolded.

Of course Squall did. He just wanted an excuse to touch the other. He gazed up in green eyes. Not many dared to scold the brunet but Squall found the fussing charming.

“There are other types of sugar,” he purred and rubbed the skin under his fingers.

A frown marred the handsome face and the secretary straightened some, retrieving the sugar and escaping Squall’s hand.

“Do you want a sugar-substitute?” he asked.

Squall released pent up breath.

“That’s really not something you should eat. It’s better with proper produce in smaller amounts,” Seifer continued, now with a mix of worry and scold on his face.

Squall leaned back, staring up at the man.

“I could get you fruit-sugar, at least it’s better than a sugar-substitute,” the blond went on, oblivious to the stare he was receiving.

Squall smiled softly. The secretary would never rant like this with other people close by, but on their own like this the man seemed to have made it a mission to correct the brunet’s food habits. Did he know how fuckable he looked like that? Half the time Squall’s was sure he did and that he did it on purpose. The other half he was dead sure Seifer was as oblivious as he actually seemed.

“Why don’t you come home with me and inspect my refrigerator?” Squall cut off the man.

He made a sly look and Seifer stared at him. His expression changed from surprise to bewilderment ending in an amused smile.

“I’m sure it’s fine, but I could get you a good cookbook,” he smiled looking entirely serious about it.

Squall just stared. By now he wasn’t shocked by the complete disregard or obliviousness to any little inundation. The blond was not just beautiful, he was dumb as a post.

“No, it’s fine,” Squall waved him off.

Seifer nodded and then left with the tray. Squall sighed at the secretaries exit. Needless to say he had the hots for the man. Who wouldn’t in Squall’s position with his preferences? The foremost reason he had hired the man was in the hopes of some stress relieving distractions, but no. Of all gorgeous men in the world, Squall had to hire the one that didn’t think with his dick.


“I’m home!” he called.

Seifer kicked the door closed, slipped out of his shoes and shuffled through the living room to the kitchen. The kitchen was in the same room as the living room without doors or walls between. Only a bench/high table you could sit by, kind of like a bar. Beside the refrigerator was the bathroom door and at the opposite side side of the living room was the bedroom door.

The kitchen area was neat and moderate, formed like a quadrant. Beside the bathroom door was the refrigerator and freezer. Beside those were a workbench and a corner bench. Following the corner was the sink, with a window above it, beside the sink was another workbench followed by the oven. Then a workbench and finally the high countertop. In the middle of this quadrant was a high working table. It, as well as the bar/countertop had three high chairs.

The kitchen was his pride. He had put money and effort into it. The kitchen was the heart of a house had his grandma always said, and Seifer agreed. So naturally he had a modern kitchen with full attire while the rest of his apartment had sporadic furnishing and decorations. It would come given time and money.

Seifer dumped the grocery bag on the working table before shrugging off his brown trench-coat and letting up on his tie and shirt. With a disgusted huff he shrugged of the suit jacket and slung it over the trench-coat. How could people breathe in those stuffy clothes? Thank Hyne the office had air conditioning or no one would be able to live through the day.

“I’m home!” he called again as he started stuffing the refrigerator with the newly bought food.

It was still summer and hot as hell. One would wonder why he had a trench-coat, however light it was, on top of a suite. Seifer was anal retentive, as his old grandma used to say. He had no wish to stain the pricy suit while riding the subway and the browsing the food store. One kid had already dropped ice-cream on him; he didn’t care for a repeat.

“Griever!” he yelled and regretted it as he noted the irritated tone in his voice.

He closed the refrigerator and stuffed the bag under the sink. As he straightened a little jingle was the forewarning before a sleek black-grey cat jumped up on the isle.

“There you are, don’t ignore me,” he scolded as he scratched a soft neck and flipping ears.

The black cat purred and arched its back, paws kneading the wooden surface of the isle. Seifer leaned down on an elbow at the isle and the cat immediately rubbed up against him in a show of owner ship.

“Had a good day? Seen any nice ladies?” he murmured in the cat’s ear.

Griever made a deeper purr, as if answering, before butting heads with his human. Griever wasn’t a fine breed cat. He was some cross breed country mix. You couldn’t tell though. He was a deep black male with grey jaw and belly. His paws also held the gray hue as well as the insides of his hind legs. He was a large cat with a sleek body covered in incredible soft fur.

Seifer wanted to pride himself to be the reason for the cat’s well formed body and soft fur because he took great care of it with special food and exercise. Since Griever couldn’t leave the apartment, Seifer had to keep him active. The blond straightened and the cat quickly trotted around the kitchen. Over the oven and sink, around the benches until he could stand and rub up against the freezer.

“Didn’t I feed you once today?” Seifer smirked.

Griever gave a demanding mewl and stared up at him with unblinking green eyes.

“What? You want food twice a day?” Seifer said in mock incredulity.

Still he walked over and opened the refrigerator to get the food.

“Just because you clean the house, take my messages and keep the dog out,” he said as he served the cat the food.

