If there is any money involved it all goes to Squaresoft who owns these characters.
Takes place immediately after "Hero". Beware of yaoi below!
Happily Ever After
By Race Ulfson
At the end of every fairy tale the narrator tells you, "They all lived happily ever after." Like there's only one bad thing in your entire life to over come, and once you do that and find your true love, everything is peaches and roses from then on.
What I want to know is, who are these people and what are they smoking?
Sure, it started out okay. Squall got me out of Galbadian Prison, and out of the Garden's clutches, too. I was going to move to Esther and go to med school. He was going to take a leave of absence and study GFs. We were going to spend all our free time fucking.
Happily ever after.
Galbadia, to save face, demanded that Seifer Almasy be gone in 3 days and never soil their soil again. Fine by me, buncha losers.
Deling was just pissed because I lost to Squall and Galbadia wasn't ruling the world right now. Oh, and that killing his father thing. Deling's pimpled ass would still be at school if it weren't for Edea and me. Is he grateful? Noooooo.
So there I was, not exactly a prisoner, trying to take my damned finals while cramming for the entrance exams. I don't like tests and I don't test well, so I knew I was really going to have to bust my hump.
Squall volunteered to handle the logistics of our move.
He packed all his worldies in a number ten envelope and then took possession of my apartment. You'd think Squall'd have a pretty good idea of what packing my stuff would entail - he'd been cleaning the place for about two weeks.
Squall lugged in about a pallet of fold up document boxes, the kind with the matching lids and neat little spaces to write what's in the box. He had color-coded stickers and permanent markers and manifest lists and I swear to Hyne I would not have been surprised if everything ended up bar-coded and shrink wrapped.
My books, laptop, and assorted notes were spread out all over the dining room table, which is really too nice a term for the ugly faux wood bastard. Squall shooed me back over to my desk, commandeering the table for sorting and packing purposes.
I hunkered at my little desk, stacking things in precarious inverted pyramids, and grumbled about anal-retentives taking over the world. I gave up and moved over to the couch, where at least I could stretch out. I was happily memorizing a list of fungal pathogens when I was hit with an armload of dirty laundry.
"Hey!" I threw a sock back at Squall.
"What are you doing there? I thought you had to study?" He picked up the sock and carried it away.
"I am studying!"
Squall came back with a laundry basket and dumped that on top of me. "Doesn't look like it to me."
"These are clean! Don't mix them up!"
He stood with his hand on his hip and gave me The Look. "That can't be clean, it was all over the floor."
I rolled my eyes. "The stuff on the floor by the bed is clean. The stuff in the grunge corner by the bathroom is dirty."
"You're right. I just washed this shirt the day before... a couple days ago. Why was it on the floor?" Squall frowned at my favorite sweatshirt, the one with the ripped out sleeves.
"I dumped it off the bed when I was changing the sheets."
"Wadding the sheets up and throwing them in the corner does not constitute 'changing'. And what is it that is all over them?"
I grinned at him. "Whipped cream, remember?"
Twenty-one years old and still blushes like a schoolgirl. I love it.
"If you're not going to study, help me in the bedroom." Squall swept away.
"Anytime." I followed him as far as I could get into the bedroom.
Squall's idea of packing seemed to involve taking everything out and dumping it on the floor. He settled down in the one bare spot so I moved up to sit on the dresser.
It belatedly occurred to me that Squall's experience with moving was a purely military function and as such had nothing to do with real life. I shrugged mentally. I'd learned, he could learn.
"Packing," I said informatively, "involves putting things in boxes, not strewing them all over the place."
"Studying," Squall replied as he made notes on his PDA, "is done at a desk, and typically requires the eyes to be open."
Hyne, he never could take criticism.
I snagged a box out of its box and began to assemble it, hoping Squall would take the hint. There was a trick to it, but I'd get the hang of it any second now.
Squall emptied the contents of my closet onto the bed, spoiling my plans for the afternoon. At this rate, I was better off hitting the books.
I turned the neobox another way and tried folding a different flap. It was cheaply made, even for cardboard, because it tore off in my hand. I stuffed the extra piece down against the wall, behind the dresser. Who needs an extra-reinforced box for clothes, anyway?
"I'll need about 3 of those boxes," Squall said muffledly from somewhere in my walk-in closet.
"I'm workin' on it!"
He sighed. "Do you need some help?"
"No I do not need your fucking help to put together a thrice cursed box!"
Squall stuck his head out. "If you're not going to help, you could at least go study."
I love him. I do. Honest.
"Fiiiiiiiiine," I hissed, throwing away the mangled cardboard. "I'll go do that, shall I?" I stalked back to the living room and threw myself down on top on the mingled clean and dirty laundry.
I settled in and picked up my books. The couch was always pretty lumpy so the laundry just added an ambience, the lovely smell of detergent and overripe yours truly. I stuffed a couple shirts under my head and cracked the books.
