Author's Notes: Er... it's a lemon. Nothing but really serious lemon. Not even any sugar, so you can't make lemonade. ~_^ Pure, unadulterated PWP with no other purpose. It started as a random bunny with no real point to it, but then Tenshi said she'd finish her triple triad fic if I finished this one... so now it's a complete bunny but it's STILL got no point. ::blush:: I think this counts as my first absolute PWP.

(and this still isn't the angsty one I need to write for these two... A certain muse has overactive hormones and is too distracted to do angst, and I'll give you a hint - it's not Squall...)


By BlackRose

"Ask you a question?"

Squall's voice was low and relaxed. I was sprawled on my stomach across his bed, stretched out limply while his fingertips traced patterns down my spine in long, languid sweeps that teased gently at all the little ticklish places in my ribs. He hesitated slightly as he asked and I murmured wordless assent without opening my eyes - if it would keep him doing what he was doing, I was all for it.

His fingers resumed their path, sliding down the base of my spine. I made a soft sound, arching into the touch. A single fingertip traced light, lazy circles around one buttock and his voice was amused. "Why does the President of Esthar have the Galbadian Army emblem tattooed on his ass?"

I blinked, then pushed my face up from the pillow, straining slightly to see over my shoulder. He was sprawled half across my legs, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he watched me. "What..." My brain caught up with my body and I groaned, sinking back down to the pillow. "Oh. That."

"'Oh, that'?" Squall mimicked, disbelieving. "Don't tell me you forgot about it."

"Well it's not where I can see it very easily, now is it?" I demanded a touch peevishly.

He chuckled softly. "So...?" he prompted.

I buried my face in the pillow. I could feel the flush heating my cheeks. "I was in the army, you know that."

He made a little tsking noise, his fingertip circling over the spot on my flank. "Do all Galbadian soldiers have one, then?"

He could probably see the blush on my shoulders. "No..." I muttered into the pillow. Sighing, I gave up any pretense of dignity. "Look, I was young. I was stupid. I was drunk."

That earned me a full throated laugh. "That I'll believe." I felt him lean down and then his lips replaced his fingertip, his tongue laving a slow, wet circle around the spot in question. I caught my breath, embarrassment and the lassitude of before momentarily forgotten.

He settled against me again, a warm, heavy weight. "So who got you drunk?"

Nice to be given the benefit of the doubt that it hadn't been my own stupidity. "Ward."

Squall just snorted slightly, a sound that was verging on a laugh.

"He dared me to get it there," I explained. Twisting, I stretching an arm around to point vaguely back at my shoulder blade. "I dared him to get his there. That one hurt a hell of alot more, and you can see it every time he takes his shirt off."

"Kiros must have laughed himself sick at you two," Squall mused.

I grinned. Shifting slightly, I rolled us both over enough that I could point to the upper inside of my thigh. "His is right there."

Squall just looked at me. "You're joking," he said flatly.

I probably sounded far too smug. "No, I'm not. But you wouldn't believe how shit faced drunk we had to get him before he did it. He didn't speak to us for three weeks."

Squall considered, then shook his head without answering, the grin hovering just in sight. A hand on my side rolled me the rest of the way over and he pushed himself up, bringing one lean leg around until he was straddled across my hips. I made an appreciative sound. Reaching down, his fingertips continued their wandering across my chest. "Maybe I should get one," he suggested quietly.

I smiled at the joke. "Of what?"

Squall arched his spine, stretching back slightly. I raised my hands, slipping them around his waist. He considered, head cocked slightly to the side. "SeeD insignia," he replied, in a tone that said it should have been obvious.

He didn't actually sound like he was joking at all but with Squall it was often hard to tell. "Why?" I hazarded to ask.

The ghost of a teasing grin flashed back, warming his grey eyes. "You have one. Sounds like the start of a family tradition. Shouldn't I carry it on?"

"Squall..." He grinned broader at my warning tone, easily capturing my hands in his before I could attack his ribs in retribution.

