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"Oh yeah, baby. Just there. Just.... ungh... there..."


"No, that's... ungh... fine. Just... oh, fuck, Squall, that's good."

"Tell me when you've had enough."

"Keep going, babe. It's been bothering me all day. That's... fucking... heaven..."

Squall smiled to himself, and kept scratching Irvine's back while he arched and purred. He surveyed Irvine's smooth skin critically.

"I think you've got a spot coming," he pronounced.

Irvine tensed in horror, twisting around and craning his neck to try and see the offending portion of his mid-back. "What?! I don't get spots! I never get spots!"

Squall grinned. "Made you look."

Irvine's eyes narrowed. "Are you winding me up?"

Squall just grinned some more.

"Wanker!" Irvine yelled, and tackled Squall back on to the bed in one swift move. He sat astride him, denim-clad thighs slipping easily over leather. Squall laughed, and completely failed to fight back, except to lock his hands around Irvine's wrists in a token defensive manoeuvre.

"You deserve it," he said. "You're impossibly vain, sometimes."

"I am not!" protested Irvine. "I have to think of my adoring public, is all."

"What adoring public?"

"I have groupies, you know." An irresistible grin appeared on Irvine's face. "I had a rather nice one last night in the training centre, as it happens."

"Slut," said Squall, affectionately. Irvine tried to look a little hurt.

"I think of it as being generous with the limited and wonderful resource that is my person," he said.

"Vain slut," said Squall. And he ran the tip of his pink, wet tongue over his lower lip.

Irvine groaned, transfixed, watching helplessly as Squall's tongue disappeared again. He couldn't tear his eyes away from those glistening lips, the hint of even white teeth, and his cock twitched hopefully in his pants at the memory of how it felt to slip into the warm, wet cavern of Squall's mouth and-

He'd give it all up, if Squall asked. He'd be a one man guy, just like that; Squall had only to snap his fingers and Irvine Kinneas would embrace monogamy in an instant. Not that Squall was ever likely to; Irvine knew him well enough after their two years or so together to realise that Squall wasn't possessive in that way. Or maybe because he knew Irvine would be exclusive if he asked, that meant there was no need to ask. And after all, Squall liked a bit of diversity himself, and there was always Rinoa. But.

He'd do anything for Squall. Anything. And that heady realisation, along with the hot temptation of his lover's perfect mouth, made Irvine's very soul thrum with lust and other feelings too big to name.

Squall clamped a hand over the rock-hard ridge in Irvine's jeans, and smiled his heart-stopping, lop-sided smile. "Groupie not enough for you, then?"

Irvine grinned right back. "You know how it is with a quick shag like that," he said. "Great at the time, but give it an hour and you just want another one."

Squall's eyes went wide, and he absentmindedly dropped Irvine's wrists. "You mean... there really was...."

Irvine laughed, and set about undoing the buttons on Squall's shirt.

"Tease," grunted Squall, and as Irvine's shirt was already off, he started on his jeans instead.

"So now we're quits."

"Not nearly," said Squall, savagely stripping Irvine of his belt and making short work of the zipper. He wrenched his own shirt impatiently over his head at the same time, swearing when it got caught on his ears. Then Irvine's cool fingers were stroking up his belly and chest, circling his tingling nipples, pinching them stiff. Irvine leaned forwards, lips nibbling their way up Squall's neck and jaw to capture his mouth. Tongues flickering and sliding against each other, twisting and chasing, tasting, breath short, pulse quick, need blossoming between them until Irvine lost track of time, and thought, and anything much except Squall's body squirming under him. Lean hips rocking, hands cupping his ass, tugging him forwards.

Irvine broke their kiss, sat up for a moment to scoop his hair back and over one shoulder, taking in the flush on Squall's cheeks, the heat in his eyes, the moisture glistening on his lips. And that tongue, again, darting out, teasing, slickening already-wet skin. Irvine couldn't drag his gaze away from it, suddenly very sure what he wanted. Needed.

"Oh, Squall, babe..."

