Salvation's End

BY : Grieving Leon
Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Squall/Zell
Dragon prints: 1179
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor the characters therein. I don't make money off this story.

Salvation’s End

Chapter 5: Lowlifes

Squall gently slid the anti-aging lotion over his face as he stared into the mirror.  The mirror was still partially fogged and the spot he’d wiped clean was already beginning to shrink from the steam still billowing around the bathroom.

The blonde bouncer was standing two feet to Squall’s right, towel drying himself absently, tapping his foot while humming a tune Squall couldn’t place.

A smile twitched on the side of Squall’s mouth -- amused by the very Zell Dincht behavior -- but he pushed the smile away to focus on preparing himself for the day.

As Zell tossed the damp towel over the shower rod, he sighed heavily.  “I do not want to go to work today.”

Squall paused the motions of rubbing the last remnants of the cream into his face and he turned to look at Zell.  

The beautiful sapphire eyes sparkled at Squall.  With a half smile, Zell said “I’d much rather get back into the shower with you.”

A light, airy laugh left Squall’s mouth as he turned back to the mirror, which had completely fogged back up.

Zell crossed the few steps to Squall and pressed himself against the side of his brunette lover.  He gently wrapped his arms around Squall’s waist and kissed Squall’s shoulder.  “Or go back to bed with you.”

“Do you need more?” Squall playfully asked, reaching a hand down to pick up the next item of his grooming routine.

“Need?” Zell repeated.  Then he chuckled and kissed Squall again.  “I need you -- so I can breathe.”

“I need you, too,” Squall said, his voice kind and loving, the words from the persona Amyst.

All throughout breakfast and their morning together, Zell hadn’t brought up Squall’s drunken confession.  The blonde man didn’t want to tell Squall about the beautiful words, because Zell didn’t want Squall to retract them, didn’t want Squall to dismiss them as drunken blabbing.  Zell wanted to believe Squall Leonhart did love Zell’s cock, that Squall Leonhart did think that Zell Dincht had a Utopian body, and that Squall was as addicted to Zell as the blonde man was to him.

Squall reached over and picked up a hand towel and wiped a circle clean on the mirror.  Then he leaned forward, deliberately, and applied mascara to his eyelashes.

Zell smiled at Squall’s position, feeling himself beginning to become aroused even though he’d just finished fucking Squall in the shower.  The blonde man slipped the rest of the way behind Squall and leaned forward, pressing his cheek against Squall’s back, his crotch locked against Squall’s ass.

“Hyne,” Zell moaned sadly.  His fingers moved over Squall’s stomach and chest, until he reached Squall’s nipples where he played gently with a nipple ring.

“Zell,” Squall said softly, rocking his ass against Zell’s dick.

“Fuck,” Zell said in a harsh tone and he quickly stood up and moved away from Squall.  He grabbed his swelling cock and groaned, moving to the bathroom door.  “You’re so damn hot,” he growled before opening the door and heading off to get dressed.

Steam flowed out of the bathroom into the cold hallway and Squall smiled, looking at himself in the mirror. He finished applying the mascara then turned his attention to his hair.

A few minutes later Zell had returned to the bathroom, dressed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt.  “Done?” he asked, reaching over to get gel for his hair.

“I can get dressed if you need the sink,” Squall said.

“I wanted to brush my teeth again before I leave,” Zell said.

Squall nodded, setting down his comb.  He then slid around Zell, caressing a hand over Zell’s firm stomach before leaving the bathroom.

After dressing in tight jeans and t-shirt, Squall retrieved the money from the pants he’d worn  yesterday then returned the pants to the hamper where Zell had put them earlier.  With a sigh, Squall turned to the bed, knowing he needed to get the sheets to wash.

While Squall was working, Zell returned to the bedroom smelling of cologne.

“So I’m supposed to work with Luke today,” Zell said, moving without instruction to help Squall make the bed with a clean set of sheets.  “If he shows up.”

“You think he will?” Squall asked.

Zell shrugged.  “Not really.  I might have to go to his place after work.”

“Okay,” Squall said softly.  Squall didn’t want Zell to be even later, it was lonely spending all night by himself and over the months Squall relished the moment when Zell would walk back through their apartment door.

“Well, I’d better go,” Zell said, tossing a pillow onto the head of the bed.

Squall ran a hand over the blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles.  As Squall picked up the little stuffed lion and set it onto one of the pillows, Zell walked around the bed.  The blonde man grabbed Squall’s wrist gently and pulled Squall into his arms.

Squall hugged Zell back listening to Zell whisper “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, Zell,” Squall replied.

The hug loosened and they looked at each other, Zell’s sapphire eyes sparkling in the overhead light.  “I worship and love you,” he said in a gentle voice.

Squall caressed Zell’s cheek and whispered “I love you, too.  I’ll be empty without you.”  They then leaned toward each other and kissed.

After the too short kiss ended, Zell turned to head out of the bedroom.  “I’ll call you at lunch.”  Lunch meant around midnight.

“I might be out,” Squall said.

Zell stopped and hovered in the bedroom doorway, looking at Squall.

“I didn’t do any errands yesterday,” said Squall, shrugging.  “We need groceries and lube.  And I’m-” Squall motioned to the full laundry basket and laundry bag that held the sheets. “-doing laundry.”

