keelywolfe: (Keely)
Title: Conversations
By Keelywolfe (keelywolfe@aol.com)
Author's webpage: http://www.ravenswing.com/~keelywolfe/
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Laguna/Squall

Summary: Sequel to ‘Petal’

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were.

Warnings: INCEST. You know, and some incest. And a little more incest. Yeah. That stuff.
Read more... )
keelywolfe: (Default)
He couldn't say he'd never struck a woman. It had been years, true, but at one time he had been a soldier, and on occasion personal ethics had to be set aside in favor of saving ones own life. That was true. He could, however, say that he'd never wanted to strike a woman.

Until now.

She was sitting on the window seat, gazing outside and in that moment Laguna would have dearly loved to see her sprawled on the floor, hands that were as pale as doves instead splashed with tiny droplets of blood from her broken nose. Or her split lip, either would have been equally satisfying.

Instead, he restrained himself, only because he was much less likely to get answers if he killed her first.

"Why did you do it?" he asked harshly. "It had to be you, no one else here has that kind of power except Edea, and somehow I doubt she has a personal interest in this."

He wasn't so blinded by anger that he couldn't see the slight puffiness surrounding her eyes, the whites reddened from either lack of sleep or weeping, perhaps both. But her words wiped away any tiny bit of sympathy he might have had for her.

"Tell me something, what's it like to fuck your own son?" she asked softly, her voice sweet and strangely husky. "Was it good?" Breathed softly, words slipping from her tongue as softly as a feather. "Was it really good? Did you like it?" She smiled darkly, showing the barest hint of teeth and she ran her tongue over them slowly before continuing. "Did you love it? Did you want to do it again?"

"Rinoa, I don't know what happened between the two of you, and I don't really care. But how could you..."

"I would have done anything for him," she broke in, turning to look back out the window. "Anything. But that's not what he had in mind. And you had him in mind, so I thought it was the least I could do to return the favor. "
keelywolfe: (Default)
Well, now I'm just having fun with this. I think this is going to be in the sequel to the sequel to the story I already wrote. Oh, well, what can you do?


**

Laguna had decided long ago that the worse thing about being president is you couldn't just get up on a whim and go, anywhere, even just out to dinner. There was always something that just had to be done before he could go, and there had to be some way to contact him if anything went wrong.

Of course, 'something wrong' could be interpreted very loosely. He had been woken up once in the middle of the night by a comm-call from one of the secretaries who couldn't find the supply closet. That particular incident had almost cost him his 'nice guy' image. It'd been weeks before the secretary stopped ducking into side rooms every time she saw him.

Which was why Laguna was packing very quickly before someone saw him, in the most likely vain hope that if he just announced he was taking a few days off and left, people would be too stunned to stop him before he was gone.

He'd spent all morning catching up on paperwork, any details that couldn't wait a few days and all that was left now was to stuff a few essentials in a bag, catch a lift and he'd be on his way.

"Hey, Laguna, I...what are you doing?"

Too late.

"Hello, Kiros," he said resignedly. So much for making a quick escape.

"Hello to you to. What are you doing?" His friend was carrying a stack of papers that looked suspiciously like more work to Laguna. Bringing paperwork to his bedroom had to be a violation of some law, and if it wasn't yet he was going to make it one. He figured if he let everyone have their way by next week they'd have a full desk, complete with a computer and personal comm system, installed next to his toilet.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Laguna asked irritably, dumping the contents of the bag onto the bed. As long as his plans were stalled he might as well pack properly.

"Well, I know what it looks like, but I can't believe that's what it is because you just took a vacation a few weeks ago."

"Going along with a group who is about to fight an all powerful sorceress in the hopes of preventing the end of the world is not exactly a vacation."

"It is to you." He flopped down in the chair by the window and tossed the papers on the side table, the topmost pages fluttering unnoticed to the floor. "Where are you going, anyway?"

"Trying to corner the market on asking stupid questions?"

"Aren't we in a mood today?" When Laguna didn't reply he gave a long-suffering sigh, tapping one foot impatiently. "Come on, may as well tell me now," said Kiros easily. "I can just ask your secretary later."

"Balamb garden," he muttered, resisting the urge to pick up the papers scattered on floor. If he touched them he'd be tempted to read them, and then he'd never manage to leave.

"Balamb Garden?" Kiros echoed. "You were just there last week!"

"So?" he said defensively. "I haven't seen Ellone in years. I don't think wanting to her twice in two weeks is asking too much."

"Seeing you twice in twenty years is probably too much." Seeing the rising annoyance on his friend's face, Kiros lifted his hands in surrender. "OK, OK. It was only a joke. So you're going to Balamb, good for you. Going see Squall while your there?"

