thirtyseventh | (no subject)

[voice testing]

[Johnny doesn't really get hangovers - thanks, demon side - but whatever happened last night sure is blurry. It must have involved a lot of booze really fast.

He fidgets awake, ribbing his eyes as he tried to piece together what happened. Heading out for the night, meeting up with... someone, and having a good time. No fights this time.

He shifts over to his side, ready to get out of bed and find his clothes, when he sees he's not alone.

Oh. Dylas.

So yeah, a pretty good night after all. He opts to stay in bed and see how his bed mate is fairing.]

Hey. You awake?

[Dylas doesn't get hangovers, either, because he doesn't drink as much as Johnny does. There was definitely alcohol involved—he keeps his fridge stocked for Johnny, after all, but someone had to be more sober between them.

At some point during his night out, he must've run into Dylas at the restaurant, which is reason enough for them to go home and drink together.

Dylas is fine with it. He wouldn't let Johnny into his bed if he didn't trust the man, so drinking enough to lose some inhibitions and seeing where things fall isn't a bad way to do things, he just remembers a bit more of it than Johnny does.

His ears flick up when he's spoken to. He's awake. He mutters something against his pillow and arm before he leans back.]

Oh. Good. You're still here.

[He likes it more when they wake up together. Unfortunately for Johnny, Dylas almost definitely has a crush on him.]

We're in my apartment.

[He's either joking that Johnny drank so much the night before that he might not remember walking home with Dylas, or he's being sincere in trying to paint him a better picture.]

Don't sound so excited to see me.

[He's joking, scratching the back of his head add he looks around the room]

For a sec, I thought I was in my own place. Man, I don't remember what we got up to but it musta been somethin'.

[He flopped back down. He wasn't in a rush or anything.]

What? No, I'm...not unexcited.

[Dammit, Johnny. He's just going to elbow him as he sits up. It must have been something, because the sheets are all in disarray. If they did something in bed, it could have been fighting. It was definitely more than fighting, but they didn't hold back, that's the point.]

It was...something alright. One of us had to be sober enough to unlock the door.

[Meaning he remembers parts of the night better. And what he remembers? He really, really likes. He also likes just looking down at Johnny, so he'll lay back down instead of remaining sitting.]

Do you want to know?

[How long has Squall been up? Who knows. Hours maybe. All that's for certain is when Dylas wakes up and sees him, Squall looks as though he's been sitting up with his back resting against the headboard all night. A deep frown is on his face - the one he usually wears when he's thinking - and he absently rubs at the scar between his eyes. Clearly he's been at that particular habit for a while - the skin around his scar is an angry red from the constant irritation.

When he hears shifting next to him, Squall glances over to his bedmate, lips pressing into a tighter grimace as their eyes meet. He considers letting Dylas break the silence, but when a few moments pass his mouth opens uncertainly.]

...Morning. [The greeting falls a bit flat in sincerity, honestly. But he's never been good at that sort of pleasant, idle conversation anyway.]

Edited 2016-03-17 23:08 (UTC)

[Dylas is a little awake. Well, he's actually very awake once he remembers what happened last night. With all the fighting that they have to do as SeeDs, all that teamwork and shit, it was only a matter of time before he figured out he kind of sort of liked someone more than the rest. And Squall was that person, the least annoying, the one Dylas somehow became the most fond of. And that meant sometimes acting out. At other times, it meant awkwardly trying to get to know him, something neither of them were particularly good at.

So, how exactly did their night get so crazy that he ended up on his knees, exactly? Or later, with Squall on top of him? He can't even say anything back, now that he's awake he has to wait until the red in his face (buried against his arm) fades away. He. Really liked that. They're both stoic, intense people.

Dylas is just a lot more embarrassing beneath that than Squall is.]

Yeah.

[Squall looks unhappy. Dylas, meanwhile, is trying to keep his ears and tail still. He still feels fantastic from the night before. Shit. He has no idea what to talk about.]

...You look pissed off. Again.

[Squall's eyes widen briefly in surprise at the accusation, before he glances away to stare determinedly at the bare wall across from them.

Pissed off?]

I'm not. [Not really. It'd be a lie to say he didn't enjoy what transpired last night.]

