Burn

[Notes and Disclaimers]

Laguna lifted his hair from the back of his neck and sighed as the faint breeze moved sluggishly across his damp skin; in the years since he'd left Winhill, he'd forgotten how hot Centra became in the summer, with the humidity of looming storms heavy in the air. The breeze, although negligible, was a welcome relief from the barrage of heat, and Laguna welcomed its gentle touch as he folded himself down upon the well-worn stairs leading to the beach.

The flow of the ocean tides was a dull roar, and he listened absently as he watched the ongoing battle of dominance between surf and sand. Despite the clouds scudding across the sky, the sun had not yet surrendered and its light glistening over the breaking waves was nearly painful in its intensity. He shaded his eyes with an uplifted hand, squinting over the green-blue of the ocean as he enjoyed the moment's stillness.

Footfalls sounded behind him, a sure tread that he knew as well as his own. Metal jangled lightly as he was joined, an arm sliding familiarly around his shoulders. Warm-cool breath tickled his ear, and he laughed even as he shivered and leaned away from the sensation.

"I like it here," he said in response to the unasked question. He shifted into the loose embrace, his hand finding his son's knee. "Look, there, the sky along the horizon is just the color of your eyes; it's going to storm soon."

Squall's light hum was his only answer before his lips touched behind Laguna's ear, as soft as a sigh. He moved past his father, glancing over his shoulder in invitation as he stepped onto the beach with the grace of the predator he so idolized. He'd long-since discarded his jacket in deference to the heat, and his white T-shirt clung to the breadth of his shoulders in a way that made Laguna waste no time in following him.

Laguna caught Squall's hand as they crossed the sand, thumb stroking familiar patterns over Squall's skin. Squall's breathing picked up even as his steps slowed, halting just above the waterline, and Laguna followed his gaze to watch the waves, capped with white now. The breeze, growing far more enthusiastic, caught the spray and brushed it over their faces in a million tiny kisses, making Laguna shiver with the abrupt chill.

Squall's gaze turned to Laguna at the tremor, one eyebrow lifted curiously as his hand squeezed his father's warmly. "You were right," he murmured, "it is going to storm." He drew Laguna closer, then released him to instead curl his fingers around Laguna's chin, coaxing it down until his lips could reach his father's.

The kiss was warm and welcome, coming home after a long day, and Laguna lost no time in sinking into it. His fingers caught under one of Squall's belts, and gradual pressure soon had their bodies together from mouth to feet, only the thin layers of their clothing separating them. A soft moan escaped Squall and Laguna reined in the sudden urge to laugh; for all that Squall played at being one of Shiva's brethren, he was undeniably flame, devouring all that touched him.

Even banked flames burn.

He would never understand, Laguna mused as he lapped at Squall's lips, how anyone could miss how brightly Squall burned. The thin layer of ice encasing the flames melted away with a touch, and Squall became an inferno, hot enough to sear one into nothingness if he was approached incautiously.

His shirt was already unbuttoned and Squall's hands were almost uncomfortably hot on the bare skin of his back when Laguna broke the kiss. "We should go inside," he said, laughter flavoring his voice like crisp autumn apples. "The storm--"

Squall's lips curved with a wicked grin as Laguna's words cut off sharply, then pinched the older man's nipple again. Laguna shuddered like a leaf in the wind, and Squall's lips chased the leap of Laguna's pulse at his throat, soft as thistledown against his skin.

"Not... on the beach," Laguna murmured thickly, dragging his hands away from where they had settled on the rising curve of Squall's backside. "We should at least go inside."

Squall's laugh purred from him as his teeth found Laguna's collarbone and worried it lightly. "Are you afraid of a little storm?"

"No," Laguna answered, hand finding Squall's chin and lifting it until those storm-colored eyes met his, "but there are some places I'd rather not get sand."

Comprehension sparked in Squall's eyes and he laughed, and then they were kissing again and nothing in the world mattered but the slide of Squall's tongue against his.

