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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Senses
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: The T-Rexaur is coming. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_on_demand.
He can hear a grat tumbling and stumbling through the trees just behind them, and he knows there's a T-Rexaur on its way, crashing through the training center and making the ground vibrate and every fight honed sense tingle. He knows the T-Rexaur is coming but he doesn't move, his eyes fixed on Seifer's. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?"
The trees rustle to the left of them and Squall raises a hand, brings a fire spell into it and casts it with deadly accuracy, not looking away from Seifer. "I don't want anything. You're the one standing there trying to make demands. 'Leonhart this' and 'Leonhart that'. Do you really know what you want?"
"Yes." Seifer's voice is low, dangerous. It's like the monsters, making Squall's blood rush through his veins, pounding through him, and he's suddenly hypersensitive, feeling everything, unable to tune out a single stimulus. Fighting, for him, is balancing his senses, instincts and skills, and it feels the same sparring with Seifer -- whether with words or blades.
The T-Rexaur is closer now, and Seifer is closer, and Squall's senses are full of it, full of him, close enough to touch, close enough to hurt. He fights the tremble out of his voice and stares up into Seifer's eyes. "What, then?"
"You," Seifer growls, and kisses him, hard and quick and brilliant, and then he pulls away and he's moving through the training center, a blur of movement and vibration and sound, and Squall joins him, meets the T-Rexaur head on.
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: The T-Rexaur is coming. For
fic_on_demand.He can hear a grat tumbling and stumbling through the trees just behind them, and he knows there's a T-Rexaur on its way, crashing through the training center and making the ground vibrate and every fight honed sense tingle. He knows the T-Rexaur is coming but he doesn't move, his eyes fixed on Seifer's. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?"
The trees rustle to the left of them and Squall raises a hand, brings a fire spell into it and casts it with deadly accuracy, not looking away from Seifer. "I don't want anything. You're the one standing there trying to make demands. 'Leonhart this' and 'Leonhart that'. Do you really know what you want?"
"Yes." Seifer's voice is low, dangerous. It's like the monsters, making Squall's blood rush through his veins, pounding through him, and he's suddenly hypersensitive, feeling everything, unable to tune out a single stimulus. Fighting, for him, is balancing his senses, instincts and skills, and it feels the same sparring with Seifer -- whether with words or blades.
The T-Rexaur is closer now, and Seifer is closer, and Squall's senses are full of it, full of him, close enough to touch, close enough to hurt. He fights the tremble out of his voice and stares up into Seifer's eyes. "What, then?"
"You," Seifer growls, and kisses him, hard and quick and brilliant, and then he pulls away and he's moving through the training center, a blur of movement and vibration and sound, and Squall joins him, meets the T-Rexaur head on.
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