Silver Shining

By YuriNigasa

~† I n     t h e     m o o n ,    I     w a n t     t o     s l e e p ,    I    w a n t     t o     s l e e p †~

For Tatsurou... this one's properly done

Three a.m.  I threw the covers from my body and put my feet on the cold tile floor.  Shivering involuntarily, I reached for the tee shirt I'd thrown on the floor earlier.  It was useless, trying to sleep like this.  I only wanted to sleep when the sun came up anymore.  The nights, they were too lonely, too impersonal.  Too much like me.  I looked out the window at the bright silver moon.  Beams of light wove through the darkness, weaving a pattern from insubstantial shadows.  Reaching a hand up to the back of my neck, I worked at the kinks in the muscles, rolling my head forward, then to the left, then to the right.  Standing, I reached for an old pair of jeans, tugged them over my slender hips, and buttoned them up.  Opening my door I padded out into the hallway, barefoot, and ignoring the chastising looks from the Faculty when I reached the main hub.  What were they going to do, write me up?  I was the Commander of Garden and I could prowl the halls at three in the morning if I so chose.

Taking the elevator to the second floor, I walked to the door and pushed it open, walking up the small flight of stairs that led to the observation deck.  The moonlight that had flooded my room was twice as bright here, making it seem like day.  The colors around me seemed washed pale and I walked to the railing, grasping it with both hands, feeling the breeze against my skin as we moved toward our next destination.  Like my life, the horizon in front of me seemed devoid of life, of color, of joy.  I had everything I needed and nothing I wanted.  The others had tried to help, honestly they had, and I appreciated their efforts, but how do you tell them when you refuse to admit it to yourself?  Like the moon, I couldn't exist without the sun.

I wanted the only person I could never have.  The only person who had ever known the truth behind the silence.  The only person I had ever truly pushed away.

"You're up late," a voice, low and husky, came from behind me.

My heart began to beat in double time.  "What are you doing up after curfew?  This isn't the Training Center."

A laugh, full of arrogance.  "And what?  The patsy Faculty going to stop me?  You going to stop me?"

Just once I wanted to hear that voice as I imagined it could be, tender, soft, and full of desire.  I didn't respond to the bait, didn't turn around.  This was the game we played.  Push, resist.  Push, resist.  Push, react.

"Didn't think so, Squally.  Shame, really.  I could use a challenge.  Something a little more advanced and a lot less smelly than a Grat.  Well I don't know about the less smelly part, I'm just going to assume you shower on a regular basis, okay?"

I clenched the railing as if I could crush it if I tried hard enough.  What was wrong with me?  I'm standing here, being insulted, and all I can think about is how I want him more than anything.  I want to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face.  Wanted him, for once, to look at me as something other than a target.

"Do you make it a habit of insulting your superiors, Seifer?  I wouldn't recommend it."  I kept my tone frigid, distant, and unemotional.

"You honestly believe that, don't you?  You?  My superior?  Only because they put a title in front of your name, O Great Commander."

Arrogant bastard.  I'm more furious with myself though.  I feel trapped out on the deck.  If I leave, he wins.  If I react, he wins.  If I stay, I'm tortured in more than one way.  I torture me for being attracted to him, and he tortures me by standing there and pushing my buttons.  There's got to be another option, if I look hard enough.

"What?  No witty comeback?  I'm disappointed."

I don't do witty.  I've never been wired for it.  It's like in addition to my memories; the Guardians also took my sense of humor.  Or maybe I just never had one.  Either way, it didn't matter.  It was like Seifer was wired to go on pure impulse.  As soon as the synapses fired in his brain it activated his mouth and spit out whatever he was thinking.  I was the opposite.  I would think of something, think about it again, think some more, and never once open my mouth.

I felt a shove at my back and instantly I turned, reflexes blazing, to grab Seifer by the wrist.  My heartbeat sped up as I made contact with the warm flesh.  I could swear I felt the faint throb of his pulse against my fingers.  He was close, dangerously close.  I could smell the sweat on his skin, see his muscles contract as he moved, see the hazy green of his eyes as he looked down at me.  As if burned, I practically threw his arm away from me.  Folding my arms across my chest, I stared him down.  I cursed silently for reacting to him.  Again.  

I heard the deep rumble of his laughter echo in the night.  "I don't have cooties, Leonhart, don't worry."

