WARNING: Yaoi, shounen-ai, boy love, gay sex, swearing. Smut, and lots of it.

Context: This is a multi-chapter sequel to 'Tinsel', available here (smut-lite) or on my website, www.scribblemoose.co.uk

Disclaimer: FF8 characters belong to Squaresoft. Bollocks.

Dedication: This story, in its entirety, is dedicated with love to Gwen. Because she rocks.

Blood and Sand

Chapter 1 - Clubbing

By scribblemoose

Irvine watched Squall sleeping, enjoying a moment of peace and contentment with, if he was honest with himself, a certain amount of smugness. This was the thirteenth morning he'd woken up with Squall in his bed, and he found it was a habit he could definitely get used to.

He checked the clock: it was nearly seven. Any minute now the alarm would go off, and Squall would be suddenly awake and probably cross at the intrusion. It seemed like a very harsh and inconsiderate way to wake up someone who was sleeping as peacefully as Squall was at that moment.

Irvine reached carefully over Squall's comatose form, and turned off the alarm. Smiling to himself, he propped himself up on one elbow, and slid his other arm under the warm covers. He stroked his hand softly across Squall's chest, watching carefully for any signs of impending wakefulness.

There were none, so let his hand continue on it's journey, luxuriating in the soft skin of Squall's waist, his hip… and then, very, very slowly, Irvine trailed his fingers across flat, toned belly until he reached his quarry.

Squall had an impressive morning hard-on, something of a trend, as Irvine had observed these past thirteen mornings. He gently wrapped his fingers around it, watching Squall's face all the while, and finally, firmly but not too hard, he squeezed.

His love came awake, not with the rude start the alarm would have produced, but with a groan of pleasure and a luxurious stretch, pushing himself into Irvine's grasp, his sexiest smile creeping across his face.

Irvine rewarded him with a stroke or two, and leaned over to kiss him properly awake. "Morning, babe," he whispered.

"Mmmgh…" Squall replied, his eyelids slowly fluttering open, revealing cloudy grey eyes, still full of sleep. "Hey." He smiled again.

Gods, but Irvine could never get enough of that smile.

"This good?" He continued to stroke Squall's cock, just gently, back and forth, easing Squall's body into the day.

"Mmmn…" Squall murmured approvingly. "Time?"

"Plenty of time, babe. Alarm hasn't gone off yet," he soothed, quite truthfully, technically speaking.

Squall relaxed into the rhythm Irvine was setting, his tongue slipping between Irvine's lips as they kissed, softly at first, then with mounting passion as Irvine's touch became more purposeful. Squall's breath shortened, the movement of his hips intensified, and Irvine kissed across his jaw, down his throat, paused to flirt with one tiny nipple; ducked under the covers and took Squall's aching erection in his hot, wet mouth.

He heard the muffled sound of Squall's groan, felt it vibrating through his body. He sucked gently, just enough to make sure that every inch of Squall's length was being touched, revelling in the taste and the feel of him, caressing with soft lips and wet tongue. He felt Squall push the covers back, threading his fingers through Irvine's glossy auburn hair, and Irvine watched the pure pleasure on Squall's face as he gently fucked Irvine's mouth.

Irvine's fingers explored Squall's inner thighs, almost tickling, teased his ass and finally curled around his balls, pressing the spot just behind them with trigger-strong fingertips.

Squall arched his back with a long moan, his cock swelled, balls pulled up tight, and Irvine clamped his lips around the base of his erection as he spurted down Irvine's throat. He slid back a little to take the last few drops on his tongue, so as to properly taste it, and let Squall's cock fall from his mouth, catching it in his hand, enclosing it in warm fingers as it slowly began to soften.

Squall was staring happily at the ceiling, a foolish grin on his face.

"Gah," he said.

"Sure, babe," Irvine agreed, kissing his way back up to Squall's lips, sharing Squall's own flavours with him.

"Mmm… time?"

"Er… ah. Half past seven, sweetheart."

"Wha… fuck! Alarm didn't go off! Fuck!"

And Squall was out of bed, swearing prodigiously and on his way to the shower, desperately searching for a towel on the way.

Irvine lay back with a sigh. Oh well. It had to be a better way to wake up, still, than the alarm. He heard the shower start, and started to contemplate his own hard-on, which was throbbing not inconsiderably as a result of his efforts for Squall.

