What Has or Hasn't Been

Ficlet in the Sands of Time Series
by scribblemoose

Squall realised early on that his memories were never going to be the same. As if losing them through GF use in the first place wasn't bad enough, to have two sets running, equal truth, or at least that was how it felt, was confusing at best.

Sometimes it all felt like a dream. But then wasn't that how the past felt anyway?

He turned over as quietly as he could, careful not to disturb Rinoa who was sleeping quietly beside him, and curled up into a ball. He rubbed an itch from his nose and nuzzled into the pillow, tried to quiet his mind and let sleep claim him.

But that was when the memories drifted back. Some more than others. This more than others: Irvine.

The feel of Irvine's hair drifting over his naked chest. The smell of Irvine's body: clean, male, hard and laced with magic. The sound of Irvine's breathing, ragged as he thrust his dick in Squall's clasping hand. So sweet.

If it hadn't been for Rinoa...

If it hadn't been for Selphie...

If it hadn't been for Bane...

If it hadn't been for....

But for that one hazy, not-quite-real afternoon, it had been.

It shocked Squall still, the suddeness of it. One minute things were as they'd always been, and then... the urge so strong, so sweet, so undeniable. Wanting. Needing. Taking. A precious cloud where duty and the should of things failed to exist, where he could want and need and take, hungry, greedy, no consequence, no thought, just...

... Irvine.

And Hyne, it had been so good. Irvine's body sleek and hard, his mouth soft and warm, his voice harsh with lust. Squall had wanted, so much, so fucking much, and when Irvine had finally touched him for the first - no the second? - time, slip slide sparkle of elixir; taste of Irvine in his mouth, full and thick and hard and wet with spit. Nothing like the glory of Rinoa, nothing like anyone, anything he'd known before - or had he? - the surge of Ether's power, the rush, the need, the sheer, brilliant, white-sharp pleasure...

Squall convulsed and came, silently, into his own hand. Gasping with the shock of it. Then, now and maybe all fused together in one pulsing, throbbing point of life.

"... Squall?"

Rinoa's arm slid around his middle; he stared dazedly into the darkness and darted out his tongue to lick dry lips.

"You 'kay?" Little circles stroking his chest: sleepy affection.

"Mmmm." He clasped her fingers with his dry hand, squeezed gently. "Go t'sleep, Rin."

"Y're hot."

"Shhh."

She yawned and stretched, then snuggled into his back, warm and soft. Comfort.

For a moment Squall thought that there might have been a time they were all like this, together, only perhaps it hurt or maybe it was just a dream and anyway...

All of it and nothing, quite, felt real, but, but, but...

In one precious place and time it was.

And in a way, he had it all.

~owari~