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A/N: Yes, Seifer's dialogue at the end is supposed to be kind of dorky. It's in character for him, I think. They're both dumb repressed LARPers. XD
Squall inwardly groaned as the annoyingly familiar flash of a bright white coat appeared in the cafeteria's entrance halfway through their break period. His lunch suddenly seemed much less appealing. However, Seifer, the man who had proclaimed himself Squall's rival, didn't appear to have noticed him yet. Maybe, with any luck, Seifer would simply eat his food peacefully—or, better yet, take it and leave. Fujin and Raijin were nowhere to be seen, the ever-analytical Squall noticed with a frown. He had learned through experience that sometimes their presence only riled Seifer up by fanning the flames of his ego, but sometimes they gave him a much-needed distraction; in this case, without Raijin's appetite to keep Seifer focused on what a cafeteria was intended for, their absence indicated trouble was very likely. He watched silently as Seifer strutted up to the counter and had an exchange with one of the lunch ladies, though he couldn't make out what was being said over the din of chattering students; particularly the loud, annoying laughter of a blond one table over as he joked with his classmates. Seifer was getting agitated, judging by his body language, and he talked to the staff member for another minute before turning with an overdramatic flap of his coat to storm off. Only, instead of leaving to go be someone else's problem, he began scanning over the sea of heads, looking for something specific. Squall quickly dropped his gaze so as not to initiate eye contact, but it was too late. He was easy to spot, sitting alone at one of the far tables—the price he paid for some peace and quiet. A target acquired, Seifer began to strut towards him with renewed vigor, shaking off his burst of anger and transforming it into fuel to burn on his new target. What could he possibly want with Squall? Most likely just an opportunity to vent. This wasn't the ideal area for a fight: the exchange would be annoying, but it should be relatively short. Squall felt confident in his ability to shrug Seifer off, skilled now in avoiding reactions that only spurred him on. Seifer's footsteps became audible just as Squall felt confident in his own course of action, and he looked back up to instigate the confrontation, only to realize that Seifer now unexpectedly loomed over the table next to his. Squall blinked. Normally he was Seifer's favorite chew toy—not that he was complaining. "That is a lot of hot dogs, Dincht!" jeered Seifer, his arms folded across his chest. Squall then put together what had happened. Zell, a student who Squall was vaguely familiar with, had to crane his neck awkwardly to make eye contact. "So what?! Says who? Leave me alone, Seifer, this is the best part of my day!" "Says school regulations," Seifer replied easily, ignoring the rest of his sentence. "I know you know the rules, Chicken-wuss. Students are allowed three hot dogs maximum, but I can see..." he pretended to count, as if he were speaking to a child, "one, two, three, four on your plate, and what's this? Extra wrappers? Hmm," he tutted with a grin, "as a member of the Disciplinary Committee, I think I'm going to have to confiscate these." Squall was fairly confident there was no such rule. Zell swiveled around in his seat and leapt up, hands balled into fists before his feet hit the ground. "Fuck off! You are not touching my hot dogs, man!!" The situation was escalating quickly, even by Seifer's standards. Squall found his mouth opening. "Since when do you care about rules?" he interjected, against his better judgment. The rising tension seemed to freeze in midair as Seifer lowered his fists and turned to face Squall, eyes alight with a feral gleam that Zell didn't seem to notice. But to Squall, it was as bright as the glint of the sun off a blade. "Well, Leonhart, I don't know if you know this, but I'm the head of the Disciplinary Committee," he explained slowly, reveling in his position of authority no matter how trivial it may be. "At Garden, there's a chain of command," "So you just mindlessly do whatever your higher-ups say, like a dog," Squall said flatly, turning Seifer's bullshit back around on him. "Is that why you wear that collar?" At this, Seifer recoiled—almost imperceptibly, but not to Squall—and color rose to his cheeks. There was a beat of uncharacteristic silence before Seifer bristled, his eyes narrowing. "Says you, you fucking—teacher's pet—I'll show you!" he growled. "Watch your fucking back, Leonhart." And without so much as another word, he stormed off, leaving the area entirely. Squall watched him go, utterly confused. That was hardly a retort; usually Seifer reveled in harassing him, often going out of his way to try and goad him into a spar. He seemed to have touched a nerve. He couldn't imagine why, but would definitely be filing this away for later use. It wasn't every day he found a new technique for Seifer repellent. "Hey, thanks, man!" Squall was almost startled out of his train of thought by the forgotten Zell, who now appeared in front of him, fists still raised to shoulder-height though now in what appeared to be excitement. "That was awesome! You scared that jerk right off. I owe you one! If I'd had to fight him, my food would’a gotten cold," "Don't mention it," Squall replied before turning away in dismissal, still lost in thought. After that encounter, Squall had a relatively peaceful week. He was getting very lucky regarding his rival, having hardly seen a trace of him. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that Seifer was avoiding him—but that wasn't like him. He would've been happy to see this trend continue, if it weren't for some pure bad luck. Squall had just needed a moment of peace. The SeeD exams were rapidly approaching, and the written practice exam he'd just undergone had been particularly grueling. Feeling like someone had wrung his brain out like a sponge, he quickly and carefully ducked down one of the hallways on the second floor towards a door with an intimidating red light that crowned its frame. Though it seemed like somewhere that should be off-limits, Squall had discovered that it was often neglected to be locked, and simply led to a peaceful balcony where the background noises of the Garden for the most part could not reach. He wasn't sure if it was strictly allowed, but no one had seemed to mind so far. Unfortunately, he apparently wasn't the only one who had discovered this little secret. After waiting for the corridor to be deserted to ensure that the tranquility of his resting spot wasn't compromised and slipping inside, he was surprised to find someone else already there, resting casually against the wall with arms folded. And he was even more surprised when he realized who it was. "What are you doing here?" Squall asked rather bluntly. Seifer's eyes narrowed. He hadn't moved since the door opened, the only thing changing about him was the glare that burned into Squall, who was not phased. "Minding my own business. What are you doing here?" "Just trying to catch a break," he said with a hint of exasperation. "My next class is halfway across Garden in ten minutes, so I don't want to deal with you right now," "I've got just as much a right to be here as you do," Seifer bristled, rising now from his position and squaring his shoulders. "Why don't you be the one to get lost, huh?" Seifer really wanted to do this here? On a small balcony that no one was supposed to know was accessible, that also happened to overlook a huge drop? Squall did not have the patience today. It was time to find out if his new strategy really was viable. "Sit. Stay," he held out his palm, while Seifer did stay, frozen, his brow furrowing in confusion as it took him a moment to realize what Squall was implying. Squall seized the opportunity to treat this like compliance. "Good boy. Now, go down and fetch a stick." At this, Seifer's expression morphed into one of shock, then fury, and his mouth opened while his mind tried to organize and communicate what Squall was sure were some very choice words. He took the opportunity to further nudge Seifer in a direction that was hopefully away. "Go on, you can do it. You don't need me to hold your leash—" Squall realized he had perhaps gone too far when a fist came flying at his head. He was able to deflect the blow, but just barely. Before he knew it, they were locked in a tussle, their movements restricted by the railing of their dangerous arena. Neither had their weapons on them, and while Squall normally had a slight edge in terms of skill, Seifer definitely had the advantage of brute strength. A moment later, Squall felt his shoulders impact the smooth, cool wall hard, wincing as the back of his head hit metal. Seifer had him pinned, his iron grip leveraged against Squall's forearms, ensuring that he couldn't move. "Don't you fucking talk to me like that, Leonhart," Seifer spat. "I'm going to make you regret this. You're going to regret the day you met me. You're going to regret the day you were born," his breath was hot and rapid against Squall's cheek. Squall shut his eyes, bracing himself for an impact... but it never came. Instead, to his surprise he found his knees suddenly locking as he caught himself with legs trembling slightly from adrenaline. Somehow, Seifer had let go of him and was leaving without a word, no matter how loudly his boots pounded against the ground. Squall took a deep breath, confused but grateful. It hadn't been the perfect solution, but the damage he'd taken was on par with what he'd typically receive from a training session, so all in all he considered this encounter a victory. Normally, the blonde was more long-winded and a lot clingier. This new Seifer management strategy was showing a lot of promise... Seifer's gloved nails dug into the wall of one of Garden's exterior courtyards. He'd thrown his weight against it as he scowled fiercely at the ground. The area was deserted, almost everyone in class where they were supposed to be, and Seifer wasn't sure whether he wanted this solitude or