There's just...a lot to take in. [And there was.

It's not to say he didn't like Dylas before this. He had felt a kinship with him from their first assignment. He didn't push and pull like Zell and Seifer, insisting that Squall needed to be someone he wasn't, and that was enough to make him fond of the man, in his own way. Enough to seek him out for training, glad for the amiable silence between them instead of Seifer's harsh words or Zell's fumbles for conversation.

Maybe it was Squall's fault they ended up here, when the exhaustion and euphoria of a harsh training session led him to lean against Dylas almost affectionately as they made their way back to the dorms. He remembered stopping outside his own room. He remembered a kiss, though who first initiated it escaped him. He remembered the chaste, timid touches falling into something more passionate and carnal with breakneck speed, as if they had both been desperate for this moment all along.

No, he can't think of that right now. He can't think of how tantalizing it was to have a man like Dylas laid bare right below him.

What he should think is, thank god SeeDs get their own room.]

[He says “pissed off” partially because if Squall starts talking about that being a mistake, he kind of wants to beat him to the punch a little. Dylas might not berate Squall or get overly excited (except for when he’s trying to be more social), but he gets his feelings hurt easily.]

Oh. [He pauses at that. Maybe he’d come on too strong? Well. Whatever. Squall knows by now that Dylas can come across a lot harsher than he intends to, it’s...probably not a problem.

The problem is that Dylas can’t really sit up smoothly without the sheets falling off of him and reminding everyone in the room that he’s naked. Late night training sessions were always good fun. He’s not the kind of person who falls asleep easily as things get more and more intense outside of the Garden, so working up a sweat before retiring seemed like a good idea at the time. But now he’s naked and in bed with just about the only person he feels close to. And that’s kind of scary.

So he’s just going to lay where he is, making himself a bit more comfortable while also trying not to think about how Squall still looks handsome in the light of day. His tail is starting to swish underneath his sheet. He’s still surprise Squall went for it, he’s pretty sure that the fact he has a tail (probably because of prolonged time spent with his GF, Ixion) would have been a dealbreaker.]

I’m not pissed off, either. [In fact, his face might be a little red. He’s trying to fight it.] You...you fought good last night.

Thanks. [Pause.] You too.

[Sometimes he wishes he was better at conversation. It sure would help move things along right now. As it stands, there's a painful, awkward silence between them as each wait on the other to take the next step.

Squall's eyes travel lazily to the movement of the tail underneath the sheets. That took some getting used to at first, but it wasn't really as much of a distraction as he thought. It even had its own charm, something Squall becomes acutely aware of as the soft hair brushes momentarily against his leg.

God. It's too early for this. He shifts into the mattress, back sliding down the headboard until his head comes to rest back on the pillow. He turns his head to the side, face even with Dylas now, something strangely intimate and painfully precarious about looking him in the eyes while laying prone beside him.

He's never woken up with someone next to him before. He doesn't know what do to, what to say. For the first time in a long, long time, Squall is apprehensive about making a wrong move and ruining whatever relationship he had or could possibly have.

There was plenty to say, of course, plenty of words right on the tip of his tongue:

It was nice.

I didn't mind it.

We could do it again.

But sincerity was difficult for him, and he was no good at letting his body language do the talking either. He felt stuck on a sinking ship, with supplies all around him and no idea how to use any of it. And he was rapidly running out of time.]

...You okay? [It's a lame offering, but it's the best he can do, for now.]

You’re a good training partner.

[Dylas doesn’t feel like he nailed those compliments. He’s just going to bury his head in his arm for a moment, ears flicking backing a little in shame. When he decides to lift his face, it’s because Squall is sliding back into bed next to him. Now that they’ve had sex, staring at him is a lot easier than it used to be. Somehow. It should be more awkward, but he’s more fine with it.

The silence is making things awkward enough anyways. Just like Squall, he’s waiting for someone to say something, for any sort of distraction that could segue them out of this. Not only is this Dylas’ first time with Squall, it’s his first time ever, which means he has even more inexperience with what to say here. And, like Squall, he knows what he wants to say, he just doesn’t know...how to say it. Or if he should.

