FFVIII Drabble for Hope
By Garden's Gnome

A figure sat in darkness, waiting. All senses were focused on the door, listening for that telltale click of the lock disengaging, the hiss of the door sliding back into the wall, the footsteps that would follow as the room’s owner returned here at the end of the day.

He had been waiting all afternoon, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, watching sunbeams make their way across the neatly made bed. The sun had set an hour ago. He wouldn’t have much longer to wait.

As if his thoughts summoned noise, the lock made the sound he was waiting for, the door hissed and steps were heard. Light from the outside hallway filtered into the room, outlining the youth before it was quickly cut off as the door closed. There was a quiet thump as a body leaned back against the door.

A sigh joined the sound of the lock closing.

The figure watched on silently, listening to the swish of fabric as the youth pulled his tie off and let it drop to the floor. It was joined by the once crisp white shirt, socks and dress pants, all clothing discarded until the youth’s naked skin was touched only by air. Bare feet on carpet and then tiles were the only noise in the darkness.

Brightness flared as the bathroom light was switched on.

Silence followed.

The slight squeak of a foot turning on tile was heard and the youth returned to the bedroom, eyes seeking out the waiting figure in the dim light.

“When did you get back?” the youth asked, not moving from the doorway. “You were supposed to report in the moment you arrived back from the mission.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” the figure said softly, raising a hand to beckon the youth to him. “Now, I want you to crawl over here and beg for my cock.”

Immediately the youth dropped to the floor and on his hands and knees crawled towards the figure. Reaching the chair, he leaned up, placing his hands on firm thighs and kneading them while he rubbed his cheek against the fabric covered hardness that greeted him.

“Want you…take me…make me yours,” he whispered, the words broken up as he placed kisses over the cloth.

With a groan, the figure pulled the naked youth into his lap, one hand burying itself into tousled locks, the other seeking out the proof of his claim, the small collar with its engraved charm.

Blue eyes gazed into lavender as a thumb traced over the initial engraved into the bullet.

“Yours, Irvine,” Squall whispered his voice roughened with desire as he rocked against the hardness entrapped within tight pants, the hat he had carried from the bathroom slipping to the floor.

“Yes,” Irvine agreed, thrusting up, prolonging the teasing that would soon become much more.

Placing a hand on Squall’s hip, he stilled the brunette’s movements and slid forward on the chair, pleased when pale limbs entwined around him, allowing him to stand easily. Carrying Squall into the bathroom and the shower that awaited them both, Irvine turned his face and captured waiting lips.