Behold -- the product of half an hour's worth of effort. Lunch breaks at work can be useful, sometimes. A third piece for Kym, just because. AND THIS ONE WAS A SURPRISE! I managed to keep it to myself for a whole twenty-four hours. I'm proud of me.

This is .. rather loosely based on our RP, but only just so. I'll let her think what she wants.

Love you, sweetheart.

There was something about the way he breathed, the subtle rise and fall of his chest in sleep that tugged his mouth into the softest ghost of a smile. His gaze followed the curve of his spine, bare skin above the sheet draped over his hips, sleek and smooth. The brunet shifted, rolled halfway onto his back and tucked his chin against his chest, and for a moment Seifer thought he'd wake; Squall merely sighed, dark brows furrowed above eyes lightly shut, and fell still.

He thought back to the question he'd been confronted with earlier -- "What the hell took you so long?" Looking at him now, body completely bare beneath the bedclothes, skin almost glowing under the pale light filtering in through the window, it was nearly impossible to remember the reasons he'd fed himself. He couldn't remember why he'd thought it wouldn't work.

Neither of them had said much. It had started like every other quarrel, every other battle of wits that ended with the purposeful slip of a foot and the brunet had been pinned beneath him, wrists held fast to the floor above his head. He'd almost seemed to want to yield to him from the very beginning, if the hazy blue-gray of his eyes had been any indication -- and he had yielded, soft and pliant with full lips and the slick slide of a tongue against his. The blond hadn't known what hit him, much less what to do with him.

It had surprised him how well they fit together, like scattered pieces from the same puzzle, hips melding, spines bowing beneath the sweet tension of mutual need. Where one ended, the other began, lips and hands smoothing over sweat-slick skin, each committing the feel of the other to memory.

Now that Seifer had him, there wasn't a thing in the world that could make him let him go.

He rolled over onto his side, slipped an arm beneath Squall's shoulders and pulled him against his chest, face buried in the side of his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex and him. The brunet made a small sound in the back of his throat and nuzzled closer; Seifer's heart fluttered and he settled more firmly against him, the warm weight of his body more comforting than he thought anything had a right to be.

If tonight ever makes a difference -- the way that I feel, the way that I'll remember it -- I'll take this down until the glass remains, and swallow the words I was meant to say.

Neither of them moved, or said a single word.

They didn't have to.