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Legacy	By : RaceUlfson Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 756 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 1-Legacy
- 1
I don't own the characters and am using them without permission of the rightful owners. No one is profitting from this abuse.

Warnings: Deathfic, in that Laguna Loire is already dead. Thus, this is also AU. There is B and D and kinky yaoi sex ahead.

Legacy

Squall stood and bowed politely as the senate cheered. Kiros
gave him a dignified supportive squeeze on the shoulder; Ward pulled him into a
bear hug.

When Laguna Loire passed away suddenly, people panicked.
Esther had prospered during these last 25 plus years under Loire; he was their
talisman against the threat of Sorceresses. Kiros was acting Chief but could
tell it wouldn�t last. He had the brains but not the charisma or the magic
Loire touch.

In a burst of brilliance, he contacted Squall. The boy was
in town for his father�s funeral, of course, and Kiros pitched to him the idea
that he stay and take temporary control of the country while the matter of
succession was sorted out.

Squall, bored with the predicable crises of SeeD and Garden
life, agreed. They estimated the Interim Government would be necessary only a
few weeks at most. Kiros was satisfied; the boy- Kiros should stop thinking of
him like that, Squall was in his late twenties at least- the young man had a
surprising amount of the Old Loire Charm, and Kiros knew how to use it. The
people fell in love with Squall, seeing his aloofness and indifference as
shyness and grief.

Seven months later, the Senate unanimously elected and
endorsed Squall Leonhart Loire as their President-for-Life.

Well-wishers surged towards the Presidential box. Squall
shook hands and accepted accolades but he was cutting his eyes to the exits and
starting to tense up. Ward noticed and signaled to Kiros, who made a pretty
speech about how Squall needed a little time to come to grips with stepping so
fully into his father�s shoes.

It was decided that Squall would vacation for a month at one
of the Presidential Retreats. That would give everyone time to arrange formal
galas and pageants to honor the new president. Squall agreed, but decided not
to go with Kiros� carefully laid out PR rich tour. Instead he slipped off to
one of the properties he�d seen on the list.

The Ancient Palace, it was called, and it predated Adel and
even Esther City itself. Squall was hoping for some peace and quiet, or at
least some interesting architecture. If it was related to the ruins in Centra,
then there might be GFs or draw points, too.

Squall arrived in the evening, tired from a whole day of
driving aimlessly to distract followers. A flustered caretaker opened the gates
for him, babbling apologies.

�We didn�t expect you, Mr. President! The staff is on
hiatus; many in fact stayed in the Capitol after The Funeral. Ah, my
condolences, Sir.�

Squall nodded. He and Laguna had never been close, but it
was still a jolt every time he was reminded he�d never see his father again.
Setting those thoughts aside for later contemplation, Squall said, �I don�t
need staff; I�m not expecting �or receiving- any visitors.�

The old man smiled slyly. �Understood, Sir. Will you be
getting your own meals, too, then?�

That would be a problem; Squall had lived his whole life
eating at the mess or dining out if the occasion warranted. He�d never even
made a sandwich for himself.

The Caretaker saw his hesitation. �I can get someone from
the village to come in to cook and clean the kitchens for you.�

�That will do,� Squall said. �I only eat one meal a day,
anyway.�

�And it shows. Sorry, Mr. President. I�ll have Becca come in
first thing tomorrow and cook you up a hot breakfast.�

�No, later, mid day is when I prefer to eat.� Squall reached
for his suitcase, but the old man beat him to it.

�Allow me, Sir. The Master�s Suite is this way, off the rear
garden�� The Caretaker led Squall through the palace, narrating points of
interest. Squall suspected a large part of the old man�s job was giving tours.
After all, how often had Laguna visited?

As if he read Squall�s mind, the Caretaker suddenly said, �I
hope you enjoy your stay here, Sir. This was your father�s favorite retreat.�
He set the suitcase on the bed and began to open it.

�I�ll do that.� Squall still hadn�t gotten used to servants
going through his person things. �I�ve had a long day and would like to retire
soon.�

The Caretaker took the hint. �Of course, Sir. Your wardrobe
is through that door, the one next to it leads to the bath.�

Squall nodded. �What is behind that door there?� He
indicated a door near the bed.

�Ah, that would be to the Harem, Sir. Very old custom. May I
get you anything before I go?�

Squall shook his head. A short time later, as he lay in bed,
he tried to imagine what possible purpose there was to having a Harem. It must
have come with the Palace, an architectural leftover. The Caretaker did say
Laguna had tried to keep the Palace as historically accurate as he comfortably
could. Squall fell asleep after deciding his father probably used the rooms as
extra offices.