Laguna jerked in surprise, managing to knock the mostly packed bag off the bed and spilling most of its contents onto the floor. Swearing under his breath, he snatched it back up and stuffed everything back inside before beginning a struggle with the zipper. "What makes you think I'm going to see Squall?"

"Oh, I don't know. He's sort of, you know, your son?" Kiros frowned, watching his friend fumbling with the bag. "What's with you, anyway? Are you feeling all right?" Standing up, he absently stepped over the papers on the floor and put a hand on Laguna's forehead.

Laguna gave him a dirty look and swatted it away. "What are you, my father?" He winced slightly at his own words and resolutely continued packing. Not thinking about it, he chanted mentally. Nope, not one bit.

Kiros frowned. "You're acting weird. The only time I've ever seen you acting this way is when..." Dawning awareness and Laguna groaned silently.

"Oh, I see, you dirty old man, you!" Kiros crowed, sprawling backwards on the bed and knocking the bag to the floor again. "You've got the hots for one of those cute young things at Balamb!"

"Kiros..." he started weakly but was drowned out by his friend's laughter.

"Oh, come on now, details, details! Have you even managed to talk to her yet or are you still at the 'watching her mournfully from afar' stage? Ooh, but you're packing clothes for an overnight trip, that's promising!" He patted the bed next to him with one hand and gave Laguna his best 'you can trust me' look. "Come on now, sit down next to Uncle Kiros and tell me everything."

"I don't have the hots for any..."

"Ah, ah," Kiros wagged a finger at him. "Don't even try. You have all the symptoms and I know you too well. You pervert, using Ellone as an excuse to..." He cut off abruptly, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. "It's not -Ellone- is it?"

"Oh, for Gods sake!" Laguna snapped. "And you called -me- a pervert! She's like a daughter to me." And apparently my perversions mean I prefer to sleep with sons, he added mentally.

Snatching up his bag, Laguna slung it over his shoulder before Kiros could resume the interrogation. He picked up the papers Kiros had brought with him and dumped them on his friend's lap, ignoring his startled grunt. "Here, I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle. If anything important happens, like a war or the end of world or something, you know where to find me.

"Laguna..." he started to protest.

"See you later!" Laguna called, waving cheerily as he quickly walked out the door.
keelywolfe: (Default)
See? I may be a tease, but I don't tease too long. ^_^

**

"I want this...and you want it too."

Any protest he might have had was cut off when Squall's mouth again closed over his own, his tongue teasing its way between Laguna's lips, persuading him to this without words.

Uncertainly, distantly horrified at what he was doing, Laguna opened his mouth and allowed his own tongue to push back, tasting coffee, heat...

His son.

He twisted his head to the side, breaking the kiss, "No. Squall, please, I...ah!" Choked on his own words as Squall slid down and pressed his face against Laguna's stomach. He breathed in deeply, tickling air across the taut skin before nuzzling his way back upward, flicking his tongue over the nub of one nipple and dragging a startled gasp from Laguna.

Callused hands rubbed their way down his shoulder blades, surprisingly soothing, and it was nothing that Laguna would have expected from this boy. Gentle coaxing, sweet persuasion and this was like...this was more like...

Those same, strong hands cupped Laguna's backside, holding him still for the press of hips against his own and a moan escaped him at the feel of the younger man's erection pushing against his own. No, this was nothing like her, like nothing he'd ever done before despite all the rumors he knew had flown around Esther about him and Kiros.

His own pants were neatly stripped away, smoothed down his legs before his whirling senses could come up with a single objection. Naked heat pressed against him, and when had Squall taken off his own clothes? He didn't know. Desperately, he arched upward, wanting to escape from the cool touch of air, to immerse himself in far too wonderful heat.

He couldn't speak, couldn't think, was trying to comprehend why he suddenly felt the coolness of sheets against the front of his body when the sudden feeling of slick fingers pressing inside him made things a little too clear.

Yes, this was definitely something he'd never done and oh Gods, oh
-fuck- this was wrong, this was so wrong and it felt so perfectly right. To be naked, sprawled across this bed with this achingly beautiful young man pressing his way inside him.

Hissing softly, Laguna buried his face into the pillow as he felt tears sting his eyelids. Not just physical pain, although there was enough of that. Some part of him, buried deep within, was dying, a flower he'd held in his heart for some eighteen years was finally shedding its petals as it wilted away.

A name hovered on his lips, the woman he'd loved, the wife he'd had so briefly but when he managed to whisper, his own voice nearly strangling him, the name that escaped was "Squall."

