For Pixie, without whom I never would have gotten this chapter written. Thanks for everything.

sual warnings. Yaoi. Pretty lemony, at that. Dirty words. Silliness. And moving, a very scary thing.

Happily Ever After

Chapter Five - Perks

By Race Ulfson

No one should have to go apartment hunting with Squall Leonhart.

Never one to run from duty, conflict or trouble, I stuck it out, and a mere three attempted homicides later, a miracle occurred and we found a place he would accept. I took my fingers from around his throat, signed the lease, and got ready for the Next Big Step in getting a life – moving in with my boyfriend.

Squall’s worldly possessions consisted of a gun blade, several herds of cattle worth of leather kink clothing, a box of old Weapons Monthly magazines. His contribution to the new place was nineteen boxes of sound system.

“Squall, we can’t afford this.”

“I can.” He brushed past me, carrying the large receiver box and a sack of cabling.

I looked at the spec book. “Dogs can’t even hear some of the ranges this puts out. What do we need it for?” At the eye roll I went back to flipping through the booklet. “What’s wrong with my CD player?”

“The speakers never even worked!”

“Well, it was cheap, but…”

Squall snatched the book out of my hands. “Seifer. Your speakers never worked right because you had them hooked up wrong. Never touch my sound system.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That I hear a lot better than you and that you no mechanical skills to speak of.”

“No mech…?!” I narrowed my eyes. “Waitaminute, you junctioned Shiva for hearing boost? You leave her in all the time, even while listening to music?”

Squall turned away and started unpacking his new electronic baby.

I shook my head. “Squall, Squall, your head will be so full of holes, I’ll have to tattoo your name and address on the back of your hand.”

“Better get started unloading the truck. We’re double parked.”

I grumbled down the stairs and started ferrying boxes. It wasn’t like I wanted Squall carrying the heavy things up 2 flights of stairs with his legs still healing. Or that I couldn’t do it by myself. It’s just that it was Esther, and summer at that, and it was about a nanosecond before I was sweating like a blobra.

I hate to sweat.

Squall, of course, never sweat. He had the Goddess of Climate Control permanently fixed in his head, which worked so well he was wearing his typical working leathers despite the heat.

I bumped the door open with my knee, wondering for not the first time what B13HNF meant on the box and what was in it and did I really want the heavy damned thing. The door slammed closed behind me, as it had every single time I went outside.

“Can you prop the fucking door open?”

Squall said, “You said it let the A/C out.” He was on his knees and elbows, ass in the air, reading something in the instruction manual.

I paused to admire before stacking the box on top of the pile, torn between bitching and divesting Squall of those pants. “I’m sweating like a slave, that air conditioning isn’t doing shit.”

Squall connected some wires and crawled forward to check the outlet. “Turn it up. I’m never cold.”

I wisely waited until I was back outside to disagree. The things we do for love. I looked into the van and puzzled over Squall’s coding. Then I gave up and went to the boxes Irvine had packed and helpfully labeled “crap” and “more crap”. I guess Ol’ Sureshot wasn’t as thrilled as Squall to be doing menial labor for yours truly.

On a whim, I chose “Even more crap” to start with and hoisted it up. It was heavy enough to be holding two or three dead bodies. I got it up the stairs without losing my ability to reproduce and with only a major amount of cursing got the Hynebedamned door open again and came in.

Squall was still in the slap my ass position, but I didn’t have a hand free and was too hot and sweaty to care about how fine he looked. “You want to quit fucking with that and just hold the damned door?”

Squall turned around slowly, still on his knees. "You're in now, why should I hold the door?"

“Because this isn't the last box, that's why!” I growled. I hate it when I lose my temper and Squall does not.

“You need a break.”

I shook my head. “Not until we're finished.  I don't want to have this to deal with tomorrow.” I looked around for a place to set the heavy crate down.

Squall advanced, sliding easily on his knees over the carpet. "Just a quickie." He looked up and licked his lips.

I shifted my weight.  I cannot resist Squall when he is on his knees.

Faintly, I said, “What, here?”

“Why not here? It's our home, isn't it?” He reached up and opened my fly.

My body responded instantly to that, even though I was hot and sticky and still balancing a heavy fucking box of crap. I made the attempt at reason. “Squall…”

“You don't want me to?” Squall looked up at me through his shaggy bangs, his eyes glowing silver.

I stared down at him, transfixed. “Oh, I want you to.”

Problem was, I couldn’t set the box down without moving out of Squall's range and the look in Squall's eyes would not allow me to move far enough way to do that. I didn’t have much time to agonize over it, anyway, as he slide my cock out of my pants and drew intricate designs on it with the tip of his tongue.

I wanted to tangle my hands in Squall’s silky hair so badly I crushed the edges of the box. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, fighting for control. “Squalllllll…”

Squall wrapped his arms around my hips, holding me in place. He took me into his mouth and rubbed the underside of my shaft with his tongue. I squirmed and rocked my hips.