"Or maybe because I want to," he amended, his tone softer, and now he looked serious again even with the hint of a smile. He released one of my hands, leaning back as he glanced down. One slender finger traced an arc around his navel, sweeping upwards across his abdomen, the motion catching my eyes. I swallowed, feeling my mouth go a little dry, as he traced another arc on the other side, that one sliding downward to brush the dark curls of his groin.

He was watching my reaction, eyes half closed, his smile almost predatory. "Right there," he breathed softly, and suddenly I wasn't at all sure he was joking. "Where you could see just the edge of it under my shirt."

The hand that was holding mine slid forward, my palm pressed beneath his to the warm flesh of his belly. He leaned down, the heat of his growing erection hard against my stomach, his words continuing in a relentless whisper. "Every time you looked at me, I'd know where your eyes were... tracing that design, where it disappears under my belt..."

My breath was growing strangled somewhere in my chest, caught and held by his soft words and the fantasy he was creating that sank heat straight between my thighs. "Gods, Squall..."

"Think I should?" The words were light and warm against my neck, his lips just brushing my skin in a feathery caress. "Would you like that?"

I had to swallow hard before I found my voice. "Fuck, yes..." Coherency was slipping away from me as he shifted, a slow rocking of his weight across my hips and groin. He kept my hand trapped against his belly and I could feel the tiny shivers there, the flex of muscles as he bent, his lips and loose strands of hair slipping across my chest.

"I'd want you there," he continued into the hollow of my throat. "Sitting there. Watching while it was done. While I lay there, and you, watching, your eyes on me..." he paused for one heartbeat, the words breathed against my pulse. "Every. Single. Minute."

He punctuated it with small bites, his teeth playing across my throat. I gasped, leaning my head back, my free hand bruising against his hip. "Ahh...."

His voice dropped lower, husky, warm against my racing pulse. "Will you do that? Your hands on me, while they're doing it... watching..."

I was loosing my ability to breath, never mind think. "Yes," I hissed again. "Hell yes."

Squall made a pleased noise. He let go of my hand long enough to make a long armed reach for the oil we had discarded earlier, fumbling through the covers beside me before pushing himself back up, his weight solid across my hips. I reached for him but he took my hand again, fingers painfully tight around my wrist until I relented.

His smile was pure, unadulterated tease. Turning my palm up, he tipped a measure of heavy oil across my fingers, clear and cool to the touch. I started to reach forward again but he stopped me, his grip on my wrist accepting no argument.

I almost had to close my eyes, the moan rising through my throat as my fingertips, under his direction, traced the first long, sloping line up across the heated skin of his belly. His free hand reached down, catching at my chin to keep me focused, his touch mutely forcing me to watch.

I don't think anything could have forced me to look away.

Up around one side, down across the other, two halves of a whole. Around his navel in a smooth arc and downwards, the oil glistening on his skin as he used my fingers to trace the design. Droplets of it fell, heavy crystals against crisp dark curls. There was a whimper somewhere in my throat just dying to be set free.

Squall's eyes were dark as he watched me. Tugging my hand up, he let go of my jaw, threading his fingers through my slick ones. When he leaned forward his breath whispered across my fingertips, the oil smearing wetly across his chin in slick streaks. The pink tip of his tongue flickered out, testing. His eyes never left mine and I moaned as his lips slid around my finger.

"You are the world's worst tease," I whispered. His teeth worried gently at my knuckle in answer, saliva and oil mingling across his lips as he slowly pulled back.

"Who says I'm teasing?" he breathed.

He shifted his weight backwards and I couldn't find an answer, my breath caught up in a series of little gasps as I arched into him. He sighed softly, his hips rolling in counterpoint to my thrust, drawing another moan from me.

I made a disappointed sound when Squall leaned forwards, his weight leaving me entirely. His lips brushed mine briefly, the heat of our breath mingling between our open mouths. "Laguna," he whispered, drawing out the vowels of my name into long, slow caresses of sound as I shuddered beneath him.