"Don't care where," Squall growled softly when they parted enough to permit it and, grabbing Laguna's hips, thrust their bodies together. "Want you now."

Laguna's breath escaped in a groan as his cheek rubbed against Squall's hair, his hips pressing against the wall of Squall's belts. "Inside," he said with a firmness that he did not feel; one more kiss would be quite enough to liquefy his resolve.

Thankfully, Squall seemed to take him at his word, releasing him and stepping back slowly. The lazy grin curving his lips did not bode well, though, and it was no great surprise when Squall skived his shirt off and left it to the wind, stepping backwards to the stairs, naked from the waist up.

As though on a leash, Laguna followed and, where tumbled columns blocked the stairs, caught his son again. Just close enough to reach, he deftly undid Squall's belts, two falling to be quickly forgotten as Laguna's knuckles brushed over the heat confined within Squall's pants. Squall's groan was a high, breathless sound, and he jerked helplessly, eyes squeezing shut as his hands reached for Laguna.

Swiftly, Laguna caught his son's questing hands, bringing them to his mouth to place kisses to each fingertip before transferring both to a one-handed grip. The pressure of his body coaxed Squall back until he was trapped between one of the fallen columns and Laguna, and his free hand wasted no time in nudging aside Squall's remaining belt. Fumbling loose the fastenings of Squall's pants, he pushed the interfering material from Squall's hips and gazed hungrily upon his revealed prize.

Releasing Squall's wrists, Laguna dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Squall's splayed thighs, locking him tightly in his embrace as he ducked his head and blew. Squall's hips tried to jerk again at the airy caress but, held immobile by Laguna's tight grip, all he could do was sink his fingers into Laguna's hair and close his eyes.

Squall's breath was already coming in short pants when Laguna's tongue first touched him, and it quit entirely as that warm dampness flicked over the proud arch of his erection. Winding indecently, Laguna's tongue traced Squall's cock much the same way it would a melting summertime treat, trailing firmly from base to tip until Squall felt as though his entire being was defined by the press of Laguna's tongue.

It was almost superfluous when Laguna's mouth engulfed him, swallowing him whole in one endless slide. Squall's fingers in Laguna's hair convulsed, gripping tightly as he threw his head back and released his shout of completion unfettered to the cloud-filled sky.

Laguna was idly nuzzling Squall's tensed thigh when Squall pried his eyes open and forced his fingers to loosen from their death-grip in the silver-streaked hair. "Bastard."

Laguna chuckled, lips sampling the juncture of Squall's thigh and torso. "Tsk," he scolded, adding a soft bite for good measure, "don't you know to respect your elders?"

"It's difficult to remember anything about respect when your pants are around your ankles," Squall grumbled, but any sting was taken out of it when his hand lightly caressed Laguna's hair. "Let's go inside."

Laguna caught Squall's hand in a loose grip, tugging it to his mouth to press another warm kiss to the center of his palm. Taking a leaf from Squall's book, he did not answer, only reached to draw Squall's pants back into place as he straightened. In his ascent, his lips left a burning trail up Squall's torso, hovering briefly over his Adam's apple before completing their journey at Squall's open mouth. They meshed beautifully, Squall's tongue finding his own taste on Laguna's as their comfortable union gave way once again to increasing heat.

"Inside," Squall murmured breathlessly against Laguna's mouth, his hands finding frosted hair and stroking fitfully. "I want you to fuck me in a proper bed."

"Squall," Laguna began hoarsely, then shook himself sharply and stepped away from Squall as though he'd been burned. "Inside," he agreed, unable to keep from returning his son's grin as Squall lifted his legs and swung them over the column on which he half-sat, landing lightly on the far side. It was with no small measure of pride that Laguna vaulted the granite blockade to join him; even before he'd met Squall, he'd kept himself in shape, and the stamina necessary to keep up with the young SeeD commander had honed his body to a peak that surpassed even his days in the army. Squall's appreciative gaze told him that his efforts had not been in vain.