“Oh, Hyne, Squall…”

I rested my forehead against the edge of the box I was holding, my belly practically concave with restraint. Squall drew back his head and lapped at the tip of my cock. I shifted the weight in my arms and held the box away so I could watch. My legs were starting to tremble. “Yeah,” I whispered, “like that.”

He took just the tip back into the sweet heat of his mouth and moved his hands to hold and gently pull at the base of my shaft, drawing a rough growly sound out of me. I lifted the box higher to make sure I wouldn’t drop it on Squall.

Drifting up from outside I heard a very distinctive laugh. What was Laguna Loire doing here?!

Squall heard it too, and looked up at me, his eyes widening slightly.

“Squall, your dad…”

The little minx laughed wickedly and rolled his tongue over the head of my cock. I would have thrown the damned box at that point, but the only places it was likely to land were on Squall or the new sound system. I pushed forward, just a bit, and Squall obligingly swallowed my cock. I closed my eyes and moaned.

They opened again pretty damn quickly when I heard Laguna clomping up the stairs, singing, “O what a beautiful morning”. “Squall!” I hissed. I was panting and flushed and the muscles in my belly contracted. The rest of what I was going to say came out an inarticulate urgent sound. I held out the box again so I could look down at Squall again.

His face was flushed, too, but his eyes were sparkling with laughter and lust. Squall drew back to tease a little, then swallowed me again. He cupped and massaged my balls with one hand as he pumped with the other. I was so close that the sounds around me were fading to a high-pitched whine.

“Boys? Squall? Put your clothes on, here I come!” Laguna hollered cheerfully from the landing.

I closed my eyes and tried to force myself over the edge, which never works. I remembered that the door was of course unlocked and in fact, barely closed. Then all rational thought fled as I filled Squall’s mouth with my seed.

“Hey can’t answer? You got something in your mouth? I hope you’re not eating hot dogs …”

I dropped the box into Squall’s arms and ran for the rest room, holding my pants up with one hand. Squall fell on his back and lay there with the box on his chest, wiping his mouth and laughing, the brat.

Laguna opened the door and hopped over the threshold like it was a 6-inch dam. “Taadaaaaa!  I brought lunch.” He waved a sack. “If you've already eaten... I figure I can manage to swallow ‘em.”

I cleaned myself up and came out of the bathroom, still panting like I’d just run a marathon.

Squall closed his eyes like he was in pain. He said faintly, "Sounds good, Pop."

Laguna looked over at me. “Whoa, out of condition, or what, Almasy?” He set the paper sack down and helped Squall move the box I’d been holding for what felt like a year to use as a dinner table. The label caught his eye. “Even More Crap? Why do you have official Estherian documents in your home?”

Squall got up a little stiffly. “I’ll get drinks. What will you have?”  He leaned up and kissed me quickly as he passed, letting me taste myself on his lips.

“More of those,” I said, and meant it.

“I’ll take a cold beer,” Laguna said, laying out hotdogs like little soldiers. “I got some with chili and some with that sour stuff and some plain...”

“You have a driver, Laguna? ... And where's Kiros?” Squall took on a slightly scolding tone. “Did you run away again?” He uncapped the beer for Laguna and me and handed them out, choosing bottle water for himself.

Laguna said indignantly, “I never run away! I’m a free agent!  Free as the wind!  Free as a bird!  I ditched Kiros at the high pinkie restaurant because I wanted hotdogs, dammit, and he said something snide.” He winked at me. “Perk of the job.”

I snickered and Squall rolled his eyes. “I'll be getting a phone call shortly.”

I looked around. “Is the phone even plugged in?”

“My cell phone is.” Squall waggled it at Seifer.

Laguna gasped in mock astonishment. “You're supposed to plug them in? For the love of Hyne! Where?!” He patted his navel self-consciously as Squall face palmed.

To change the subject, I asked, “Ready to help unpack some boxes, Laguna?” I tried one of the sauerkraut dogs, not bad.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t want to stay at the Palace.” I swear Laguna was pouting.

I looked at Squall. It’s his job to explain life to Daddy.

Squall said blandly, “Seifer is too noisy when he comes.”

As both Laguna and I choked, I thought, And they said I was the bad boy.

After lunch and the arrival of a flushed and embarrassed young Estherian Elite Guard whom Laguna introduced as “My Keeper du Jour,” the President was forced to admit he couldn’t stay and help muscle my giant dresser down the narrow hallway. “Sorry, State Business,” he said, without even a trace of sorrow. The Guard saluted and held the door open for him, but Laguna paused and turned back to us.

“I think I’ll get you curtain liners as a housewarming gift, “ he said.

“Curtain liners?” I don’t think Squall was even quite sure what those were.

“Sure! Curtain liners. Block the light. Insulating, energy efficient. Make it dark so you can sleep in. Keep people from seeing right in, like from the parking lot.” Laguna waved and bounced out, leaving Squall and me staring at the large picture window.

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