if he would rather some hapless punching bag look at him the wrong way. To compensate, he punched the wall, relishing in the pain that burst in his knuckles. That fucking Leonhart! How dare he talk to him that way?! His heartbeat thrummed in his chest, in his ears—pure rage, certainly... He hadn't expected his mind to go that blank. It wasn't like him, but it had happened twice now. What was he supposed to do in that situation? The first time, he'd told himself that he would make Squall pay—HE should be the one to make Squall feel like this—but he still hadn't been able to come up with any real kind of comeback; not any way to turn it back around on him... What would he do next time? And he knew there would be a next time; that bastard never let go of an advantage if he had one... He replayed the scenario over in his mind, over and over, his blood boiling hotter each time. Fine. If that was what Leonhart thought of him, maybe he would just have to prove him right, in a way that really would make him regret everything. As Squall's rival, it was no less than Seifer's duty to know of his preferences and his habits. So when his intuition told him that, with the SeeD exams fast approaching, Squall would be reluctant to sleep in favor of late-night training, he quietly slipped out of his dorm and made his way to the Training Center. The wide halls of Balamb Garden were eerily quiet save for the echoing of his footsteps. This would be the night of his revenge, he could feel it, and then Squall would never dare speak to him like that again... Every step brought him closer to his target, made his heart pound faster in his chest, made his blood rush through his veins, until by the time he saw the green of the synthetic jungle environment and felt its humid night air he swore he could smell Squall's familiar scent in the air. He kept off of the path as he made his way deeper into the jungle, concealed by the thick foliage. There were a few others near the entrance who similarly were getting in some last-minute training, but Seifer knew that someone of Squall's skill would be at the heart of the Training Center, a place where only few dared to venture. He quickly and quietly cut down a few Grats as they appeared to challenge him, but still stalked his way deeper and deeper into the jungle with the skill and efficiency of one of its own predators. The sound of combat broke the jungle's eerie stillness, and Seifer zeroed in on its source, eyes gleaming. No amateurs would dare venture so far, this late at night. It had to be him...! A wolfish grin broke out over his features as he peered into a clearing to see Squall engaged in combat with a Raldo. He simply watched as Squall, his back turned, skillfully sidestepped a swipe of its great claws and retaliated with a Fire spell. Seifer felt odd green flames of jealousy begin to lick at his gut as he watched the dancelike exchange that was Squall's way of fighting. His fingers itched and clawed at the soil, but no, not yet... The Raldo recoiled as Squall's sword slashed across shoulder; then, enraged, it lunged desperately at him again, only for Squall to drive his gunblade into the unarmoured underside of its neck. It writhed for another moment, its heavy limbs thrashing, before finally collapsing, defeated. Squall stood panting, sweat running down his forehead. He'd been so absorbed in the fight, so confident that he was otherwise alone, that he now stood not six feet from Seifer, his back turned to him. He was so close that Seifer could see the flush that dusted the back of his ears, see the way even his forearms glistened. He didn't allow Squall a moment to catch his breath. Squall's heart rate spiked as he heard sound directly behind him—normally monsters here were large and gave plenty of warning as they crashed through the brush, so in his fatigue he was caught completely off guard. He was only able to turn halfway before letting out a muffled grunt as Seifer tackled him from behind, knocking his gunblade from his hands. His eyes were wide as he caught a glimpse of the blonde's feral grin, his confusion morphing into outrage, but he struggled to turn around in the other's vice grip. They struggled together for a moment, Squall attempting to kick and elbow backwards to no avail. Seifer growled low in pure satisfaction as he managed to grab hold of Squall's wrists and pinned him hard to the floor from behind. "What the hell are you doing?!" Squall panted once they finally stilled for a moment, his chest heaving. Seifer nearly trembled with excitement. He pressed himself flush against Squall's back, lips ghosting the shell of his ear, and took a long breath. "You wanted to play with the wolf, Leonhart," he said in a soft voice that nonetheless rumbled low. "You should have been prepared for its fangs." Before Squall had a chance to question or protest, Seifer bit down hard on the tender slope of his neck. "Seifer!" Squall cried out in surprise and pain, thrashing uselessly for a moment before going limp as Seifer loosened his jaws and endorphins washed over him. Seifer licked slowly upwards towards