Squall was one step ahead of him as usual; he shoved Irvine's ass, encouraging him to shimmy up his body, tugging down his jeans at the same time so his dick sprang free, the air shockingly cool on heated skin. He lifted Squall's head, tugged a pillow under it, and held his cock with trembling fingers, lining it up, offering it, precome dripping from the end.

Squall's perfect pink tongue darted out and scooped up the clear liquid in one rasping wet dash across the tip of Irvine's cock. Irvine squeezed his eyes tight shut, trying to keep from coming there and then all over Squall's beautiful face. It was only sheer willpower and the intense desire to feel that tongue swirling around his aching flesh again that stopped him. And then just barely.

Squall snickered, realising, no doubt, how close a call it had been. One of the problems of having sex with men, Irvine thought, was that they knew too damn much. Especially Squall. And he showed no sympathy for Irvine's plight; Irvine's eyes flickered open to see Squall's tongue snaking towards him again, darting out to tickle another few drops of precome from the end of his cock, working its way around to push his foreskin right back, lapping at the smooth ridges around the crown, settling to press against his frenum just exactly right, so wet and firm and warm and wriggling against his flesh...

Irvine watched as Squall slowly took his cock into his mouth, just the barest scrape of teeth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked it in, fist closing around the root of it as the head bumped into the soft dome of flesh at the back of Squall's mouth. Irvine bit his lip, panting as Squall swallowed, murmured vibrations along the length of Irvine's impossibly hard cock and started to suck in earnest. Moving his fist to encourage Irvine's swing of hips - as if he needed any encouragement to fuck, to watch his dick disappearing again and again between Squall's lips, to feel the soft, wet welcome of his mouth, slick tongue and soft flesh holding him snug, rasping against him as he moved. Fingers cradled his balls, tickled the soft spot behind them, stepped up to his hole and circled, tormenting sensitive skin, but Irvine could barely feel it, the sensations of Squall's talented mouth on his cock were so intense. So good. So slick-perfect and hot.

Squall's eyes were shut, long lashes meshed together as he concentrated, and oh, Hyne, but he'd started to do that twisting thing, screwing Irvine's cock one way with his mouth and the other with his hand, wringing the come out of his balls whether he liked it or not, and then his eyes were open, gleaming wickedly at him, knowing Irvine couldn't help it, wouldn't help it, couldn't stop himself, and Irvine toppled forwards, barely supporting himself on shaking arms as his body shuddered its release, sperm rushing from tight-snapped balls to squirt into the depths of Squall's mouth. Squall coughed, the constriction around the tingling head of Irvine's cock so delicious it made him cry out, sound loud enough to scrape his throat, hips jerking, skin crawling to goosebumps, shoulders trembling. Coming 'til there was nothing left, and then some more, the last, dry twitches dragging painfully on his balls, but he didn't care.

Squall kept sucking and licking until Irvine's dick softened, and even then rolled it on his tongue until the touch was too bright and sore, and Irvine slipped away, collapsed in a heap at Squall's side, still panting for want of breath as he reached down to find Squall's cock. It was hard and thick and sliding in Squall's hand already; Irvine simply wrapped his fingers over Squall's and rode his rhythm, watching through hazy, sleepy eyes as Squall's hips flexed and his cock surged, and finally shot streaks of white over Squall's belly and chest.

Irvine's jaw ached from smiling; he scooped up a taste of Squall's come, licked his fingers, looked up at Squall and let the contented expression on his lover's face drift him into sleep.

* * * * * * *

It was almost dark when he woke. His face was a little numb on one side where it had been pressed into Squall's bony ribs. He could smell come and the musky scent of Squall, and a distant hint of gun oil. He was slightly cold, chilled from sleeping half-naked with no covers, and there was an annoying beeping noise coming from the door.

"Hey!" Rinoa's voice, through the intercom. "Zell and Odine are ready when you are, guys. I forgot my keycard. Let me in? Come on, guys, please?"

Squall stirred; Irvine sat up and reached for his shirt, flicked on the lights. "Coming, babe. Just a sec."