"Laguna," Squall all but purred, fingers curling in a come-hither gesture as he once again backstepped toward the orphanage. Laguna caught him this time before he'd taken more than two steps and fit their bodies together as his lips found Squall's jaw and lightly caressed the thin skin there.

"Who taught you to tease like this?" Laguna murmured as they moved in tandem to the shattered building. Sharp teeth found Squall's earlobe and nipped sharply, drawing a muted groan from Squall as they crossed the threshold. "Should I be worrying?"

"No," Squall answered hoarsely, his hands fisted in the shirt at the small of Laguna's back as his knees hit the edge of the bed near the entrance - Matron's bed, which was somehow odder than the fact that it was his father pushing him down on it. Unbalanced, he sat down hard, then sneezed abruptly as dust billowed up around him.

Hastily removing himself to a safe distance, Laguna laughed as Squall sneezed again. His son looked rather like a ruffled cat; Laguna could nearly see him bristling as he stifled another sneeze, and enacted swift redirection, catching Squall's cheeks in his palms and devouring his mouth in a heated kiss before Squall's annoyance had time to override his arousal.

The tactic worked better than Laguna had expected and, by the time he straightened again, his shirt was sliding to the floor with deft assistance of Squall's fingers.

"You're beautiful," Squall murmured as his fingers traced the lines of Laguna's chest to splay over the shadows of his ribs. "You're so beautiful it hurts, sometimes."

Flushing with embarrassed pleasure, Laguna caught Squall's wrists and drew his hands to his lips, brushing a kiss over each fingertip. "I get that from you." His tongue found Squall's palm, delicately tracing the lines there as his gaze held his son's captive, aquamarine eyes locked with blue opal. "You make me burn," he whispered against Squall's skin, breath gusting with each word in extraneous caresses until Squall shut his eyes.

"Laguna," Squall mouthed, little more than a breath, then again. He withdrew his hand from the sweet bonds of Laguna's grip to send his freed fingers running down his own torso until they brushed over the band of his pants. Tensing his thighs, his hips lifted from the bed and he wasted no time in shoving his pants down the columns of his legs.

Laguna's breath hissed from him in admiration as his eyes devoured the sight offered to them. Squall lay before him like a banquet, one leg bent while the other splayed immodestly, keeping no secrets from Laguna's hungry gaze. His arms lifted and folded behind his head, and his mouth quirked with the hints of a wicked grin as his heavy-lidded gaze swept over Laguna.

"You're over-dressed."

Laguna could feel his thigh tensing and the tips of his ears burning, and fought to quell his embarrassment; for all that he had years of experience beyond the boy, there were still times that Squall left him feeling like a blushing virgin. Ducking his head to mask any betraying pink behind the fall of his bangs, he reached for the laces of his trousers and tugged them free, then stepped from the loose garment as it pooled on the floor. "Squall," he began as he perched on the edge of the bed, then shook his head dismissively and rested his hand at the center of Squall's chest as he bent to take his son's mouth with his own.

Squall's soft sigh ghosted between them as his hands moved to run over Laguna's shoulder blades, drawing the older man closer to him. The urgency he'd felt on the beach had evaporated, sated by Laguna's gifted mouth, and in its place grew a slow arousal that burned along his nerves like wildfire until the lazy caresses of Laguna's lips were no longer enough. With a wordless sound of demand, he pulled the band from Laguna's hair and tangled his fingers in the freed length, eyes drifting shut as the surprisingly-cool strands wrapped around his fingers.

His eyes shot open again when Laguna made a low, guttural sound at the back of his throat, and Squall couldn't help but smile at the look of feline bliss on his father's face. "Like that?" he whispered, fingertips tracing patterns over Laguna's scalp.

"Feels good," Laguna murmured, only the thinnest sliver of aqua showing through his lashes as he tilted his head into Squall's impromptu massage. "Your mother used to--ow!" Sitting abruptly upright, Laguna rubbed at his scalp, abused by Squall's sudden yank. "What was that for?"