Lips brushed his ear, warm breath stirring the fine strands of hair hiding it. "Laguna. Relax, shh, it's all right." A hand gently petted his thigh, slipping around the curve of his hip, searching. He hissed again as Squall's fingers teased their way between his legs, stroking the heaviness of his balls before wrapping around his erection.

"Oh, Gods."

Laguna wasn't sure which one of them said it, was beyond caring as Squall shifted against him, pulling out slightly before thrusting strongly forward, and it hurt, a deep pain he'd never felt before and it was so good, so deep inside. Another deep thrust, another and suddenly Squall paused, arms wrapping tightly around Laguna, forcing him to stillness as well.

"Tell me you want this," he said, softly, little more than a puff of breath against Laguna's ear.

Laguna shook his head frantically, trying to push backwards.

"Tell me. Tell me I'm not forcing you to do this."

Wrong. So very, very wrong and the tears wouldn't be held this time. "I want this," he whispered thickly.

A deep thrust, and Laguna cried out sharply, his voice dropping to a whimper as Squall stopped.

"Again."

"I want this," he gasped, tasting wetness and salt as his heart quietly broke.

"Again," Panted harshly as Squall pushed forward hard. "Say it again, please, say it again."

"I want this, Gods, I want this, I want...I..." Laguna's voice trailed away, words losing themselves within his desperate moans as he clutched at the sheets, rocking backwards as hard as he could.

Pain, deep, wrenching pain and it was so very good, Squall's hand stroking him quickly, both of them struggling against each other, Squall's only sounds the harshness of his breathing until his breath caught, held, the softest of groans escaping him. Hazily, Laguna felt a sudden rush of warmth inside, liquid heat bathing him and he bit his tongue, tasting blood as he came, pain washed away by hot ecstasy and a muted whimper escaped him anyway as he finally yielded, unwillingly, the last, piercing shards of his broken heart whisked away in the flood of pleasure.

His trembling arms collapsed beneath him, refusing to take the sudden heavy weight of Squall on his back. Still breathing heavily, Squall shifted to press his cheek against Laguna's shoulder, rubbing it gently against the smooth skin.

Beneath the fog of contentment, reality was relentlessly pushing its way back into Laguna's thoughts. Gods, what had they done? What had -he- done? He closed his eyes tightly, feeling wetness creeping its way down the backs of his thighs and he was hardly able to bear it. Raine, I'm sorry, so very...

"Thank you." Very softly against his ear, and Laguna blinked to hear the huskiness in Squall's voice, what was, perhaps, the faintest trace of his own tears.

Carefully, wincing as newly stretched muscles protested, Laguna shifted, moving to carefully wrap his arms around the younger man. Squall sighed, burying his face in Laguna's chest as he promptly fell asleep.

Just like a man, Laguna thought, biting back somewhat hysterical laughter. He rested his cheek against the softness of Squall's hair, breathing in deeply the faint traces of soap, the rich musk of sex.

His body stirred again at the scent, and Laguna squeezed his eyes closed, helplessly. Not again, he decided. Never, ever again. But just for tonight he lay awake, dry-eyed as he held his son.

-finis-
keelywolfe: (Dawn)
This is so Rose's fault. It's been a really, really, long time since I've played FF8, and I wasn't even as impressed with it as I was the other ones. Be that as it may, on a whim I downloaded a few vid files from the game, and saw Squall dancing...*sigh*. This is -so- Rose's fault. Anyway, keeping in mind that it has been a really long time since I played the game, this is just a rough little ficlet that I'm working on because I can't sleep. Set somewhere towards the end of the game.

**

It had been a very long time since he'd woken this way, with the bewildered sense of unreality that came with waking up in a strange place. Shifting onto his back, he blinked in the dim light, feeling the slight tremors that told him the airship was still in motion.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably with the sense of being watched and Laguna was fully awake in an instant, adrenaline surging. His soldier instincts might be rusty from lack of use but they had never been forgotten.

Warily, he reached out to turn on the bedside lamp, his other hand creeping stealthily under his pillow in search of cool metal handle of the knife he'd hidden there. The moment his fingers brushed the light switch, his wrist was caught in a firm grip.

Instinct called for him pull away, to twist the offending hand backwards, break it if necessary to subdue the enemy, and he might have done it, fallen straight back into the easy familiarity of old patterns if it hadn't been for one soft word.

"Don't."

Recognition came and Laguna relaxed in minute degrees, sinking back against the pillows.

"Squall?" he asked uncertainly, "Did you need something?" Cold instinct had deserted him, leaving him alone with his admittedly feeble social skills and he silently cursed his own ineptness. If ever he had needed to be able to make a proper conversation, now would be the time.

His eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness and he could see the young man sitting next to his bed, eyes focused on him and just looking at them made him ache, filling him with memories that were yellowed with age. This strange, sullen boy with Raine's eyes.

The son he'd never known.

It was his own fault, he knew, for trusting too much, for not being enough of a soldier. Or perhaps being too much of one, putting duty before those he loved. Strangers had raised his son, his son was a stranger himself, and that knowledge would haunt him the rest of his life, no matter how long or short it might be. His son.

Raine's son...

...was staring at him, an intensity in those familiar, unfamiliar eyes, some strange light that Raine's had never possessed.

"I was watching you sleep," Squall said finally, "I'm not used to seeing you from this side."

"Really?" Laguna murmured, shaken at the flatness of the boy's voice. Devoid of emotion and again it was so unlike Raine that it pained him to hear it. How would this young man have been if she'd been able to raise him, he wondered, his eyes involuntarily searching out hints of her in their son's face. Would he have smiled more often, sweetly, as she had, would he have been as practical, as greedy for affection as she had been? Yes, he could see her here and there, the tilt of the nose, the curve of the jaw and she was so real, so -alive- in this young man's face.

And nowhere else. If Squall had even the tiniest memory of the brave, caring woman who had been his mother it wasn't revealed in that detached voice or in those cool, distant eyes. It was as if Squall had locked all his emotions away inside, and Laguna had to wonder what this boy had been through that would cause him to do that.

Oh, Raine, I'm sorry, he thought, unable to tear his eyes from the shell of the human being who was her son, this travesty of her blood and it was almost enough to make him weep, if he hadn't known that Squall would hold him in contempt for his tears.

Instead, he stared back mutely at his son, wondering what the boy wanted. Information, likely, Squall was a good soldier if nothing else, and Laguna wished he could take pride in that, instead of it increasing the emptiness that was eating away at his gut.

"Who are you, really?" Squall said quietly, his head tilted slightly as he regarded Laguna with faint curiosity. "We've come halfway across the world and back looking for you, been dragged through your memories...why is it that you're truly so special?"

Laguna was taken aback at the question, so unlike what he was expecting. Strategic planning, perhaps, something for the upcoming battle, but not this, the first purely emotional response he'd ever seen from Squall.

Perhaps there was more to the boy than he'd first thought.

Squall was still waiting, and Laguna shook his head, somewhat helplessly. "I wish I could explain it all to you but there's just not time right now. Afterward, I promise you." He left unspoken that there probably wouldn't be a time later for him to explain. This moment might be the only time alone he ever spent with Squall, his son whom he'd only learned existed a short time ago.

He had hardly been able to believe it when Elaine told him. How she had returned home to Winhill to find a baby brother and dead mother. How they'd gone to the orphanage together only to be separated when Ellone had been adopted. And how Squall knew nothing about it.

Squall was frowning thoughtfully, and Laguna thought he might protest but instead he said, "You look so familiar to me...why do I know you?"

Laguna said nothing, having no answer to that he could give. A glance in a mirror would answer far better than he ever could, if Squall knew what to look for. There was so much of himself in the young man's face, a fascinating mixture of him and Raine. He wondered suddenly if Raine had ever had a chance to see the boy, if she'd held him for just a time or if she'd died without ever looking at her son. Laguna closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight any longer.

The softness of a mouth brushing against his own shocked him and he jerked back reflexively. Hands caught at his shoulders, stilling him and rubbing gently, as if he were a wild chocobo being soothed for riding, and the tip of a tongue traced his lips.

"Shh, it's all right," Squall murmured, his breath gusting over Laguna's still damp lips. "It's all right," he repeated, more warmth in those few words than Laguna had heard in everything else he'd heard Squall say put together.

"Wait...don't..." he stammered, seized with a sudden terror of what was happening. This was Raine's son, -his- son, and he was pushing Laguna backwards onto the bed, his hands agonizingly cool and soft as they delved beneath the scratchy blankets in search of warm skin.

A warm, wet mouth pressed against his neck, and Laguna arched into it unthinkingly.

"Wait..." Laguna tried again. "You don't understand."

"I don't want to understand. I don't care. I just need this."

"We can't..." his voice trailed away as Squall lifted his head, piercing him with Raine's eyes.

"I'm going to die," Squall said, softly. "We're all pretending it's not true, all of us. Faking that we'll come back, but we all know better. You know better. We're going to die and I..." he hesitated, "I want this."

One of Squall's hands slipped between Laguna's legs, firmly squeezing the warm bulge he found there, and Laguna barely had the presence of mind to be grateful he'd worn pants to bed.

"I want this...and you want it too."

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keelywolfe

August 2013

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