“I’ll try anyway,” Zell said.  “And then call back later again if you don’t answer.”

“Okay,” Squall said.

Zell then headed to the living room where he grabbed his jacket and put his shoes on, then slipped out the door and locked it behind him, sliding his keys into a large pocket.


Squall had just finished sliding the paper with his scribbled report into Zell’s jacket for tomorrow’s lunch with Seifer when the apartment building laundromat door opened.  In walked a young girl carrying a large laundry basket.

“Hey,” Squall said, pushing aside the fact that he was almost startled -- Squall Leonhart shouldn’t have been close to startled.  But he ignored it.

“Hey,” the girl said, looking uneasy.  Her eyes darted away from Squall but she was forced to cross over to him because Squall sat at the only table in the room.

“Sorry,” Squall said and quickly moved his basket from the white plastic table’s top, giving the girl room.  The other half of the table had clean clothes fresh out of the dryer, still warm, that Squall had been folding.

“It’s okay,” she mumbled, attempting a poor smile.  Squall saw the black eye she had as well as the bruises on her wrists that were poorly hidden under her jacket sleeves.

“Uh, you just move in here?” Squall asked.  He’d never seen her before but he hardly ever had anyone doing laundry at the same time he was.  

In the Dollet time zone, professional Blitzball started about 1:00 PM and lasted until 1:00 AM on Sundays, and then there were pre- and post-game TV.  People were obsessive about watching all of it, so it was very rare someone would do laundry the same day as Squall.

“Yea,” she said, beginning to sort her laundry.

“I’m Squall,” he said, trying to sound friendly and spark up the casual conversation that he hated doing, but it was a part of his persona so he had to at least try.  And he had a feeling he knew why the girl wouldn’t look at him.

“Gwen,” she mumbled.

“I live on the third floor, 308, with my boyfriend,” Squall said as he folded.

“Oh,” Gwen said, and immediately her hesitation vanished.  She smiled at Squall.

He glanced to her and smiled.  “His name is Zell.”

“I live in 514 with my boyfriend, Peter,” she said happily.

Squall inwardly sighed, both at the fact that the girl was now receptive to conversation (which was unfortunate) and at the fact that it was only because he was gay she decided to be friendly.  But he forced the smile to continue as he said “Not a Blitzball fan, I take it?”

Gwen shrugged.  “I like it.  But my boyfriend’s got friends over and he likes his guy night.  You?”

“Actually I don’t much like Blitzball,” Squall said, moving some of the folded laundry into the empty basket.  “I watch it with Zell sometimes, but he actually works Sunday nights.”

“What’s his favorite team?” Gwen asked.

Squall folded another shirt gently, his eyes hovering on the romance novel that sat next to the pile of clothes.  Honestly all he wanted to do was think about what he’d read in his trashy smut story, not talk to this girl, but he couldn’t be his rude-Leonhart-self.

“The Balamb Mercenaries,” said Squall.  “What about you: Have a favorite team?”

Squall half listened to her answer, thankful when the last of his driers beeped its completion cycle alarm.  He stood up, picking up the laundry bag for the sheets, and shoved them from the dryer into the bag.  He’d gladly fold them upstairs in his cold apartment.

“So,” Gwen said as Squall dropped the laundry bag next to the basket and began to finish folding the rest of his clothes.  “How long have you been with Zell?”

“Four years,” Squall said.

“Holy Hyne,” Gwen said with a laugh.

Squall looked back up to her and knew he should show off the engagement ring.  He’d already grown tired of the girly squeals from what he remembered of last night, but he had little choice as Squall Amyst.  Squall set down the folded pair of jeans then held out his left hand for Gwen to look at.

“He actually just proposed two days ago,” said Squall, giving the girl his best excited smile.

“Oh,” Gwen said in a long, girly sigh, her eyes settled on the large diamond that sparkled even in the laundromat's dim lighting.  She took Squall’s hand with her small fingers, exposing more of her wrist and the bruises.

“What happened?” Squall asked, reaching with his free right hand to touch the wrist.

She recoiled quickly, averting her gaze back to her laundry.  

“Rough sex?” Squall asked, attempting to help the girl find a lie.

Gwen blushed and half smiled at Squall, but the smile didn’t cover up the shame and discomfort in her eyes.

“Sorry,” Squall mumbled, placing the last of his laundry into his basket before tossing his book on top.  “You know,” he said, looking back to the girl.

Squall may have been annoyed from having to talk to her, and he may not have been interested in being friendly -- he wasn’t a friendly person -- but he did feel empathy for her.  Girls like Gwen were part of the reason Zell and he were on this SeeD assignment.  Gwen may not have been a victim of the snuff sex violence propagated by Nymphic and his group, but she was a victim nonetheless.

“If you ever need anything,” Squall said, and Gwen turned up to meet his gaze.  “Someone to talk to or help you, I know we just met, but I’ll do what I can.”

Gwen had turned back down as Squall went about slinging the laundry bag over his shoulder and picking up the laundry basket.  He headed to the door to go back upstairs.

“Thanks,” Gwen said softly.

Pausing in the doorway, Squall said “I mean it,” then left.