Squall glared up at him for a moment, then sighed resignedly. "Sometimes you really are an idiot." Rolling onto his side, he wrapped an arm around Laguna's waist and brushed an absent kiss over his hip. "Come to bed."

Laguna's expression warred between offense and interest, and only when Squall's fingers kneaded his thigh did interest win out. Lifting his feet from the floor, he swung them onto the dusty coverlet as he turned to draw his son into his arms. Meeting no resistance, he bent his head to touch his mouth to Squall's and, like sparks to tinder, renewed desire kindled between them, undeterred by the momentary lapse.

Laguna's knee nudged apart Squall's thighs and Squall's soft moan was muffled by the increasingly fervent press of Laguna's mouth. As they rolled so that Squall was sandwiched between Laguna and the mattress, Squall imagined that he could feel Laguna's heart pounding against his own even as the pulses of their cocks came together. Helplessly, Squall arched into that intimate contact, his legs parting and lifting until Laguna's body was cradled between his raised thighs.

Laguna breathed a soft moan as his body fit against Squall's, his exhalations fluttering unevenly against Squall's skin as he tentatively rocked his hips. When even that slight shift made Squall's breath catch, Laguna repeated it with growing eagerness until they strained in tandem, slick skin sliding together as they drove their bodies against one another.

Mewls were collecting at the back of Squall's throat, an indication of which Laguna was unspeakably fond. Peppering light kisses over Squall's parted lips, he shifted abruptly to one side, but Squall's murmur of disappointment had no opportunity to fully develop; even before Laguna had slid fully off of Squall's body, his hand had closed around Squall's turgid shaft, milking him firmly.

"Laguna," Squall whimpered softly once, then again: "Laguna." His hips rocked steadily as Laguna's name continued to escape from his lips and his fingers curled around Laguna's wrist, trying to encourage him to stroke more, faster, harder. His head began to toss and his whimpers to fragment, and with one final cry he spasmed, semen jetting from his cock in a brief, impressive geyser, spattering over his belly and Laguna's encouraging hand.

Squall's voice was not the only one to shatter the silence; Laguna groaned helplessly at the sight of Squall in the throes of orgasm, certain that some things were simply too beautiful for humans to comprehend. Arousal spiked to an almost unbearable peak and, hastily, Laguna's hand swept over Squall's skin, collecting the slick drops spotting it, then moved to close around his own shaft. He groaned again as even that crude contact tore through his body, and gingerly stroked his son's seed over his own aching erection.

His eyes met Squall's as his hands found his son's knees, coaxing them up and apart. Their gazes held even as he positioned himself between them and, without further preamble, sheathed himself in Squall's body. His fascination with the abrupt dilation of Squall's eyes was almost enough to distract him from the hot flesh engulfing him, but then Squall moved and it proved to be no competition.

Laguna's hips pistoned reflexively as Squall shifted around him and he shook his bangs from his eyes as he slowly withdrew, only to slam into Squall's quiescent body once more. Eyes of blue opal met his, satiated yet still somehow hungry, and Laguna abruptly shut his own eyes as that familiar gaze wrenched something within him.

Hyne help him, he had loved this boy when he had thought of him as nothing more than a faerie who occasionally shared his thoughts. When Elle had told him the truth, he had been shaken, but his mind had refused to move from its accustomed path. Meeting the reality that was Squall had only given those desires a direction in which to aspire, a direction with many layers through which to pass.

When one of those layers had peeled back to reveal a flame of desire as bright as his own, Laguna had felt as though someone up there liked him quite a lot. He hadn't looked back.

So it was that he was losing himself in the body of his son in the orphanage in which the boy had been raised. There was no place he'd rather be.

