Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Final Fantasy franchise and do not make any profit from this work of fiction.

Author's Notes: Why hullo! You seem to have stumbled upon this little incest fic. Good for you, because the fun has only just begun!

This is a fic that my friend and I are collaborating on. Mainly, she and I came up with guidelines, and I persued a timeline and am fleshing everything out.

Be prepared: this will be a lengthy story.

Burning For You - Shiny Toy Guns (Originally Blue Oyster Cult) .com/lyrics/blue_oyster_cult/burnin_for_

Reviews are welcome. Flames will be eaten.

P.S. Squall's party have been given 'code names', just because it tickles my fancy.

A Key:
Lion - Squall
Bookworm - Quistis
Tattoo - Zell
Butterfly - Selphie
Wings - Rinoa
Cowboy - Irvine

ENJOY!

III

Squall was hot. He could feel his limbs burning with every contraction and expansion of rippling heat that coursed through him.

But even in the fire, the only light that shined was through the shimmery red curtains that encased the window seat of one of the Deling City Hotel rooms.

Trying to get away from the blaze, Squall Leonhart sprang forward only to be forced back immediately. A groan escaped his parted, and somehow moist lips as there became a weight holding his shoulders in place.

He attempted a different tactic and threw his legs in a direction that he was pretty sure was up, failing when they wound around a pair of muscular hips.

Those hips pressed down into him, and Squall gasped for oxygen as they dug into his fully hardened erection.

"So hot ..."

Lips descended down on his own again, a tongue asking, no, demanding entrance to his warm mouth. It tasted him, practically taking his soul with it when it moved on to lap at his neck and collarbone.

"What's wrong?" his dream lover asked him softly.

Squall shook his head slightly, his eyes conveying every word he needed to say as he looked upon the moonlit wonder on top of him.

"I need you ..."

Long raven locks swept across his face. Squall indulged himself in the scent of holly that was his lover. For a moment there was a shared expression of need in his lover's jade-colored eyes, and then a flash of what Squall could only assume to be sympathy before he was penetrated.

Squall's eyes shot out with the intense pain. He instantly felt the blood hasten along the crevasse of his left cheek. He put the burn aside, instead letting the consuming flame of pleasure soar deep into the pit of his groin when his dream man moved quickly in and out of his entrance.

"NNNN-AHHHHH!" he moaned through clenched teeth, gripping the silk white sheet of his beloved's bed with equally stark knuckles. Squall met with each of the thrusts, his lips drying with every heated pant that filled the room.

"You like being fucked hard, don't you Squall?" His illusion grunted and pulled at the mess of sweat-slicked brown hair.

Squall bucked wildly at this, the tightness of his groin much too agonizing from the length of man that was inside of him. His reply was more of a hiss, his vocabulary not a part of him. He yelped when his own cock had been taken into the hands of this man and stroked in time with each of his thrusts, tossing his head to the side.

"I want you to look me in the eye as you come" the illusion commanded his head back to the center and held his eyes ice blue eyes with his own captivating orbs.

Squall was losing control. The feeling of being dually-pleasured was unbearable.

"Come, Squall. Say my name."

Squall whispered. "...a"

His lover looked at him with a slight disapproval. "What was that, Squall?"

"...una...!" Squall tried again.

Mr. Illusion swooped his head down, biting the junction between his neck and shoulder.

"LAGUNA!" Squall's spine went rigid as he came, his seed spilling with a rush of adrenaline between them.

Laguna smiled as he came, rose petal lips parted just enough to moan the other man's name.

"Squall!"

III

3:00 - March 13th

"SQUALL!"

Squall Leonhart awoke with a projectile jolt, coming to a head on collision with the figure hovering over him. As if he didn't have enough problems, mainly the aching organ between his legs, he was now going to have a migraine.

He groaned loudly, causing a finger to be pressed to his lips with an equally loud "SHHH!"

"You plan on waking up everyone else, Lion?" The voice was masculine with a twinge of a southern drawl.

"Cowboy?" Squall asked, his head still foggy from the dream.

"Yeah, and be lucky that it's me and not someone else!" Irvine hissed. "Another dream?"

Squall brought his hands to his face and nodded. He didn't want Irvine Kinneas to see him blushing. He'd never live it down.

It started off as simply dreaming once in a while of his raven-haired wonder living his life, seeing the people he saw, hearing the things he heard and so on. But as they got closer to Esthar, and their next mission, the dreams became more frequent, and much, much more intimate. Squall hadn't a clue as to when he became infatuated with Laguna Loire, or what even really attracted him.

Irvine sighed. "Maybe you're sick? You felt like you were running a fever." Squall didn't dare tell him that it was from the rough sex that he just subconsciously had.

He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, finally speaking. "What time is it?"

"AM. Our mission is going to start soon. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Squall shuddered. This wasn't the first time the cowboy had awoken him from his erotic fantasies with Laguna. Hopefully, it would be the last.

"Yes." Squall spat. "And you better not tell anyone else!"