He awakened early the next morning and went exploring. Part
of the Harem was indeed set up as a series of offices, and they looked well
used. So did the opulent bedroom and bath. There was a sitting room with a
small dining table in the corner, cozy and intimate, and a larger room
decorated like a fantasy harem, with floor pillows, a fountain, and soft
lighting. Closer examinations of some of the more mysterious objects and
furniture in the room left Squall blushing. He was glad no one was around to
tease him about it. Even so, he left the harem quickly.

Squall bypassed the obviously for show rooms and wound up in
a huge library. Many of the volumes were old, and in strange languages. He made
a mental note to ask Zell to come translate for him sometime, to see if any of
the books were on GFs.

Something outside caught Squall�s eye. He stepped over to
the large French doors, which opened onto a tiled patio overlooking a small
formal garden.

A broad shouldered man was doing martial arts katas there.
He was wearing a crisp white linen collarless shirt and baggy raw linen
drawstring pants. The sun turned his blond hair to red gold and his trousers
nearly transparent. There was something familiar about the man; something in
his stance�

�Sir?� The Caretaker peeked in timidly.

Squall waved him over. �I thought I was clear that I didn�t
want any visitors.�

�Yes, Sir. No one is admitted except Becca, the cook.�

�Then who is that?�

The Caretaker glanced outside and dipped his head
apologetically. �Sorry, Sir, I didn�t count him as a visitor, he comes with the
house.�

Squall didn�t bother commenting, he just stared until the
old man was moved to give him more information.

�He�s your slave.�

Now Squall wasn�t sure he could comment, at least not
intelligently. He continued staring

�Your harem slave, Sir. Well, the former Mr. President�s
harem slave. He comes with the harem, so he�s yours now.� The Caretaker smiled
and nodded at Squall encouragingly. When he got no response, he started easing
for the door.

�I have a slave?�

�Yes, Sir. As I said, before, Sir, it�s a very old custom.
The harem is set up for many slaves but your late father had only the one. Just
as the title of President and the ownership of the house and lands passed to
you, so did the slave.�

�But� who is he? Where did he come from?� Squall was having
a hard time imagining his father with a slave, custom or no.

�Slaves have no name, Sir.�

�What am I supposed to do with a slave?�

The Caretaker coughed discreetly. �He is a harem slave, Sir.
If you aren�t interested in his, er, services, you can simply ignore him. He
will do whatever you wish.�

�I don�t want a slave. Get rid of him.� Squall frowned out
the window at the blond man. Something about him was niggling at Squall�s
memory.

�Mr. President! The slave is not an employee. You cannot fire
him. You cannot set him out along the roadside. He�s a� Presidential
Responsibility. Your late father��

�Yes, fine, whatever. What about freeing him?�

�That I do not know, Sir. It would be in his paperwork.�

�Get me his paperwork, then.�

The old man bowed and fled. Squall opened the doors and
stepped out into the bright warm sunshine, resisting the urge to flinch and
shield his eyes. He really should get out more often.

The blond, for Squall could not think of him as a slave,
turned slightly towards the sun. His profile was so familiar. The man continued
turning, towards Squall and the soft sound of the door latch snicking shut.
Even more familiar was the diagonal scar across the man�s face.

After all, Squall saw it�s mate every morning when he
shaved.

�Seifer!�

Seifer had his eyes closed, his face to the sun. He opened
them like a lazy cat and drawled, �Well, if it isn�t the little Leonhart, all
grown up.�

�What are you doing here?�

�I live here.� Seifer smirked at him.

No one could make Squall feel immature, clumsy, and stupid
like Seifer Almasy. It was as if the 10 years since Squall had last seen Seifer
vanished with the morning mists. Squall was 17 again, shy and uncertain. He
hated it.

�You are a harem slave?� Someone else could have put some
sarcasm into the words, made them hurtful, gotten some of the balance of power
back. Squall barely managed to tame an astonished squeak down to his usual
toneless murmur.

Seifer shrugged. �It�s a living.�

Feeling gauche, Squall blurted out, �Did� Laguna know?� He
knew it was a stupid thing to say even as the words left his lips.

True to form, Seifer rolled his eyes. �Who do you think
enslaved me, Puberty Boy?�

�But why?�

Suddenly, Squall knew. He knew what the toys were for and
who ate at the intimate little table. He knew why the bed and the bath were
larger and more comfortable looking in the Harem than in the Master�s suite.
Squall knew and yet, even with that certainty and the answer of Seifer�s
knowing smile, he had to ask. �Were you and my father fucking?�

�What do you think killed him?�

Squall nearly pulled his gunblade and skewered Seifer on the
spot. It was his first instinct, a habit so engrained he couldn�t forget it no
matter how many GF�s he junctioned. But he wasn�t 17 anymore. He was the head
of SeeD, he was the duly elected President of Esther, and he had more
self-control than that. �Get out of my sight,� Squall said coldly.