Unlike Squall, if Dylas is left alone long enough, he eventually folds under pressure and blurts something out.]

I’m fine. I’m not that sore.

[Crap, he’s not sure if Squall was talking about the state of his ass or not. Did he just say too much? And he said that while making eye contact, too. He closes his eyes. He can do this. He really wants to do this.]

I enjoyed that. I, uh, had a good time with you.

[It’s not a declaration of love, more a declaration that he hopes it wasn’t a mistake.]

...Did you? Shit. Don't let this make things weird between us.

[Again, he's. Nailing the conversation, completely. Luckily, there's a pause between "did you" and "shit" so they don't sound like the same phrase.]

[He was just asking in general, ass included, so it's all good.

Squall stays silent as Dylas speaks, lips pressed together in a thin, grim line. He heaves a sigh before twisting to lay on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as he looks at Dylas.]

It was different. [Pause.] But not bad.

[This is completely new territory for him, in many ways. Squall doesn't like to show any sort of vulnerability, would sooner lash out with icy words to drive people away than let them in.

But...he didn't want to drive Dylas away. He enjoyed their tentative camaraderie. He enjoyed having a friend that didn't push his buttons to make him more sociable. And while he never expected this to happen, well...it wasn't so bad, laying here next to someone felt he could trust.

Dylas seemed to be as at a loss as he was. It was some comfort, to see their feelings on the subject were relatively similar.]

...I have another free evening in a few days. [That's as genuine as he can force himself to be. He can only hope Dylas understands what he's saying.]

[Well, there might have been times where Dylas pushed Squall to be more social with him, but things like beating the crap out of monsters and pulling Squall out of situations where he might be forced to interact with annoying people are great “not a date” activities. Or so Dylas thinks, he never considered it like that, just that he wanted to spend more time with Squall. It was only recently that he’d discovered he had a crush on someone, probably because they were a little similar.]

It was...pretty good for me. [He just wants to make that clear, since he’s the one who might have to walk funny today if he didn’t remember to draw some Curas on his last mission.

He kind of wants to do more. While he’s awake. He isn’t about to voice that, though, he doesn’t want to scare Squall off, especially when a free evening is mentioned and it gets his heart racing a little. His ears perk up happily, betraying his thoughts on the issue before he can even voice them.]

Yeah. Me, too. We can train more...if you want to.

[It’s not a euphemism. If they’re going to do this, beating up monsters is really good foreplay. As someone who’s only had sex a grand total of once, he’s pretty sure the two of them being sweaty and sore from their workout had been one of the best parts of last night to begin with.]

[As stiff and standoffish as he is, it's actually not hard to entice Ramirez to bed if he's fond of you. An eagerness to please and a craving for emotional intimacy makes for a surprisingly willing partner, even with all his hangups.

And it's even nicer when the resulting climax makes it easy to sleep through the rest of the night undisturbed - a luxury Ramirez doesn't experience very often. As it stands, he awakes with pleasant exhaustion still tugging at his senses, a nice change of pace from the usual insomnia.

The body heat radiating from Legault's nearby form is noticeable, though it doesn't fill Ramirez with the usual unease that having someone so close to him would. Last night burned with the pleasant warmth of a candlelit glow in his mind, washing his mental walls away like water. There's a fleeting, delirious instinct to twine his arms around Legault's form and pull him closer with uncomfortable, unrestrained affection. It's something he's soon to reluctantly put out of his head - he has no desire to alarm Legault and possibly trigger the honed reflexes of an experienced assassin. What a ruinous interruption to the hazy remnants of afterglow that would be. Instead, he settles for shifting closer, forehead lightly pressing against Legault's shoulder.

It's nice, being close to someone. The affection was addictive to someone who had spent so long without it.]

[And as surprisingly eager to bed people as Legault seems, it's a surprisingly much more difficult endeavor to convince him to sleep with someone who genuinely enjoys being around him. It creates an awkward dance between the two, of Ramirez wanting to please and of Legault respecting Ramirez and wanting him to agree for better reasons.