I was hardly concerned about imaginary bugs.  I was more worried about the part of me that wanted to shove Seifer against the railing, pull his head down so I could plunder his mouth with my tongue, wrap my legs around his waist, and run my hands through his hair.  He was still so close to me.  Too close.  I turned back around to face outward, unable to look him in the eyes any longer.

That was when I felt his chest against my back, his hips square against my ass, thighs pressing into mine, his arms grasping the railing on either side of me.  It was then that I noticed the feeling of something hard pressing into my backside.  I stood absolutely still, in shock.  I felt Seifer's wet tongue against my ear, heard his heavy breathing, felt his teeth nipping at my earlobe.  He'd never done anything like this, never pushed the line so far.  So what was the angle now?  Abject humiliation at his hands?  Not if I could help it.

Struggling, I pushed back against him, trying to find enough room to turn around so I could push him away.  "Get off me, Seifer," I growled.  "What the hell are you thinking?"  I jammed my elbow back into his ribs and heard him grunt.  He backed up and I turned around, fist clenched in fury.

"That's more like it," he purred.  I couldn't read his expression.  Clouds had fallen over the moon, obscuring the once bright light.  "Although," he said, flicking his gaze in the direction of my hips, "I could say that it looks more like you liked it."

I decked him, pure and simple.  For once I didn't think, didn't analyze, didn't weigh options.  It was liberating to watch him hit the floor, a look of total shock etched on his face.  He lifted a hand to his left cheek as if he'd only believe I hit him if he prodded at the growing bruise.  "The fucking games stop now, Almasy."

"No, dear Commander, I'd say the games are just beginning."  He gathered himself up off the floor and drew himself up, like a cat arching its back to appear bigger.  I'd give him that, he was imposing and he knew it.  Knew how to use it, exploit it, to get his own way.  The clouds moved away from the moon and the light flooded back in full force.  I could see the glint in his eyes, the twist of his mouth, the set of his jaw, and the way his posture echoed the confidence that was pure Seifer.  "So why don't you ante up?  Or are you too scared to?"

"I'd suggest you not even try it, unless you want to be out on your ass tomorrow morning.  You are in violation of the rules laid down for your reinstatement at Garden."  I had to regain control, and fast.

"Maybe if I'm out on my ass tomorrow, it will have been worth it," he shrugged.  Did he not take anything seriously?

"Are you willing to risk that?"  I didn't like the way he was looking at me.  This wasn't the way I wanted things to go.

"You of all people should know I never do anything that I'm not willing to risk everything for."  His tone of voice betrayed nothing as to his true meaning.

"Seifer, it's late.  I suggest you turn around, head downstairs, and get to quarters."  I managed to keep my voice steady.

"Yes, sir."  He was strangely acquiescent.  With his ever-present smirk, he gave a mock-salute and headed off the observation deck.  

I breathed a sigh of relief.  I stared out at the moon.  Watching, observing, remembering every action, every transgression beneath its silver rays.  What had transpired tonight had somehow tainted the purity of its light.  I felt sick, alone, tired, and sorry for myself.  I turned and headed for the doorway.  My steps echoed in the empty hallway as I made my way back to my room.  Opening the door, I reached for the touch lock when I felt my body being pushed against the doorway.  A hand reached up and pushed the button and the door opened.  I stumbled backward into the room.  I looked up to see the glint of golden hair in the silver light.

"Seifer," I hissed.

I could see his smirk in dimness.  "You told me to get to quarters, you didn't say whose.  I told you the game was only beginning.  Maybe next time you'll believe me."

I stood, cold and impassive.  To say I was distrusting of him would be an understatement.

"And you wonder why I act like I do," his voice intruded on my thoughts.  "I wonder what you'd do if I called you a frigid little bitch, Squally?"

Let him call me all the names he wanted, it didn't matter.  All he wanted was the reaction.

"Figures," he snorted.  "Not even a flinch."  He walked up to me, hands folded across his broad chest.  "I'm sick and tired of pushing at you to get your attention you cold-hearted bastard.  It ends right here, right now, tonight," he growled.

What?  Had I heard that right?  I didn't have any more time to dwell on the matter, however, because the next thing I knew I was being pressed back against the wall and Seifer's mouth was on mine.  His hands were running through my hair, tugging at the roots, pulling me further into his greedy kiss.  I was too shocked to respond so I simply stood there, back to the wall.  I felt him pull away, saw his face as he looked down at me.  I watched his expression go from passionate anger to emotionless passivity.  "I see," he said, releasing his hold on me.  "Goodnight, Squall."

