What's Left Of Me

Author's Notes: WOOSH!!! Second chapter. I had quite a hard time writing this for a few reasons.

1) It is much, much harder for me to write Laguna as an authoritive figure than I would have though possible.
2) If you haven't ever heard of the "Squall's dead" theory, please do not indulge yourself with it. It absolutly ruined my mood, and I was distraught for hours.

I apologize now if it seems like I rushed through the chapter. I did, and I'm probrbly going to suffer from it. D: I took a couple of turns here that I wasn't suppose to take, but it just seemed to flow better for me to do it this way, regardless of all the action/drama that happens towards the end of the chapter. Hopefully I can get myself on the right track starting with chapter 3.

Avril Lavigne - I'm With You http://www.allavril.com/ImWith.shtml

As usually, reviews are welcome. Flames will be mummified and sent out to curse you for the rest of your life.

ENJOY!!!

III

Laguna Loire wasn't normally one for playing games, though he did like to take his time and enjoy life.

In the Deling City Hotel room, with nothing but the combination of city lights and the glow of the full moon to illuminate the luxurious scenery, however, all he wanted was to blow his mind.

Young and battle-worn was the teen beneath him, writhing at every flutter of eyelashes and ghosts of hands. Innocent and lusting ice blues glimmered in the lunar night light, and Laguna very much wanted to rip that innocence away.

The boy wanted to dominate, and yes, Laguna was a bit of a pushover, but nothing was going to stop him from this. When he tried to lunge forward Laguna's hands were there to steady them where he wanted them. He tried again, but his trial was faulty, and only wound up bringing their nude bodies closer. Their erections clashed and Laguna's delusion panted feverishly.

"So hot ..."

Laguna took his lips as his own, claiming and tasting every bit that his inviting mouth had to offer him. He had to have more! His mouth moved from the boy's now kiss-swollen lips and descended along his collarbone and neckline.

"What's wrong?" he asked when his eyes swept closed.

When his dream teen opened his eyes it again it spoke volumes.

"I need you ..."

It was all Laguna needed to take every trace of chastity from him. He lined himself up with his lover's hole and flashed him a pang of sympathy before slamming into his entrance until the hilt of his erection rubbed against his cheeks. He felt the blood, and could feel his fantasy's walls clench and unclench around his cock, the latter being much more pleasant to consume himself with.

His illusion was completely overwhelmed, his knuckles as white as the hotel sheets and face blushing something fierce.

The sight was breathtaking.

"You like being fucked hard, don't you, Squall?" Laguna slid his hand through the young man's messy brown mane, more than satisfied to feel the roots coated with a sheen sweat when he pulled.

The boy arched his back rapidly. Laguna responded with faster and more deliberate thrusts, and added a hand to his submissive's cock, pumping him as fast as he was fucking him, causing the dream to mewl.

His boy was going to come when he wanted him to.

"I want you to look me in the eyes as you come." he commanded his fabrication and locked eyes with him, pounding, pumping, and falling into oblivion.

"Come, Squall. Say my name."

It was barely audible. ".....a...!"

Laguna smirked sadly. Oh what this dream lover was doing to him!

"What was that, Squall?" he practically cooed in the other's ear.

"...una...!" Squall tried again.

It was too much too tight in such a hot vicinity. Laguna was going to lose his very soul to this boy. He bit down on the junction between his neck and shoulder, moaning as he came in his beloved.

He felt nails dig into the sides of his spine as he lover came. "LAGUNA!!!!" He could feel his muscles quiver from orgasm.

"Squall!!"

III

3 A.M. -- March 13th

Laguna Loire awoke to the crash of thunder, followed by the illuminating flashes of lightning. He ran a hand listlessly through his long black learning of the beads of sweat that had gathered at the seem of his roots.

"Another dream ..." He sighed to himself dejectedly. He sat up, sliding his legs off the side of his oversized bed. "What does it mean?"

The President stood, quickly realizing the immediate problem. He was still very aroused, and very much looking for an excuse to think of his teen beauty.

He wobbled a bit uneasily to his desk, donned with a still booted laptop from last nights paperwork and sat on his cherry red leather bound swivel chair. He let his eyes slip shut and let his imagination recreate the image of Squall lying as naked as the day he was born with his legs spread temptingly on his bed. He honed in on his crystal blue eyes and licked his lips. He allowed a hand to dig slightly into his neck, the other caressing the skin that was still covered by a plain white t-shirt.