But eventually a dance comes to an end, the lights go out, and things get more interesting. Now that they're past their first time, Legault's only concern is making sure his own libido doesn't overwhelm Ramirez's. He has to be careful with this one, he's quite fond of him. They have similarities, after all. He wonders if Ramirez can tell the difference. There are times, when he's on a job and has taken his younger friend with him, that he's required to sleep but it still up at a moment's notice. He wonders if Ramirez has noticed that when he sleeps against him that the sleep is deep, trusting, and not easily woken from.

He wonders how Ramirez feels about that.

He stirs, mumbling softly at the touch from behind him. He can't help but smirk to himself even in the late hours of the morning. He's the little spoon here, despite him being the one who had ravished Ramirez the night prior. Getting him to be comfortable with being touched is something Legault's a little proud of, but not in a way where he prides himself over Ramirez. He's proud of their relationship.

It's so rare to feel safe.]

You're already awake, aren't you?

I am. [And he's still tired, with the majority of his muscles slack and relaxed. A nice change of pace from his whole body being on high alert from the moment he woke up.

He could get used to this, maybe. Ramirez's sex drive isn't particularly high, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy everything last night had to offer. His breath hitches in his throat as flashes of memories burn through his mind - hot breath marking his skin and long, silky hair tickling his face, his chest, his thighs.

Shaking the thoughts away with a shiver, he takes the acknowledgement as an opportunity, and Ramirez's hand ghosts over his bedmate's exposed skin before he twines his arm comfortably around Legault's abdomen.

Ramirez learned quickly that when an inch was given, he was only all too happy to close the distance. That might have been why their awkward dance had finally come to an end last night, come to think of it, as he finally met Legault's gentle flirtation with a desire that went beyond merely pleasing someone he felt devoted to.

The feeling of selfish lust was a new one, though not unwelcome - it had allowed last night to transpire, after all. And what an odd relief that was; to someone with such low self-worth, Legault's respect almost felt like rejection, his care more like deliberate distance and disinterest.]

My apologies if I interrupted your rest. You must be tired. [He shifts his head slightly upward, letting his voice drop into a soft, affectionate tone next to Legault's ear.] Please don't mind me. Continue as you wish.

[Common words from him - Ramirez always apologized in advance once Legault stirred awake, whether he had a hand in it or not - but the unrestrained tenderness in his tone was new.

Devotion and passion from a man like Ramirez always ran deep, and any barriers that held it back had yet to be once again built up after last night.]

[It’s a little. Funny, that would be the word Legault would use. It’s not very often you find a man as damaged as Ramirez or Jaffar. The largest difference between the two of them is that Legault had met Ramirez at a crossroads of his life and had plenty of time to get to know him. That’s not to say his friendship with Ramirez is all pity, though. It’s never been pity, just caution. There are plenty of traits to admire in Ramirez, especially the loyalty he carries, the type of loyalty Legault could never have. And from there, it’s patience, watching a more healthy relationship blossom long after Ramirez had earned his complete and total trust.

So it’s funny, then, that he’s the one being spooned, that he has the arm around his waist when he’d spent a lot of time watching Ramirez and protecting him in ways other than with a sword or by keeping alert at night.

But he’s not going to complain. He’s quite comfortable here.]

Persistent, aren’t you? Well, I hate to disappoint, but going back to sleep would mean I wouldn’t be able to feel your arm around me. [Ah, how he’s said lines that before. In front of Ramirez, even. Though their relationship will continue on without a title, he’ll need to make every step to make sure Ramirez knows that his lines are, fortunately and unfortunately, reserved solely for him from this point on.

So he turns in bed so he can crane his neck and kiss Ramirez again, right on the cheek unless he decides he wants something more. He’ll have to get used to affectionate gestures in private and pretending to be aloof and unattached in front of others. They each other’s weaknesses now as much as they are each other’s greatest strength. Charisma and cunning in one body, devotion and strength in the other. They’ve always been a deadly pair, now they’re just a pair in every way.]

How are you feeling, then? I hope I wasn’t too hard on you.

[This is the aftercare, then, though he doubts that a few rounds of sex are enough to keep Ramirez from performing any task. Legault brushes a strand of lavender hair out of his face, his hair more unkempt than usual now that he’s had such an active night and a long, restful morning. His voice is low, a whisper, so they can talk right at each other without having to pull away.]