"Shit!" came Squall's voice from the bathroom. The sound of the shower became suddenly louder as the door opened and Squall, clad fetchingly in a small white towel, returned.

He stomped over to the bed and took Irvine by the hand. "Forgot you," he said. "Shower. Fuck. Now."

Irvine let himself be dragged to bliss, a very happy smile on his face.

"For the last time, I don't do clubs," Squall prodded his sandwich sulkily with his knife and gave it a hard stare for good measure.

"I don't see why not," said Irvine, lazily. "Lots of people not wearing much and simulating sex on a dance floor. Sounds to me like the perfect social occasion for an exhibitionist like you."

Squall gave him one of his more dangerous looks.

"It's the perfect opportunity. It's a great club, and best of all, it's in Esthar. Away from here. Oh, come on, babe, let your hair down for a change."


"You know you're going to give in eventually." Irvine regarded Squall's sullen expression thoughtfully; in fact he didn't look much like he was going to give in at all. Time to bring out the big guns. "Well, it's up to you. But remember this: if you don't come clubbing with me, you'll have to spend all night at a boring presidential reception."

Squall's eyes narrowed, his gaze steelier than ever.

"Of course, you mightn't mind that so much," Irvine continued, straight-faced, "meeting all those dignitaries, being shown off as the hero who defeated Ultimecia and long-lost son of the President. Oh, and I expect they'll want you to tell witty and amusing stories about our adventures…"

"Oh gods…" Squall slumped his head down onto the table.

"But it's up to you, babe. Of course." Irvine allowed himself a victory smirk.


Irvine waited patiently.

"Oh, all right then. You win," Squall said, voice echoing against the Formica table top. "But I'm not going to pretend to enjoy it. And you'll have to think of some way to get us out of the reception."

"That's fine, babe, leave it to me. We'll take Laguna out for a birthday dinner, and I'll get Selphie to charm the pants off him so he won't even notice us slip away after." He ruffled Squall's hair affectionately, ignoring the growl he got in return. "And then I'll show you the best club in the whole world, ever."

"You torment me on purpose," Squall snarled, raising his head, "don't think I don't know."

"Nah," Irvine replied. "Well, maybe just a bit. Now, are you going to finish your lunch, or just glare at it? Only the Ragnarok leaves in half an hour."

Squall frowned at him, hard, and set about eating his sandwich.

Irvine watched Squall get increasingly nervous as they got closer to Esthar. Unfortunately for the rest of them, Squall's nerves tended to translate directly to ill-temper and brooding, which made it a tense journey for everyone.

He knew better than to try and soothe his lover, though. Better to give him some space to work things out a little for himself first. After all, finding you had a father suddenly after seventeen years of being an orphan would unnerve anyone. And it being someone you thought was a bit of jerk, and the president of Esthar to boot probably didn't help any. Add to that the prospect of impending public functions, which to Squall were pure torture, and it was no wonder, really, that he was a little overwrought.

"What are you staring at, Kinneas?"

Irvine shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "Nothing in particular," he lied.

"Well, stop it."

"Of course, Commander. Whatever you say." He turned to Zell in the pilot's seat next to him. "Hey, Zell, how much longer?"

"About half an hour."

Squall huffed irritably. "Going for a walk," he said, and trudged off.

Irvine let him go with a sympathetic look that Squall may or may not have noticed.

Everyone relaxed perceptibly, with a mass lowering of shoulders and sighing of breath.

"You'd think we were going into battle rather than a birthday party." said Quistis, taking a book out of her bag and curling long legs under her.

"I think for him battles are easier," said Irvine.

"Mmm," Quistis agreed, taking out her bookmark and smoothing the pages open. "I think he finds it hard to adjust to a life without a constant state of emergency, to be honest. I know I do," she added, despite the fact that she looked the epitome of contentment, settling down to a good read.

Zell stood up, yawning.

"Take over from us for a minute, Selphie?" he asked, "I really need a piss."

"Sure," she replied, "although, update on bodily functions not strictly necessary."

Selphie slid into Zell's seat and flashed Irvine a half-smile. In the thirteen-and-a-half days since Irvine and Squall had got together things had eased a little between Selphie and Irvine, but they were still a long way from the friendship that had got them both through Ultimecia.

