dualislogs | Three Final Fantasy characters walk into a bar

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Three Final Fantasy characters walk into a bar

WHO: Squall, Seifer, Cloud, ??
WHAT: Trying out weapons
WHERE: Workshop outside the city
WHEN: Sep 3
WARNINGS: Fight! Potentially blood and injury

Holding a gunblade in his hand again, even if it's just blade without the gun, is exhilarating. Doesn't matter what else Squall doubts about his own future, he won't give this up anytime soon. Plus, it's great stress relief from the hellish invasion of memories just weeks ago.

There's a lot of things making this fun. One, he's never fought alongside Seifer before. Two, Cloud is... remarkably powerful, way beyond what his stature and figure would indicate. Three, the prototype gunblade is a great teaser to what Seifer is going to eventually make.

He falls back to stay out of range of Cloud's buster sword (how is he even wielding that so easily?), eyes flicking over to Seifer to see what he's doing. It's strange having to flip his thoughts from how to counter Seifer's attacks to how to complement it, but all those years of fighting each other is working in their favor now.

He runs in to swipe at an opening from the other side. He's precision and skill even without the trigger component. It's clear he's treating the sparring session like a real battle. Seifer's taught him that much.

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It... wouldn't be difficult to say that Rinoa's breath catches in the back of her throat in the moments that he nears her. For several moments, she simply stares at him. It's not as though she has a good excuse as to why they shouldn't... be kissing. Although she has to wonder how many times he's even kissed her to know that he likes it. Rinoa wonders for a moment or two if she was his first kiss.

...Maybe that's why he likes it? He has nothing to compare it to? She's pretty sure she's not a good kisser at all. She wouldn't know. She doesn't have enough experience to even say.

He's eying her in a way that she's simply not accustomed to. But then, it's not exactly the kind of look anyone else has given her either. Initially, she isn't really certain how to read it. Squall isn't exactly an easy guy to figure out either. It doesn't stop her from trying.

"...Oh... I don't know about that..." Her words fall from her quietly. Leaning in, Rinoa brushes the tip of her nose over his. It should be easy to do such things, should it not? For whatever reason, he leaves her feeling nervous. "...I wouldn't say I'm very good at it. I might need some practise, Squall."

...Okay. Maybe she's smooth. Sometimes.

She is most definitely his first and only kiss. Doesn't stop him from liking it though, even if his behavior does feel a little out of character. He supposes that's what love does, right?

He blinks, almost crossed eyed and confused by her initial response and their noses touching until...

I might need some practice, Squall.

It takes far too many seconds for his brain to catch up. But his cheeks color. A play of bewilderment, realization, arousal, and... competitiveness (somehow) crossing his features.

"Rinoa..." Soft, breathless. It's unfair what she does to him. He leans forward for a kiss... and sways too far forward, bumping his nose against her chin and awkwardly pushing Rinoa up against the wall. He manages to brace his forearm against the wall to avoid crushing her with his weight but their bodies are pressed up closer now, faces inches away from each other. He looks embarrassed, eyes lowering.

"Sorry." He didn't remember it being this difficult when he kissed her at the party. Then again he was standing and without a head injury at the time. There's no where to fall now in this position and he's cautiously stealing a glance at her eyes. She's okay? They can still continue? He didn't ruin it (or break her nose, Hyne).

It takes only a moment for the sound of her name on his tongue to birth a shudder in the small of her back. It travels up, right along the plane of her frame and for some time, she's simply flushed. It's not like he says her name in such a fashion often. In fact, she's furiously trying to figure out if he has before. And no. It's a first. She's pretty sure it's a first. ...Isn't it? This is the problem she comes to, where she can't establish what is and what isn't new for them. Because she simply doesn't stop and think about it. Not that he gives her much time to.

His nose hits her chin. She's pressed up against the wall. He's... very much in her space and she is almost certain her heart is going to just explode out of her chest in any matter of moments. But this is new and exciting and yes, while books are great for the imagination and Rinoa has been undeniably curious, there is something quite magnified by it being in the flesh rather than in book format.