“Hey, pretty.”  

The car had pulled up next to the curb and the driver had rolled down the windows to call out to Squall.

Squall ignored the man, continuing to walk down the road, but the car rolled forward to keep up with Squall.

“How’s sixty sound?” the man asked.

Squall held the sigh back as he made he way down the block.  He only had two more blocks until he was at the small sex shop where he could pick up more lubrication, then he could leave this particular street of sin and lust.

“C’mon,now,” the man said, and Squall was surprised at his persistence.  “Okay, seventy five.”

“I’m not a prostitute,” Squall said with a harsh glance to the man, then he turned back to the sidewalk ahead, noting the light of the sex shop sign.

The man scoffed and his tired skid as he veered back onto the main roadway, down two blocks to where male prostitutes were waiting.

“That’s really too bad,” said a man who was leaning against a building, smoking a cigarette.

“Well, if I was, wouldn’t I be violating your turf anyway?” Squall asked as he walked passed the smoking man.

The man pushed off the building and took up step next to Squall.  “Maybe.”  He was an older man, and didn’t look the part of a prostitute; Squall assumed maybe the pimp.  “But we could always work something out.”

Squall stopped and turned to look at his smoking follower.  “I don’t need an escort.”

The smoking man reached a hand up to Squall’s collar and gingerly smoothed the material with his thumb.  He smiled a half smile and said “A pretty thing like you always needs an escort.  Especially around here after 10 PM.”

Squall didn’t even consider turning his level on.  He’d walked through this area plenty of times, sometimes later than he was now, and these people were selling sex, not rape.

“Where are you headed?” the smoking man asked.

With a nod to the shop two blocks down, Squall said “The sex shop.”

“Well,” the man said, smoothing the shoulder material of Squall’s jacket. “I’ll keep an eye on you to make sure no one bothers you.”  He then stepped back and lifted his cigarette back to his mouth.

“Thanks,” Squall mumbled and then turned back to continue on his way.

“If you ever need a job,” the man called, “I’ll be here.”

Squall didn’t bother looking back and he waved a hand dismissively.  Then he was headed through the three male prostitutes on the corner, each of them watching him out of the corner of their eyes.  

'Job,' Squall thought to himself.  'If I ever need a job, I’ll ask Fufu, not some random pimp.'

While Squall didn’t stop walking, that thought resonated through his mind and a realization filled him.  Zell’s debt gave Squall the opportunity to go to Fufu to ask for a job, one that Squall Amyst could do, and the only thing the Level 3 high school drop out was highly qualified for was his looks -- and perhaps cooking, but Hot Untrained-Chef wasn’t a job Squall knew about.

Squall didn’t want to become a sex model, and certainly prostitution was beyond anything he was willing to do, but he’d seen enough over the months here that he was comfortable with the idea of taking his clothes off.

Squall Leonhart would have to think about it, but Fufu would lead to General Denrick, and Denrick was one step way from Nymphic himself.  If Squall could just get access to General Denrick, Squall and Zell may find themselves interwoven into Nymphic’s world.

A minute later Squall was in the sex shop, walking through isles of dildos and vibrators and faux asses and pussies, passed low quality bondage equipment and Girl Next Door magazines.  He picked out two bottles of lube, strawberry (Zell’s favorite flavor) and plain, then headed to the counter to pay and leave.

Squall walked out of the sex shop, and back through the prostitutes, while attempting to shove the lube bottles into his jacket pockets.  He wasn’t ashamed of the lube or what it represented, but he needed his hands free if he was going to get groceries.

Tomorrow was Monday, when Zell would have lunch with Seifer.  Then Tuesday and Wednesday Squall had already told Zell they’d go out to Deling City for the first break since the mission started.  So Squall still had a few days to consider his plan, to think over the finer details,

“Have a good night, pretty,” the smoking man said as Squall passed him a second time.

Squall nodded, but decided he could afford to be his asshole-self and for the most part ignore the man’s existence.  Squall Amyst might have been nervous here, giving Squall all the justification he needed to be a stoic dick.

It was a 40 minute walk to the 24-hour groceries store.  Once Squall was there, he strolled his slow pace through the lamp-lit parking lot, passed the sparse number of cars, until he walked into the brightly illuminated store.

Squall stopped by the groceries store at least twice a week.  He could only purchase what he could carry, and it was almost an hour walk back home.  Zell K’Oz couldn’t afford a car, not even a beater because they broke down too often and would just cost Zell more money to fix, and honestly Zell’s paycheck barely covered all their bills plus groceries anyway.  Otherwise Squall may have been able to complete all his errands in an hour -- except that Squall Amyst didn’t know how to drive, so there was that one hiccup as well.

Today after Squall purchased the groceries, he headed back out of the store, glancing at the clock above the automatic doors as he left.  It was almost midnight, meaning he would miss Zell’s first phone call.

A sad twinge of regret filled Squall, knowing any moment in his apartment the phone would ring and Zell’s perky voice would be waiting at the other end.

While Squall might not have remembered what he said when he was drunk, he did believe Zell was the nicest, kindest person on the planet.  Squall might not have enjoyed every aspect of being Amyst, for one he didn’t like how friendly he had to be and for another Squall certainly wasn’t a homemaker: He missed slaughtering monsters, defeating sorceresses, plunging into the Abyss to save a loved one, and saving the world from certain doom -- those sorts of things.  He was SeeD, not just a SeeD.

