SquAck. Possibly my favourite "crack" pairing ever. I have no idea why, but they look so pretty together.

I don't think I have anything important to say here... only just that this is the longest Yaoi oneshot I think I have ever written and - Yes, I make silly mistakes, because I can't proof read. Yes, I know I should get a beta reader, but I can't Trust Eric... She'll do mean things to my story... as payback...

Anyhooo I'm obsessed... Enjoy!

The Eleventh Hour

They always are the beautiful ones.

It's hardly fair.

After all, Aerith was his ex-girlfriend, with emphasis on the Ex, so why should he be racing through the night to keep her company whilst her new boyfriend (his own backstabbing best friend) was working his night shift?

Zack Fair was a single man now – he should be enjoying his own life; sleeping with interesting people and waking up the next morning with more than just a hangover, not being pulled along on a tight leash by a former lover.

It really wasn't fair.

Especially not when he had taken a wrong turn at the newly finished crossroad 10 miles back and was now driving through a dense forest in the middle of nowhere, and he had just passed the only house seen in half an hour.

The house itself was eye-catching as he zoomed past. It stuck out against the skeletal landscape, standing tall against the faded sky.

Outside the little red car, trees were being violently thrown around by gale-force winds. Every second of his time behind the wheel, he prayed that one of those trees would not fall onto his car. Prayers turned into curses when the car began refusing to cooperate before grinding to a halt.

Following the initial fist banging on the steering wheel and smacking his forehead against the leather-bound object, accompanied by a cornucopia of colourful words directed at both the car and Aerith, the black haired man sat back in the drivers seat and exhaled. In the wind-swept silence, came the very sound that he was dreading.

His phone.

"Where are you? You should be here by now," said that uniform calm, quiet voice.

Damned Aerith, couldn't she at least try to sound slightly annoyed?

"I have no idea. Took a wrong turn and now I'm out of petrol,"

Then there was the other sound that he was dreading.

The bleeping that told him that his little brick of a mobile was rapidly running out of charge. Then suddenly, everything went quiet in his ear.

Once again, the car became the host of the foul-mouth Olympics.

"Right," he hissed, quickly thinking over how long ago it was when he passed that unique house. With one final curse, he pulled the opening lever and swung his legs out of the car.

It was bitterly cold and the wind tore straight through him, not to mention the fact that the rain was pouring down from the dark sky. He pulled the collar of his warm jacket up, covering the lower majority of his face. Turning around after securing the bastard contraption that he called transportation; Zack started what he had approximated at fifteen-minute walk to the solitary abode.

Fifteen minutes soon turned into twenty, which turned into half an hour.

Each time the man checked his watch; he rolled his eyes and kicked the muddy ground at his feet.

Fortunately, just as he was beginning to lose feeling in the tip of his nose, fingers and thighs, he approached the wrought iron gates at the very bottom of the path that led to what he hoped would be his salvation.

A few stems of ivy were woven into the black metal like ancient spider webs. With one hard tug on the gate, it opened with a long, loud groan.

A few yards ahead, the windows of the house were illuminated by a warm, homely glow.

Now able to take a longer and better look at this house, he noticed just you bizarre it really was. A mix of a wannabe castle and an old manor house, but it was beautiful nonetheless. The solid oak door towered above his head a small square window in the centre, with no bell, just a rusty knocker shaped like a lion's head. Raising a cold hand, Zack knocked forcefully on the door then withdrew, shaking away the pain. The dreary light of a candle glowed from behind the small window, growing stronger as the houses' resident approached.

Suddenly, the door swung open and in its place stood a tall man, with luxurious chocolate hair than shone in the light from the candle he was holding in a gloved hand. Zack studied the man for a second, his slim figure was clad in a long evening jacket, the long tails of which wavered in the breeze behind him. Underneath that jacket he had a frilled white dress shirt, like one he'd seen in picture of period dress, and a black and gold embroidered waistcoat.

"Can I help you?" The man asked softly, his intense blue eyes, separated by old crescent-shaped scar, glanced softly down at Zack,

"My car broke down, can I use your phone?" Zack replied, re-adjusting his coat around him.

The other man shook his head slowly, "I'm afraid that the storm has severed the line,"

Zack groaned, his hands mentally tightening around Aerith's neck. Whilst he was lost in his new image of paradise – Aerith's funeral by his own hands, he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"You can wait out the storm in here, if you want" The calm voice of the oddly dressed man said. "You look quite… cold," he said with a weird smile on his deathly pale face as he stepped back into a grand hall.

