Day Off

by scribblemoose

It was wonderfully, gloriously late.

On the forty-fifth day that Irvine woke up with Squall, he stretched out luxuriously, arms and legs reaching for the four corners of the bed. He smiled, and it was so good languishing in a sea of clean sheets and soft pillows that it took a few seconds for him to register that something was wrong.

Squall wasn't there.

Specifically, Squall wasn't within reach, and that wouldn't do at all.

Irvine opened his eyes, emerged from the puddle of pink quilt and peered around the room. Squall's trousers were there: the incredible, tight, zip-up leather ones he'd been wearing the night before. He'd danced in them, pressed up close against Irvine's body as he writhed, making every inch of Irvine's skin tingle.

Squall's coat was there, too, still slung over the back of the chair where it had landed along with the rest of his clothes. Irvine had barely let him into the room before he'd started to strip him. Trailing kisses down his neck, running fingertips across smooth, lean muscle.

Great. Now Squall wasn't here and Irvine had a hard-on he could bend prison bars with.

"Squall?" He yelled, reluctantly squirming to the edge of the bed and swinging his long legs over the side. "Where the fuck are you?"

There was a noise from the next room and Squall's head poked around the door.

"Uhn?"

There was a pencil clenched between his teeth and a clutch of papers in his hand.

Work. The bastard was working.

"Oh no you don't," said Irvine, and strode naked across the room to grab a surprised Squall by the shoulders. "Did you forget what day it is?"

Squall took the pencil out of his mouth and blinked at him. "Tuesday?"

"Rest day. Remember? That means you don't work. At all."

"I was just-"

"No." Irvine tightened his grip a little, and Squall's muscles flexed in response. "Everyone gets a day off sometimes. And for you, my love, today is the day. Today. Right now. All day."

Irvine pulled Squall in close and kissed him.

Squall gave a startled cry. Pencil and paper fell to the floor, and strong arms wound themselves around Irvine's waist. The kiss was serious from the start, all tongues and passion, and Squall pressed himself hard against Irvine's hip. Hard being the operative word: Squall was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers, and Irvine could clearly feel his cock twitching and pulsing to life.

Irvine groaned, and began to step back towards the bed. He only stumbled twice: once when he got his feet tangled in Squall's discarded trousers, and the second time when the back of his legs met the bed. He tumbled backwards, pulling Squall on top of him, and they still hadn't broken their kiss since the door.

Squall straddled Irvine's hips, pinned him to the bed by his wrists. More kisses, hot and feverish, and Irvine arched up, enjoying the delicious, captive stretch.

Squall shifted his grasp on Irvine's wrists and worked his spare hand down between their bodies to clasp Irvine's cock. Squall was kissing him again, all breath and tongues and Hyne but Squall's touch was perfect, his fist just loose enough, his stroke just fast enough, and his thumb flicking over the wet tip of Irvine's cock, just on the edge of tickling.

"I'm gonna-" Irvine tried, but Squall just kissed him harder, and jerked him faster, and then Irvine's self-control vanished all together and he came in a flood over Squall's hand and his own belly. His body shuddered with it, he yelled his pleasure into Squall's mouth, each jerk straining against the firm grip Squall held on his wrists.

Slowly the world came back to Irvine; he sucked air into his lungs and blinked his eyes open.

Squall was still sitting on him, stroking his fingers through the mess on Irvine's tummy, an irresistible half-grin on his face.

"That was… " Irvine started.

"Just the beginning," said Squall, voice small and shy in bed in a way he never, ever was out there as Commander Leonhart.

"Oh babe," Irvine said.

"Well," said Squall, leaning in to kiss the end of Irvine's nose, "it is my day off. I get to spend it however I want, right?"

Irvine could only nod.

"Good," said Squall. "You go run the shower, and I'll find the elixir, 'kay?"

On the forty fifth day that Irvine and Squall were lovers, Squall rendered Irvine truly speechless.

In many, many ways.

~owari~