Shake the Disease

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Title: Shake the Disease (only because I was listening to Hooverphonic's version of the song on repeat for the full nine hours of writing and couldn't come up with anything better)

Author: Rhapsodisiac

Raiting: NC-17

Status: Completed. Though I may feel like writing a sequel some time in the future.

Couple: Laguna/Squall

Warnings: M/M, lemon, incest, cross-dressing, dom/sub, PWP, very OOC (let's just *pretend* Squall would put himself in this situation... ^_^).

Disclaimer: Squaresoft's characters. Yada yada.

Summary: Laguna attempts to deliver their paternity test results to find Squall, in his own words, "trussed up like a skank."

Illustrated: Hell yes! : http://www.angelfire.com/pop2/randomstuffs/images/squallfinished.JPG


*~ Shake The Disease ~*

"The only difference between a caprice and a lifelong passion is that the caprice lasts a little longer."
-- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

*~*~*

He stood on the highest balcony in Garden, elbows resting on an elaborate cast-iron railing. The breeze teased at his dusty copper hair, catching a few strands now and then on long, lightly-mascaraed lashes. The sun would be setting in about half an hour, and was already spotting the expanse of passing sea with orange sparkles. The alternating warm-and-cool of sun and breeze on his face and bare legs was strangely invigorating, and in combination with the tumbler of Mimett that perched between his hands when not being sipped at, the surrounding environment had begun to relax him. Soon, it would be time to go back inside to wait.

*~*~*

Laguna’s strides were long and brisk as he bustled down the upper hallway, just exiting the central elevator. He found himself in a bizarre panic, despite having expected since he met the boy that what he had just learned would be revealed as fact.

Reaching the commander’s office, he hastened further, stopping at the door to Squall’s quarters. His feet promptly frose to the floor. Ignoring the nervous pain that began to wrack his leg, he struggled to take deep breaths, then knocked with his left hand as his right was already occupied by a file folder.

He waited several minutes, during which time he knocked twice more, and began to roll nervously back and forth from his heels to his toes. Finally accepting that Squall couldn’t be inside, he opted to slide the folder beneath the door. It may have been cowardly of him, but he couldn’t imagine the information being carried in his head alone until he could get a hold of him.

To his disappointment, he found that the door was like most others in the Garden-- it slid on a track and thus had no crack beneath it. After a short deliberation, he turned his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and and pressed the waist-high red button on the frame beside it with his thumb. To his surprise, it sild open with a quiet mechanical *whoosh,* the room greeting him with a gentle sea breeze. Had Squall left the balcony door open?

He would just have to close it—Squall probably wouldn't be happy to come back to find a seagull flying around the room. It had actually happened to himself once in his own home, and catching it sure hadn't been much fun. He entered tentatively, knowing how unwelcome he would be if Squall knew he was there, and closed the door behind him. Just after cementing his plan to go for the balcony door, toss the folder onto the corner desk, and get the hell out, he looked up, and again found his feet frozen. In fact, it seemed his whole body had been immersed in arctic water.

The reason for the breeze became apparent before his eyes-- Squall stood outside, facing the ocean. Laguna swallowed hard, and tried to keep himself from falling over.

The young man had ecxhanged his usual baggy trousers for a very short skirt, black and probably made of some kind of leather. Wrinkles in the sides hiked it up even further than the designer had planned, so that it barely covered his behind. His legs were long, muscled but very lean, and Laguna couldn't remember seeing a woman winy nny nicer. They ended in a pair of red heels-- platforms by the looks of it. The lower half of his back-- quite graceful-- was also revealed as he leaned on the rail, still in his leather bomber jacket but without the shirt he usually wore beneath it. The white fur feathered at the back of his neck as he leaned forward a bit more to take a drink of something in his hands and exposed the glint of his thick silver necklace.

"Holy gods," Laguna breathed, more loudly then he had expected to. Squall instantly straightened at the sound, startling him into dropping the file folder. Papers scattered, but he didn't pay them any mind. When he turned around he found Laguna staring at him, eyes wide with his chin almost to the floor.

"Do you need something?" His lips were glossed, and seemed much fuller than usual when they moved.

Laguna licked his own lips and tried to speak. Need something? He couldn't remember. A hot blush rose in his cheeks, his jaw moving without sound until he managed to release a high-pitched but quiet "eep!"