Squall snorted.

Irvine opened the door and Rinoa came in, casting her eyes wistfully over their half-naked selves. "I guess I missed something, huh?"

"Sorry, Princess," said Irvine, smoothing his hair back into its ponytail. "You know how irresistible our glorious leader can be."

"Oh yeah," said Rinoa, with feeling. "I wonder if he's worked it out yet? I'm sure he wouldn't torture the whole of Garden by wandering about being that sexy all the time if he knew what it does to everyone."

"Standing right here," said Squall gruffly.

"So you are," said Rinoa. She smiled, slid her arms around his middle and kissed his chest. "Ew. Sticky."

Squall grinned lopsidedly at her. And not a little devilishly, Irvine noticed.

"I'll just get washed," said Squall. "Don't do anything stupid, either of you."

He went through to the bathroom, followed by two pairs of indignant eyes.

"The thing is," said Irvine, hypnotised by the sway of Squall's leather-clad hips, "you can forgive a butt like that anything."

"You really can," agreed Rinoa.

"Ah well." Irvine sat back on the bed and yawned. Yanked his jeans around and tried to get his chaps straight; they were all twisted and uncomfortable at the back.

Rinoa roamed around the room, trailing her fingers idly over the objects on top of the bookcase. Souvenirs from Ultimecia: a broken aura stone; a Mesmerise horn; a shell from the beach at Balamb. A lamp.

"D'you know what this is?" Rinoa frowned and picked the lamp up.

Irvine shrugged. "Dunno. Squall's had it for ages. Never thought to ask."

"It could do with a polish," she said, tugging her sleeve over the heel of her hand, ready to wipe it over the brass.

"You shouldn't do that," said Irvine, with a grin. "A genie might pop out."

Rinoa laughed, but rubbed anyway. "See, it'll come up a treat," she said, as the metal started to take on a new gleam. In a few moments the whole lamp was shining brass. She held it away from her, admiring her handiwork. "See? It's quite pretty."

"Yeah," said Irvine, shrugging his arms into his duster and not really taking much notice.

"I wonder what-"

Squall burst into the room, taking them both by surprise.

"No! Rinoa, stop, that's!"

Too late.

The lid of the lamp fell from a startled Rinoa's hand, followed shortly by the lamp itself, as a twisting, sickening-black mist poured out of it. Shimmered, oil-thick and evil, and took shape. A demon, winged and huge, all but filling the room with red and black-skinned muscle, crimson eyes gleaming power.


"Fuck!" said Squall. "Junction, quick! It's Diablos!"

"Certainly looks diabolical to me," muttered Irvine, and then caught the look in Squall's eyes. This was serious, he realised. Deadly serious.

Irvine called Quez and Leviathan, surged power through Exeter until it hummed, but he didn't have a chance to so much as scan the creature before it hit. Blasted them with a gravity attack that felt like being twisted inside out and upside down and spat out hard against the ground, that left Rinoa crumpled on the floor, gasping and fumbling desperately for a cure.

"It holds Demi," said Squall, who was still standing, clearly furious, although whether with Rinoa or Diablos or both Irvine couldn't be sure. "Draw and cast back. It's our only hope."

Only hope? They'd defeated Ultimecia and here Squall was saying...

Holy shit.

Irvine pulled on his GFs power and drew the magic out of Diablos as fast as he could, sensed Squall doing the same. Hurled it straight back, slamming the creature against the wall, and again as Squall's spell hit; felt a rush of healing power as Rinoa cured him.

He hadn't even realised how much he was hurt, hadn't felt the blood on his face until it evaporated in a whisper of magic. He braced himself, waited for the GFs to recover enough to grant him another try, wracked his brains for some kind of defence, but couldn't think of one. Not against gravity magic. All they could do was hang in there and-

A slice of searing pain, claw-rent flesh screaming out at him, and he must have blacked out for a second, only coming to as Rinoa cured him again. Ques sang to him and he attacked without thinking, fast as he could: power, draw, cast.