the base of his ear in mock apology, and Squall—Squall tensed, then shuddered. "Wh-what are you...?" he tried again. It was all happening so fast, and between exhaustion and confusion Squall's body superseded his rational thought, and he responded with pure instinct. Seifer was panting too, though this time with pure unrestrained elation. "I've won, Squall," he breathed. "Now surrender to me, just like that. That's it. Good boy," A jolt of embarrassed indignation ran through Squall, but he was too weak to do anything about it besides grunt in protest. Seifer was going to ensure that if anyone spoke like they were talking to a dog, Squall would be the one to blush. Before he had a chance to respond, Seifer nipped at his earlobe, making him gasp. It was this rush of satisfaction that made Seifer realize, in the aftermath of the heat and adrenaline of their fight, that his own cock was rock hard. "Oh... you're sensitive there, aren't you?" Something in Seifer's tone had abruptly shifted. Squall's eyes widened before squeezing shut as Seifer bit down on the shell of his ear, hot breath puffing over the back of his neck, and Squall bit his own tongue to prevent himself from moaning. Seifer was undeterred. "You can't hold anything back from me," he growled and bit down again on his neck, hard enough that Squall couldn't help but cry out. Squall felt dizzy, his senses being relentlessly assaulted, so much so that he hardly protested when Seifer transferred his wrists to be gripped with a single gloved hand. He did jolt, however, as the other was unceremoniously shoved down the front of his pants. "Sei—haah...!" When had he gotten so hard? Is this really what he was into? He didn't have much opportunity to think about it as Seifer began working over his cock in the confines of his tight pants. Despite the restriction, his forehead fell against the ground and his back arched, unintentionally pressing himself back into Seifer's hips. The blonde let out a groan, though he regretted closing his eyes and missing even a moment of Squall's unbidden reactions, the pleasure that made itself known against his will. "Don't fucking move," he growled in warning before releasing Squall's wrists for a moment to forcefully shove the brunette's pants down, not bothering with undoing any belts. Squall, though dazed, took the opportunity to try and push himself up and away, but it was only a moment before Seifer had him pinned back down again. "I said don't move...!" his nails dug into Squall's side and his grip on his wrists tightened. "There's no point. You can't get away from me." Suddenly Squall's whole body went rigid as he was jolted back into reality by the feeling of something hot and hard pressing against his backside, which was now exposed to the night air. "Seifer," he sounded more like himself now, alarm in his voice, "What— Stop it, you can't—" "Relax," Seifer hissed, his hand returning to wrap around Squall's cock, which, now free, hung heavy between his legs. Squall's breath caught in his throat and he moaned, muscles beginning to go slack again. He hadn't realized how badly he'd needed this relief. "Just relax. It feels good." Squall let out a whimper as his hand withdrew, but it was only for a moment. He heard the sound of Seifer spitting before he felt a pressure against his entrance, making him tense up again, before Seifer returned to pumping his cock fast and hard. He couldn't help it; he moaned, arms buckling as he allowed his chest to fall against the ground, and Seifer took the opportunity to push in all at once. Seifer had never felt anything like it. It was so hot and tight and good, most of all because of what it was clearly doing to Squall—his muscles clenched despite the intrusion, crying out pathetically, and Seifer almost felt like he could have cum right there. "This is what happens," he breathed over Squall's vocalizations, which he couldn't tell whether were cries or moans, "when you mess with a wild animal like me." With that he began a rapid pace, mercilessly pounding Squall into the ground. There was now no mistaking the pleasure in his groans, his breath catching in his throat as he tried and failed to keep himself quiet as a last act of dignity. "And so—" Seifer panted between thrusts, grinning wildly, "the lion—falls to the dog." Squall's cock twitched and he buried his head in the side of his arm. There was no way Seifer was wrapping him up in his dumb fantasies, no way it actually felt this good to play along. A lion, it was so stupid—imagining himself as a great, fierce, noble warrior, who nonetheless was bested by someone even more powerful; the only other who was ever able to rival him—feral animals in the woods, driven by pure instinct, seeking nothing except this—the fur of his jacket encircled his neck like a mane, but didn't shield him from Seifer's hot, snarling breath against his neck; a heat that promised sharp fangs, claws, and pain that brought acute, knifelike pleasure—and before he knew it Squall was coming hard, and more loudly than he should have been. |
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