"Pick up your jaw, Loire. You look like an idiot." Still, the faint trace of a grin touched his face.

Laguna snapped his mouth shut, teeth clicking together. "Um, I..... Gods, Squall, what the hell are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?"

*Standing outside in the sun. Dressed like a girl. Like a slutty girl. Looking completely fucking -beautiful-...* His breath caught as a familiar heat crept to his groin. What was he thinking? "Erm... I have no... idea."

Squall hinted at another smile, sipping again from his Mimett and licking the red remnants of it from his lips. The flicker of his tongue made Laguna blink a few times as if trying to clear his vision. He knew he looked good-- and freaking the older man out was quite amusing. "But Laguna, I'm trussed up like a skank. You didn't notice?" he asked, sarcasm hidden beneath a genuine tone.

Laguna's eyes shot down to the floor at the bluntness of the description, his face burning. "I'll... g-go. You probably want to be alone... or something." Or, maybe he was waiting for someone. He turned back around to face the door.

"There's more to drink on the nightstand, if you want any." Squall invited, ignoring the statement.

Laguna turned back and raised his eyebrows. Squall gestured in the direction of the Mimett bottle with the hand that held the tumbler.

The older man shrugged, and headed over to it. He had since remembered what he had come to tell Squall, and couldn't just leave with everything still scattered on the floor. And great Hyne, he couldn't tell him *now.* He picked up the other glass and poured the Mimett to fill it about one-third of the way, the glass and bottle neck constantly clinking together as he shook.

"And you can come out here if you want."

Drink in hand, Laguna took a deep breath and approached him, the fresh balcony air awakening his senses even further. Squall was now leaning against the side of the wall, and the setting sun gave his usually-stormy eyes an odd sparkle and softened his skin, making him look even younger than he was. Laguna noticed that the grey eyes before him were dusted lightly with shadow, and lined as well. They looked familiar, he found, and with a start realized why he had known the truth about their relationship for so long. It wasn't just a matter of instinct. Squall's eyes weren't only his own, but Raine's, down to the finest speckle of black. He gulped and turned back to the sun, chest thumping with the rekindling of a love he hadn't truly felt for eighteen years.

"What?" Squall asked, alarmed by the sudden horror on Laguna's face.

He could feel the quizzical stare branding him, fought to keep his gaze on the horizon. A seam of sweat prickled his forehead. "What?" he returned, the only word he could utter between so many raging thoughts.

Squall rolled his eyes. "You're shaking. Looks like you're having a heart attack."

"No...." For a second he wondered if he possibly was. "No. I'm just, uh..." He cleared his throat and pushed a few locks of charcoal hair behind an ear. "I have to, ah, show you something." He pushed back from the railing and practically ran back into the room, his drink sloshing over onto his fingers, then knelt by scatscattered papers and began searching for the right one. Squall remained silent until he returned with his selection, then plucked it from a clammy hand.

His expression didn't change as he scanned quickly over it. "I know," he mumbled.

"You do?" Another gulp. He set his glass down on the railing.

"Yeah. I know." He crumpled up the paper and tossed it over the rail, watching it sail down to the water. "I could tell a long time ago."

Laguna followed it too, then turned back to Squall. *Hynedammit, those eyes... * "You don't care?"

"Sure I care, I just..." He shrugged, now watching a bird as it followed the ship. "I never knew you. It doesn't mean much." And it didn't. "It's not like we have some kind of father-son relationship to ruin."

Laguna felt like he'd been hit in the chest. Squall was thinking things, just like what he was thinking. He had to be. How else could anything be 'ruined?' "What did you say?"

"Nothing." He dismissed. He then drained the rest of the red liquor from the glass with a single gulp of sugary fire and stared at him.

The stare was too much-- Laguna couldn't help it. He pounced, practically mashing their lips together, exploring his mouth and drinking up the sweet cherry remnants of Mimett. Squall dropped is glass in his surprise, shattering it on the concrete beneath them, but didn't yell, or push him away, or punch him. It took several seconds for him to respond, but when he did, Laguna stopped breathing. He backed away slightly to bite down on Laguna's lower lip, then lapped with this tip of his tongue at the coppery wound he had created. Laguna released a rumbling moan, reaching up (Squall was now taller, due to his shoes) to grasp at the back of his head, pulling his tongue into his mouth and resting his other hand on the wall beside his face, leaning forward to pin him against it with the rest of his body.