That was the first time I'd heard him call me by my name in months.  It had always been 'Squally' this or 'Commander' that or on rare occasions the old standby 'Puberty Boy.'  Great.  The one time I really needed to think and I didn't have time to do it.  The door was opening and he was walking out and in my heart I knew that if I let him go I'd hate myself for it the rest of my life.

"Wait," I called out.  He stopped as if he'd been on a leash and suddenly reached the end of his chain.  He didn't turn around, simply stood there in the open doorway.  "What did you say?"

"I said 'Goodnight, Squall,'" his voice sounded heavy, defeated.

"You realize that's the first time you've used my name in weeks, Seifer?"

"What's your point?"

"I want to hear you say it again," I whispered.

He turned, his body silhouetted against the hallway lights.  I couldn't see the expression on his face.  He stepped forward into the room and the door closed silently behind him.  He walked up to me and put his hand against my jaw, tilting it upward as his thumb gently brushed my cheek.  "Squall," he whispered, and I heard his voice in a way I'd only dreamed of hearing it.

I reached for him, desperate to crush him against me.  As if drawn by some magnetic force we met, body-to-body, mouth-to-mouth.  I heard him utter a low groan as his arms wrapped around my back, drawing me closer to his chest.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to the floor with me, feeling his weight crush down on me.  It was everything I wanted and more than I had ever expected.  I half believed I would wake at any moment, in the dark, and alone.

"Seifer," I whispered against his mouth.  It was prayer, plea, and petition in one word.  

His knee parted my legs and his thigh rubbed against my crotch, exciting me even as he reached down to stroke me through my pants.  Wrapping my leg behind his I pressed my hardness against his hand, shuddering when he applied pressure through the worn denim.  My hands drifted down his back, lifting the hem of his shirt and finding their way down the back of his pants.  I felt a small thrill when my hands made contact with his bare skin.  I squeezed his ass, digging the tips of my nails into the skin.  He hissed, a short intake of breath through clenched teeth.  Teasingly, I ran one finger along the crease between his cheeks.  His breath faltered before he leaned in to devour my lips with his own.

I felt him fumble with the buttons on my fly as he sought entry into my pants.  Removing my hands from the back of his jeans I moved my hands down to undo the remaining buttons before I moved my hands up to push his shirt up his chest and over his head.  Obligingly, he ducked his head so I could pull it over before he removed it from his arms.  Lifting my head up, he put his shirt behind it, lessening the discomfort of my skull against the tile.  I found the gesture remarkably gentle.  Something I'd dreamed he would do, but never thought him capable of.  I put my arms around his shoulders and pulled his neck down against my mouth.  My gentle bites provoked a stream of gasps and moans from his lips.  Pulling away, he rocked back to straddle my leg and reached out for my hands.  

Pulling me upward he stood up and maneuvered for the bed.  I felt my calves pressing against the mattress when his leg wrapped around mine and he pushed me down before reaching his hands up to the waistband of my jeans.  Slowly he peeled them down my hips and legs.  I groaned when I felt the fabric rub against my erection, exciting the already sensitive skin.  I looked up at him.  His body seemed to glow luminously in the moonlight.  I could see the chiseled muscles of his chest and arms, highlighted by moonbeams and defined by shadow.  It was everything I'd ever wanted.  He reached down and undid the button of his jeans, then slowly unzipped the fly, never once taking his eyes off me watching him.  Teasingly he inched them down until I could see the curly hair of his groin peeking out.  I forced myself to look up, to look him in the eyes.

Gone were any and all traces of arrogance or condescension.  In their place all I could see was desire and tenderness.    His hands moved down and he bent over, never breaking eye contact, to remove his jeans.  I sat up and wrapped my arms around his naked form, pressing my face into the warm skin of his stomach, breathing in the scent of him.  His erection pressed into my collarbone and against my neck.  Leaning down, I slipped my tongue over the head of his shaft.  I felt his body shake and his breath catch.  His hands reached down to claw at my back, drawing my shirt upward.  Lifting my arms he pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside.  Wrapping my arms around his hips, I took his head in my mouth as I ran my hands up and down his thighs.  Seifer's hands tangled in my hair, pulling gently as if anchoring himself to me.  I moved my mouth up and down slowly, sucking gently at him.  I felt his knees give way and he leaned into me, pressing me back against the bed and forcing me to remove my mouth.