However, one aspect that Squall did enjoy about being Amyst was that he got to do nice things for Zell.  Squall remembered plenty of stories Zell had told back at Balamb Garden about his mother’s cooking, and Zell had admitted a few times to being a chubby kid, until he began to work out obsessively.  

Here in Dollet, the blonde man’s sapphire eyes would sparkle before each meal, and Squall felt a sort of pride from it.

Squall had learned to cook because of Seifer Almasy.  They often took the same classes, and often were made partners -- no matter the class.  So when Squall was 11 years old, he took a kick boxing class and was partnered with Seifer.  They were kicked out of the class within a week: Headmaster Cid Kramer said something along the lines of “last straw” and they were both shoved into Home Economics.

For three consecutive years, Squall Leonhart and Seifer Almasy sat next to each other, learning how to cook and bake.  The teacher let the two skip sewing and continuing cooking since she had been impressed with how good they both were at it, as well as how hard and quiet they worked.  In all honesty, they had made a competition out of cooking as well and were often glaring at one another throughout the period.

So today Squall was able to give his SeeD friend something that could make the blonde smile -- even in a horrid place like Dollet’s sex trade sector.

As Squall headed down the dimly lit sidewalk, he thought that maybe while they were in Deling City Tuesday and Wednesday Zell could call his girlfriend.  Her name was Cher or Sherry or something like that.  Her name didn’t matter.  What mattered was Zell hadn’t seen or spoken to her in eight months and no doubt he missed his girlfriend.

On their way to Deling City, Squall would suggest it.  It might make the blonde man very happy to hear her voice again.  The girl and he had been dating for awhile, if Squall remembered.  Over a year at least.

With those thoughts, Squall ignored the discomfort in his stomach and the fleeting emotions of guilt and emptiness.  The sex he coveted and the friendship he treasured were insignificant and his private shames -- Zell’s beautiful smile was all that mattered.

It didn’t matter that Squall lost his virginity to Zell.  Squall was 24 and should have lost it long ago.  He wouldn’t bother Zell with that fact, or how much he loved the way Zell made him feel.  Squall knew he wasn’t Squall Amyst, so he wouldn’t lie to himself.  He’d only allow himself the pleasure, the fantasy.

The hour walk home had passed slowly for Squall.  The thoughts about Zell and what the blonde meant to him had been distracting, but Squall had done his Leonhart-best to ignore his unimportant emotions.

As he walked through the parking lot next to the apartment complex he lived at, he noticed a large group of men sitting on and near a car.  They were tossing a Blitzball around, a beer in most of the men’s hands, and standing with the group was Gwen.  She looked colder than Squall felt, her spring dress blowing in the chilly night air, her light jacket not providing much warmth as she shivered.

Gwen’s miserable expression faded when she saw Squall.  Immediately she perked up and waved to him and Squall gave her a smile and half-wave back -- his hands full from the groceries bag.

“Hey!” one of the men shouted at Gwen.  “Who the fuck are you waving at, bitch?”

'Hyne, I wish Zell was here,' Squall thought.  He pushed the random embarrassing thought away and turned his attention to the door to the lower level of the apartments.  He was forty feet away, almost home, almost safe behind the three deadbolts.

“Hey faggot!” the man shouted at Squall, but he didn’t turn.  “I better never see you talking to my girl again, cock boy.”  All the man’s friends were laughing.

Apparently Gwen had tried to sooth her boyfriend’s jealousy by explaining Squall was gay.  Squall wasn’t sure it had worked.

A glass beer bottle shattered in front of where Squall walked and he stopped, feeling a wave of apprehension hit him.  Another bottle shattered a few feet to Squall’s left.  The drunk man’s aim was fairly poor.

Squall turned to look at the man: Gwen was trying to hold the man’s arm in her tiny, ineffectual hands, talking to him -- probably pleading for him to stop -- but Squall was out of earshot of her voice.

“Bitch ass cock sucker!” the man yelled, his words slurred.

Squall felt himself freeze inside, his calm rage shacked by the LD-Chip embedded in his hand.  It wasn’t worth breaking his eight-month cover to deal with the man, besides Squall was almost home.  The brunette SeeD turned back to the apartment doors, knowing full well he looked like a pathetic gay boy running away, and he was ashamed of that, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Mother fucking ass licker,” the man yelled.  Another beer bottle shattered near Squall and the roar of laughter from the man’s friends made Squall feel more uncomfortable.  “Faggot cunt!”

As the apartment lobby door shut behind Squall he heard another beer bottle shatter outside, probably on the door itself.

Closing his grey-blue eyes, Squall breathed a few times before forcing himself forward, to climb the stairs to his third floor apartment.

Upstairs, Squall awkwardly balanced the groceries bag in his hand as he unlocked the apartment door.  Once inside, he set the bag on the carpet and turned and locked all three deadbolts then pressed his forehead against the door.

While standing there, he tossed the keys onto the small entrance table then he moved his hands together.  His eyes were still closed as he caressed the center of his left palm, were the LD-Chip was.  All it would take is him saying “Activate” and holding that spot for ten seconds, then he would be more powerful than Hyne.