His gaze finds hers and she contemplates rapidly if it's appropriate to keep eye contact, or if she shouldn't. And she decides that there is, in fact, no time like the present. He doesn't need to apologise. If it hurt, she certainly didn't feel it and none of whatever that flub was even means anything in comparison to the now. Hesitantly hands lift and fingertips splay against his chest before they spider up along the turn of his neck. Thumb presses down on his chin to guide him and whether he moves or not, she decides she will. The getting is too good to give it up. All too eagerly, Rinoa claims his plush mouth in a kiss that's probably been building up for way too long. Not some stupid chaste little thing either, though there's nothing stupid about the reverence of kisses. No. He deserves a real kiss. A nice, deep, passionate, going-to-steal-your-breath-away kiss.

You're welcome, Squall.

He's called for her quite passionately so many times now he's lost count. But sharing a moment that's just between the two of them is novel and he's starting to take a liking to it.

The splay of her fingers against him makes his head beat faster. He dimly wonders if she can feel that through his shirt but she's moving and drawing closer and... Oh.

This is much better than the kiss at the party. He practically melts against her, tilting his head slightly to accommodate, He draws his free hand up to rest against the back of her head gently, catching her soft hair between his fingers.

It's an odd feeling, relaxed yet stirring up urges he's never been acutely aware of. He doesn't want it to end so he stays right where he is.

He's right. It isn't the same. He's often so gentle with her and maybe that's uncertainty. Maybe she's uncertain too. But sometimes, neither of them can afford to simply be uncertain. Things go further. Time does not stop. It continues around them both and Rinoa doesn't want to think about the next hour or the next day or the next month. She only wants to think about the present moment in which Squall lies beneath her fingertips.

He's not turning her away. He's not rejecting her. Perhaps he has wanted this as much as she has.

Her frame presses against his so he might feel the weight of reality, the way he makes her pulse race. She's utterly enamoured with him in those moments. As she has been in nigh every moment with him.

If he wants her breath, she'll grant it to him. It's a dangerous thought but Rinoa understand well enough that anything Squall wants of her, she'll grant. Words. Actions. Touch. Companionship. There's not a thing he can request of her that she will not offer to him. But she fears that one kiss, one breathless one, may not be enough for her.

He feels the same. That desire to just give every part of himself to her. He'll do anything, has done many things for her. He doesn't fully understand it but he doesn't want to keep questioning either, not when it comes to Rinoa.

That want burns into frustration that he finally breaks the kiss with a sharp inhale, eyes closing as he presses their foreheads together instead. When he opens them again, the vibrant blue appearing to pierce right through her. With how close they are, there's no hiding the effect she's having on him so he tries not to let it bother him too much. That's not his focus right now even though his body says otherwise.

He moves his hand from the wall and seeks out hers to lace their fingers together.

"I want more... Is that okay?"

A quiet request that he doesn't know the full context of. What does he know about any of this? He scoffed at everything related to sex and relationships back at Garden and now it stings to remember what he can't quite give her.

For several long moments, she feels so incredibly vulnerable that there's a portion of Rinoa thinking it's wisest to simply turn tail and flee. How cowardly of her. Squall's gaze becomes so piercing that whatever defences she might have had before are more inclined to simply dissipate and leave her with nothing to hide herself behind. It's not often that happens either. Rinoa usually has an answer for everything, some kind of witty (or not-so-witty) retort.

Before she can get lost in her thoughts, her own individual insecurities, his hand finds hers. As fingers weave together, he brings her back to the present and she's suddenly incredibly thankful. He barely does anything and she just wants to go weak in the knees and be swallowed up in his embrace.

It's hard to stand there and not think about the number of scenarios that can play out. Dusting touch over each intricate ridge and contour of his body, along the sculpting of his chest, atop hip. Rinoa wants to know him, aches for it practically, than anyone else ever has or ever will. But she just can't say any of that. She doesn't know what he wants, what he thinks about, and it's not particularly easy to ask.

His words find her, still breathless, still flushed as she shyly drops her gaze. "Y-yes, of course..." She shouldn't be stumbling over her words, but this is new territory and as much as she wants to leap in without looking, she can't. She doesn't know what's acceptable. She doesn't know what will turn Squall away. "Just... tell me what it is you want. What you'd like. Show me." Because saying it probably isn't easy.

There's an openness to his expression as he huffs, sounding almost relaxed and happy if a little lost. It's a tall ask. How is he supposed to do that when he has nothing to reference? Maybe he should pick up one of those novels Rinoa likes reading so much. He doesn't know what he wants but he knows he wants her right here with him. That'll have to count for something.

