Maybe Squall should have been more shocked by what he was seeing.
Firstly, it was two guys doing it, on Squall’s bed. Secondly, it was two guys that Squall only knew from Elle’s time/mind-warp power and largely in the past tense. Thirdly, one of them was his father.
President Laguna and his crew were on a diplomatic tour, and Balamb Garden was their vehicle. Squall had let Laguna take his room. It seemed like the polite thing to do, plus the commander suite gave the Estharian president and his people plenty of room to do business and such.
Squall was just doing his commander duties, checking to see that everything was comfortable and safe for President Laguna. That, and Squall had forgotten something that he needed for the following morning. He was as quiet as years of military training taught him to be, with the front door softly hissing as Squall slipped inside the suite. It seemed odd that there would be no security detail standing guard outside. However, within a floating fortress full of young soldiers, maybe Laguna thought the extra detail unnecessary, plus Laguna was a pretty decent soldier himself.
It was late, and all of the lights were extinguished. Squall was not even going to announce himself; Laguna was certainly sound asleep in bed by now. There was a steady, heavy breathing from the bedroom, with some low moaning—Laguna’s leg cramps acting up again?
Squall peeked into the bedroom, and suddenly wished he hadn’t. Laguna was in bed, alright, but he was definitely not sleeping, and definitely not alone.
With just enough moonlight trickling through a gap in the window shade, Squall could make out a pair of long, dark legs wound around Laguna’s waist, with Laguna’s bare ass grinding rhythmically. Kiros was underneath him, as he and Laguna laid belly-to-belly. Kiros’ fingers dug into Laguna’s shoulders, gripping tightly as Laguna’s hips pumped steadily.
Squall's brain was telling him to look away dammit but he could not. He could not move at all.
It was not shock that held Squall frozen in place at the doorframe of his own bedroom. He was more confused than shocked; confused and pissed, really pissed, pissed that Laguna would be this careless to allow anyone, like the son he abandoned, to just walk in and find the President of Esthar and his aide fucking! And they were fucking on Squall’s bed! That is just rude, Squall fumed. If President Laguna and Kiros were planning on doing something like…each other, they really should have locked the door, or put up a “Do Not Disturb” sign (Squall had one readily available, and not just for official visits), or had Ward stand outside.
But Squall was not shocked. There was not enough that he knew about Laguna to be really shocked. Watching Laguna and Kiros doing it did seem to contradict what Squall sort of knew about Laguna’s past. Laguna used to have a crush on Rinoa’s mom, then he produced a human being with Raine, but that did not entirely exclude the possibility of Laguna having sex with men. Besides, Kiros was one of Laguna’s closest friends; Squall saw that first-hand. They had deep history together. They fought together, escaped death together. Watching Laguna thrust feverishly into Kiros, however, did explain that leg-cramp sensation when they were locked in that prison together, alone.
It was a filthy, obscene, possibly mind-scarring sight, and yet, there was a kind of sweetness to it, the way Laguna gently wiped the sweat from Kiros’ face with his fingers, how he cradled Kiros’ head with his arm, the way Kiros’ long fingers slid smoothly down Laguna’s back, rubbing his firm, ample backside, and Laguna did have a nice backside, for a guy his age. It was not the ass of a man who just sat at his desk all day. Squall studied the fine lines of old battle scars that crossed Laguna’s back, that cut across his wiry biceps.
Kiros was not bad-looking, either. He had nice legs, long and slender and muscular, and he looked like he could fold in thirds with his legs locked around Laguna’s trim waist. It was almost hypnotic, watching Laguna’s ass bounce up and down, making wet, sloppy sounds as he pumped faster and faster.
And suddenly, Squall felt strangled by his belts and his pants felt three sizes too tight. He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding in panic.
Squall ducked behind the bedroom doorway, out of sight. He could still hear the wet sounds and ragged moans when Squall, as quietly as his trembling hands would allow, unbuckled his belts. He unzipped himself and, to his horror, felt how hard he was over his underwear. He just needed to scratch an itch, work it out of his system a little bit as he rubbed himself over the soft fabric of his underwear, trying not to make a mess of himself. He felt himself throb painfully when he heard high-pitched cries and a low, hissing obscenity from the bedroom.
A light turned on from the bedroom. “Hey, kiddo.”
Squall jumped when he heard his father call out to him. He hastily zipped himself up when he turned back into the bedroom.
Laguna was sitting up, the blanket around his hips. He didn’t look angry or annoyed or embarrassed, just smiling sleepily. Kiros was still lying down, his face stone-like, staring at Squall.
“Looks like we’re busted,” Laguna said casually.
“I tried to warn you,” Kiros rubbed his eyes.
“Well, you didn’t warn me hard enough!” Laguna smacked Kiros’ belly.
“Sorry. I…” Squall completely forgot why he came into the suite in the first place, “forgot I needed some gun-blade shells for early-morning training tomorrow.”
“Early morning training?” Laguna cocked an eyebrow. He good-naturedly played along with Squall’s blatant lie. “Good boy! “
“He’s a fine young man,” Kiros gazed at Squall fondly.
“Yeah,” Laguna smiled at Squall, “Doesn’t talk much, though, kinda quiet, deep in his thoughts. Not the kind to spread meaningless gossip.” Laguna’s tone was light and friendly but Squall fully understood the warning underneath, punctuated with Laguna’s knowing stare.
“Whatever,” Squall shrugged. “No one’s damn business.”
“Good boy,” Laguna said softly. “Have a good sleep. And thanks.”
“Good night,” Squall waved quickly, already turned to the door before the words left his mouth. He could not get out fast enough. He just hoped, as he ran to the bathroom, worked off his hard-on and threw himself into the spare-room bed, that one of his GF’s would eat tonight’s memory for breakfast tomorrow.