He moaned silently, envisioning Squall taking his own erection into one of his hands and stroking himself, the other tweaking lovingly at one of his pert nipples.

"You want me to touch you? Hmmm...?" Laguna asked him. He nodded, and Laguna wrapped his hand around his length, stroking it hard.

"Touch me . . ."

Laguna wrapped his hand tighter around the boy's cock. He leaned over the boy and kissed up his stomach, his tongue coming to play over a nipple making the brunet moan.

"I want to watch you Squall," Laguna admitted into his hoop-clad earlobe, "I want to watch the way your eyes glint when you're about to come, and how your hips roll with every touch."

Squall's hips thrust into Laguna's hand, erotically. His hands, however, found their way to Laguna's own hardness, pumping him with the utmost of care.

It was too much! Laguna could nearly feel the love and pure innocence in every caress to his cock.

"Squall . . ." his voice became disjointed and torn. "aaAAAAHHHHhhh!!!" He came in his love's hand, just as Squall did the same.

They were still looking in one another's eyes when they came, and stayed that way for a moment or two, simply living in the reverie. Squall's lips were dry from panting, and oh so very inviting. Laguna claimed them, sucking as much of him in and letting the taste of evergreen mint and vanilla linger.

He blinked. Squall had vanished. Instead, he was looking at his reflection through the LCD computer screen, and his seed was dripping slowly down his softening cock.

Laguna was alone. His room was only as bright was the flicker of Esthar lightning.

He himself, however, felt much, much darker on the inside. He tucked himself away, as he did so, he caught sight of a photo of his one and only love.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Raine." He apologized to the ever modest woman, smiling sadly. She stared back at him, unmoving, with a smile that lit up her features. "You never did like my 'manly habits.'" Laguna chuckled. He was sure the day was breaking by now, 5 A.M., though the overcast sky loomed over the city. Laguna stood again and stretched, his shirt riding up with his movements.

His thoughts wandered to his most recent fantasy of Squall. Before, it had just been like something was prying into his brain, forcing him to relive pieces of his past, some pieces he would very much rather forget. Occasionally he would have flashes of a strong-willed brunet on a journey to find the truth with baby blue eyes, then gradually, he began the spiral of which he was now embedded in. Every night it was more vivid, solid, and out of this world.

His reverie was broken with a sharp set of knocks at the door.

Laguna cleared his throat, "Yes?"

"Laguna! We've an emergency!" a soft masculine voice called through the thick cherry wood door.

The president of Esthar flew to the door, nearly throwing it off it's hinges when he opened it to confront the voice on the other side.

Kiros Seagill stood on the other side, his dark brown eyes panicked but serious. "The mercenary team we hired from Balamb Garden have found their way here. The squad leader and one of their other party members are injured pretty badly."

A sinking feeling set in Laguna's gut. If he had been sated and disoriented before, he was most defiantly awake now. "Where are they?" his voice much steadier than the feelings within him.

"Get dressed and we'll meet with them." Kiros instructed. "I'll wait for you here."

III

Laguna had gotten ready at a back-breaking speed and rushed to meet Kiros outside of his private room. He slammed his door shut before running down the hallway, Kiros just behind him.

"Are the injured with Dr. Odine?" Laguna called over his shoulder.

"Yes," Kiros grabbed his friend's shoulder, "But we're not going there."

Laguna spun in shock. "What?! Why not!?" There were people injured, and those peoples just saved his country. Why couldn't he see them?

"Because he has requested to be left alone as their wounds heal." Kiros explained. "Instead, the rest of the squad is awaiting you in your office."

Laguna's foot tapped in annoyance and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He hated politics so early in the morning.

A slender, dark-skinned hand cupped his cheek. "Let's go, Laguna. I'm sure your office is the last place these teens want to be right now."

Laguna held in a snort. 'It's the last place I want to be right now.' He followed nonetheless down the dimly illuminated halls of the presidential residence, letting the music of perpetual rain splattering against the long window panes distract him momentarily. He smiled gently when they passed a portrait of Winhill just outside of his office door.

Kiros held the door open for him. Stepping through, he glanced around at the worried faces of four pacing teens, all holding the same question. "Are they ok? Can we see them?"

