Coming Out Party
Chapter Two - The Lion, the Hitch, and the Wardrobe
No question about it, Leonhart was simply a sensational package.
He loved the brunette’s lean and lanky frame, loved to follow the lines of the taut muscles and sinew under his T-shirt. Loved the subtle flare of his hips. Loved the way his ass looked in tight, black leather when he walked.
Loved him beyond looks, of course.
He loved that dry voice when it rarely chose to assert itself; talking to Squall was sometimes like pullin’ teeth with the patient trying his damndest to keep his mouth closed, and to say that Squall was anti-social would have been a supreme understatement. Most intelligent beings knowing the inimitable Mr. Leonhart would have called Seifer completely insane for even making the attempt.
To which the indomitable Mr. Almasy might have answered, "So, what’s your point?"
Having valiantly resolved himself to try (and never one to let a little sanity get in the way of anything), Seifer had perhaps heard Squall speak more than any other living soul through the benefit of sheer proximity. All manner of surprising things had come out of that mouth: sly observations and caustic commentary that made him flinch or laugh out loud, the odd witty retort or two, occasional cries of outrage or anger that were aimed at him more times than he’d care to admit. Squall had murmured words of encouragement that had made his heart ache…and hot whispers when they were alone together that made his head spin.
In fact, about the only thing he hadn’t heard from Squall was when he was plannin’ to actually tell anyone that they were an item, but given his predisposition toward keeping his mouth shut, it was understandable… Not all right exactly, cause he, Seifer Almasy, ex-Sorceress’ Knight, wanted to shout it in the central atrium. He wanted to sing it at the top of his lungs like a moron.
Seifer also wanted to not so subtly shove it up the ass of everyone who still treated him like crap.
More than anything.
But every time he brought up the subject, Squall’d go real still and just look at him like a doe in headlights, and fuck if he could bring himself to pursue it. He didn’t know Squall’s reasons, and hell if he knew what was goin’ on in that shaggy head of his; he just knew he loved the infuriatingly complex mind behind those beautiful, bright gray eyes that were always so narrow cause he was ‘thinking about things’…
Or at least that’s what Squall’d said when Seifer had teased him mercilessly about it for a month straight, "Terra to Squall, terra to Squall, come in Squall, over."
"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking."
Squall, Seifer had come to realize, spent a lot of time just looking like he was here. Body may have been in the chair, but brain was off flying solo somewhere through inner space, and while this pissed Seifer off considerably, he had to admit that even this facet of Squall’s personality was so intrinsically…Squallish…that he loved it too.
Seifer loved him. Simply loved him, Squall Leonhart, loved him always and loved all of these things about him-
-but, at this particular moment, Seifer thought as he lifted Squall’s legs over his shoulders, he really loved him naked.
"That’ll teach you to tease, eh Leonhart?" Seifer panted as the brunette squirmed beneath him, "It’s a good thing I sorta like you." And with one clean, well-practiced thrust, and two sharp muffled cries, he was moving in slick, wet heat.
And as always, whether it was during the heat of battle or in the throes of a frantic tumble on the study room table, it was explosive between them. Pleasure licked and squeezed its way through every nerve ending, searing its way across his thighs and shooting up his spine so that Seifer had to force his hips to slow down. Squall was incredibly hot… unbelievably tight. Yet another thing to add to the list of things that he loved.
"You…sorta like me?" Squall finally answered, giving tiny little gasps as Seifer slipped his hand down between them. "Feels like…feels…" He threw back his head. "Feels…"
"What?" Seifer growled, leaning in to bite at soft skin, palm sliding over the velvet of Squall’s sex to the slow rhythm of their lovemaking. "Feels like what?" Feels like heaven, fuck yes, feels-
"…More than…sorta…" Squall’s legs tightened, "…more…"
Seifer moved his hips a little faster, beginning to see little fireworks at the edge of his vision. "More what?"
"More…" Squall moaned.
Gray eyes mindless, Squall’s face contorted in a feral grimace. "Seifer!" he hissed, "More for God’s sake, fuck me!" And then Squall twisted and bucked, sending every conscious thought screaming from his head.