I was just getting into subtracting the square root of b squared minus four times a times c when I caught Squall in my peripheral vision toting my other dining room chair into the bedroom.
It took a while to perk through, but I suddenly got a flash of Squall going after the high shelves in the dark far reaches of that closet. Squall standing on his toes on that rickety chair, abusing legs that were actually no more than bone fragments held together with skin, magic and a few stainless steel pins.
"Squaaaallll," I said, getting up off the couch.
"Leave that high shit for me, okay?" We both gained a few inches since the Ultimecia days, but I'm still a good 8 inches taller.
I could see him through the door, deep in the closet. Squall had emptied the lower shelf and was having to really stretch to reach the stuff on the upper one. He could hear me talking, I guess, but couldn't make out what I was saying.
Squall turned slightly, looking at me questioningly. He rested his hand on the lower shelf, to steady himself.
What he didn't know and I did is that the lower shelf wasn't nailed down, but had been held in place by the weight of the crap stacked on it. When Squall leaned on the shelf, it tilted, hitting the upper shelf, and bringing both heavy wooden boards and all the accumulated shit stored on them down on him.
Squall threw his arms up to protect his face and fell backwards into my arms.
We went down together. I wasn't fast enough to roll over on top of him, but fortunately only the lighter stuff bounced enough to hit us. I laid there amidst the clothes, shoes, old magazines, papers and assort crap one acquires in four years time and tried to get my heart rate and breathing under control.
"Damn, Almasy, you have an amazing amount of shit." Squall twisted in my arms so that he was lying on top of me, facing me. He grinned at me, damn adrenalin junkie.
"Shut up," I wheezed. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He stretched out both legs and waggled his feet experimentally. "Yeah, nothing broken."
He looked at me, gray eyes puzzled. "Yeah. What-?"
"Good." I swatted him as hard as I could on the swell of his ass.
Squall yelped and struggled to get away, but I had a good grip on him. "What the fuck?!"
I spanked him again, and then a couple more times for good measure. He thrashed and almost kneed me in the groin, but I got his arm behind his back and managed to hold both his wrist and a handful of his hair with my left hand. My right hand kept on soothing my nerves by reddening his ass. "Never." Spank. "Scare." Spank. "Me." Spank. "Like that again!" Spank spank spank.
He squirmed and cursed, but I knew I didn't have the leverage to really hurt him, and besides, he was wearing those leather pants for protection. Was did catch my attention was the increasing bulge in the front of said leather pants, which was rubbing up against me quite nicely, thank you.
I stopped spanking and started massaging. Squall made a purry noise deep in his throat and lifted his hips. I let go of his arm and slid my left hand under him to massage there.
Squall slid both hands under my shirt, pushing it up to my armpits. He licked his way up my belly towards my nipples, all the while grinding into my hands.
With only major difficulty I got his pants unbuttoned and slid down past the curve of his ass. I gave Squall one more smack on bare skin for good measure. He arched and pouted, but his beautiful cock was rock hard. I pulled him down for a lengthy kiss and he tried to eat me alive, kissing and lipping and suckling everywhere.
Squall learned I don't like teeth. Someday I'll get the balls to tell him why.
I kissed across the scar I gave him, wishing I could make it and all the other pain I caused go away. Squall smiled into my kisses and rubbed his face on mine before sliding back down my body to my nipples. He suckled there for a while as he unfastened my jeans and then moved lower.
"Hyne, yes," I growled, pushing his head down where I wanted attention.
He took me in his mouth and did wonderful things with is tongue. I was briefly jealous of whoever taught him to do that. Ah, well, Squall was mine now. I reached back under him and stroked him slowly, watching his eyelids flutter as he concentrated on pleasuring me.
I was also working on getting him completely out of his pants. Once I had that accomplished, I forced myself to stop him and his talented mouth. I positioned my saliva slick cock and pushed into his velvet heat.
Squall arched back and balanced himself by resting both hands behind him on my thighs. I grabbed him firmly by the base to keep him from coming too fast. With my other hand, I teased, rubbing his cock, cupping his balls, and stroking the insides of his thighs.
Since I was not moving, Squall sighed and rocked his hips. I let him pump up and down on me a few times before I took over.
He was shivering under my touch, but I wanted him in a position that would put less strain on his legs. I made him sit flat on me, legs stretched out in front to either side of me. I moved my arms to his lower back and pulled him up into the rocking chair position. This way I could pull him close to kiss him or let him fall back so I could watch him writhe.
And Squall writhes beautifully.
Each gentle rock of our hips thrust me further into him and rubbed his cock up against me. Since I no longer had a grip on him, it wasn't long before Squall was bucking and clenching, which set off some bucking of my own. I watched the rosy flush spread over his pale skin, and his nipples peak and darken to match his lips. I leaned forward to capture them in another kiss.
Squall sighed and wrapped his arms around me, nestling his head under my chin. I pulled out of him and rubbed his back, murmuring words of love.
Then the rest of the closet shelves fell with a crash.
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