"At ease," the president commanded. They continued stand, though their feet became firmly planted to the plush white carpet.

Laguna tried again. "Relax." This time they all complied, sitting, although reluctantly. Two girls, a blonde and a brunet, sat on the closest couch, the other two, a raven-haired female, and a man in a cowboy hat, sat on opposite armchairs.

"I know you're all worried." Laguna consoled them. "So the faster we go through this, the faster you and I can check on them. Is that ok?" They all nodded in unison. Taking this as a good sign, the president took a seat behind his desk, and the mountains of paperwork that sat atop it. Kiros handed him a small stack of manilla folders.

Laguna glanced through them, not really paying attention to detail. He would have rather the mercenary group tell him the story then make them write it all out for recording purposes.

"What happened?" He asked the group. All of the girls looked to the one male in the tan trench coat, prompting Laguna and Kiros to do the same.

A breathy sigh came from the tall man. "Mr. President," he started slowly. "I think it would be better if I told you this away from the others."

Shocked, Laguna looked at the girls. All of them looked confused, but understanding all the same.

Laguna found his voice. "Kiros, please escort the ladies to see their commander and friend." He looked back at the cowboy, then down at one of the open manilla envelopes, scanning the pages for a name. "Mr. ... Kinneas and I will discuss this matter further." He glanced at his right hand man, who gave him a curious stare before bowing his head.

"Yes, this way ladies." Kiros held the door open for the battle-tired girls, his eyes never leaving Laguna's until he closed the door behind them.

"I finally get to meet the infamous Laguna Loire." the voice sounded as soon as the door knob clicked shut.

Laguna stared at him, taken aback. "You know who I am?"

"It's quite complicated, Mr. President." Irvine began. He leaned himself against the arm of the chair he had been previously occupying. "You see, you're the reason my commander is injured in the first place."

Laguna was on his feet instantly. "The idea is absurd!"

"On the contrary, President Loire," Irvine had uncrossed his arms, taking the few paces to stand opposite Laguna at his desk. "I happen to know the chain of events that led to his injury, starting with the erotic dreams he has about the raven-haired president leaning over him, kissing him, and showing his things he's never felt before."

Laguna gulped. "Just tell me what happened, Kinneas."

Irvine slammed his hands down on the desk in front of him, making Laguna step back more than a few paces. "I'll tell you, Mr. Loire! I'll tell you that he was thinking of you before he was attacked by the Abadon, causing his guard to be down. I'll tell you that he ran not for his life, but yours, in the hopes he would fall asleep to see you again!" Irvine was screaming at the president now, and Laguna felt his spine go rigid. "He has a severe concussion, and there's a piece of his spine that's chipped off and floating around inside of him. He could die! So, I promise, Mr. President Laguna Loire, that if anything happens to Commander Squall Leonheart, you will follow him." he finished in a low growl.

His heart stopped. Memories of the previous nights encounter flooded through him. 'Squall. Squall Leonheart. It's him! It has to be! What are the odds that there are TWO Squall Leonhearts?'

Laguna couldn't breathe, and every attempt he made only made his chest tighten more. He had to get our of here. Anywhere was safer than here. He wanted to see Squall, but would Squall want to see him? What if something happened to Squall . . .?"

Before Laguna could stop himself, he allowed the tear to trickle down the side of his cheek.

"If you would excuse me, Kinneas." He choked out barely audibly, leaving Irvine Kinneas to mentally curse himself for divulging Squall's secret.

His feet worked in time with his head, flying him down the hallways of his home. He ignored, everyone, even Kiros, as he rushed passed them.

He needed to breathe. He needed to see Squall.

The early morning rain showered him as he burst through the embellished front doors, mixing with his tears.

"This can't be happening . . ."

Shivers raked through him as he tried to control his breathing. He sat on the front steps, bringing his knees to his chest.

Laguna closed his eyes. Squall's face invaded his thoughts. What would he do if something happened to him? Why did he even care? He barely knew this man apart from his unexplainable dreams. He was by all means of the word, a stranger.

But this stranger, though only coming to him at night, made him feel more whole than his late wife ever had. That wasn't something he couldn't just ignore, was it?

The president of Esthar vowed that if Squall Leonheart made it through this alive, he would make him his.