Soft moans broke the silence, an irregular counterpart to the creak of the old bed, and bliss was so near that Laguna could nearly taste it, sweet over the lingering bitterness of Squall's cum. Without warning, Squall's hands closed over Laguna's clenching buttocks, his grip almost painful as his fingers tightened, using Laguna's own momentum to jerk Laguna against him as he lifted his own hips to meet the merciless thrust. Squall's groan was so low as to be more felt than heard, but Laguna more than made up for it as his own surprised shout reverberated against the stone walls. He rolled his hips, gathering himself, then slammed into Squall again, forcing a grunt from the boy as his hands flew to brace against the solid headboard. Hesitance gone, Laguna rode him hard, no sounds now but their labored breathing and the sharp slap of skin against skin. It seemed an eternity later, a heartbeat, that Laguna's orgasm exploded through him like a supernova, leaving him aware of nothing but the silk of Squall's skin against his own and the tightness of Squall's legs around his waist, almost as sweet as the grip in which his cock remained.

His breath stirred the hair at Squall's temple as he slowly withdrew, his lips brushing over the light salt of Squall's sweat. They trailed to press to the corner of Squall's mouth, then Laguna's tongue coaxed Squall's lips apart for a lazy kiss. So lazy, in fact, that Laguna wasn't surprised when he pulled away to find Squall already half-asleep.

Laguna's lips found Squall's eyelids, brushing gentle kisses over them as he gathered his son close to him. Squall inevitably fell asleep after sex; the few times Laguna had attempted to keep him awake, Squall had ended up nose-down as soon as Laguna had looked away. Laguna, on the other hand, felt energized and clear-headed in a way that made him regret that their relationship existed only away from the public eye; with as little as a kiss for impetus, he'd be able to speak so eloquently that Galbadia would be begging for Estharian governing.

Squall shifted, tucking his head against Laguna's shoulder with a soft sound that made the older man smile. It was only moments like this when Laguna truly felt like Squall's father, never mind how rumpled the boy was, or how strongly he smelled of sex. He supposed it should bother him more than it did, really, but it was far more appealing to consider the way Squall smiled when he awoke to find Laguna watching him.

Squall's breathing had evened and deepened into full sleep, and Laguna carefully extricated himself from his son's grip. Pausing only long enough to pull on his pants, he crept silently from the orphanage, clambering over the tumbled columns again and padding down the steps until his feet sank into sand.

Storm clouds were still darkening the horizon as he lowered himself to the sand, his heels leaving furrows in the smooth beach as he stretched his legs out before him. That was one thing he'd missed all those years: weather. Weather had never fit particularly well in Esthar's neat, hygienic scheme, and so had been simply done away with years before Laguna had first stepped upon the translucent highways. It was a shame, really. Weather and its unpredictability made it that much more precious; you could not truly appreciate the fair until you'd weathered the stormy.

It was much the same with Squall, really.

"What are you doing out here?"

Laguna chuckled and extended his arm to his son as he settled beside him and tucked his head against Laguna's shoulder. "Waiting for the storm to break," he answered softly, smoothing the rough silk of Squall's hair.

Squall's answer was more felt than heard, a low hum of acknowledgement against Laguna's shoulder, which made Laguna smile to think of how others would find this behavior hard to believe from the generally-recalcitrant brunette. "You'll get wet, if you stay out much longer."

"You want to go back?"

Laguna knew that his smile was approaching a disgusting level of sappiness, but he couldn't bring himself to care as Squall slid an arm around his waist and settled more comfortably against his side. "We'll weather the storm just fine."

"Be nice afterwards," Squall murmured sleepily, eyelids already drooping again.

"It'll be perfect afterwards," Laguna corrected, resting his cheek against the top of Squall's head. "You'll see."

Squall's only answer was to tighten his arm around Laguna's waist, and Laguna laughed softly before turning his gaze again to the sky.

Together, they watched the storm come, seeing only the clear skies in its wake.

- fin -

Notes and Disclaimers

Final Fantasy VIII is © Square Co., Ltd.

Burn is a smutty distraction, somewhat based on the situation begun in Hunger, but not directly related. It... really doesn't serve any purpose but to amuse me.