[Ah yes, he was indeed used to those lines. Plenty of times when they were said in front of him, plenty of times where Ramirez had averted his eyes politely to give the exchange some semblance of privacy.

He never complained, never showed any distress or jealousy. And while he's certainly pleased to have Legault's brand of affection directed at him for the moment, Ramirez isn't the type to assume he'll have his exclusive attention outside this bedroom.

But that's fine to him. This is fine. For the moment, this is all that matters - even as Ramirez's grip tightens a bit at Legault's words, an unconscious thread of possessiveness seeping into his touch.

He pulls back slightly when the lips touch his cheek, surprised at such a chaste gesture of affection. So gentle and sweet, and it didn't ask for anything Ramirez wasn't willing to give. He never would have expected to be the receiver of something like that. It makes Ramirez wish he didn't have the instinct to pull away so the moment would have lasted a little longer, so he could bask in the shiver of such a sweet touch.

Instead, he moves to reciprocate, pressing his lips to Legault's temple in a gentle apology for the inadvertent rejection.]

Sorry - you surprised me. [And he's perfectly content to lay here and cling onto this moment for as long as he can, until Legault breaks the silence and makes him look up with hazy confusion.]

Hard on me? [Then the lines connect in his mind and he flushes slightly at the content of the question, even as he speaks quite candidly.]

No - I'm fine. I can endure whatever you wish of me. [Probably not the most comforting way of wording that - he is fine, but Ramirez always had a high tolerance for pain and a tendency to hide wounds.

He learned quickly to keep weakness to himself.]

[While Legault will always have a flair for theatrics and plenty of lines available to fluster men and women alike, he’s never been quite the floozy he makes himself out to be. He flirts, yes, but sometimes as a mean of keeping distance between himself and others. A man as unpopular as him is dangerous to his company, after all, and it’s a harmless hobby at its worst. He has no need to keep it up if Ramirez and he are moving in the direction he thinks they are.

As for the kiss, well, he’s not surprised Ramirez is still having reactions like that. He’s used to it, thinks nothing of it, and accepts the apology kiss.]

It’s alright. Though if you hadn’t said anything, I might’ve worried you’d suddenly found me repulsive. Wouldn’t that be awkward?

[Every bit of the tone in his voice is teasing, though part of him knows he should really know better than to tease Ramirez by this point His other question hadn’t been meant to tease, however, he just wants to make sure his partner is feeling healthy.]

That was never a question. When it comes to strength, you have me outmatched in every way, after all.

[He has no doubt about that. He reaches out, slowly, to stroke his cheek with his thumb as he shifts to get a better look at him. It’s much nicer to wake up with his comrade than it is to wake up with him already dressed and scowling so unpleasantly.]

As long as you’re fine, then.

[And he’ll attempt to kiss once more, this time squarely on Ramirez’ lips.]

I'd never think of you as such. [In contrast to Legault's teasing, it's said with painful, adamant sincerity.

His breath catches in his throat when Legault strokes his cheek - little touches like those, when he's not jumpy enough to pull away, always pull him undone with impressive speed. Ramirez can impassively endure any rough treatment thrown his way, but even the smallest kindness can turn him pliant and malleable in another's hands.

And if you asked him, Legault was always so very, very kind.

Ramirez hand shifted from its possessive grasp on Legault's waist to trace a path up his arm, the calloused palm coming to lightly rest on the hand stroking his cheek. There are several frightening words dancing on the tip of his tongue, yet despite the great intimacy of the night before, Ramirez is unsure if he should say anything at all.

It is not his place. But Legault is being so gentle, so kind, and his thumb traced a path of stinging sweetness that seemed to make his skin light up under the touch.]

You're kind to worry.

[Anything else he was thinking of saying is lost to Legault pressing his lips against his. There's a moment of stiff, uncertain hesitance, but Ramirez doesn't pull away from the kiss this time. Instead, he leans into it heavily, desperately, like he's afraid Legault will slip through his fingers and disappear.]

[not sure yet idk]

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Jungo Torii

Gaius Worzel

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Legault

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