Rude Awakening

Dislaimer: I do own them, because disclaimers don’t really matter anyway. Ha.

~o)O(o~


Rude Awakening


~o)O(o~

Squall woke up alone.

He was used to finding someone there -- had just gotten used to it, actually, one blond head or the other on the next pillow overd a d a flood of pleasant memories following him into the bathros his his libido tried to convince him that everything was okay.

Temporary panic. He was used to that, used to going through a play-by-play under the pounding stream of the shower and using steamclouds to calm himself before he headed off to the Garden's top floor.

Today, it was a different kind of panic. Why didn't anyone want to visit him? He'd fallen asleep alone more often than he'd woken up alone, so even as he drifted off, he wasn't really worried. It was Zell, usually, that came in the night, slid under the covers without trying to wake him up -- essentially, motivated by something other than sex, whatever it was.

So why wasn't someone here? Had he done something wrong?

Had they gotten bored of him?

Shampoo ran into his eye, and he scolded himself as he swatted it away with a palm. They'd just been tied up somewhere, that was all. Maybe Zell had marking to do; maybe Seifer hadn't gotten finished with the the Disciplinary Comittee report that had arrived on his desk three hours late yesterday. They were probably just tired.

Too tired to bother visiting him.

He hated needing, and took it out on his own scalp, scrubbing with his fingernails just a tad past invigorating. He had to wake up, stand up straight -- he had fallen, hard, and it was his duty to remind himself that when it came down to it, on mornings like these, he was the only one around to pick himsup. up.

As long as he could still do it, everything was fine. Everything was fine.

He got so engrossed in repeatedly convincing himself of this that he almost lost his balance when the shower curtain pulled itself back, spilling his accumulation of heated fog from the enclosure in a cascade. He didn't look at Seifer even once, just kept scrubbing.

"Miss me?"

The curtain closed and Squall, whose eyes remained shut, shuffled sideways a little so Seifer could settle behind him. "No."

"Mm. Didn't think so." Seifer's hands, bigger and only a little bit stronger, took to the back of his head, and a few seconds passed before Squall gave up and dropped his own. "I didn't miss you either."

Seifer was even rougher than Squall had been himself; he knew Squall wasn't delicate, and treated him as such, so thoroughly that Squall had to raise a slicked hand to the wall beside him for balance. "What are you doing here?"

"Mine broke," Seifer explained, raking back through sudsy hair so dark when soaked that it nearly looked black, "Galbadian trash; I bet it won't be fixed for at least two days. I told you you should have drawn the construction contract with Esthar."

"No, you told me to go to Galbadia to avoid getting the 'daddy-discount' again," Squall corrected, mumbling. "Said it would look bad in pap papers." And he had been right, Squall admitted, or at least appeared to be at the time. He wouldn't have followed the advice otherwise.

Seifer responded to that by pushing Squall's head forward, into the spray that had been drumming his chest, and he nearly choked on the dripping gasp he sucked in through his nose. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Rinsing you off, stupid. Quicker you're clean, the quicker I'm clean, and the sooner I'll be able to call someone to mop up the flood on my bathroom floor." He paused, scrubbed, and growled, "Not the nicest thing to wake up to, the faucet breaking off in my hand and spraying me with a hundred litres of icewater. I blame you."

"You would," Squall sputtered quietly, a hand cupped above his eyes to keep the soap from running into them. "Don't tell me it's still running."

"Give me a break, Leonhart. I know how to turn of the supply." When Seifer reached above Squall’s head, Squall felt an old reflex tighten his guard. Seifer’s chest was cold and clammy against his spine, urging a shiver that he refused to allow. “You missed me,” Seifer hissed into his ear as he pulled the showerhead from the wall, untwisting the hose.

It was more than a statement – it was an accusation that rushed goosebumps down both of Squall’s arms and shook him, just slightly, before he could prevent it. He chose not to say anything as Seifer backed off and aimed the spray into the basin.

“You’ve been due to admit this sort of thing for a while, now,” Seifer continued as he inspected the switch on the nozzle, “We’d all be better off if you would just give it up and vocalize your needs.”

Squall scoffed quietly and began to turn around. “Why? You—“ Seifer’s palm hit his shoulder, keeping him in place – not to mention blind.

“Stay there.”

“Why?”

Seifer didn’t answer and Squall, playing a fingertip in the fuzz of condensation on the grey tile before him, took the opportunity to finish his thought: “Why would I need to tell you? You already know.” Pure, bitter sarcasm -- anything but a compliment, and it wasn’t lost on Seifer.

Seifer laughed quietly, flicking the nozzle switch over once, twice, changing the echo of the downpour slightly each time. “It isn’t about knowing,” he corrected, “but it is about telling.”