"Okay," It's tentative as he leans in to kiss her again. On the corner of her lips this time. It's hard to say if it's intentional but it's evident he's trying to be careful. He dips his head lower, lips brushing across her face as he gets to her neck and gently presses another kiss there, working his way down to where it meets the shoulder.

He pauses there, peering up at her, trying to gauge if he's doing something right. He's seen couples do this in passing. It doesn't feel too odd... and he can smell the lingering scent of shampoo in her hair. It's... pleasant.

He squeezes her hand. "I... don't know what I'm doing. Tell me what you like."

This whole exchange is... admittedly a little unfamiliar. Not just to her, but of course to him as well. As such, she almost feels like she's teetering around on something breakable. For all she knows, Squall genuinely is of a delicate nature. Or maybe it's her who's delicate. He certainly treats her as if she's meant to be placed under glass and protected. Uncertainties, she supposes, from the both of them.

Lips pass over soft curve of jaw line, over the turn of neck, and her breath hitches softly. Her hands, having since pressed to him, are gentle and precarious in their touch. She has no idea what he's thinking, what he's contemplating, or how he's moved by the situation—if he is at all. This whole thing, it's a very complicated concept, isn't it? Funny, how books never seem to reflect that part of things.

Without even knowing it, pink has struck her, glowing with a kind of bashfulness that Rinoa has not worn a great deal of. Words might be easier for her than actions. Possibly. It's easier to think one's saying the right thing than to do the right thing. Maybe. Or maybe Rinoa has simply been a lot of talk. A lot of bark and not as much bite. Or maybe it's just that this whole scenario has her topsy-turvy and she's as disoriented as he is.

His eyes, the pretty blue that they are—as blue as ocean water that she could simply dive into if she allows herself opportunity to—find hers and nervously teeth scrape over her bottom lip. Can he feel the way her pulse jumps beneath his touch? He squeezes her hand and she swears it jumps again, sharp and to the point. His words accompany and Rinoa realises they are both hopeless.

"Uhm..." she begins, a bit faint as she tries to conjure something better than stumbling over herself. "This... is nice. You're being gentle... and..." And what? What is she supposed to think? She doesn't have anything to compare it to. She's getting embarrassed. That's not an every day occurrence. "I like that. I'm not dainty or fragile at all, but you treat me as if I'm something special. I think you're doing everything right."

It's true he's grown more protective of her, gets over-protective in ways she doesn't necessarily need, but it's a part of him that's hard to stamp down. He can't help but smile, warm and amused, when he sees her pink, sees teeth worry over her lip, and the way she's fumbling just as much as he feels he is on the inside.

A huff escapes him and he presses another kiss on her neck.

"It's hard to think straight," he admits and that's not just because of his bandaged head. He plays his thumb across her palm, lowering his other hand to awkwardly rest it against her hip - the same way she placed it the first they danced. He brushes his thumb there too before... slowly sliding the fabric there up to try and bare skin.

There's a weird rush as he does that, his heart racing like the feeling of a perfect fight, only...

"You're special. To me," he adds, lifting his head so they're facing each other proper again. "If we don't know what we want, we'll just do what feels good." Clothes come off at some point, right? Lots of touching and... His face heats up again. Should they go that far? Is he thinking too far ahead? "I like your hands on me." Hey, look, he's contributing a thought.

"It's hard to think straight."

No kidding, she thinks as she reminds herself to breathe lest she awkwardly swoon and faint right there in his arms. Somehow she doesn't exactly want that to be the shining memory of whatever first hurdle they intend to climb over here.

Every touch, even for as simple as it may be, makes Rinoa that much more self-aware, which isn't something she's accustomed to. It's one thing to think about the things she's read. It's quite another to acknowledge that she's capable of feeling things like want and desire. And using words like those sound a little too grown up. She feels like a kid trying to penetrate whatever barrier there is betwixt adolescence and adulthood, and she wonders why she even perceives it like that. Because she doesn't know what the 'norm' is, or even if such a thing exists. In their world, there probably isn't such a thing.

