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He wants Squall so bad, his goddamn hands are shaking.
It's summer and Garden's quiet. Students who have somewhere else to go have gone, the instructors are taking their leave time, and SeeDs who aren't deployed are soaking up the sunshine. And here Seifer is, in bed with Squall for the first time, fucking finally, and his goddamn hands are shaking. He manages to get lube over his fingers without also getting it all over the bed, and then he's shuffling a little closer, putting his clean hand on Squall's thigh to nudge his legs wider, and he can't believe this is actually happening.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Squall says, a little taunting, only Seifer knows it for a lifeline. A way to keep this thing between them on the surface, like they always have, instead of giving in to it and diving into each other. Holding back the storm with jibes and challenges, denying the seriousness of it. It's like there's a link between them, and if one of them moves then the other does as well, keeps the line taut without letting it break.
Seifer knows that Squall's as terrified as he is of what happens once that tension breaks. Once they give in to this thing between them that they carefully haven't named since one summer when Seifer was thirteen and shirtless in the quad and being an asshole, and their eyes met and held and held.
Thing is, Seifer hasn't gone through everything he's gone through to come back here to Garden and waste a minute more that he could be spending with Squall.
He leans down, kisses the side of Squall's knee, tender and unmistakeable. Lets the kiss linger, a lover's kiss. Then he meets Squall's eyes. "I'm ready. Are you?"
Squall's eyes flicker, and for a moment Seifer thinks he's going to take the easy way out. Leave Seifer holding this thing that's gotten too big to be managed. And then he shifts, sighs out a breath, and puts a hand up on the back of Seifer's neck, urging him down into a kiss. "Yeah."
That's all he says, but that's enough, and Seifer feels like he's going to die but like he's going to die happy. He spends some time just kissing Squall, letting himself linger, feeling him out. There's a little scar on the edge of Squall's lower lip that Seifer can only feel with his tongue, invisible unless you know it's there. He tastes like coffee, and it's not even good coffee, just the burnt crap from the cafeteria, but it's how he always knew Squall would taste. Squall's more eager than he'd ever let himself imagine, giving him back kiss for kiss. Putting his fingers in Seifer's hair and getting a grip where his hair is just a little long, using it to hold Seifer where he wants him. Seifer learns that Squall makes little noises as he's kissed, if you do it right, noises he probably doesn't even know he's making -- little huffs of breath, a sound catching at the back of his throat.
He makes an even better noise when Seifer nudges his leg again, firm, then just hikes it up to let himself settle there between Squall's legs and push slick fingers against his opening. His head ends up tilted back into the pillows, and Seifer gets to watch the bob of his throat as he swallows hard, the shadowed flicker of his pulse racing, the way his mouth falls open when Seifer gives him more, gives him just what he wants. He takes his time over it, fingering Squall until his hands are fisted in the sheets and his lower lip is caught between his teeth and he's making these little breathy noises with each movement of Seifer's fingers inside him. Seifer leans down and licks the sweat from his collarbone and gives him more, moving his fingers faster.
"Now, fuck, come on, now," Squall says, and Seifer feels the vibration of his throat under his lips and it's all unbearable. He draws his fingers free, spills a little more lube into his hand and slicks himself up. He means to wipe his hand first, but Squall gives this little squirm of his hips like he misses Seifer's fingers, and it's too much, too much, and Seifer's lube-slick hand is slipping on Squall's skin in his urgency to be closer, closer closer closer --
Squall's hand is in his hair again, and his lips are against Squall's throat again as he pushes into him, makes Squall's body give way and accept him in deep, and it's everything he always wanted and everything he always feared. It's too much; he knows how to handle the fury of a fight and the feeling that he could get lost in it, but not this, not the way he feels both tender and ravenous.
"It's okay," Squall is saying, and Seifer holds onto that, drags his lips up Squall's throat and along his jaw and tries to pay attention to his words. "It's good. This is -- "
"Yeah," Seifer breathes, and kisses him again, and they hold onto each other through the storm. "Should've done this before," he says, and then more, he can't help it, "loved you all along, so stupid that we never -- "
They figure out how to move together, knocking the covers half off the bed and ejecting a pillow and sending something on the nightstand flying. It doesn't matter, completely meaningless when Seifer's fucking deep into Squall and Squall's nails are digging into his shoulder and Squall's making these noises, breathless and needful. It's good, blindingly good, and Seifer's not even half done luxuriating in it by the time Squall seizes up tight under him, hand on his own cock, biting back a yell as he comes. It doesn't matter if Seifer's done or not, because he's done, no control left, fucking into Squall harder and letting himself go. He's wordless as he comes, only Squall's name scraping out of his throat like a curse or a prayer, and Squall kisses him and kisses him.
It takes them a few moments to cool down and separate, and then Seifer finds himself kissing the inside of Squall's knee again, just where he did before. Squall shivers and smiles, just a little curl at the corner of his mouth, but more than enough.
Seifer manages to clean them up, and his hands are still shaking, but Squall's -- Squall's all loose in the bed, all his coiled tension gone and a laugh in his eyes. "Relax, Seifer," he says. "You haven't screwed this up. I won't let you."
Seifer considers several replies, moving to lie down next to him now, dragging the sheets back up onto the bed awkwardly. "Screwed you, though," he says, and hits Squall with his best smirk.
A second later he has Squall on top of him, kissing him, teeth digging into his lower lip in a brief sweet sting. "Guess you'll be screwed next time."
"Hope so," Seifer says, grabbing a handful of Squall's ass just to be friendly, 'cause it's right there, and somehow that ends in a tussle with both of them, and the sheets, on the floor. After that it seems like too much effort to get up, and Seifer lies there with Squall's head on his shoulder and can't fucking stop smiling.