Squall’s breathing began to slow as he continued to touch his palm.  He’d been harassed before, but tonight there had been an awkward panic that Squall hadn’t felt before.  Maybe he’d gone too long without his real level activated, and maybe he was suffering like Zell -- from the stress of Dollet and their assignment -- and he too needed a break.

After pushing off the door, Squall reached his hands into his pockets for the lube bottles, tossing them over to the couch before shoving off his jacket.  He kicked off his shoes then turned and picked up the discarded groceries bag to set about putting the contents away.

The apartment was freezing, but Squall didn’t bother with the heater.  Zell didn’t make much money, so Squall left it off even on cold nights.  It would be summer soon anyway.

Once the groceries were away, Squall decided to take a hot bath and read his romance novel.  He wanted to wrap himself in the warmth and the escape, besides if Zell called back the blonde could muse about Squall being naked and wet.

A half smile pulled at Squall’s lips and slowly he yielded to the pleasure and let the smile form completely.  On his way to the bedroom, Squall picked up the lube bottles from the couch and brought them with him.  In the bedroom Squall set down the lube bottles onto the bed before he picked out pajama bottoms, a t-shirt, and socks, then snagged his novel and the cordless phone off the nightstand before heading into the bathroom where he shut the door.

Steam immediately began to billow into the air as the hot water filled the tub.  Squall set his clothes down onto the counter, then carefully laid out a towel on the floor and set down on top of it the novel and phone.  

Squall stepped to the floor space in front of the single sink and pulled off his shirt.  His reflection in the mirror caught his attention and he turned, looking at himself.  Gently he touched the star nipple ring, then slowly his grey-blue eyes traveled up, over his shoulders and neck, until he was looking at his face.   He slid the same hand up his body, over one shoulder and neck, and then gently touched his cheek while staring at the pristine skin between his eyes.

He missed his scar -- the scar that tore through his obviously too pretty face, that made him feel more like a SeeD and a man, instead of a pretty boy.  And after being harassed as much as he had over the passed few months, Squall wished desperately for his scar back again, he needed to be a SeeD and man again.

Or he needed Zell here to be a SeeD and man for him.

Squall dropped his arm quickly and shook his head as he turned away from the mirror.  He shouldn’t think things like that.  He undid his pants, removed them along with his briefs and socks, tossing the clothes with the discarded shirt, and then he moved to sit on the ledge of the small bathtub.

It was a normal sized tub, no doubt, but Squall was used to his High Commander extra-large bathtub of his High Commander dorm room.  

Delicately, Squall caressed a finger along the top of the water, adjusting the water flowing out of the tap to a lower temperature.  The bathroom was thick with steam, reminding Squall of this morning and his sensual shower with Zell.

As Squall continued to caressed the top of the water with his finger tips, he smiled and let himself fall into the memory of Zell and how the blonde man had been kissing Squall in the shower earlier.  How Zell had picked Squall up and held him against the wall as the kind and sweet man gently slid his cock into Squall’s tight body, and how the blonde bouncer had whispered beautiful things about love and passion into Squall’s ear.

Squall moved his second hand to his crotch and gently he caressed his semi-swollen cock.  He then moved his first hand up, water droplets falling onto his thigh as he brought the hand to his stomach.  He shifted, spreading his legs, and took a hold of his cock while gliding a hand down his stomach, over his thighs, and caressing his balls.

His eyes closed as he pumped his cock, images of Zell’s sweet face filling his mind.  The pang of shame rose in Squall and his eyes fluttered open.  He bit his lower lip and looked down to where his hand was stroking his erection.

“Zell,” Squall whispered, still masturbating.  He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help what he felt now, what he needed because of Zell’s perfect body and sweet soul.

The water level in the bathtub was high and Squall quickly reached over and turned off the faucet.  He then slid off the tub ledge, down away from the tub and onto the floor mat next to the novel and phone.  

Saliva filled his mouth as he brought his free hand up where he wet two fingers before lowering his hand back down as he spread his legs.  The grey-blue eyes closed once again as he penetrated his asshole, leaving this fingers deep inside himself, unmoving, as he stroked his cock faster.

Fantasies filled Squall’s mind as he masturbated.  He allowed himself unrealistic thoughts of Zell coming up to his High Commander office, the blonde man sliding under Squall’s desk and sucking Squall’s dick as the brunette SeeD worked.  Other images of them moving to the windows that made up an entire wall of the High Commander office, overlooking the Garden below, and Zell would fuck Squall there, exposed to the students and mercenaries below.

“Zell,” Squall moaned out, then he bit his lower lip and began to move his fingers in and out, keeping pace with the hand stroking his cock.

A smile pulled over Squall’s lips as he thought about foolish things like Zell and him going as a couple to the Garden Festival.  Maybe then Zell would dance with Squall.  And after they could go back to the High Commander dorm where they would make love.  It would feel like love, like desperation and lust, and Zell would fill Squall’s longing until they were both satisfied.

