If Bartz had been any other man, Squall would have never set his eyes on him, never paid him mind. The other man knew what he was doing, knew how to catch Squall's eyes and keep them on him― his body. Bartz was a troublemaker underneath that cheerful exterior, and he could easily pull an innocent face and claim he had no idea that his shirt strap had slid off his shoulder, revealing a cute, pert nipple when he bent over at just the right angle.

It was worse now, after Bartz had bought a new outfit. Squall did not have to wait for him to 'accidently' brush the strap off his shoulder. No, he could just see the other man's nipples nearly bleeding through the opaque material, ready and waiting to be ravished. Everything Bartz wore was too tight; it clung to him like a second skin, asking to be ripped apart. Squall would gladly oblige― if Bartz ever gave him the opportunity.

The other man would tease him when they were alone, and Squall being Squall, would never give in to the other man's whispers of what he wanted Squall to do to him. It was stupid, but in a way, it was their game to see who would break first. Squall had wondered many a time why he was still fighting to win while Bartz straddled him, golden eyes riddled with lust as he dragged Squall's hand up his thigh. The noise he made when Squall's hand finally cupped his ass― something akin to a moan of relief―drove him wild, made him want this man more than anything.

And then it would be back to normal, back to staring at Bartz's ass that was nearly hidden underneath the red cloth he wore around his waist. Back to silently cursing himself for not taking advantage of what he had so easily in his grasp the night before. He wondered if Bartz did this with everyone. How many of the other warriors had made him moan like he had, gone farther and fucked him until Bartz begged them to stop with glittering eyes and a breathless voice.

Oh, how he would love to do the same thing, make that man twist and moan as he fucked him into senseless oblivion. Yet he would refrain, always would stop himself in a curse of self-restraint. He had lost count how many times he had masturbated to that scene, to Bartz's sweat-soaked face after a battle, when his face was still flushed and his breathing still heavy.

His lips were thin, pale, so easily made red when Squall ravaged them with tongue and teeth. And the way Bartz gripped his sides as they kissed, forcing their bodies to grind lazily against each other made his mind go blank. He kissed along Bartz's jawline, dragged his tongue along the ridge of the other man's ear while Bartz whispered heatedly about what he wanted Squall to do to him. How he wanted Squall to fuck him hard and fast right here right now, how he was Squall's little slut to do with as he pleased.

It was too much, way too much. Squall pushed him down, hastily undid his belts, and Bartz did the rest, unzipping his pants with relative ease. Bartz whispered something unintelligible when he pulled out Squall's throbbing cock, nuzzling it with his oh-so-soft cheek before licking the head with a mischievous grin. Then he engulfed it with his hot mouth, making Squall groan and jerk his hips, forcing more of it down Bartz's throat. He gripped Bartz's silver hair, forcing the other man into a quick, jerking rhythm. How long had he wanted this, to cum down Bartz's throat?

It felt way too good when he came, felt way too good to realize what he had done, it didn't matter when Bartz was looking up at him with half-lidded dreamy eyes and Squall's still hard cock in his mouth.

He had refused to go any further. He was so close to losing any restraint he had left. Yet Bartz had forced him down, straddled him like he always had before. And Squall's hands moved at their own accord, skidding over Bartz's hips to grope his ass, causing that sound to escape his lips again. He wanted more of it, needed more of it. He ripped those tights apart so eagerly, let his fingers slide down the cleft of Bartz's ass so easily, feeling the other man tremble as he teased his asshole.

He pushed two of them inside, causing Bartz to keen in pleasure. He was so tight, so deliciously and horribly tight. Squall had been so stupidly denying himself this gorgeous creature. He needed to be in him, fucking him raw, making Bartz his and only his. The way Bartz moved against his fingers, the way he clenched and unclenched as he looked at Squall with dreamy eyes, it was too much.

Everything was too much.

Squall withdrew his fingers, reveling in Bartz's moan of disappointment before he felt the other man's hands curl around his cock, lining it up with his hole. Then he sank down on it, and the feeling of him enveloping his cock was indescribable, more so for the other man, as he shuddered and jerked, coming from the fullness, from finally being connected with Squall. And in a swift movement, Squall had Bartz lying under him, loose and breathless like he had always wanted, always dreamed of.

He moved, pounding into the other man, ecstasy coursing through his veins, encouraged by Bartz's soft whimpers. They kissed again, sloppy and unrefined as Bartz wrapped his legs around his thighs, forcing him deeper. He couldn't last, not like this, the need to claim the other man welling up inside him like an inferno. He came again, thrusting hard into Bartz one last time, before spilling his seed inside him; Bartz's mewl of pleasure echoing in the back of his mind.

He had lost.

And the hollow emptiness he felt when he returned to his own world was so foreign, so horrible. The warmth that Bartz had, everything about him, just simply faded away.