His hand drapes over hip. Her lower lip trembles before she sucks it in and simply bites down upon it. She's so transparent. She hates that. Loves him. Loves his touch. Loves the anxious little flutters it sends along her veins. Just hates that she isn't better at this. It's embarrassing, really. Thumb touches skin and a subtle wash of cold cascades right down her back, leaving a small bundle of tingling nerves.

"You're special. To me."

...Is this really happening right now? Is this real? Deep brown eyes linger upon his and she's breathless all over again. He's barely done anything and she's fucking breathless. Could she be anymore inexperienced? Could she be anymore ridiculous in a situation that she's likely overcomplicating? After a moment's hesitance, she nods uncertainly. Logic dictates that yes, maybe just doing what feels good and right is the proper way to navigate this situation. His words encourage her—pale hands lift and after a pause, just one, one lifts to brush back tresses of brown from the way it frames his face. Right over his ear. The other traces touch over striking cheekbone, across strong jaw line, along the turn of his neck.

She wants to kiss him again. Deeply. Rinoa leans in and as her nose skims his, she finds her courage withering again. No. She can't do that. Not right now. Not like this. "...Can I kiss you?"

He wonders if she'd make fun of him if she knows how wound up he is despite the gentle and careful touches. But then she's biting her lower lip and he can still feel her thumping pulse as he plays his fingers across her hand. He wishes he knows how to put her at ease, but he doesn't so he brings his hand up to brush his thumb across her lower lip, marveling at how full it is. How did he never notice?

He pauses when her hands come up to explore his face in turn and he sighs softly, eyes sliding shut as he tilts his head into the slide over his ear. It's nice. He can't believe he grew up thinking sex and the desire for it were stupid.

His eyes fly open at her question, finding her face so close to him again. Why is she asking? Of course it's a yes.

"Yeah..." His throat feels dry but he's moving both hands down to her hips now, slipping under her shirt. Fingers splay against smooth skin, one over her stomach, the other sliding upward, hiking her shirt along with it. He wants... to see what's underneath but his eyes are drawn to her deep brown.

It's... rather astounding how something that seems like simple touch can leave her nigh breathless. It's not really simple at all, though, and she knows she can't think of it like so. The very same touch with how careful he is with her threatens to have her melt right then and there. It makes her feel very delicate and soft, things Rinoa isn't sure she's experienced before. They certainly aren't words she'd want used to describe herself as, admittedly. (Not that there's anything wrong with being soft or delicate...)

This, the way they are, casual in pace and simply taking the time to appreciate one another... There probably isn't a better introduction than this. It's incredibly nerve-racking. There's no denying that, but it's also amazing and wonderful and some romanticised journey of discovery. Isn't that how love ought to be? It's no storybook, but somehow this feels like a pretty good replacement. Better than a storybook, really. ~~Maybe she'll take up writing erotica in her spare time.~~ Rinoa is undeniably curious how he perceives it, or if his all-too-calculating mind has him under control. Can he be anything but calculating? How does someone like that interpret love?

His permission is all the encouragement she needs. She leans in to claim his mouth once more for hers, but the very contact of his fingertips upon her causes her breath to suddenly catch. He's warm. She didn't expect that. It's nice. His gaze, ever so intent on hers, captures her then for more moments than she really wants them to. His eyes are so beautiful and she's thought it before. Several times, really. But when she feels like she has nothing else to hide behind, it's hard to be that vulnerable, even though she's been largely transparent with him. About most things, anyway. Shyly, her gaze dips just long enough to press a kiss to his bottom lip.

The shy curve of her mouth ensues and she can't help but laugh a little. Nervously. "Why are you staring at me so much?"

The same watchful eyes do slide close once her lips press against his. His feelings are fit to burst. He wants so much and can't seem to get enough, yet he wants to savor it all the same. Of course he's staring again when he remembers he can open his eyes. And her question brings him into a confused blink.

Uh.

"I can't take my eyes off you."

That sounds right. He'll go with that.

"Can I..." He hesitates but his palm turns away from her stomach to lift her shirt more. He swallows. This seems like such an inappropriate question. "I mean..."

When is he ever tongue-tied. What the hell?

"I can't take my eyes off you."

It almost doesn't sound like him at all. No, wait. It doesn't and that's what really catches her attention. It's not like him at all. To be fair, this happenstance, the one in the very present moment, is not like either of them. Maybe not uncharacteristic, but as two adolescent (teenage) individuals stumbling through this together, yes, that makes sense. All of it is relatively unfamiliar and foreign. Yes, they both probably know the technicalities of everything, but getting there...