She cleared her throat. "So," she said, "how's it going?"

Irvine felt a foolish grin spread across his face. Judging by the way it made his jaw ache, he'd been doing a lot of grinning lately.

"Great," he said.

"You happy?"

He looked at her. "What do you think?"

Her face broke into a twinkly smile, the sort that used to make his knees buckle.

"I think you look like a cat in a creamery. Or a sniper in a junk shop. Possibly both."

"Yeah. It feels a bit like that."

"Squall's happy, too," she flashed a glance at the door, "except for the stomping off in a sulk. But hey, even that's not as bad as usual. He actually spoke first, after all."

"He's a bit strung-out. You know: Laguna, and especially the reception and stuff. Not his thing, really."

"He's okay with Laguna though, isn't he? I thought they'd sorted stuff out?"

Irvine shrugged. "We haven't talked about it. I think it's okay. It's the reception that's really bugging him, though."

She looked thoughtfully at him. "Okay, Irvy. What do you want?"

"Me? Want? What d'you mean?" He kept his face as innocent as possible.

"I know you too well. You're after something. What is it?"

"Oh. Well, there is one teeny thing…"

"Ha! I knew it!"

"It's the reception. I need to get him out of it."

"What, the official thing? Won't Laguna expect him to be there?"

"Mmm. Only, surely he won't mind too much? He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who's into all that ceremonial crap himself, really. And we're going to take him to dinner, aren't we? Surely he'll like that better."

"It is his birthday," Selphie pointed out. "Couldn't Squall just put up with it for a bit?"

"Hn. Well, the thing is…"

"Oh yes. And what is the thing, exactly?" she observed him with piercing eyes, her head tilted to one side, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to take him clubbing. A lot. It would be so good for him… oh, please, Seffie? He's had such a hard time, with Rinoa and everything, and he needs to shake loose… Will you help? Please? For me?"

She looked away, resisting the urge to laugh, busying herself with the control panel in front of her. "No," she said.

"Oh, Seffie…"

"I won't do it for you. But I'll do it for Squall. You're right, he needs some time off."

He gave her an impulsive hug, and they grinned at each other, openly, for the first time what felt like a very long while.

"So," said Selphie, "what d'you want me to do?"

"Can you explain to Laguna? As far as the officials are concerned I can think up something all Commandery that he has to go do. But Squall wouldn't want to lie to his father. I don't think."

"Okay, no problem."

"Thanks, Seffie, you're the best."

She started to key in landing instructions, the flickering screen casting an orange glow across her face.

"I'm really pleased, you know," she said, quietly. "About you and Squall. I think you're right for each other. You're going to make each other very happy."

He swallowed, hard. "Yes," he said, eventually. "I think so, too. Thanks, Sef. It means a lot, to have your blessing. After… well, after everything that happened between us."

She nodded. "Well, time to move on, huh?" She shot him a wicked look. "So, where you taking him? Not the Torama by any chance?"

Irvine leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Of course," he said. "Where else?"

Selphie laughed. "He doesn't have a clue what he's got himself into, with you, does he?"

"I hope not," said Irvine. "I kind of rely on the element of surprise."

Quistis snickered; possibly in response to something she'd been reading, Irvine thought. Or maybe not.

There was a ring of boot-heels on metal walkway, and Squall returned, still looking like thunder, and slumped in a chair near the door, glowering out of the window.

"Are we nearly there yet?" he gruffed.

The presidential palace seemed even more enormous than Irvine had remembered it. They were assigned the same rooms as usual, except for Squall, who now had a room of his own next to Laguna's apartment. Which wasn't, Irvine reflected, particularly convenient. Sneaking from one end of the residential wing to the other was going to be difficult, especially with the palace guard keeping an eye on whatever went on near the President.

He was pondering this problem with some concern as he unpacked, so deep in thought he almost didn't hear Squall come in.

"Hey, babe," Irvine said, noticing that Squall still had a frown on his face, and shoulders so tense that Irvine just itched to press his fingers into them and work out the knots.

"Hey. Um. I just wondered," there was a glint of something in Squall's eyes that wasn't altogether bound up in worry and bad-temper, "if I could borrow your shampoo?" The faintest trace of a smile crossed his lips. "I seem to have left mine behind."