Squall pumped his cock harder, penetrating himself with his fingers faster.  Zell’s cock made Squall feel like that -- fulfilled -- in a way Squall never realized existed before.  He wanted Zell’s cock.  More than that: Squall wanted Zell’s beautiful words and soft lips, the blonde SeeD’s strong body on him, fucking him, loving him.

Squall’s heart pounded in his chest as he stroked himself, his cock ached -- his entire body ached in desperation for Zell’s touch.  

“Please,” Squall whispered, pushing his fingers in as hard as he could.  “Hyne.”  He breathed out heavily, his cock swollen, his body quivering from the thoughts of Zell.  “Zell,” Squall moaned out then he released cum, pumping his cock as fast as he could, his fingers fucking deep into his asshole. All he could think about was Zell and being with the blonde, forever.

“Zell,” moaned Squall again.  His body shivered as the orgasm ended, his hands slowing their motions of masturbation.

The grey-blue eyes opened.  Squall breathed heavily and moved his hands to help himself stand up.  More heavy breaths left Squall as his heart began to slow back into its normal pace.  He swallowed and turned to the waiting bath water.

It was hot as he stepped into it, his flush body still thankful for the comfort of the warmth.  As Squall sat down, he watched the water brush over the cum on his stomach and chest.  He wiped a hand along it, washing the cum away before he turned to grab a just-cleaned hand towel on the towel rack beside the tub.  

After his hands were dry, Squall picked up his romance novel, Zefer’s Sorceress, and opened to the bookmarked page.

The story was thick with sex and love.  Squall had originally begun to read these novels for the sake of his cover: The Amyst persona loved these indulgences and would have had a library of the cheap novels if he’d had the money -- at least that’s what Squall had constructed about Amyst inside his head.

Back in Balamb Garden, Squall had never read a book like this.  Rinoa loved to read them and Quistis had a few in her dorm that Squall noticed, although Quistis wasn’t as open as Rinoa had been about enjoying the stories.  Squall had never pried.

But Squall Leonhart had decided that since his two girlfriends had enjoyed the stories, it would be a nice addition to his submissive gay boy persona, adding substance.

The library Squall visited weekly to write the reports had a large quantity of these books.  And Squall noticed new additions after a few months, which Squall attributed to the librarian ordering or requesting from donations for Squall.  Squall was probably their most regular patron and had decimated reading through the books.  

While Squall hadn’t told Zell, the romance novels had become another of his guilty pleasures.

Zefer’s Sorceress was a story above devotion of a knight to his sorceress as she became High Sorceress of some fictional sorceress order.  Squall was eager to discover if she would forgo his love or her duties.  Squall acknowledged the difficult choice between duty and love, the expectation of a destiny that had been building one’s entire life versus companionship.

Squall had begun chapter 11 when the phone rang.  He slipped the bookmark into place, set the book down, then picked up the cordless phone and answered.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hey sexy,” Zell’s beautiful and perky voice said.

Immediately Squall felt butterflies in his stomach and he smiled.  “Hey,” he whispered, embarrassed.

“I missed you,” Zell said with a purr, still very perky.

“I missed you too,” Squall said.  His cheeks ached from the smile.  “You having a good night at work?”

“I am now,” Zell said.  Squall could imagine the blonde’s bright smile and the sparkle in the sapphire eyes.  “Actually, a fight broke out so I had something to do for a little.  But after that it got boring again so all I been doing is chain smoking while watching Blitzball.”

“Luke?” Squall asked.

“Oh,” said Zell, his perkiness gone.  “He called in sick.  And from what Jeff said, looks like Jeff is going to work with me permanently Sunday and Mondays now.  Luke asked Roy to switch him shifts.”

“So you’re going to be late?” Squall asked softly.

“Probably not,” Zell said.  “Chad and Jeff are going with me to Luke’s after work, so we got Chad’s car.  Driving there and then to our apartment will probably take as long as it takes me to walk home.”

A small smile formed on Squall’s lips.  “That’s good.”

“Oh, and, uh,” Zell mumbled. “Jeff wants to set up a pool.  You know, for my Blitzball thing next Sunday.  It’s twenty Gil buy in.  ...That okay?”

“Of course,” Squall said.  “I still have some Gil left over, certainly more than twenty.”

“Cause you know I don’t gamble,” Zell said quickly.  “I wouldn’t waste money you need like that. I can tell him he can set the pool up but I won’t participate.”

“It’s your party,” Squall said gently.  “It’s fine.  It’ll be fun and it’s only twenty Gil.”

“Thanks,” Zell said submissively. “Maybe you can help me pick out the winners?”

Gambling at Balamb Garden was moot.  The SeeD were trained in tactics, statistics, and probability to such an extent that predicting winners and outcomes was easy for games like Blitzball.  And high rank SeeD such as Zell rarely ever picked wrong.  He could even incorporate chance circumstances such as interception probably and injury likelihood and so forth.  It was honestly a dull matter to gamble at Balamb Garden because there was no opposition.  

With Squall’s help analyzing the teams, Zell could easily take the small gambling winnings.  Maybe it was mean, and Zell acknowledged that, but he liked the idea of winning and then telling everyone his boyfriend who didn’t even like Blitzball had picked the winners and winning scores.

“Sure,” Squall said, shifting in the water.  

There was a brief moment of silence before Zell said curiously “Are you in the bath?”