Seifer bowed mockingly and left, his gait unhurried. He was
gone a long time before Squall managed to unclench his fists.

As commanded, Seifer stayed out of sight. Squall ate a late
lunch that would have been delicious if he�d paid any attention to it. He
wandered the halls of the Palace and tried to sort out his feelings. It did no
good, and the Caretaker�s quiet offering of Seifer�s enslavement papers didn�t
help. Squall made his way back to the library and used the Presidential passkey
to open the sealed and secured documents.

They were simple enough. Shortly after the war Seifer was
unlucky enough to find himself on Estherian soil. He was arrested. The actual charge
was vague and Squall suspected, spurious. Seifer was largely arrested because
he was Seifer Almasy, the Sorceress�s Knight. It was the Informed Opinion of
the Powers That Were in Esther that Edea still posed a potential threat to the
planet. Her powers naturally increased exponentially when her Knight assisted
her. Since Esther couldn�t get Edea, they decided to imprison her Knight.
Seifer�s sentence was for as long as either he or Edea lived.

Matron wasn�t that much older than they were, certainly less
than 30 years. There was no reason to suppose she wouldn�t last another 20
years, easy.

Squall shook his head and paged through the documents.
Esther had no prisons; accordingly Seifer was enslaved, stripped of his name
and all rights, and sent as a gift to Laguna Loire. There was only one caveat:
Seifer had to be taken care of properly to ensure he survived his sentence. He
could not be killed and he could not be allowed to commit suicide. It wasn�t
that Esther cared about the man; but if Seifer died, Edea would be free to
choose another Knight.

Guilt ate at Squall as he compared his life to Seifer�s.
They had been rivals but not enemies, not even during the war. For a proud,
ambitious man like Seifer, this must have been a fate worse than death. Why
wasn�t Squall imprisoned, too? Did they trust Rinoa and not Edea? Trust him and
not Seifer? It was true that Rinoa and even Ellone had very different powers
than Edea, but�

It struck Squall suddenly that Laguna never left Esther. And
Elle never left the White SeeD ship, except during the war. Was that Laguna�s
compromise? Rinoa had joined some all female religious community and devoted
her life to working with traumatized children. Squall, as head of SeeD, had
never felt his presence there was required or even welcome.

He rubbed the scar across his face and decided he needed to
talk to Seifer.

Squall found him in the kitchen, eating the cold cuts Becca
had set aside in the hopes that Squall would eat more.

Seifer glanced up when Squall came in. �I�ll be out of here
in a minute.�

�No, stay.� Squall sat down across the worktable from
Seifer. ��I read your detention papers.� Seifer leaned back in his chair, his
facial expression politely bored, his eyes hooded. �I can pardon you, free
you.�

�I wouldn�t,� Seifer said mildly. �Edea is still alive.�

�You think she will summon you after all this time?�

�I�d go to her. I�d have no where else to go.�

That rankled in ways Squall couldn�t begin to explain to
himself. �One would almost think you enjoyed being a slave.�

�Parts of it aren�t so bad.�

�Like spreading for my father?� He usually had better
control than this, but then, Seifer wasn�t usually the one he was dealing with.

That hateful, knowing smile returned. �Who says I wasn�t
fucking him?�

White-hot anger flashed through Squall, as painful and
dazzling as a direct hit from Quezacotal. He went for Seifer, a full tackle,
and went down onto the stone kitchen floor with him when Seifer�s chair
overturned. Squall had the advantage and pressed it; soon he had Seifer pinned
under him.

Squall found he liked their positions very well. He shifted
so he was kneeling between Seifer�s legs, then spread his own legs to force
Seifer�s further apart. �Is this what you want?�

�Your father never had to force me.�

Squall leaned forward, putting his weight on Seifer�s pinned
wrists, hurting him a little. He could feel the heat coming off Seifer through
his thin clothes; he felt Seifer�s cock twitch. �I am not my father.� Squall
offered a feral smile. �You won�t be fucking me.�

Sea green eyes glared at him. �You think you will be fucking
me?�

�I think I�d like to.� The words were a surprise to Squall,
he hadn�t known what he was going to say. The revelation filled his mind and
with sudden clarity Squall realized he was jealous, and not over his father,
but Seifer. He didn�t want anyone else touching Seifer, only him. Part of him
had always wanted to possess the arrogant blond.