He pushed my hand down between our bodies, leaning up to give me better access. His skin was warm to the touch, already slick with sweat and the remnant of the oil we had used earlier. He closed his eyes as I slowly pushed a finger into him, the tip of his tongue just touching his teeth, the muscles of his throat working without sound.

The warmth of his skin was nothing compared to the silk heat inside of him. I bit down on my lip as I twisted, reaching; I knew I had found what I was looking for when his hands clenched on the sheets, the tension trembling up the long lines of his arms as his breath escaped in a quiet gasp.

"Gods..." It was the only thing I could verbalize, the words coming on panting breaths. "Oh gods... Squall..." So unbelievably beautiful, all muscle and sinew stretched out above me, dark strands of his hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks.

One calloused hand came up, cupping rough across my mouth to silence me. He pulled away with a hiss, breath catching. Sitting up with a warning tap across my lips, he reached back, his fingertips sliding smoothly along my length. I gasped, the square press of his palm against my stomach keeping me pinned to the bed.

Squall caught my gaze, his eyes dark and half slitted. "No teasing," he whispered. The muscles in his thighs flexed, shifting, and I cried out as he slid onto me in one long, smooth movement.

His weight kept me in place, heavy across my hips, his fingers digging deep into my thighs as he caught his breath in deep gulps. I was moaning, my own hands scrabbling and clenched around the blankets. Squall drew another breath, swallowing, then slowly leaned back, easing the angle as he shifted to rise slowly up and then fall again. The light shivered in bright lines along the oil on his stomach, muscles clenching with each movement.

I could die like this. I could die like this, and I wouldn't care.

He wasn't letting me move, the pace he set slow and torturous. I was keening softly with each gasped breath, straining upward with his thrusts, words falling inbetween the pants. "Ah... please! Fuck.... oh gods..."

His hands caught at mine and Squall tore me away from twisting the covers, shifting my grip to the hard curves of his hips. "Laguna," he hissed and the request was there, unspoken, his own need held tight in heavy breaths.

I surged upwards, the motion driving a cry from both of us as I twisted, rolling him beneath me. I slipped a hand beneath one leg and pushed, driving his hips up and back as I thrust deep. His cry broke off in a strangled gasp, his head thrown back. White hot, slick and grasping; I was half sobbing, thrusting hard, lost in the feel of him and the tiny little moans he was making as he arched and strained under me.

When he came the heavy streaks painted thick across his belly; oil and sweat and cum over shivering skin, his cry loud and full throated as he stiffened. I ground my hips hard into his, tiny short thrusts, hard and fast, my own cry drowning his out as I shuddered through the molten heat of orgasm.

When I got my breath mostly back I was sprawled across his chest, his legs clasped loosely around my waist, his own breath still rough edged beneath my cheek. I pressed a breathless kiss to slick skin, his fingers moving lazily through my hair in answer.

It was a few minutes more before I felt like moving might be a potential option. I pushed up enough on one elbow to look at him. Squall's eyes were closed, one arm flung up across his face. "Were you actually serious?" I demanded.

One eye slitted open to look at me, then closed again. He was silent for a minute, then shrugged slightly. "Zell had his done in Dollet. I've got the day free tomorrow - we can take the train in."

I had to swallow around the tightness in my throat. "You're really serious?"

"I wasn't joking." He glanced at me again, sidelong. "Do you want to?"

"Fuck yes!" I probably sounded like a kid getting presents, but I didn't care. Squall let me tug his arm down to pillow my head on, shifting to accommodate me as I sprawled out beside him. There was a manic grin on my lips that I couldn't erase.

"I suppose it would be really inappropriate for the President of Esthar to have his son's name tattooed anywhere?" I inquired lightly a minute later.

"Laguna," Squall said evenly without stirring, "if you do, I'll ship you back to Esthar. In pieces. And I'm not joking about that either."

I chuckled, the laughter bubbling up irrepressibly. "Alright, no names. What about a little heart?"

"Laguna..." It was the warning tone he used to strike fear into the junior classes, but I wasn't that easily intimidated.

"A little heart worked into the middle of a tiny SeeD insignia?" I offered. "On my thigh. Nobody but you would see it."



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