"Nnn…Squall…you feel so good."
"That’s it, ah, God yes, harder!"
They were gonna clean out the library years later and find a cute little skeleton with a killer grin, wide-legged shorts and spiky hair still sitting hunched in the supply closet.
Cause he was gonna die. And, Zell thought faintly as someone that was far too low to be Squall (ACK! No, don’t even THINK about it) groaned, if in the unlikely event he didn’t die from sheer mortification, he would die from blood loss to his body since his face had to be redder than all the crosses on Seifer’s coat. That he wasn’t wearing. Not that he was wearing anything at the moment (ACK! Didn’t I tell you not to think about it?)…or Squall for that matter…(ACK! ACK! What’d I say?!).
Oh man…he couldn’t say it…did he have to say it? Ugh…the wetslappingsound of bodiesimpacting…(whew!), the words whispered in the heat of it all, or the occasional grunt/groan/moan or variation thereupon (Oh, wow, hadn’t heard that one before---ACK!) he coulda handled because the fingers in his ears had blocked out almost everything (except for the damned THUMP THUMP THUMP of the table, which Zell had been able to hear just fine).
But he’d been forced to (reluctantly) remove his fingers when his ears had started to pop painfully and his hands had started to hurt, and so now was back to square-one: front row seats to Garden’s fiercest rivals going at it…and at it…and at it…
[Were they still really goin’ at it(…?), uh-huh, yeah, here we go, Squall that time. Damn…and double damn! Now that is stamina… I wonder if there’s some kinda trick to it, or maybe- (Are you listening to yourself? ACK!)].
Zell would have nodded emphatically if he could’ve moved his neck. He was gonna die…absolutely. Not a question in his mind. And at the very least he was never gonna be able to look at either of them ever again with anything resembling a straight face.
(what was that again?)
(a ‘straight’ face?)
Oh, the hell with it, Zell sighed silently. Whatever. So they were gay. And so he wasn’t. He’d be lucky if he could look at anything; he’d also been squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that little green specks floated across his line of vision like algae growing in the Garden fountains. But if he could still see when this was all over, he would look Squall in the eye and shake his hand and be happy for him…of course he would. He’d still think of Squall the same way. Still admire him. Zell Dincht was no fair-weather friend.
If Squall ever decided to tell him, Zell would be prepared to welcome Squall and whatever he chose to confide with open arms.
But for now he would settle for slipping out of the room when they were gone and trying not to suffer flashbacks.
"Aw, Squall," a hand waved in front of his face, "you were doing so well when you first got here, carrying on a conversation. Positively verbose. Maybe Laguna was rubbin’ off on you."
"…" Squall blinked, "Mmm?"
Still where he’d ended up after they’d collapsed sharing soulful kisses and basking in afterglow, the Headmaster of Balamb Garden was lying naked and half sprawled on the table, his arms wrapped around the lean, well-muscled body of the ex-Sorceress’ Knight (also naked), and his mind fifty thousand light years away.
"You’re spacing out on me again, Leonhart." Seifer blew out his breath noisily, shaking his head. "You got that look. You know, the narrow eye thing."
"Oh, I was just…thinking. About things."
"Huh." The blond gave him a speculative glance. For one brief, hopeful moment Squall thought his lover would be able to leave it at that, but then a slow grin came to Seifer’s face, his beautiful blue-green eyes twinkling mischievously as they crinkled. Squall almost groaned; Seifer was giving him ‘the look’.
He was about to be made fun of.
"I dunno…" Seifer drawled, "It looked an awful lot like squinting to me. You nearsighted or somethin’?"
"Maybe we should get you an eye test."
"I can see it now," Seifer continued, naked shoulders beginning to shake. " ‘Read the first line please, Mr. Leonhart.’ ‘…’ ‘How do you feel about tinted lenses?’ ‘…Whatever.’" The tall blond then took one look at Squall’s face and promptly erupted into full-blown, hiccuping peals of laughter.