It was Squall's turn to moan as he felt the press of Laguna's erection and the scratch of rough fabric on his thigh -- it was a feathery sound he made, reminiscent of mist. He untucked the dress shirt from Laguna's waist, then reached up inside and dragged his fingernails down the soft skin at both sides of his torso. Laguna shivered violently, breaking their kiss. "Tickles." He explained against the creamy gloss that had managed to stay on Squall's lips. He leaned in again, but Squall's reflexes were fast-- he was suddenly grasping at either side of his shirt collar, hands clenched to fists around the fabric.

"No."

"Wha-- but I--" He cut off as Squall pushed forward, turning them both around and slamming Laguna's back into the wall, rescuing him from his confusion. Squall may have looked girly, but he had lost none of his strength. "Woah."

Squall made a sort of purring sound in response and went for the jugular, placing a soft kiss on Laguna's neck and letting it grow until he was sucking hard and nibbling. Laguna's hands trailed to Squall's chest, soft from years of handling nothing harsher than paperwork, and trailed them down his flat stomach and over his skirt, reveling in delicious leather. Soon he had made his way to Squall's thighs and up beneath it, where he found something that felt of silk and lace twined around his leg.

"Garter?"

"Yeah," Squall whispered in a short pause as he undid the top two buttons of Laguna's shirt. He started to make his way along his shoulder, finding more of his skin's delicious salt. He wove his fingers between strings of his raven hair, resisting the urge to tug.

"Wow." Laguna mumbled, exploring further up his hip until he found a thin strip of fabric. Catching a whimper in his throat, he muttered, "ohmigods..."

"Enough." Squall backed away to admire the red marks he had made and began lowering himself as he undid the rest of Laguna's shirt buttons. He ignored Laguna's stomach, however, and made his way to his pants, tugging with his teeth in a bit of a show as he undid the four buttons with deft fingers. Carefully, he exposed Laguna's length, feeling his own arousal grow at the sight. "Now I know what Raine saw in you..."

"Squall!" Laguna started, irked by the compliment, though he was unable to get too upset-- Squall's hands were very warm.

"Sorry, sorry," he actually chuckled a little as he knelt, the pavement cold on his knees.

"Careful, glass," Laguna warned, just after Squall shifted and found his left knee on top of a shard. It dug into his skin instantly, knifing pain up his leg to his stomach. He could feel a bit of warmth as it started to bleed.

"I noticed. Don't worry about it." He didn't want to start a fuss *now,* of all times, and worry about cleaning anything up.

"You cut yourself, didn't you."

"Don't *worry* about it." Squall repeated, surprised to find himself aroused more by the pain. He had had worse, that was for sure. He started on Laguna slowly, touching the tip of his tongue to the slit of his head and finding a great deal more of that exquisite taste-- like the ocean, almost. Laguna groaned above him, much louder than before, thrusting forward a bit before catching himself and holding back. Squall was instantly hungry, starving for it, and took him fully into his mouth, fighting a gag as he hit the back of his throat. Another moan, another attempt at a thrust. He wrapped a hand around the base, disturbing bone-straight pubic hair and squeezing as he rested his other hand on Laguna's left hip, just in case he had to restrain him. Slowly he pulled back again, adding some suction, and heard his subject suck in a deep breath.

Laguna's left hand found the railing and gripped it for support, his knuckles turning white. He leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes, and reached down, tangling his fingers in Squall's hair while trying his damndest not to push too hard. His legs started to shake uncontrollably as Squall took him back in and swallowed against him, creating more soft, beautiful friction. "Oh... gods Squall.... you... ever done this... before?"

Squall paused to shake his head with a grunt that told him 'no,' and moved faster, massaging the base and digging his own fingers into Laguna's hip. More and more pre-cum touched his throat, coating, only making him hungrier. Not only his head moved-- soon his whole body went forward and back with it, encouraged by Laguna's hand and creating more friction as his knees ground into the cement. He made a reverberating groan himself, aching for the taste of Laguna's release.

"Fuck--" Laguna's breath caught again. It was getting difficult to stand on such rubberly legs, despite putting as much weight as he coun thn the rail. Everything was getting too tough to take. *No, dammit, not yet...* He didn't want it to be over. Ever. But his body worked against his mind, as the more he fought, the better it felt. "Squall..." he trailed off, opening his eyes and looking down. He watched as Squall's mascara-thickened lashes dusted crisp black hair, lips in an 'o' around him, eyes squeezed shut with obvious desire.