Zack nodded, hastily entering the warm heaven, eyes wandering around the interesting house "Thanks a lot,"

It looked like something straight out of a period drama on BBC. It had the long, winding wooden staircase, ancient paintings and candle chandeliers. Zack could've sworn that everything in this place was an antique, so much so, he was too afraid to move for if he did, he would knock something to the floor. "An interesting place you've got here,"

"Thank you," the man replied and quietly closed the front door. He turned back to the ebony haired man, his hands folded behind his back. "Have you eaten tonight?"

Zack shook his head and was quickly ushered into an adjacent room after being stripped of his wet jacket, where a long wood table was set for dinner. The walls were, like the main hall, covered with old paintings, and a large lit fireplace took up most of the main wall besides the table.

"You don't mind, do you?"

The mysterious man shook his head and offered him the seat at the head of the table. "My appetite is quite small, besides I will be eating later," The words were spoken with some ominous undertone, but Zack was to dead in the head to give a damn.

Zack settled in the large chair, as his elegant host seated next to him. "My name is Zack, Zack Fair," He smiled and held out his hand.

The pale man smiled narrowly, accepting his hand. "Squall Leonhart,"

In the brief seconds of contact, Zack noticed that this Squall's hand was much colder than that of his own, even through the thick material of his gloves.

"So, if you permit me to ask, what brings you through this place?"

"My Ex-girlfriend needed some company," Zack replied, between hasty mouthfuls of hot food. "Her current boyfriend is working,"

Squall's lips curved into the slightest of curious smiles, "Somehow I sense a little bit of resent there," He noted, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers in line with deep blue eyes.

Zack snorted, "He was my best friend!"

Raising an eyebrow, all the man could mutter was "That's hardly what I would class under camaraderie,"

A barely recognisable "You're telling me" came from the other man bitterly.

"Do you still harbour feelings for this woman?" Squall asked, leaning closer to Zack, watching his face, blue eyes studying him like a bird of prey would its victim.

Zack lifted his eyes, catching with sapphire, taken aback by this revealing question, posed by a complete stranger… the stranger whose food he was eating, whose chair he was occupying and whose eyes he was drowning in. He sighed in frustration, breaking the spell with those beautiful eyes, and said, one hand covering his face. "It's all a mess, ya'know… I hate the way she acts… I'm like her dog now… always at her beck and call, it's really tedious, but… I think deep down, the hurt part of me still loves her,"

The decadent man hummed his understanding, "I felt something like you are once," he said quietly. "But trust me, it passes,"

Zack's hand fell back to the table, their eyes caught once again. He smiled slightly. "So, what's your story… if you don't mind me asking? Do you live with someone? How did you come across this place?" He scanned around the room, violet eyes catching on one painting in particular, the picture of which was a young man, long mocha hair falling slightly in his eyes and swept behind his ears, he also had deep blue eyes, the type of which seem to follow you around the room. "My god that painting looks like you,"

Squall lowered his head and he inwardly laughed. His hands remained in front of him, and once he had sobered he became once again the embodiment of decorum. "I live alone, but as for my relationship, the it turned out that the person I was in love with wasn't who I thought he was… and he did something unforgivable." He muttered, eyes drifting as he played back hurtful old memories in his mind. He then blinked, clearing his mind and continuing in a lighter tone: "This house has been in possession of my family for centuries "

"So that's an ancestor of yours?"

"Something like that," he replied, seemingly finding his guest's interest somewhat amusing.

Zack nodded, and continued eating. The brunette smiled narrowly to himself, breaking apart his hands to reach across to grasp around the neck of a frosted glass decanter. "A drink?" He offered to his unexpected companion.

Zack accepted and handed him his glass. Squall then poured himself a glass and settled back into his chair, one arm now laid flat on the table, across his chest whilst the other poised the glass of wine at his lips. "So, you got lost?"

Zack nodded, mouthful of food. He swallowed then spoke, "They've just finished building some new junction-thingy a little while up the road,"

"Oh," Squall said, "So I can be expecting more people knocking on my door so late at night?"

Zack glanced at the clock that hung above the mantelshelf, and it was indeed quite late…Nearly 11. He had no idea that the time had passed so quickly since he first got Aerith's call at 8.37 – halfway through Celebrity Death Match re-runs on MTV. He rolled his eyes, somewhat grateful that his phone had died, otherwise he would have be harassed by the brunette girl's calls and texts all through his time with his hospitable stranger. He took mouthful of the red liquid in the glass that rested beside his plate, grimacing at its rich, bitter and sharp taste.

"Too much of a bite?" Squall said, voice teasing and he emphasised his last word.