"Seifer," Squall sighed, stretching a hand to firmly rub the skin at the bridge of his nose. He loved Seifer dearly, and no one else in the world could make him laugh like he could…but sometimes he was just about as funny as root canal. "Enough."
"We’d have to get you a pair of those horn rimmed glasses," Seifer gasped, clutching at his arms, "so you’d be stylin’-"
"I could call you four-eyes-"
Seifer’s arms tightened around him. "Yes, Squall?" He nuzzled Squall’s neck.
"Seifer, if you don’t cut it out now, I’ll be forced to kill you."
"I love you too, Squall," Seifer replied, blowing bubbles on Squall’s skin and laughing even harder when he snorted in disgust. Seifer was simply a maddening creature. Exasperatingly, irritatingly in Squall’s face about everything and on his mind twenty-four hours a day, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to prevent it. Not that he wanted to… Despite the extra wet lips vibrating against his neck, Squall ran a hand through the soft, golden strands of hair at the back of Seifer’s head, smiling when the chuckling blond mumbled incoherently at the touch.
"Come on, Seifer," Squall murmured after a moment. "I only reserved the room for an hour and we’ve got…" Pausing, he swung a hand down to the floor for his pants and quickly drew out a pocket watch, "exactly 6 minutes, thirty-five seconds before the librarian troops down here with some student screaming about study privileges."
"Six minutes, huh?" came the response from his neck. "I’m such a stud."
And so modest, too. Squall rolled his eyes, glancing quickly at the watch again. 6 minutes, twenty-two seconds. "Well get up, stud, cause I can’t get dressed with you on top of me."
"Maybe I like you better naked."
6 minutes, thirteen seconds. "Seifer," Squall warned, pushing at the blonde’s broad shoulders. "Someone is going to find us like this." Even now he could feel the familiar panic start to set in, every muscle in his body tensing until the weight on top of him shifted enough so that he could wriggle from Seifer’s grasp. Squall immediately stood, pulling on his pants, gray eyes already looking for his boots. 5 minutes, forty-nine seconds.
"And would that be so bad?" Seifer asked. The blond stood reluctantly, stepping away from the table and making a lazy grab for his pants from the chair where they’d been dropped. "Someone finding us together? It’s not like it’d be the end of the world."
"Seifer." No time for this, even though I love you, love spending time with you, Seifer would you please get dressed a little faster. 5 minutes, twenty seconds.
"Well, would it?" Seifer paused in the act of pulling on a sock, raising an eyebrow as Squall pulled his necklace out of his T-shirt. "I mean, what would happen if I decided to just sit here…"
5 minutes, oh God, and Seifer was still sitting there in just his pants and one sock. "Seifer!" Squall begged, "God Dammit! Get dressed before someone sees-" He met Seifer’s gaze, loathing himself then for the brief flash of pain that he’d caused to appear in those blue-green eyes…and despising himself for the relief he felt as Seifer finished dressing. Socks, shoes, vest, trench coat and choker chain; with 3 minutes, 45 seconds to spare, Squall sighed.
They were safe.
"Ok, ok, I’m dressed," Seifer forced a laugh. "But no one's ever seen us before. And just who’s gonna see us in here anyway? You locked the door. Do you think there are people spyin’ on us Leonhart? Someone’s under the table?"
Making a show of looking under the table, the tall blond then straightened and strode across the room, stopping in front of the supply closet. "Someone’s gonna pop outta the closet?"
Seifer gave a lopsided grin and swung open the doors.
"…!!!" Squall gasped, eyes fixed on the closet and the blood draining from his face. "Zell?!"
The tall blond frowned. "Huh? ‘Zell’? What the hell are you-?" Following Squall’s line of vision, Seifer peered inside and broke off with a strangled cry.
There at the bottom of the closet, with papers, pencils and pamphlets scattered about him, and blinking from the sudden change in brightness sat none other than an extremely red-faced Zell Dincht. He swallowed once. Squaring his shoulders, the small tattooed blond smiled weakly at Squall and Seifer.
"So…um. Guess I’m not the only one in the closet, huh?"
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