For the first time, perhaps in the entirety that they've known each other, Squall sees the cracks in Seifer's bravado. There's something painfully earnest in the eyes that look up at him. Like Seifer trusts him with every inch of himself. He never thought Seifer would be the type to soften into sincerity but now he can't imagine why it hadn't crossed his mind before because of course Seifer with all of his ideals, all of his romantic dreams, is going to approach this with sincerity.

The vulnerability it must require feeds the need inside of Squall. He wants to trap Seifer against the nearest wall or between the mattress and not let him up until every scarred inch of him has been kissed and cared for. It isn't just desire that smarts like a whiplash across his heart. It's something more.

"Whatever you want," he pants in offering as he keeps his hips from arching forward into the mouth that still manages to be a tease. The flick of that tongue making all of his sense briefly leave him.

"Open up," the order would sound vulgar if it wasn't panted out with an acute tenderness. "Let me give it to you. It's yours. It's always been yours, Seifer."

And if Seifer needs the encouragement, Squall is more than happy to hook his hand gently around his jaw to better angle himself to the mouth he wants to sink into and the body he wants to call home.