Another smile won onto Squall’s face.  “...Yes.”

“Oh wow,” mumbled Zell.

“And I masturbated,” Squall said softly, his smiling shrinking a little in shyness.  

“That’s hot,” said Zell, his voice was strong and Squall knew the blonde man was smiling that cute half smile that showed off his fangs.

“I thought about you,” Squall said.  While it was the truth, Squall felt comfortable saying it since the camera in the bathroom was watching him.

“What was I doing to you?” Zell asked, his voice softer, but no doubt the smile was still there.

Squall couldn’t tell Zell that he’d been picturing them at Balamb Garden, fucking in the High Commander’s office.  

“Hey!” Zell shouted, not into the phone but into the background to someone Squall couldn’t hear.  “I’ll have phone sex with my boyfriend if I want, fucker! It’s my break!”

Squall heard Zell scoff then back into the phone receiver Zell said softly “Sorry, baby.”

“That’s okay,” Squall replied softly.  “We were having sex in some fancy loft, one with a wall made of windows.  It was night so we could see the city lights below.”  Squall hoped that didn’t make Zell think of the High Commander’s office.  “You were fucking me from behind.”

“Was I kissing your neck?” Zell asked, and Squall knew the smile had returned.

“Yes, and you were rubbing your hands over my stomach and dick,” Squall said.  “My palms were pressed against the glass as you fucked me gently.”

“You are so fucking hot,” Zell said in an airy voice.  “I wish I could do that to you now.”

Squall shifted in the water, moving his free hand down under the water surface to touch his crotch.  “Do you want to listen as I finger myself?”

“Hyne,” Zell said softly.  “Yes.”

A moment later Squall let out a deliberately loud moan as he pushed two fingers into his asshole, lifting a leg out of the water and resting it on the bathtub ledge.  “Oh, Zell,” he moaned.

Squall listened to Zell’s heavy breath into the phone.  

“Does it feel good, baby?” the blonde man asked quietly.

“You feel good,” Squall said, moaning softly.  “Your cock is so hard and thick.  And the way it fills inside of me makes me ache.”

“Hyne damn, baby,” Zell said.

Squall continued to finger himself, saying “I want your hard cock inside me.  I want you to fuck me hard until you cum and I can listen to you moan in pleasure.”

Squall moaned, listening to Zell breathing, a smile on the brunette’s face as his fingers continued to push in and pull out of his asshole.

“I want to press my lips against yours,” Squall said, his grey-blue eyes closed.  “Your hard body on top of mine, against mine.  And the way you smell is intoxicating.”

Squall fingered himself harder, deliberately moving his arm with each motion so Zell could hear the splashing.  “Oh, Zell,” he moaned.  “I need to feel your cock again.  And to feel the warmth of your cum inside me.”

Moans, splashes, and breathing filled the line between them for a few seconds.

“I’m gonna marry you,” Zell said, his voice still the soft tone, filled with desperation and love.

“And I’m going to marry you,” Squall replied.  “My husband.”

“I love you,” said Zell.

“I love you,” said Squall.  “Forever.”

Zell sniffed and there was a pause before he said sadly “I need to go back to work.”

“I know,” Squall said.  “I’m nothing without you.”

“I’m nothing without you,” Zell replied, the desperation and love still in his tone.  “I’ll be thinking about you.”

“I’ll be here, waiting for you,” said Squall.  “Goodbye, my husband.”

“Bye, Squall,” Zell said.  

Silence carried on the line before finally the connection was gone.

Squall pulled his fingers out of himself as he turned the phone off, glancing at the time on the phone -- 2:05 AM -- before he set it back down onto the towel, grabbed the used hand towel to dry his wet hand off, and then picked his novel up again.

Squall used his foot to release the bathtub plug and let some of the cooling water out, opening his novel as he waited.  A paragraph later, Squall closed the plug and started the hot water to refill his tub.  

The room had already been filled with humidity from an hour ago, but as the new hot water flowed into Squall’s bath, steam rose up to thicken the air.

A sense of calm had crept through Squall after hearing Zell’s voice.  He didn’t acknowledge the comfort but somewhere in the back of his thoughts, Squall knew he had taken comfort in knowing Zell was somewhere close and would be home soon.  And then Zell could deal with the asshole who’d thrown beer bottles at him.


Squall sat at the rickety kitchen table as the water began to boil on the stove.  He read the end of a paragraph then placed the bookmark between the pages of his novel before setting it down to stand up and tend to his cooking.

He was starving and probably should have eaten hours ago, but he’d enjoyed the long, hot bath, and now Zell would be home any moment and they could enjoy the simple pleasure of having dinner together.

The apartment’s heater was humming, Squall had turned it on a few minutes ago so the apartment would be warm when Zell arrived.  Nonetheless, Squall enjoyed the heat emanating from the stovetop as he stirred the noodles into the boiling water.  The vegetables and chicken were in the oven, cooked, but staying warm until Zell arrived.

Keys hitting the deadbolts woke Squall from his daze.  He set the wooden spoon onto the spoon rest and turned to greet Zell.

“Hey,” Zell said with a smile, shrugging off his coat while kicking the door closed behind him.  “Luke did have a huge gash on his face, by the way.”  He dropped his keys onto the entry table and stepped out of his shoes before crossing over to Squall.