Griever agilely jumped down to the floor and patiently waited for the bowl to be put down. Seifer leaned back against the working table, crossing his arms and ankles while watching the glutton eat. The blond gave a deep sigh, closing his eyes momentarily. He had hoped watching the cat eat would wake up some hunger but no. None whatsoever. Not even a little stir in the pit of his stomach. Not so much as a halfhearted growl.

He sighed again and straightened. Aw, well, maybe a shower then. A body could need to wind down before realizing its needs. Leaving the cat to his own devices, Seifer entered the bedroom across the living room. He took care in putting away his clothes and putting out tomorrow’s clothes. Then he took some more comfortable clothes before strolling to the bathroom.

“Want to shower?” he asked the cat.

Griever didn’t as much as give him a glance but Seifer smiled wryly. The bathroom was big enough to move around freely in. It had a shower and bath-tube in one. Saved a lot of space that was better used for a wardrobe and a wash-bin. The blond stepped under the shower and moaned as the hot jet hit his body. He took his time and thoroughly enjoyed the wash.

When he finally exited the shower a dried off, he took some time in front of the mirror. He wasn’t overly vain, but lately he had taken a greater interest in himself.

Seifer was a farm born boy. Originally coming from a small country side town, the big city was like another planet too him. Back home there had been no such things as gyms or the multitude of beauty commercials lining every post and wall. There was the school, the little core of the town with necessary stores, and there was the farm with its farm work.

When Seifer came to the city he stepped into a gym for the first time. His grandma had advised him to quickly get to know his area and enter a gym, otherwise his body wouldn’t manage the high tempo in a city. Him being him, he had followed that advice. He entered a gym and bought a year membership as well as a few lessons how to use the machines.

His instructor had dumbly asked what he needed lessons for when he obviously had trained on a gym before. Seifer couldn’t understand what the man thought so strange. The man, who was Seifer’s size and only a third more his weight and bulk though ten years his senior, had practically choked at learning that the only thing the blond had done was work on a farm….

Seifer made a sigh and dressed before entering the kitchen again. It was apparently very good being muscular. This was a concept Seifer hadn’t been familiar with back home. Back home everyone was more or less fit since nothing else would do when leading a farmer life. The blond had come to appreciate his own body in a new way. It was thrilling to so quickly see results from the training. He could vaguely understand the fanatics glee in the training.

Griever was grooming himself atop the working table. The blond made a small dinner since hunger still hadn’t struck him, not very odd seeing as he was close to exhausted. When he sat down by the isle and started reading tomorrow’s schedule. Griever jumped over to him ad rubbed up against his arm.

“It’s mine,” he growled as the cat made moves on his food.

Griever padded around to stroke up against his other arm, oblivious to any reprimands. Sometime he thought Griever and Squall was similar. The way they both could shrug off a scold was comical.

“What would you say if I told you, you remind me of my boss?” he murmured to the cat.

Griever padded around again and butted his head with Seifer’s arm. Come to think of it, Squall had that sway and alluring gait just like Griever too and sometimes… Sometimes Seifer was sure the brunet saw other people like mice he could play with. Thinking of his grey-blue eyed boss he frowned and eyed the schedule again. If he had known it was so much work being a secretary he’d taken the job as a store clerk.

The routines had been easy to learn, the pace was harder. The way things could change so swiftly in such a big company was mind boggling. He could have a perfect day planed, with good pauses and mealtimes and then bang. Something would happen and Squall would be stuck in some meeting or something that messed the whole schedule. Which meant Seifer had to rearrange, call around and twist around himself to make things click again.

As if that wasn’t enough, the atmosphere among the co-works was sometimes exhausting. Everyone seemed to flash around like straight laced machines and when they didn’t, there was that woman or that man making weird comments. You’d think they get tired of commenting on his appearence or whatever it was. Though it was nice getting the occasional wink from the pretty ladies. Though it put him in a bind with the other males.

Hyne knew that the hierarchy on a company was bewildering. Griever was grooming himself again as he had realized that the food truly belonged to Seifer.

“Maybe I should take you there and show them how to relax, huh? All you do is sleep anyway,” he told the cat who continued grooming itself.

Seifer dumped the plate in the sink and poured water over it. He’d wash up tomorrow. He wanted to sleep. Now. Instantly. Greiver followed him in a trot into the dark bedroom. The cat jumped up on the bed and made himself comfortable on a pillow while Seifer undressed.

“Move over, you know that’s mine,” he scolded the cat.

Griever reluctantly moved, but the cat mewed. As soon as Seifer had found a comfortable position on his side, the cat curled up by his stomach and started purring softly. The blond breathed out deeply and closed his eyes, letting the cat lull him. It only took ten minutes before he realized that this would be another restless night. The noise from the traffic was vibrating up through the walls and there was no way he could filter it out.

Annoyed, he turned to his back, Griever easily following and curling up on his chest. Seifer started stroking the cat while trying to find some harmony in the soft purrs that vibrated down in his chest. He needed to sleep to be able to deal with that grey-blue eyed enigma.


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