He looked into Seifer�s eyes, or what he could see of them.
There were no answers there and yet Squall could feel Seifer�s erection, hot
and hard against his belly. Squall rubbed against him slightly. �Choose now,
Seifer. Freedom or slavery?�

The blond arched and closed his eyes. �I gave my solemn
promise and oath that I would do whatever it took to prevent Edea from gaining
power again.�

�That�s a cop out and you know it. You could go anywhere
else and hide from her. You could stay here in Esther.� Squall traced the scar
he�d given Seifer with the tip of his tongue. Under him, Seifer�s flesh crawled
and his nipples pebbled.

�If I leave the compound for any reason, the shumites have a
huge standing reward out for me. They felt the safest course was to turn me
into something, like a tree. The Galbadians wanted to turn me into a vegetable,
lobotomize me.�

Squall nipped Seifer�s ear lobe, then suckled it to take
away the sting. �Still a cop out,� he whispered into Seifer�s ear. �You�ve
already made your decision.�

Seifer had no comment to that.

Squall gave him a bruising kiss. �Go to the Harem and
prepare yourself for me. You have one hour.� He released Seifer�s wrists and
moved back so he could get up.

The bow Squall received this time was much less mocking.

Squall caught the scent of warm beeswax and the sharp tang
of bitter orange. There was clove and something rich, sexy and sweet�
chocolate? He opened the Harem door and made his way to the large pillow
decorated playroom. Once there Squall was hard put to find a spot to deposit
the tray he�d been carrying; nearly every flat surface was covered with
candles.

Seifer waited, partially hidden by the shadows. Squall
gestured him forward, and Seifer obeyed with a slight smirk, even turning in a
circle so Squall could get the fell view. Seifer was wearing filmy dark blue
harem pants, transparent and open along the sides. The thong he wore under them
could not hide his arousal. The rest of
his outfit consisted of a short matching vest. Something under the vest flashed
in the candlelight and Squall pushed the fabric aside to investigate.

Seifer�s nipples were pierced, and hanging from each dark
pink bud was an old fashioned looking bauble of silvery metal, hematite, and
lapis lazuli. Squall tugged on the ornaments and Seifer shivered.

�Very nice,� Squall purred. �Now, take it off.�

Seifer�s expression was carefully hidden as he silently
obeyed. Squall�s heart was pounding and he felt like he was free falling. He
had no real plan, only vague desires. Never in his life had he trusted so much
to instinct. �Leave the jewelry.�

Seifer was a beautiful as ever, toned and tanned and tawny
gold in the candlelight. Squall admired a moment, then guided his slave over to
a series of straps that hung from the ceiling. �Put your hands in the straps,
and keep them there. Don�t move.�

Again, Seifer obeyed, and that alone was enough to get
Squall hard. He went quickly to tray he�d brought in and poured himself a glass
of ice water. Squall downed a few sips, then he set the still mostly full glass
on top of Seifer�s head.

�Don�t move,� he reminded. Squall ran his hands over Seifer,
mapping and claiming his flesh. When he ran his nails up Seifer�s cock, the
blond jerked, and then cursed colorfully as he was drenched in ice-cold water.

Seifer started to bring his hands down, but stopped when
Squall said, �No.� He watched Squall fetch a towel from the bathroom and mop
the floor, leaving him dripping. Squall refilled the glass and set it back on
top of Seifer�s head. �A little more incentive: I am going to whip your ass
five times for every glass you spill.�

Squall claimed Seifer�s mouth and they were both drenched.
Squall set up another glass and moved down to lick and kiss Seifer�s very hard,
very cold nipples. He lasted that time until Squall kissed the tip of his cock;
the next glass fell when Squall slipped a cold, wet finger inside him.

Squall paused this time to pour himself a brandy. Seifer
couldn�t turn to see what he was doing without spilling the water. He was up to
20 strokes already and Squall didn�t want to have to give him much more. Squall
rummaged in one of the toy chests in the room, selecting a few items.

�Talk to me,� Squall said. He poured some oil onto his palm
and began gently stroking Seifer.

�Now??� Seifer was quivering with the need to thrust into
Squall�s hand and the urge not to be wetted again. �Weird fucking weather.�

�How did you and my father become lovers?� Squall kept up
the too slow, too light touches with one hand while teasing Seifer�s entrance
with his other.