That was all it took-- cursing himself for looking, he came, with a final thrust deep to back of Squall's throat. Squall sucked hard in return, milking him for every drop and swallowing greedily.

Laguna tried to relax as Squall released him and snaked back up his body.

"You look like death." he remarked as he stared into half-closed eyes, obviously satisfied with his work. He give Laguna a teasing peck, sharing that oceanic essence, and turned to go inside.

Meeting his forehead with his palm, Laguna again fell back against the wall. "We're not done, are we?" He called as a broad, dopey smile of realization took over his face. He buttoned his trousers back up carefully.

"I dunno." Squall answered from somewhere in his room.

Testing his ability to stand without support against the railing, Laguna made it to his feet and wobbled into the room. Squall sat in his desk chair, one leg crossed over the other, it was now very obvious that he shaved. The sky was dark now, the only light in the room emitting from his desk lamp. His right knee was scratched up and red, and a short trail of blood dripped down his left. The garter was just visible on his left thigh, a brilliant accent. His face was simply gorgeous, lips and cheeks flushed dark. Startlingly, he was smoking a cigarette.

"Classic. Just... classic." Laguna remarked, still grinning. "Since when do you smoke?"

Squall picked up a wrinkled and bent cardboard package from the top of the desk beside him to show. "I've had this pack for three years." He tossed it back down. "Want one?"

Laguna shook his head, knowing how stale they must have been, and sat down on the bed to watch him silently.

"Since when have you not worn underwear?" Squall returned.

Realizing that he really had no need for his shirt, which was now unbuttoned, he shrugged it off and tossed it aside. "It's laundry day."

"Ah."

"Squall, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're bleeding."

"I know. It's gonna be a bitch to get the glass out, too." He frowned.

Laguna stood and headed for the bathroom, then flicked on the light. "You have tweezers?"

"Second drawer."

After running some water, he returned with a cloth and the aforementioned item. "Hope you like pain," he remarked sarcastically.

"I'll live." He pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and took out an ashtray, then butted out his cigarette.

Laguna knelt before him on the beige carpet, then reached over to pull the lamp close to the edge of the desk for better light. "Damn, you're chewed up."

"Enough with the commentary." He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." Laguna pressed the cloth softly to the wound, clearing away what blood had already dried, as well as the short drip. Instantly it started to bleed again, allowing him to see exactly where the shard had entered. He squinted. "This is going to hurt me a lot more than it's gonna hurt--"

"Shut up."

Laguna chuckled and went for it, cringing with empathy and swallowing hard. The tweezers went in pretty far before they clicked against the glass. Squall, however, didn't even flinch, and after few digs and adjustments it was out. Laguna held it up to the light with the tweezers, admiring it. "Damn, what a trooper. This thing's huge. Fortunately it didn't break--"

"If you ever call me a 'trooper' again, I will kill you. Don't doubt me."

Laguna just grinned without replying, dropping the shard into the ashtray with a clink and placing the tweezers beside it. He wiped the rest of the blood away, and put the cloth on the desk too. "All set." He stood, propping himself up on the arm of the chair as he hovered over him. "So, are we done or not?"

"Not." Squall replied, leaning up to kiss him again, tasting of salt and smoke. Laguna slid a hand beneath his knees, and the other around his back.

"Laguna, don't."

He ignored the command and lifted him from the chair. At almost Laguna's height and made of muscle, he was pretty heavy. He strained, turned, and placed him carefully onto the bed which, luckily, was nearby.

"I'm not an invalid." Squall's lips pouted, but he was unaware of it. His eyes remained steely, a little annoyed, as his hailayelayed out on the pillow.

"I just wanted to do it, okay?" Laguna wondered if some sort of twisted-up instincts were kicking in. He had said--and done-- some pretty fatherly stuff back there. He turned to Squall's feet, not in the mood for introspection, and undid the strap on one of his shoes.

"Leave them on."