"Of course," Irvine grinned. "After all, the complimentary stuff they leave around here by the shed load just doesn't bring out the shine, does it?"

The crease between Squall's eyes eased, just a bit, and the smile got a little more convincing. "No," he said.

Irvine reached out a hand. "C'mere," he said; and then Squall was in his arms, a tight bundle of stress and anxiety just begging to be soothed. "So," he whispered, "you want to take the shampoo with you, or d'you want to shower here?"

"Not sure," said Squall. "Might need someone to scrub my back."

Irvine pushed Squall's jacket off his shoulders. "I could do that," Irvine offered, "if you like."

"Hn." Squall let the jacket fall to the floor, and pulled Irvine closer, claiming his mouth for a kiss.

Much as Irvine wanted to lay Squall on the bed and massage every last shred of tension from his beautiful body, he knew they didn't have much time. So he contented himself with stroking Squall's pale flesh as he unwrapped it from his clothes, strong fingertips soothing tight, aching muscles as best they could.

Irvine was just trying to decide whether to drag Squall off to the shower, or to do him right there and then on the bed, when the door chime went.

"Hyneandfuckandhyne," he muttered under his breath, as Squall collapsed against him with a resigned moan. "Who is it?"

"It's Selphie. Just thought you'd like to know that Kiros is looking for Squall. In case you should, er, see him…" there was a distinctly Selphie-style giggle from the other side of the door.

"OK. Thanks, Selph."

Squall reached for his discarded shirt, looking even more pissed off than he had been to start with.

"Never mind, babe," Irvine cupped Squall's face in one hand, running his thumb across his lower lip. "There's always later."

Squall nipped at Irvine's thumb with sharp white teeth. "Except you're down here," he growled, "and I'm up the other end with a fully armed guard."

"That's okay, Princess," Irvine said. "I've got into harder towers than that before, to console a damsel in distress."

Suddenly Irvine was flat on his back with Squall astride him, pinning his arms over his head and glaring down at him with eyes of steel.

"Let's get one thing straight, Kinneas," he hissed. "I am not, and nor will I ever be, your Princess."

Irvine squirmed a bit, trying to hide just how much he was enjoying the weight of Squall sitting on him.

"Alright, babe," he said. "But in that case, you've got to escape and come to me."

Squall chewed his lower lip for a moment, easing his grip on Irvine's wrists a little.

"I can do better than that," he said, eventually.

Irvine arched a brow.

"I'm going to tell Laguna," he said. "Then it won't be a problem, will it?"

Irvine blinked. He hadn't expected that.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's only been a couple of weeks, and …"

"You going to dump me, then?" There was a sparkle in Squall's eyes that made Irvine's heart leap in his chest. He knew he wouldn't. Already. He knew.

Irvine shook his head, slowly. "Not when I'm having this much fun," he said lightly, but his eyes spoke straight to Squall's. No way. I'm in this for the long haul, babe. Big time.

"Right then," Squall released his grip and sat back, leathers squeaking, a pleased and slightly triumphant smile on his face.

"Do you want me to be there? When you tell him?"

Squall shook his head. "No, it's okay. I don't think it'll bother him, do you?"

"I dunno," said Irvine. "Nobody in Balamb cares, I know, but Esthar's a bit more… repressed, you know?"

"Dad isn't from Esthar. He's Galbadian, remember? And Galbadians," Squall gave Irvine one of his more wicked looks, "are born sluts."

"Fair comment," grinned Irvine, reaching a hand up to brush Squall's bangs out of his eyes. "You called him Dad," he said, softly.

Squall shrugged. "Well, he is," he said. "No point pretending he isn't." He pulled his shirt over his head. "And I guess he's okay."

"I like him," said Irvine. "I just hope he still likes me, when he finds out I've been shagging his long-lost son."

"Hn. Well. I've gotta go," he leaned over and kissed Irvine firmly, "I'll see you later. Providing I don't get grounded."

Irvine laughed. "I'd like to see someone try."

Squall stood up and reached for his jacket. "Oh, and Irvine…" he looked down at him with just a hint of a smile.

"What, babe?"

"When you come by tonight, don't forget the shampoo, huh?"

Squall found Laguna in his office, working through a pile of papers even higher than the ones on his own desk back at Balamb. He greeted his son with a hug, which Squall accepted with only a little stiffness, and indicated he should sit down on one of the low couches that were arranged in a circle in the middle of the room. He sat opposite Squall, shoving long hair out of his eyes, regarding him with an easy grin.