The brunette man tried to smile.

Zell stood in front of Squall and put his hands on the waist of his beautiful lover.  “You did a very good job, my little Level 3 boyfriend,” Zell mused.

Gently Squall laid his hands on Zell’s shoulders and the smile finally formed.  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Jeff actually thought it was hilarious,” Zell said.  He kissed Squall’s cheek then glanced at the stove behind the brunette man.  When he turned back to Squall, he asked “Almost done?”

Squall nodded.

Zell stepped back and turned to head to the fridge to get himself a beer.

“I beat him down pretty bad,” Zell said.  He closed the fridge with the beer in his hands and as he turned he said “He’ll need a Hi-Potion to make it to work the rest of the week.  But he didn’t really run or anything.  Guess he knew he deserved it.”

“Yea,” Squall said.  He turned back to tend the noodles.

“...What’s wrong?” Zell asked.

“You tired?” Squall asked.

“No,” Zell said slowly.  But then he quickly added “Yes.  Well... which do you want me to be?”

Squall smiled wide and turned to look at Zell.  He laughed once, his grey-blue eyes shimmering.  “I need you to beat someone else up.”

“Oh!” Zell said.  He set the beer down on the table and stepped back to Squall.  “Okay.”  Zell was being kind and submissive, ready to take whatever order Squall gave him.

“You know, since I can’t,” Squall added.


Squall lowered his gaze from Zell’s, taking a breath before he attempted to explain to Zell what happened.  The grey-blue eyes rose again, meeting the expectant sapphire gaze.  “Apartment number 514.  His name is Peter.”

The kind and submissive expression on Zell’s face began to fade and anger flowed up in its place.  

“When I was coming home from the groceries store,” Squall explained, “he was in the parking lot and he called me a ‘faggot cunt’ among other things and threw beer bottles at me.”

“What the fuck,” Zell said.  Zell Dincht had never had any capacity to stop from blowing up in a rage, and here in Dollet the blonde SeeD was no different.  “That mother fucker,” he said, turning way from Squall back to the apartment door.  He yanked on his shoes saying, mostly to himself, “I’m going to beat the... life... out of him.”

The apartment door slammed behind Zell, and Squall could almost feel the entire building shake.

It felt odd to Squall, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.  Satisfaction filled him and he let himself continue to smile.  He turned back to tend the noodles.


Zell ran up the two flights of stairs.  He debated turning his real level on, not that he was afraid the asshole would pose a threat, but because Zell was that fucking angry.  But if Zell became Level 179, it would mean one light punch would go straight through Peter’s head, and Zell wanted to bloody his knuckles on this fucker.

At apartment 514, Zell forced himself not to break the door down but he couldn’t help the hard and angry knocks.

The sound of locks clicking out of place came before the door opened and an average sized man waited.  “Who the fuck are you?”  He was drunk and the sounds of other drunk men talking and laughing came from behind him.

“Zell,” Zell said.  “You’re Peter?”

The man frowned at Zell then said “Yea.”

Without waiting any longer, Zell threw his right fist into Peter’s jaw, knocking the man backwards into the room, onto the floor.

“What the fuck!” another man yelled as Zell followed Peter into the apartment.

Zell stepped over Peter and grabbed the man’s shirt and began punching Peter in the face over and over again, over and over until Zell’s rage forced him to pick the average man up and throw him across the room, into the shelves on the far wall.

“Stop!” a woman screamed.

Peter collapsed as the shelves and personal items fell onto him and around him.

Zell turned to the other men, all of whom were watching Zell with wide eyes but none had dared move forward.

“Oh my Hyne,” the woman’s voice said.

Zell assessed the men a moment longer but he knew they weren’t going to help their supposed friend.

Turning back to Peter, Zell saw a younger girl crouched down beside him, looking afraid, a few tears going down her cheek.  And Zell saw the black eye.

“That mother fucker hits you?” Zell said, barely able to keep himself from yelling.

She looked up to him, unable and unwilling to answer.

Zell turned to Peter but the average man was unconscious.  Zell wanted to beat him a second time after seeing the bruised and crying girl.  

Zell stepped towards Peter, attempting to decide if he was going to do any more damage even though Peter was already out.

“Please,” the girl said softly, her voice shaking.

Zell stood over them, sneering down.  He looked at the poor girl and said “You tell that mother fucker... I ever again hear about him harassing my boyfriend -- you know that beautiful man this dumb fuck decided to throw beer bottles at-”

Her eyes widened as she realized who Zell was and what he was doing there.

“-I will come back here and beat him until I can’t raise my arm anymore,” Zell said.  “And he will be long fucking dead before my arm is tired.”  Then Zell looked away from her to Peter and kicked the unconscious man hard, the girl crying out.  Although Peter couldn’t hear him, Zell said directly to Peter “Who’s the ‘faggot cunt’ now.”

Zell then turned away and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door to 514 behind him, heading back downstairs to have dinner with Squall.  As Zell walked, his rage subsided and satisfaction filled him.  All he could think about was how much he wanted to hold Squall and tell the brunette man everything was fine, he was safe, and this fuck would never bother him again.


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