Irvine shrugged. "Your secrets safe with me, partner." He finally gave Squall some breathing room, sitting back on the dead ground of the Great Salt Lake and pulling his legs up to his chest. "But if you don't start controlling yourself, you'll end up telling everyone yourself."

"..." Squall ran a hand through his dampened locks. Another beautifully sleepless night, another painful erection gone to waste. Sighing, he stood from his bed roll, his numerous belts clinking more than loudly in the first dregs of morning.

"I need some air." He whispered to Irvine when he stood with him, always watching out for his commander. 'And to get rid of this problem'. He pushed the tattered tent flap to the side, the cool air of the Great Salt Lake sending a numbing chill down his spine. He stood straight, relieving himself of all the cricks in his stiff joints before he took his first steps through the crunching death.

What used to be a beautiful getaway was now a barren wasteland, thanks to the Estharin Empire and it's science experiments. There was supposedly know life, none that the party had seen anyway, yet they had been commissioned here to dispose of a undead threat to the grand city. He listened carefully to the lack of life around him, and Squall had to admit, if only to himself, that death was just to empty and alone to his liking.

"There..."

Far enough away from camp, under the bones of the decaying beasts, Squall's erection was still very much alive. He hid in the shadows of the skeleton, freeing his painful hard-on and hissing as it was caressed with the cool morning bite.

His head fell back a bit, leaning against the ribs of the century old fiend and brushed a hand over a pert nipple. His cock twitched in curiosity, as if wondering where his hand was going to go next.

Sighing, Squall closed his eyes and opened them again, this time meeting with the lusting jade spectacles of his infatuation. Shivers that had nothing to do with the early chill raked his body when he felt a breath of air graze his ear.

"You want me to touch you? Hmmm...?"

Squall nodded, parting his lips as his hand grabbed his organ and stroked it hard.

"Touch me . . ."

His hand squeezed a slight bit tighter, keeping a hard but mellow pace. He was burning again, every stroke of his hand igniting his groin more and more.

A tongue curled around one of his nipples, and he moaned, jerking himself only a little faster.

"I want to watch you, Squall. I want to watch the way your eyes glint when your about to come, and how your hips roll with every touch..."

Squall's hips shifted then. He wanted to touch, to feel Laguna in his hand. He wanted to be stroking him, softly, taking care to not hurt him.

"Squall . . ." Laguna whispered. His voice became broken and hazy. "aaAAAAHHHHhhh!"

He looked into Laguna's eyes, granting his wish as he came. "L-Lagunaaa!"

Panting, they looked at each other, the lust dying, and something else taking over them. Lips descended on his own, and Squall closed his eyes, losing himself in this wonderful man.

When he opened them, Laguna was gone, leaving him with nothing but the rising sun of dawn, and a hand covered in his own semen.

Squall felt empty. He looked around the deserted marsh as he tucked himself away, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

He felt . . . dead.

Not too far away from the right of him he heard the crunch of repose. He jumped, thinking someone had been watching him. Slowly, he crept out of his retreat.

He had expected to find someone, like the ever bouncy Butterfly, or the nosy Bookworm. As Squall turned the corner he had been terribly mistaken.

"Oh. Shit."

There it stood, a massive ten feet tall at least, looming over him with hunger in it's eyes. Their mission was about to have him for breakfast.

"I have to move!"

Squall found his legs frozen in place, the undead Abadon sizing him up, as if analyzing where to start first and licking it's rotted lips.

"RUN!"

Squall bounded out of range just as the Abadon's ancient teeth clamped together in an attempt to satisfy its hunger. He didn't look back as he ran in the direction of his squad's camp site. The thought hit him that he wasn't going to have enough time to warn them. He hoped everyone was at least awake, even better, already out on the mission without him.

He could feel the deceased ground shake from underneath him as the Abadon hunted him. Squall mentally chuckled at the irony of his charge trying to catch him for his next meal.

Hopping over a rather large rock effortlessly Squall could see the peaks of two tents, along with five faces, armed, battle ready, and Cowboy holding his Lionheart. He made a mental note to curse him later for going through his belongings.

"Squall!" Irvine made to rush forward.

"Stop!" Squall commanded. "Throw me the gunblade!"

With all of his might, the cowboy hoisted the Lionheart in mid-air. The blade glistened in the rays of morning, landing only feet from its owner point down. Squall slid as he grabbed his weapon of choice and clashed it against the Abadon's decayed face.

"Squall!" He heard Tattoo behind him, leaping over his head to land on the grave monster's back. He chanted a fire spell only to be thrown off from the demon in a roar of pain.

It distracted the beast long enough, however, for Squall to plunge his gunblade through the it's thick, sickly head.

Everyone covered their ears as the fiend howled in a ghostly fashion, sending a chill through their spines. The Abadon tossed it's head, and Squall lost hold of his gunblade, flying backwards at high speed. He landed with a sickly crack, pain instantly running through the upper half of his body.

He saw Irvine bursting towards him, carrying an injured Zell on his back, followed by the rest of his squad.

He blinked once, than twice. His vision turning to white noise.

Before he lost consciousness, he saw a flash of jade green sparkles.