"Ah, you like those, eh?" He turned back to him and edged onto the bed, kneeling between Squall's legs. "So do I." He ran his hands up beneath the bomber jacket, pushing it open and teasing a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, just so he could watch the soft twitch of alerted muscle beneath pale skin. Squall's head fell back into the pillow, his senses sharpening. Then, and idea popped into Laguna's head. He leaned down, straightening out his legs to press his weight onto him and taking one of his wrists, placing it above his head. He did the same with the other, using his weight to hold them both down with one hand. He kissed him then, not nearly has hungry as before, calmly relishing every bit of his mouth. Squall's hips ground upwards into his own, and he pressed back down.

"Laguna..." Squall muttered against his lips, eyes closed.

Laguna shifted his lips to Squall's ear. "Can I?" he whipsered.

"What?"

He felt himself blushing again. "Can I have you?"

"Anything you want." was the feathery response.

Laguna's eyes nearly popped out of his head. *Anything?* His heart started thumping in his throat again. He was surprised that Squall would even accept being dominated, let alone practically ask for it. He didn't usually lust for the role he was about to take-- taking over had never been his strong suit-- but Squall's statement told him that it was what *he* wanted, and Laguna was ready to do anything for him. Although, considering the younger man's current outfit, he realized that he should never have limited his expectations.

"Keep your hands where they're at." He commanded as he let go of them and sat back up, nearly laughing at how silly his own voice sounded. Squall obeyed with a sigh, assuring him that he must have been doing something right. He snaked his hands up the soft, hairless skin of Squall's tensed thigh, found the garter and pulled it off deftly. He guided Squall onto his side, pulled his arms down and held his wrists together again at the small of his back. oundound the garter around them, hooking the remaining slack around Squall's thumb to keep it tight.

Squall let out a groan then, feeling himself blush and drawing Laguna's eyes to his face. He had thought about such a situation a number of times, always assuming he'd never be able to realize it. His heart began to clambor against his ribs with anticipation at the thought having to do nothing but enjoy and obey, free of worry, free of contemplation. The silken binding seemed to burn him, making his hands throb.

Laguna stared at him as his breath rushed over his lips again and again. The boy was panting like a dog, and he wasn't even touching him. He could definitely get used to this. He ran a hand up Squall's leg again, lifting the skirt to find what he had barely been allowed to touch earlier. As he expected, he found a plain black thong that cupped his genitals less than neatly-- the tip of his erection had made its way past the top, already dripping, and there were some darkened spots on the garment that had probably gotten there earlier. The thin waistband arched over his hips in an upside-down 'v,' disappearing at the crack of his ass. Laguna shut his mouth quickly, realizing that he was about to drool. "Fuck, Squall," he mumbled, "Where'd you get all this stuff, anyway?"

"Here... and there. Mail orders." Squall breathed, surprising him. He had expected not to get an answer.

"That question was rhetorical!" Laguna boomed suddenly, having almost forgotten about his role. "You will speak when given permission." He felt like a dork. It wasn't himself talking at all. But then Squall began to chew on his bottom lip, and he forgot his awkwardness in an instant.

Laguna turned him over onto his stomach and pulled the back of the stringy garment to the side, eliciting another moan from the boy, this one much louder. He started to grind into the mattress, but Laguna placed a hand on each hip. "Stay still," he demanded. And then, encourage the the tarnished purity of the creature before him, he got another idea. Before bothering to turn it over in his mind, he landed a deft whack on Squall's left cheek. Squall jerked convulsively, lifting his hips off the bed despite the pressure of Laguna's other hand. Amazed by the reaction, he did it again, and this time his captive let out a choked yell.

"Shh. Can't be waking up the neighbou" La" Laguna replied to the sound, smiling broadly and unbuttoning his trousers. This was just too perfect. Squall was propped up on his knees now, spread, inviting. He moved up to the side of him, needing a better view of his face, and rubbed his index finger at his entrance. Squall pushed back into the light pressure, which Laguna took as an invitation to carefully enter him. He watched as Squall's eyes clenched shut, his hair stickio tho the sweat on his forehead, felt the hot muscles clenching and unclenching around his finger, and found himself ready to come again on the spot. When he got up to the second nuckle, he added another finger and scissored them apart, hoping this would be enough to prepare him.

Squall couldn't deny that the pain was there-- it felt amazing as it shot a spike of desire into his groin. He wished he could tell Laguna he was ready for him, that he felt he'd explode if he waited any longer, but that was against the rules. And then, thinking about rules only continued to drive him more insane. He felt a soft kiss on his forehead, and only opened his eyes in time to see Laguna backing away. "Here we gooo..." Laguna muttered before crawling back on his knees and positioning himself behind him. With one hand on Squall's bottom, he carefully guided himself to his entrance. "Oh shit, wait-- Squall, you have any lube?"