�Fuck� we didn�t have a lot of choices, you know. He always had
to be on guard for someone trying to use him, his position�� Seifer pushed back
against Squall�s hand, nearly dislodging the glass. �And, well, no one else is
allowed to touch me.�

Squall coated a toy with the oil and ran that up the crack
of Seifer�s ass. �I find it hard to believe my father kept you as a slave.�

�That was only on paper� we were friends. He needed someone
who would never bullshit him, that was me. I started doing research for him,
just for something to do� Hyne, Squall, what are you doing back there?�

�Whatever I want.� Squall tightened his grip on Seifer�s
cock and began masturbating him instead of merely teasing. This time, when
Seifer tossed his head and the water spilled, Squall thrust the dildo deep
inside him.

Seifer yelped and bucked and nearly came, but Squall
wouldn�t allow it. He slipped a cock ring on Seifer, and smirked as the blond
writhed and cursed him.

�How many was that? Thirty?�

�Twenty five, � Seifer growled. He was still squirming.

Squall smacked Seifer smartly on his ice-cold ass. Seifer
tensed and waited for the next blow.

�No, the time for holding still is passed. I want you to
move.� Squall spanked him again. �Dance around, squirm. Act like it really
hurts.�

�It does hurt, you asshole,� Seifer snarled. He thrashed and
struggled, which only seemed to make the dildo rub inside in distracting ways.
Seifer thrust helplessly against nothing, frantic to come.

�What sort of research did you do?� Squall kept up a steady
rhythm of spanking.

�For� ah� his books, his novels� he got so busy, and he lost
interest in the series� ow, damn! I ghost wrote the last two for him.�

�Laguna Loire wrote novels?�

�Yeah, as Lillian Mere.�

�The romance writer? You and my father wrote romance
novels?� Squall realized he was nearing the end of the count and stopped.
Seifer held onto the straps and panted. Softly, Squall asked, �Did you love
him?�

After a pause, Seifer said, �I miss him. He was � a great
guy. He always treated me like an equal, even tho� �

Squall hissed in Seifer�s ear, �But you�re not an equal, are
you?� He started stroking Seifer�s cock again. �Say it.�

Seifer twisted in his bonds, but it was hard to say if he
was trying to get closer or get away. Squall kept up the steady friction. �Say
it.�

�Squallll��

�Say it, Seifer, say that you are my slave. That you want to
be my slave.�

Squall pumped the dildo in and out a few time and Seifer
arched and moaned.

�Yes, yes, dammit.�

�No,� Squall said, commanding, �Say the words.� He slapped
Seifer hard on the ass.

�Fuck, yes, all right, I�m a slave.�

�Who�s slave?� Squall purred, rewarding Seifer with a few
more teasing touches.

�Yours, Hynedammit, yours, I�m your slave.�

�Say it again. Louder.� Squall spanked Seifer soundly across
the ass, forcing the dildo in deeper.

�I�m your slave!�

Squall pulled out the dildo and threw it aside. He grabbed
Seifer by the hips. �Scream it,� he said, and thrust in.

�I�m your slave, yes, Hyne, Squall�� Seifer yelled as he
thrashed and bucked.

�Call me Master,� Squall ordered.

�Master,� Seifer whispered, and Squall popped open the cock
ring. �Master,� Seifer repeated as Squall fucked him. �Squall! Master!� he
screamed when he came.

Unable to resist, Squall held Seifer tightly against him and
climaxed soon after. He rested there, his head against Seifer�s heaving back
and tried to catch his own breath.

Squall caught Seifer when he released the straps, and
somehow guided them both around the wet towels to the bathroom to get cleaned
up and dried off. They stumbled to the giant bed and collapsed.

Squall placed a claiming hand on the blonde�s chest.
Possession or lover, one way or the other, Seifer was his from now on. Yet now
that the rush was gone, Squall was feeling uncertain again. �You letting me do
this because I look like him?�

Lazy green eyes met his. Sprawled out across the sheets like
the great cat he so resembled, Seifer smiled at his lover, his master.

Sure his uneasiness was alive enough to be tangible, Squall
tugged sharply on one of the nipple rings, demanding an answer.

Seifer laughed and shook his head. �I fucked him because he
looked like you.�

Squall smiled and pulled up the blanket to cover them,
tangling his limbs with those of his slave.

* *
*

Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your
service,
There resides to make me a slave to it.

((Shakespeare, �The Tempest� Act 3 Scene 1))

* *
*
This was a challenge to write a harem scene with the FF8
boys. I don�t know if I managed to keep them in character, but I tried for
faintly believable, at least.

Endless thanks to Darksquall, without whom this would not
have been posted anywhere. And to Acid Rain, for� inspiration. Yeah, we�ll call
it that.

Yes, I�m still working on Fever. Honest.
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