It had been a very long time since he'd woken this way, with the
bewildered sense of unreality that came with waking up in a strange
place. Shifting onto his back, he blinked in the dim light, feeling
the slight tremors that told him the airship was still in motion.
The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably with
the sense of being watched and Laguna was fully awake in an instant,
adrenaline surging. His soldier instincts might be rusty from lack
of use but they had never been forgotten.
Warily, he reached out to turn on the bedside lamp, his other hand
creeping stealthily under his pillow in search of cool metal handle
of the knife he'd hidden there. The moment his fingers brushed the
light switch, his wrist was caught in a firm grip.
Instinct called for him pull away, to twist the offending hand
backwards, break it if necessary to subdue the enemy, and he might
have done it, fallen straight back into the easy familiarity of old
patterns if it hadn't been for one soft word.
"Don't."
Recognition came and Laguna relaxed in minute degrees, sinking back
against the pillows.
"Squall?" he asked uncertainly, "Did you need something?" Cold
instinct had deserted him, leaving him alone with his admittedly
feeble social skills and he silently cursed his own ineptness. If
ever he had needed to be able to make a proper conversation, now
would be the time.
His eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness and he could see the
young man sitting next to his bed, eyes focused on him and just
looking at them made him ache, filling him with memories that were
yellowed with age. This strange, sullen boy with Raine's eyes.
The son he'd never known.
It was his own fault, he knew, for trusting too much, for not being
enough of a soldier. Or perhaps being too much of one, putting duty
before those he loved. Strangers had raised his son, his son was a
stranger himself, and that knowledge would haunt him the rest of his
life, no matter how long or short it might be. His son.
Raine's son...
...was staring at him, an intensity in those familiar, unfamiliar
eyes, some strange light that Raine's had never possessed.
"I was watching you sleep," Squall said finally, "I'm not used to
seeing you from this side."
"Really?" Laguna murmured, shaken at the flatness of the boy's
voice. Devoid of emotion and again it was so unlike Raine that it
pained him to hear it. How would this young man have been if she'd
been able to raise him, he wondered, his eyes involuntarily
searching out hints of her in their son's face. Would he have smiled
more often, sweetly, as she had, would he have been as practical, as
greedy for affection as she had been? Yes, he could see her here and
there, the tilt of the nose, the curve of the jaw and she was so
real, so alive in this young man's face.
And nowhere else. If Squall had even the tiniest memory of the
brave, caring woman who had been his mother it wasn't revealed in
that detached voice or in those cool, distant eyes. It was as if
Squall had locked all his emotions away inside, and Laguna had to
wonder what this boy had been through that would cause him to do
that.
Oh, Raine, I'm sorry, he thought, unable to tear his eyes from the
shell of the human being who was her son, this travesty of her blood
and it was almost enough to make him weep, if he hadn't known that
Squall would hold him in contempt for his tears.
Instead, he stared back mutely at his son, wondering what the boy
wanted. Information, likely, Squall was a good soldier if nothing
else, and Laguna wished he could take pride in that, instead of it
increasing the emptiness that was eating away at his gut.
"Who are you, really?" Squall said quietly, his head tilted slightly
as he regarded Laguna with faint curiosity. "We've come halfway
across the world and back looking for you, been dragged through your
memories...why is it that you're truly so special?"
Laguna was taken aback at the question, so unlike what he was
expecting. Strategic planning, perhaps, something for the upcoming
battle, but this, the first purely emotional response he'd ever seen
from Squall.
Perhaps there was more to the boy than he'd first thought.
Squall was still waiting, and Laguna shook his head, somewhat
helplessly. "I wish I could explain it all to you but there's just
not time right now. Afterward, I promise you." He left unspoken that
there probably wouldn't be a time later for him to explain. This
moment might be the only time alone he ever spent with Squall, his
son whom he'd only learned existed a short time ago.
He had hardly been able to believe it when Ellone told him. How she
had returned home to Winhill to find a baby brother and dead mother.
How they'd gone to the orphanage together only to be separated when
Ellone had been adopted. And how Squall knew nothing about it.
Squall was frowning thoughtfully, and Laguna thought he might
protest but instead he said, "You look so familiar to me...why do I
know you?"
Laguna said nothing, having no answer to that he could give. A
glance in a mirror would answer far better than he ever could, if
Squall knew what to look for. There was so much of himself in the
young man's face, a fascinating mixture of him and Raine. He
wondered suddenly if Raine had ever had a chance to see the boy, if
she'd held him for just a time or if she'd died without ever looking
at her son. Laguna closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight any
longer.
The softness of a mouth brushing against his own shocked him and he
jerked back reflexively. Hands caught at his shoulders, stilling him
and rubbing gently, as if he were a wild chocobo being soothed for
riding, and the tip of a tongue traced his lips.
"Shh, it's all right," Squall murmured, his breath gusting over
Laguna's still damp lips. "It's all right," he repeated, more warmth
in those few words than Laguna had heard in everything else he'd
heard Squall say put together.
"Wait...don't..." he stammered, seized with a sudden terror of what
was happening. This was Raine's son, his son, and he was pushing
Laguna backwards onto the bed, his hands agonizingly cool and soft
as they delved beneath the scratchy blankets in search of warm skin.
A warm, wet mouth pressed against his neck, and Laguna arched into
it unthinkingly.
"Wait..." Laguna tried again. "You don't understand."
"I don't want to understand. I don't care. I just need this."
"We can't..." his voice trailed away as Squall lifted his head,
piercing him with Raine's eyes.
"I'm going to die," Squall said, softly. "We're all pretending it's
not true, all of us. Faking that we'll come back, but we all know
better. You know better. We're going to die and I..." he hesitated,
"I want this."