One does not simply ~~walk into Mordor~~ carve a path into intimacy.

Undeniably caught up in his initial words, she's still mulling them over when he continues. Rinoa has no idea what he wants or where he's going with any of this. She doesn't have an endgame in sight, either. It's fine, whatever pace he wants to go at. Whatever he wants, in general. Her attention turns onto his hand, careful as it is. Hesitant as it is. Even if she doesn't really know what he's really looking for, she nods as if she does. Better that at least one of them seems sure.

Her touch begrudgingly parts from him and as fingertips travel the bottom seam of her shirt, she carefully lifts and draws it over her head. Still a little modest, however, she doesn't exactly put herself on display for him. Comfortably settled to where he's pressed her, she hides a portion of herself behind the bundle of black she holds between her hands.

"...Is this all right?" she asks him quietly, unable to help the striking pink that dips across her cheeks.

It's not like I can change it if it's not, so...

Squall swallows and moves back a little to give her space. It's a wonder that this is happening at all. It's... more than he's seen even when they traveled and camped out together. The girls had their privacy after all. His eyes are roving before he realizes it, following the curve of her waist and up to the bra strap (has he even seen a woman in a proper bra before?) Then up her shoulder and--

He blinks out of the daze when she speaks. And he finally notices the bashfulness. The way she's hugging her shirt to herself. That's right. He shouldn't be ignoring her feelings at a time like this.

He nods quickly.

"Yeah." Even though his voice still sounds off, like the adolescent he never really tried to be. "Wait." Soon he's pulling his own shirt over his head. This he puts aside on the bed and he stays where he is, close and still hemming her in with his presence, but giving her more distance than he did before he led them her. (How did they get here?)

It feels awkward to just be siting half naked. While he's not ashamed of his body (the scars are another matter) and doesn't go out of the way to inconvenience himself to hide it, he's not keen on baring skin in public. Too much trouble. But here he finds he doesn't mind too much. He's as muscled as they come while still keeping a mostly slender form. A grown man by all accounts, and a warrior too. The scars marking fights won and lost. There's a hint of light and barely visible litchenberg figures spread out from where his arm meets shoulder down his right arm.

He lets out a breath and gives her a small awkward smile.

"Now you're not alone."

He's... so intent.

Rinoa does not suspect that he's really ever travelled down this pathway before. It is possible that the Garden has taught their SeeDs something about biology. She'd be surprised if they didn't, actually. She imagines they are quite likely in the same boat. They each know just enough to be dangerous. As such, it's not quite so surprising that he eyes her the way he does—curious, and inquisitive, in his own Squall, calculating fashion.

His voice finds her ears and at first she has no idea what he means. But when he follows in suit, she tries not to stare overly much. Truth is, Squall's a handsome man. She'd never been kidding the first time she told him that the night at the inauguration soiree. It's a little different to see him when he doesn't have much to hide behind, however. And the difference being that she still has stuff to bury herself under. Sort of. So after some consideration, she still holds her shirt, though she lowers it in favour of letting him look as he might.

If she's going to gander, then there's no reason he can't.

Her gaze falls over the structure of his frame, something she can't say she's thought too much about. Perhaps fleeting thoughts here and there, but nothing she's seriously lost sleep over or anything of that sort. He's a little more muscular than she's expected. Well-built. Stable. Secure. Becoming. It's not hard for her to imagine what it might be like to brush fingertips over the subtle ripples of his torso. Over meadows of skin and hills of taut muscle.

She almost at once begins blushing all over again.

"Oh... You didn't have to do that," she manages to reply, though issues something of a bashful smile. "Thanks, though. You don't think this is awkward? I mean, I guess it actually is, but." What is she even trying to say? She finally moves from where she's been rooted and she decides to sit beside him and as if she attempts to feign nonchalance, she rests a bare shoulder against his.

Maybe a little skin contact is in order.

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Three Final Fantasy characters walk into a bar

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Warning: Approaching NSFW? Maybe? Who knows? What?

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/SLIDES IN HERE SO LATE

Just like how he's gonna slide in her, rite.

u///u

u3u

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AND THEN I MADE YOU WAIT FOREVER. (I apologise.)