"Nightstand," he breathed, his voice dripping with desperation.

Laguna jumped over, understanding just too completely what Squall was going through and, nearly falling on the floor, managed to pry the tube from the drawer. He promptly uncapped it, and used a liberal amount to cover himself, then added a bit more to Squall's insides, surprising himself with his own efficiency. He threw the container on the floor, not bothering to recap it. "Okay." He asserted, positioning himself again. He could see Squall's back tense and, hoping it was just a reaction of anticipation, entered him, just deep enough to allow him to use both hands to hold Squall's sides.

Squall released a deep moan at the feeling, at first a strong burn that subsided until it became only a dull ache. Completely different from his fingers, Laguna filled him. He buried his face into the pillow, hoping to muffle himself. It was then that Laguna completed the first thrust, burying himself to the hilt and touching upon a depth that sent a debilitating shudder up his spine.

Laguna took Squall's muted holler as the good sign it was and continued, thing ing forward again much more kly.kly. He was doing all he could to go slow, but Squall was just so tight, tugging at and squeezing him like his mouth never could. Squall turned his head back to the side, in desperate need of air. "F-faster," he muttered as his hands clenched into tight, white-nuckled fists. Every muscle in his arms tensed, drawihe ehe edges of his binding into his skin. Now it was Laguna who obeyed--did he ever-- sinking into him continuously and pulling a hiccoughing, high-pitched moan from his shimmering lips with every thrust.

The speed of Laguna's blows made it feel like he never left that spot deep inside him; it was just a continuous friction that broke sweat from his forehead to drip over his eyelids, smearing the mascara down his cheeks. He could barely take it; after such a short time he was already near his precipice. Laguna reached forward, without a pause in his movements, and took hold of his hair, jerking his head back. There it was-- the passion flooded his nerves, extracting a rattling scream as he thrust himself back into Laguna with all his strength. Squall's semen spilled onto the sheets below him in several long spurts and Laguna paused, yanking on his hips, driving himself as deep as he could.

As Squall relaxed somewhat, panting, Laguna could feel the rush again. Deafened by his own pulse and rendered silent in awe of the beauty spilled out before him, he simply jackhammered for the few remaining seconds needed to get to Squall's place himself. "Gods... Squa-all..." He didn't scream, but rather found that the supposed instinct of drawing breath become lost on him a, hi, his mouth drawn into a soundless 'o' as he arched forward, coating Squall's insides, and fell forward onto his back. Squall's legs collapsed beneath their combined weight, and Laguna just lay there for a minute as he tried to catch his breath.

"Would you mind untying me now?" Squall asked, a hit of amust int in the breathy words.

"Uh yeah, of course," Laguna replied as he pushed himself back up to untwist the garment and toss it to the side. With a sudden desire to hold the boy, something he'd barely gotten to do all evening, he pulled out of him (eliciting a quiet moan of protest) and slid up beside him on the damp blankets. Squall instantly turned to him, and he helped him shrug out of his jacket, struggling a bit as it clung to his sweat-dampened skin. He also kicked off his own pants, as they were also damp, and generally uncomfortable.

Squall fell close to him then, shifting over to avoid laying in his own fluids, his head on Laguna's shoulder. Laguna brushed damp wisps of hair away and kissed his forehead, bringing an arm around him, almost too relaxed to move. "So, why were you all dressed up in the first place?"

"Well..." Squall cleared his throat sleepily, almost soundig drunk, "Kadowaki told me the results would be back today, and I knew you wouldn't be able to wait..."

"What, this was some master plan or something?"

Squall remained silent.

"I don't believe it."

More silence.

"And here I was, thinking *I* had seduced *you.*"

"Think what you want to think." Squall finally replied with a yawn. Neither found the need to say anything more and although it was impossible to tell who fell asleep first, both were out like burnt bulbs within five minutes.

*~ END ~*

Don't forget to check out the illustration! :
http://www.angelfire.com/pop2/randomstuffs/images/squallfinished.JPG

I'll really love you forever if you tell me what you thought of that. It was my first yaoi, let alone my first FF8 fic. So yeah, I could use some brushing up. Thanks for reading. Oh, and apologies if I missed any typos.

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