The calm rain swishing at their feet gathered into a steady stream. A second later, it began to pulsate, a loud, continuous thunk thunk thunk thunk against the basin that had Squall absolutely positive he should turn around. Again, he tried, and again, a hand between his shoulderblades put him back in his place – and much harder this time, so that he had to use both hands to keep the wall from giving him a nosebleed.

“I said, stay there.” Seifer’s hand didn’t move away – but the one holding the nozzle brought that thunk thunk thunk around and up to the back of Squall’s neck, urging his head to loll forward not just because it felt good, but by the sheer force of the water pressure.

“Fuck off, I’m done. You can have your turn now,” Squall growled, remembering Seifer’s supposed reason for being there in the first place. In response, Seifer’s hands switched places, so that the pulse smacked lower on his spine and Seifer’s fingers could close around the back of Squall’s neck. Squall shivered again, and Seifer’s grip tightened a little, reflexively. “What are you doing?”

Those fingers slid up into his hair and easily captured a fistful.

“Seifer?”

The water wasn’t thumping between Squall’s shoulders anymore, but against his lower back. Seifer tugged, bursting pinpricks across his scalp, and Squall realized he was hard.

Shit.

“Almasy, quit it.” The silence was unnerving. Seifer, quiet, not dictating to Squall what he thought he liked, was fucking unnerving. Huld uld hear Seifer breathing softly, probably trying to control his own laughter as that godsdamned ‘massage’ setting jerked a little bit lower, closer, slamming into his tailbone.

Squall could have left, and he knew it, and all he did was ball up his hands into fists that squeaked weakly against the wall. He clenched tight just in time.

“Seifer!”

Shouted in shock more than pleasure, Squall’s wavering thoughts confirmed defiantly. His knees were shaking already, a fact he was unaware of, as his concentrative energy was being spent combating the five strong beats attempting to worm their way into his body every second.

He rarely allowed himself to be fucked in his own shower – no way in hell was he about to be fucked by it.

It was on the tail end of that thought that his forehead met the cool of the wall, that the space between his heels gained another six inches, and a moan burst so forcefully from his throat that the waterbeads on the wall in front of him twitched.

If he hadn’t been so loud, he would have heard Seifer whisper an approving “Yes.”

An entirely new feeling, to be filled with this much pure heat, leaving, returning, scattering warmes aes all the way up to his chest. He began to breathe with the beat of it, so shallow and quick it felt his lungs were vibrating. “Sei-fer-you’re-fuck-ing-in-sane--uhn…“

“I know.” Seifer’s voice rasped, puffing against the side of his neck, “Tell me about it,” and he laughed into Squall’s ear.

“This – just – it’s not – not – don’t—“

“Don’t what?” Seifer sounded so calm Squall wanted to spit at him. He caught himself pushing back into the pressure, but didn’t move forward again, and his eyes rolled and closed. “Don’t make you come like this? It’ll be humiliating…”

Squall’s fingertips scampered up the wall, searching for purchase in the grout. “I-I-won’t—“

“Yes you will. Make it hotter. Get it over with,” Seifer suggested simply, and Squall had to fight his haze for several long seconds before he realized what Seifer meant. “It isn’t that debilitating. Don’t you want to?”

“… Huh… yeah… I do…” Squall found support in the protrusion marked ‘cold,’ turned it to the right, and lost his mind. Close to scalding. Luckily Seifer was prepared to catch him.

Wiis ais arms around Seifer’s neck, his face buried below his collarbone, Squall found it impossible not to vocalize – impble ble to think about what came out of his mouth or how dark the marks his nails were leaving would be. The nozzle was shoved up against him, now, Seifer’s other arm wound around his waist. He was humping Seifer’s thigh, but he didn’t care, hollering for more when there wasn’t any, and he didn’t care about that either. It was pounding him, almost burning him, just to cascade down the inside of his left knee half a second later, on and on and on— “Hnnnh! Fuck! Seiferseiferseifer--” and after that, he couldn’t make any more words.

Seifer dropped the showerhead in order to hold Squall upright as he came, sending it to clatter around the bottom of the tub, loud thwacks complementing desperate whimpers. Seifer’s chest began to shudder as well, but for an altogether different reason than Squall’s – as hot as that had been, he was laughing. “I guess it’s time for you to go.”

One of Squall’s coming-down sounds rose a little higher than the rest. “… M… Muh?”

“Now you’re clean.”


~o)O(o~


Yeah, that was short. Expect at least one more of these – I’ve been getting distracting smutbunnies out the wazoo lately, and don’t want to keep sticking them in the middle of BloodRoses. And I am working on it, by the way, or thinking about it, at least. ^_^

Lion’s getting lots of reviews. I’m getting jealous… >_>