Zack nodded, his eyes shut as he swallowed the viscous stuff.

"It's vintage," That calm voice continued, this time closer to his ear. "I find it quite… nostalgic… reminds me of a time, many lifetimes ago." It was closer still, until he could feel this breath, without heat, and the brush of his lips on his skin.

Zack's eyes remained closed. How long had it been since he had felt the presence of another so close to him?

How long since he had ever been able to look into someone else's eyes and have his thoughts mirrored back to him self?

The chair slid back and a gloved hand clasped his, pulling him free of the mahogany wood and over to a much softer place, maybe it was that lounging couch thing that he had noticed before the fire earlier. His head was spinning slightly, he smirked inwardly at his own stupidity, it was like he was drunk… drunk over one stupid mouthful of some bitter crap that called itself wine? From a seated position, he was pushed on his back; his hips were soon trapped behind the two legs that straddled him.

"Maybe," Squall's soft voice started as he lowered himself down onto Zack after ditching his jacket across the rug. "Maybe you just need to find someone else to occupy yourself with. Don't linger on thoughts of a woman that doesn't want you back,"

The ebony haired man quietly groaned his agreement, eyelids fluttering in the height of his dizziness. He felt cold, bare fingers through his shirt; they were working away at the buttons that kept his skin away from the warm, orange glow of the fire. Icy lips pressed against his own, one hand spared his chest to knot in his spiked hair, pulling him closer to deepen this contact of skin. Zack subconsciously parted his lips, allowing Squall the access to a mouth he so very desperately wanted to taste.

Willing himself to break the enchantment that alcohol had spun on his mind, he cracked open violet eyes, and held the brunette close to him.

Squall was the first to break out of the kiss, withdrawing his tongue only to trail down Zack's jaw line and chest, pulling apart his shirt as he descended.

His kisses were like winter, cold as metal, that left a tingling sensation on his flesh, a sensation that was driving the violet eyed man insane. He lost his hands in Squall's chocolate locks, guiding his head further down, down to his belt, were pale fingers had fumbled the metal into submission. After unzipping his damp jeans, Leonhart sat up, unfastening his waistcoat, throwing it across the room to join his jacket. Zack followed suit and shrugged his now useless shirt out of the way. The ebony haired man propped himself up on his elbows, sliding up the red velvet couch so that his back was resting up against the armrest.

Squall also shuffled down the other man's legs, giving him the room he needed to work in. Those icy fingers pulled down Zack's jeans, and he lowered his head, replacing where the cold, wet blue denim had been clinging to his hip with his lips.

Zack let out a long breath that hissed between his teeth, with wide eyes he watched Squall as the man sucked hard at his flesh.

The feeling that this created was one he missed dearly, but it was a tone-up from anything he had ever felt before.

His eyes fixated on Squall, a rose blush tinted his cheeks. This would be the first time he'd been with another man since he was a teenager… and Squall being a complete stranger made it seen a lot more exciting. He chewed his bottom lip, watching with anticipation as the brunette raised his head, tracing the bruise he had created with his index finger. Zack could sense the smirk on the other's face. His breathing hitched as a cold hand slid up his thighs and into his boxers, taking his steadily hardening member into his cupped palm.

"You see," Squall started, sitting up, starting to discard his frilly shirt whilst the other hand rhythmically pushed Zack onto his path to euphoria. "A woman cannot satisfy for a long time… they just don't know how to touch," His fingers danced along Zack's tanned flesh once they were finished with undressing his lean torso. The pale man's smirk grew much darker once he felt the slight moisture of Zack's pre-cum on his hand. He withdrew from the man's underwear, receiving a frustrated groan.

Zack wanted to ask why Squall seemed to hate women so much, but found he could not. What had happened in his life to make him see this way… considering how it seemed that the person that he had loved and had treated him so badly was a man – shouldn't have that made him prefer the fairer sex more?

Sex.

That's the word that caught in his mind; something, he knew, was now inevitable as fingers curled around the waistband of the soft blue cotton that contained him. In a matter seconds Zack was freed, lying unprotected under the predatory gaze of intense sapphire eyes. Squall stood to his feet, letting Zack catch his breath as he rid himself of his boots and trousers. Hastily, he slipped his underwear down his legs, taking a few seconds to caress himself into a full erection.

Zack's fingers fidgeted, he slung one arm over the back of the couch, bending one knee so that Squall could snugly fit between his legs. The brunette smiled, stroking his ebony hair, murmuring, "Something tells me you've done this before,"

"A long time ago," he replied, keeping eye contact with his newfound lover as he settled on top of him. He gasped at just how cold Squall really was, and just how deep his eyes really were… they weren't just that beautiful lapis, but had slithers of turquoise and a deep teal that glittered in the warm orange fire-light.