"How's things?" he asked. "Commanding all those SeeDs working out alright for you?"

"Yeah, I guess," said Squall. "Um, happy birthday, by the way," he pulled a small gift box out of his jacket pocket, "I didn't know what to get you, so…"

"Wow," Laguna opened the box, taking out a small earring, set with a tiny, blue stone.

"It's a bit of an aura stone," Squall said. "It was the last one we had when we defeated the sorceress, and Zell managed to break it, somehow. So I kept the bits and… well. Hope you like it."

"Of course I do," Laguna fought the urge to hug Squall again, much as he'd have liked to. "Thank you. It means a lot." He settled for a manly pat on Squall's shoulder instead.


"So, is it alright? Really? The Commander stuff, I mean. I know when they made me president I had this urge to run and hide the whole time, at first."

"It's okay. I've been trained for it, I guess."

"And um… with Rinoa going? Is that okay?"

Squall shifted uncomfortably, his courage fading a little in the face of all this parental concern.

"Well, about that. Um. You know I kind of split up with Rinoa, when she went away?"

"I heard," said Laguna. "You didn't exactly tell me," he added, a little reproachfully. "I was sorry. But these things don't always work out. You're both very young."

Squall treated him to a particularly icy glare. It was true, of course; he was barely eighteen. But he had seen more, done more in the last year than most people managed in a lifetime. And he had never felt young. Growing up alone and being taught to kill from the age of twelve did that to a person, he thought.

Laguna let the stare wash over him, apparently unperturbed.

"I'm with someone else, now," said Squall, quickly, before his courage deserted him altogether.

"Oh. Good. Anyone I know?"

Squall took a deep breath, and looked straight into his father's eyes.

"It's Irvine."

Surprise flickered across Laguna's face.

"Oh," he said. "Fuck me sideways."

Squall blinked.

"Sorry," Laguna recovered a little. "It's just I… well, you know, Rinoa and all. I hadn't thought…"

"It's okay," Squall was mortified to feel a blush spreading across his cheeks, "I just thought you ought to know."

"Yeah. Hey, look, it's not a problem." He paused for a moment, processing. "How long have you been seeing each other?"

"Since the winter festival," said Squall. "It's okay, then? With you?"

"What you do with your private life is nothing to do with me. But seeing as you ask, yes, actually, it is. It's fine. I like Irvine. And I just want you to be happy. You deserve that. Does he make you happy?"

Squall nodded. "Yes," he whispered, wishing he were more articulate, wishing he could tell his father - or anyone for that matter - exactly how happy and scared and good Irvine made him feel. But he wasn't. It was hard enough for him to actually believe he was feeling what he was feeling, never mind try and explain it to anyone.

It didn't seem to matter to Laguna, at any rate. He could talk plenty for the both of them, and so he did, rattling on about how tedious Estharian politics were until any awkwardness Squall felt had faded away. Laguna talked complete gibberish sometimes, but just for now, seeing something of the compassion and warm affection of the man behind the words, Squall didn't mind a bit.

By the time they'd finished dinner, however, Squall was pleased to see that Selphie and Quistis were happy to hang on to Laguna's every word, letting him off the hook some. Much as he was growing to like his father, if he never heard another story of world travel and adventure that to him seemed like a catalogue of tactical incompetence, it would be too soon.

It made it easier to slip away with Irvine when the time came; saying they wanted to walk rather than take the car back to the palace, needed the fresh air and no, they wouldn't need an escort.

As soon as the others were out of sight, Irvine grabbed Squall and kissed him hard.

"Uh... what's that for?" Squall panted.

"Do you have any idea how hot you look?" husked Irvine. "Gods, Squall, all that leather and the belts, and your hair in your eyes, and your shirt all loose here," he put one large hand over Squall's abdomen, "because your muscles are so damn tight, and," he ran his other hand down to Squall's outer thigh, "these pants zip up the sides, don't they?"

"Maybe," Squall admitted. "I hadn't noticed," he lied.

"And I haven't touched you all evening," Irvine flicked out his tongue to torment Squall's ear, "and all that leather."

"You're not looking so bad yourself," admitted Squall.