Seifer straddled my hips, his cock sliding teasingly against mine as he leaned forward to lick at my nipples.  I clutched at the sheets and wrapped my legs around his back, trying to draw him closer to me.  I felt his hand on my outer thigh, trailing down across my upraised bottom.  I flinched when I felt his finger probe around the opening.  Forcing my mouth to form coherent words I mumbled, "Bedside stand drawer." 

Growling low in his throat, he leaned over me and opened the drawer.  Pulling out the bottle of oil he looked at it, then quirked an eyebrow at me.  "Entertain often?" he asked, and for that brief instant I could see him waiting, facade of sarcasm holding back potential hurt.  Why should it matter so much to him?

Looking him dead in the eyes, I replied, "This is a first for me."

"Good," he murmured against my throat.  "Let's keep it that way."

I heard him open the bottle and felt the slick splash of the oil against my stomach.  Running his hand through it he moved his finger back down, spreading the slippery substance around my entrance.  Slowly, he began to push a finger in.  It burned and I whimpered a little.

"Shh," he reassured me.  "It will be alright.  Just relax."

He began to suck on my neck, distracting me from the pain as he inched his finger in slowly.  Then he twisted his finger, pushing it up further and I gasped in pleasure.  I forgot all about the pain, clutching wildly at Seifer's back as he teased the same spot over and over.  I felt the first drops of cum trail down my erection.  I whimpered when he withdrew his finger from me and he chuckled a little.  Then I felt my muscle stretch as he inserted another finger with the other one, sliding them in and out before slipping in a third finger.  I was moaning in Seifer's ear.  I couldn't think, just feel.

"Ready?" he whispered against my ear.

I nodded, unable to form words.  Rubbing the oil on my stomach across his hand again I felt him coating his own shaft with it.  Then, pushing my thighs up and lifting my hips I felt the head of his penis at the stretched opening.  I tensed.

"Relax," he chided gently.  Then I felt him sliding into me.  It was unbearable.  I screamed, digging my nails into his back.  Then he began to slide in and out slowly.  With each thrust he worked himself further into me until he hit that magical spot within me again.  On reflex, I impaled myself further on his shaft.  I heard him gasp.  He froze for a moment, and then began to thrust himself in and out again.  Reaching his oil coated hand down; he grasped my erection and began to stroke me in time with his thrusts.  Each time he hit deep within me I shuddered, bucking my hips and sliding his hand up and down my hard length.  I couldn't stand it.  It was maddeningly slow.  I wanted to feel his skin slap against mine, feel him pound into me, have him jerk me off hard and fast.

"Seifer," I gasped.  "Harder.  Faster."

A moan of pleasure escaped his lips as he leaned down to kiss me.  He increased his thrusts and I shivered in ecstasy.  Reaching my hand down to cover his, I began to help him masturbate me.  It was one of the most erotic things I'd ever experienced, his hand under mine, our fingers entwined, pumping up and down as he thrust into me.  Seifer began to pant, his breath in ragged gasps, his head tossed back and eyes unfocused.  I felt my body tense with each thrust, and I knew I was going to come.  Moaning like an animal, I bucked my hips wildly every time he rammed into me.  My voice grew louder and louder until I realized I wasn't alone in my cries.  Seifer's voice entangled with mine in a language all its own.  I looked up and realized Seifer was staring down at me.  The look in his eyes was undeniable.  More than desire, more than lust, I knew what this meant for him and me.  It sent me over the edge and I came, crying his name, my seed spilling over our hands and down my stomach.  My orgasm sent him over after me, and I felt the heat of his come fill me.  Collapsing on top of me, I could hear his ragged breathing and I could feel his heart pound.

I was hit with a sudden feeling of insecurity.  "Seifer," I whispered.

He grunted, "Yes?"

"Stay with me?" I must have sounded like a scared child.

He looked at me, pressed a kiss to my temple, wrapping his arms around me as best he could.  "Just try to get rid of me."

That night he stayed with me, our bodies entwined and veiled in the silver shining.

He hasn't left since.

I n     t h e     m o o n ,     I     w a n t     t o     s l e e p ,     I  w a n t      t o      s l e e p
W i t h     t h e     s i l e n c e     y o u     h e a l     m e ,       a g a i n
T h r o u g h     t h e     l o n g     a n d     t r y i n g     d a y ,      y o u     s a v e     m e ,     a n d
I n     t h e     m o o n ,      I ' m     j u s t     v e i l e d     i n     t h e     s i l v e r     s h i n i n g

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