"Not as long ago as me," he muttered quietly. He lowered his head to Zack's neck, gently kissing under his chin. He poised his hardened length at Zack's entrance.

Zack frowned, he strictly remembered that 2 things were needed for what was about to happen – lube and preparation. "Um…" he opened his mouth to voice this, only to have Squall snap at him.

"There's not enough time,"

His frown deepened, turning into a pained wince as Squall slid himself inside.

The man himself exhaled, a mix or relief and… something… it wasn't the pain that Zack expected. He felt that the brunette's lips were parted; his breathing was heavy. Once the initial sensations died away, Squall resumed his kisses, only now, they were focused on one part of his throat, and they got harder and harder as their hips found a gentle rhythm rocking together. Squall's left hand snaked down between their bodies, taking care of Zack's aching arousal. Zack threw his head back against the armrest of the velvet couch; he felt the brunette smirk against his skin, unleashing his tongue on the tanned flesh, tasting him before he closed his mouth around his neck.

The kiss was strange.

It was colder than the others.

It pained him more than the others.

He could feel the warmth drain out of him, as if Squall was drinking it straight out of his body.

The whole of the brunette's body seemed to convulse, his back arched and his free hand curled behind Zack's head, keeping him close. The way he acted reminded the black haired man of when a python coils around its prey, constricting it, killing it. The thought frightened the man, the way that Squall was fixated on his neck, on this one kiss more than their intercourse on a whole.

Zack's brow furrowed as he felt something warmth flowing down his chest, then a scratch of something sharp, like a razor on his skin. He yelped, noticing that the liquid was thick and red.

"Oh my god," he breathed, physically reeling back from the brunette.

The latter pulled away slightly, staring at Zack with icy eyes. "It's a bit too late for that, don't you think?" His lips were stained red, a contrast to the white of his teeth.

Two teeth in particular stood out against the rest.

Zack's eyes grew much wider, his lips danced to the sound of silence.

"This can't be happening? This isn't real?" Squall said, physically humoured by his prey's response, "Keep it. I've heard it many times before," he snapped coldly. His expression then softened, his eyes staring hungrily at the two bleeding punctures in the onyx haired man's neck. "Even I said those words once," he whispered quietly.

Zack found his voice and whimpered quietly, too afraid to move, not even managing to shiver. Still Squall's hand was stroking his member, but the feeling caused him to flinch more than moan.

With blue eyes still focusing on the warm liquid, Squall traced the stream along sweating skin with the tip of his tongue. He swallowed his wine, eyelids fluttered slightly as it ran down his throat.

"I like you," He stated bluntly, "I want you," he dragged those azure eyes back to started violet. "And I'm going to have you,"

Zack tried his hardest to dodge the Vampire's kiss, but deep down he knew that the attempt would be in vain.

Their lips collided; the metallic taste of blood invading the younger's mouth. He grimaced in disgust.

Squall removed his hand from Zack's erection, preferring to restrain him by his shoulders, at the same time, he ran his tongue along the very pin like head of his fangs, biting back a moan of hurt.

Suddenly, there was a rush of sweet nectar. That pooled at the bottom of Zack's mouth.

It was like a fine, fruity wine, aged and matured to perfection.

The voice in the back of his head urged him to swallow; let the poison run through his veins, to affect his body with pleasurable but fatal consequences.

Curiosity, lust and the dark malevolence that lurks in everyman's heart overcame fear and faith. Zack consumed the creature's gift. His eyes jammed shut from the momentary euphoria that echoed between the lover's two forms.

This fleeting union of life and death – the light of innocence and the dark of evil – came too soon to an end as Squall pulled away, the peck of his climax reached, his body could not cope with anymore excitement due to blood transfer.

His cerulean eyes were dreamy, distant gems, half closed with an ecstasy-induced exhaustion.

Zack's breathing slowed, hidden under the constant roar of fire. The Vampire's venom was making quick work of his life.

It helped that he accepted the poison so willingly – for now it didn't have to battle with his heart and mind, not when his own darkness proved strong enough to do that unaided by the creature's curse.

"Sleep, sleep," Squall hushed, lovingly running his hand along Zack's face. He bowed over the silent man, kissing his bruised scarlet lips. "Wake when you're dead,"

Once again, more Hannah Montana, High School Musical and Jesse McCartney fuelled the majority of the lemony-bit…

Give it a try – writing a lemon with processed Disney music whining in your ears late at night