"So, you ready to have a good time?"

"No," said Squall. "I remember distinctly, you agreed I didn't have to pretend to enjoy myself."

"Oh, come on babe. Just for once. Forget about duty and world-saving and commanding stuff, and just have some fun. Please. For me?"

"Hn," Squall grunted, unconvinced.

Actually he had to admit, by the time they got there, it wasn't that bad. In fact, it felt good to be away from SeeD and responsibility and people who knew him and looked up to him. Very good.

The Torama was a relatively small, intimate club, a dancefloor lined with bars and a stage on the ground floor, with galleries above. It was full when they arrived, but not overwhelmingly so.

Irvine watched with delight as Squall finally started to relax, his usual glowering expression softened from ready-to-kill to sexily-pissed-off. He led him straight to the dance floor, brooking no resistance. Usually Squall had to be literally dragged up to dance, and even then he would scurry off at the earliest opportunity. Which was a shame, because he was really rather good at it.

This time he gave in fairly quickly, either because he knew Irvine wouldn't let him alone until he did, or maybe, for once, he felt like it. Irvine didn't question it, he just draped his arms around Squall's neck and lost himself to the beat, and to Squall's hips grinding against his, and the heat of Squall's body next to him.

He felt Squall's fingers on the bare flesh of his waist, inching round to his back, one hand dipping inside his jeans to his butt.

Gods, but Squall was a contradiction. One minute cold and uptight and stiff as an iron bar, and the next all molten passion and heat and uninhibited lust.

Irvine loved it.

Squall spent the rest of the evening driving Irvine insane; if he wasn't grinding his sex-on-legs body against Irvine's on the dance floor, he was smouldering at him with dark grey eyes through sweat-damp bangs that clung to his face, the shadows emphasising perfect cheek bones and jawline. When he drank, he had a habit of running his tongue around the rim of the glass as if he were kissing it, looking at Irvine all the while, apparently innocent of just what he was doing that made Irvine feel weak at the knees.

Irvine realised he was ridiculously proud to be with him. Unlike Squall, he noticed the looks they attracted, and while he was used to getting a fair amount of attention himself, it was clear that it was Squall who would be appearing in a fair number of Estharian fantasies that night, male and female alike. Squall, who was grinding his body against Irvine's, with the leather pants and the sexiest ass in the universe, and the strong, bare arms and the hair falling in his eyes…

"I've got to have you," Irvine breathed into his ear, eventually. "Now. Here. Anywhere. Just. Now."

Squall looked at him with big eyes. "Where can we go?" he mouthed.

Irvine grinned.

"Follow me…"

He led Squall away from the dance floor, and nodded to the girl behind the bar. She grinned at him, a little enviously, and gave him a plastic card.

Squall shot him a puzzled look, but Irvine just took his hand and led him up the spiral staircase, through the crowds in the gallery above, and finally to a blue-painted door.

He swiped the card through the slot, and the door opened. He pulled Squall swiftly inside, and it clicked shut behind them.

The room was full of pillows and cushions, a large futon in the centre swathed in cotton and silk. There was champagne on ice, and candles and a bottle of elixir, and the steady pounding of music vibrating through the walls.

Squall suddenly looked a little overwhelmed.

Irvine took no notice, pulling him down onto the futon and kissing him deep, chasing thought away. Squall relaxed into his arms, pressing his body against Irvine's and moaning softly; Irvine moved his mouth over Squall's with practised ease, tasting peppermint and Squall, unique flavours, becoming familiar.

They undressed each other bit by bit, impatient to be naked, but at the same time wanting to make the anticipation last. Irvine spent a long time toying with the zips and buckles on Squall's pants, teasing mercilessly, claiming revenge for the power Squall had held over him on the dance floor.

Squall grabbed the elixir and poured liberal quantities over Irvine's smooth chest and belly, spreading it in wide circles, licking Irvine's nipples, feeling the fizz on his tongue. Irvine threw his head back, relishing the caress of Squall's fingers on his naked skin, working their way down now, lingering to tickle his belly button until finally he took Irvine's cock in his slender grasp, spreading elixir and Irvine's own precome over the whole aching length of him.

Irvine growled and rolled Squall over onto his back, catching the elixir just before Squall dropped it. He knelt between his thighs, holding the bottle high to cascade a multicoloured waterfall down onto Squall's cock and balls, watching as Squall rocked his hips up to encourage it to flow down the crack of his ass.