And so it went on. Blast after blast, able to do no more than hope that he'd survive Diablos' counter attacks somehow, totally reliant on Rinoa's magic.

And then Rinoa fell.

She'd taken too great a risk, healing Squall when she should have healed herself first, and she was gone, crumpled at Irvine's feet, her spell fizzed to nothing. Irvine could only grapple for a potion, something, anything, but he was too late; the ball of gravity hit Squall hard, and Irvine heard him scream and couldn't bear it, and then Squall was down.

Both of them. Out. Just him left, and he was barely standing. Irvine felt the will rush out of him as he looked at Squall, bleeding, unconscious, hurting. Not going to get better, because Irvine had no time. Diablos' claws were headed his way and he had no time to heal, no power to cast, they'd die, all three of them here. Irvine convulsed with grief; he choked back a sob.

Diablos' grin mocked him as he flicked his talons, one by one, relishing the damage he was about to do to Irvine's tender flesh.


Irvine took all his power, all his GF's power, every last bright scrap he could find, and surged it into one bullet. No time to draw or cast. Just this. Just the shot.

He raised his rifle, aimed and fired.

Waited to die.

But the grotesque smile vanished from Diablos' face, and as Irvine watched in amazement, not dying, it fell.


Irvine reached out a shaking hand, and drew the Guardian's power.

~Diablos. Junction.~

Not evil power, after all. Just strong, and selfish. But honourable, after a fashion.

~Sniper.~ It's voice echoed in his skull, rich and vibrant.

~Heal them. Diablos, now! Heal them!~

Blue fire flowed from Irvine's fingers, washing over the prone and bleeding bodies at his feet. They stirred; Rinoa first, then Squall, oh, Hyne, Squall, and Irvine was on his knees, holding him so tight it hurt.

He felt Rinoa's arms fold around them both, her chest heaving against his back, whimpering relief.

"Irvine, I can't breathe," came Squall's voice. "Let me go, idiot."

Irvine reluctantly backed off, drew himself to his feet again and helped them both up.

"Gone?" said Squall.

Irvine shook his head. "Junctioned."

"Thank fuck," said Squall. "Cid would've killed me if I'd let it get away."

Irvine laughed weakly; the idea of anyone killing Squall was too close to comfort for him to bear just now.

"Thanks, Irvine," said Rinoa. "I'm sorry, I just-"

Squall turned angrily on her. "You should know better! What the fuck were you thinking of?"

"I'm sorry," Rinoa repeated. "I-"

She was interrupted by the door chime, and Quistis was standing there, hands on her hips, ready to chew them out for being so late, Irvine guessed. But she stopped in her tracks when she saw the wreckage of their room. Gravity attacks weren't kind to furniture.

Irvine closed his eyes, a sudden wave of panic running through him. Rode it out while Squall explained in clipped, short sentences what had happened. He skimmed over Rinoa's part in the whole thing, though. However mad he got, Squall was always loyal.

Then Quistis and Rinoa were gone, and Squall was looking at him. Anger vanished, replaced by the brooding concern Squall was so good at.

"Are you okay?" Squall asked.

Irvine reached out a shaking hand, cupped the base of Squall's skull and let Diablos flow from him to his commander. "Yours."

Squall's eyes lost focus for a moment as he assessed the new Guardian, junctioned it with slick efficiency. "Interesting," he said.

"Yes," said Irvine. Missing the power a little, but knowing Squall needed it more.

"Thank you," said Squall, with a small smile. Still worried.

Irvine took a deep breath, and tried to let that soothe him. "Just never do that to me again, okay? I'm not good on my own. Need you at my back, or... we were lucky, is all."

"I'll try and remember that," said Squall, and turned to go, but Irvine caught his shoulders, pulled him back and kissed him, long and deep, not satisfied until Squall was gasping, until his heart was pounding in his chest, alive and strong and his.


"We shouldn't keep Odine waiting," said Squall, softly. His fingers whispering over Irvine's hair. Knowing.

They looked at each other for a long moment, before Squall turned away, and strode towards the door.

And Irvine followed.