One of Squall's hands slipped between Laguna's legs, firmly
squeezing the warm bulge he found there, and Laguna barely had the
presence of mind to be grateful he'd worn pants to bed.
"I want this...and you want it too."
Any protest he might have had was cut off when Squall's mouth again
closed over his own, his tongue teasing its way between Laguna's
lips, persuading him to this without words.
Uncertainly, distantly horrified at what he was doing, Laguna opened
his mouth and allowed his own tongue to push back, tasting coffee,
heat...
His son.
He twisted his head to the side, breaking the kiss, "No. Squall,
please, I...ah!" Choked on his own words as Squall slid down and
pressed
his face against Laguna's stomach. He breathed in deeply, tickling
air
across the taut skin before nuzzling his way back upward, flicking
his
tongue over the nub of one nipple and dragging a startled gasp from
Laguna.
Callused hands rubbed their way down his shoulder blades,
surprisingly
soothing, and it was nothing that Laguna would have expected from
this
boy. Gentle coaxing, sweet persuasion and this was like...this was
more
like...
Those same, strong hands cupped Laguna's backside, holding him still
for the press of hips against his own and a moan escaped him at the
feel of the younger man's erection pushing against his own. No, this
was nothing like her, like nothing he'd ever done before despite all
the rumors he knew had flown around Esthar about him and Kiros.
His own pants were neatly stripped away, smoothed down his legs
before
his whirling senses could come up with a single objection. Naked
heat
pressed against him, and when had Squall taken off his own clothes?
He
didn't know. Desperately, he arched upward, wanting to escape from
the
cool touch of air, to immerse himself in far too wonderful heat.
He couldn't speak, couldn't think, was trying to comprehend why he
suddenly felt the coolness of sheets against the front of his body
when
the sudden feeling of slick fingers pushing inside him made things a
little too clear.
Yes, this was definitely something he'd never done and oh Gods, oh
fuck this was wrong, this was so wrong and it felt so perfectly
right. To be naked, sprawled across this bed with this achingly
beautiful young man pressing his way inside him.
Hissing softly, Laguna buried his face into the pillow as he felt
tears
sting his eyelids. Not just physical pain, although there was enough
of
that. Some part of him, buried deep within, was dying, a flower he'd
held in his heart for some eighteen years was finally shedding its
petals as it wilted away.
A name hovered on his lips, the woman he'd loved, the wife he'd had
so
briefly but when he managed to whisper, his own voice nearly
strangling
him, the name that escaped was "Squall."
Lips brushed his ear, warm breath stirring the fine strands of hair
hiding it. "Laguna. Relax, shh, it's all right." A hand gently
petted
his thigh, slipping around the curve of his hip, searching. He
hissed
again as Squall's fingers teased their way between his legs,
stroking
the heaviness of his balls before wrapping around his erection.
"Oh, Gods."
Laguna wasn't sure which one of them said it, was beyond caring as
Squall shifted against him, pulling out slightly before thrusting
strongly forward, and it hurt, a deep pain he'd never felt before
and
it was so good, so deep inside. Another deep thrust, another and
suddenly Squall paused, arms wrapping tightly around Laguna, forcing
him to stillness as well.
"Tell me you want this," he said, softly, little more than a puff of
breath against Laguna's ear.
Laguna shook his head frantically, trying to push backwards.
"Tell me. Tell me I'm not forcing you to do this."
Wrong. So very, very wrong and the tears wouldn't be held this time.
"I
want this," he whispered thickly.
A deep thrust, and Laguna cried out sharply, his voice dropping to a
whimper as Squall stopped.
"Again."
"I want this," he gasped, tasting wetness and salt as his heart
quietly
broke.
"Again," Panted harshly as Squall pushed forward hard. "Say it
again,
please, say it again."
"I want this, Gods, I want this, I want...I..." Laguna's voice
trailed
away, words losing themselves within his desperate moans as he
clutched
at the sheets, rocking backwards as hard as he could.
Pain, deep, wrenching pain and it was so very good, Squall's hand
stroking him quickly, both of them struggling against each other,
Squall's only sounds the harshness of his breathing until his breath
caught, held, the softest of groans escaping him. Hazily, Laguna
felt a
sudden rush of warmth inside, liquid heat bathing him and he bit his
tongue, tasting blood as he came, pain washed away by hot ecstasy
and a
muted whimper escaped him anyway as he finally yielded, unwillingly,
the last, piercing shards of his broken heart whisked away in the
flood
of pleasure.
His trembling arms collapsed beneath him, refusing to take the
sudden
heavy weight of Squall on his back. Still breathing heavily, Squall
shifted to press his cheek against Laguna's shoulder, rubbing it
gently
against the smooth skin.
Beneath the fog of contentment, reality was relentlessly pushing its
way back into Laguna's thoughts. Gods, what had they done? What had
he done? He closed his eyes tightly, feeling wetness creeping its
way
down the backs of his thighs and he was hardly able to bear it.
Raine,
I'm sorry, so very...
"Thank you." Very softly against his ear, and Laguna blinked to hear
the huskiness in Squall's voice, what was, perhaps, the faintest
trace
of his own tears.
Carefully, wincing as newly stretched muscles protested, Laguna
shifted, moving to carefully wrap his arms around the younger man.
Squall sighed, burying his face in Laguna's chest as he promptly
fell
asleep.
Just like a man, Laguna thought, biting back somewhat hysterical
laughter. He rested his cheek against the softness of Squall's hair,
breathing in deeply the faint traces of soap, the rich musk of sex.
His body stirred again at the scent, and Laguna squeezed his eyes
closed, helplessly. Not again, he decided. Never, ever again. But
just
for tonight he lay awake, dry-eyed, as he held his son.
-finis-
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