Irvine groaned, sinking first one and then two fingers inside Squall's body, stretching him, watching Squall's cock twitch as he reached his prostate.

"Want you," came Squall's voice, raw with need, "inside, now. Now."

Irvine took a moment to take in the sight in front of him: pale skin over tight muscle, slender hips rocking as Squall fucked his fingers, lips glistening and slightly parted, revealing pink tongue-tip, damp, dark hair falling back from cloudy grey eyes.

"Gods, Squall, you're just so…"

"Now, Irvine. Please. Now."

Irvine slowly removed his fingers and positioned his rock-hard cock at the entrance to Squall's body.

"Mine," Irvine whispered, as he pushed inside, through faint resistance and beyond, until he was buried completely in Squall's hot, tight body. He gave Squall the barest moment to adjust to being filled before he started to move: long, deep strokes, taking Squall's twitching erection in his hand and pumping in time with his thrusts.

He used every trick he knew to make it last; pausing, changing their rhythm, just letting his mind go blank. Finally, though, the sight of Squall as he arched his back and came, spurting ropes of white come laced with the rainbow of elixir, across his pale belly and chest; that was enough to push Irvine over the edge. He flooded Squall over and over, crushing silk sheets in his hands, Squall's wet lips and tongue on his face. He thrust the last few spurts into Squall's body as he kissed him, pure, wonderful, breathtaking pleasure.

"Oh babe… fuck, it just gets better and better…"

"Mmm…" Squall didn't seem to be capable of thinking, let alone talking. His face was a picture of bliss; eyes closed, pale skin flushed pink with pleasure, lips curved in the smile Irvine would slay a thousand sorceresses for.

He watched Squall for a while, eventually rolling off him to open the champagne. Squall came to at the sound of the cork popping, scooting round to catch the drips on his tongue as Irvine poured foam into glasses.

"Well," said Irvine, sitting back on his heels and taking a gulp of champagne, relishing the bubbles bursting on his tongue; "for an uptight Balamb SeeD who wasn't going to have a good time, you came like a true Galbadian."

"There's a reason for that," said Squall, wrapping himself around Irvine, licking a line down the side of his thigh. "In fact, two reasons."

"Yeah?" he threaded fingers through Squall's hair, "what?"

"Well, for one thing, I only said I wouldn't pretend to enjoy myself. And I didn't have to pretend. I really did enjoy myself. A lot. And secondly," he flicked out his tongue to lick the end of Irvine's cock, still hard as ever, "I am Galbadian."

"What?" Irvine tried to get his brain to work that one out, but it was hiding in a haze of lust somewhere.

"Laguna's Galbadian, and Raine was Galbadian, too. I was born in Winhill. Sure, I was raised in Centra and Balamb, but…" he settled his head in Irvine's lap, looking up at him with bright silver eyes, "I guess you're just bringing my true nature out."

Irvine grinned. He liked that idea.

He liked it a lot.

Out in the club, Cass dried glasses, relieved that her shift was nearly over. Her feet hurt, and she was tired of smiling and encouraging other people to have a good time. Even the rare sight of Irvine Kinneas hadn't cheered her up for long. Although that hot piece of leather-clad ass with him was a bonus…

Someone was watching her, she realised, all of a sudden.

"Where'd they go?" A woman stood in front of her, blonde hair tumbling in waves over one scantily clad shoulder.


"Kinneas and his slut. They out back?"

"They left," said Cass, clinking more glasses into the sink.

"I don't think they did."

Cass shrugged.

"There's a thousand Gil for you if you tell me where they are."

"If they're still here," Cass said, slowly, "why don't you just wait for them out here?"

"I have to be somewhere. Look, I have a message for Kinneas, that's all."

"Leave it with me, then. I'll pass it on. If I see them."

"It's not that kind of message."

She looked up sharply. "What do you want with them? Who are you, exactly?"

"Alright, then." The stranger held Cass's gaze with piercing blue eyes. "Tell them the sorceress has returned. And," she leaned over the counter, so Cass caught a haze of expensive perfume, "she's going to kick their sorry butts to hell."

Then she was gone. Cass felt something warm and wet on her hand.

She hadn't even felt the glass break.

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