The World is a Stage
April 2009

 

"I'm sure you can imagine what happens now."

His head aching with a dull throb, Squall lifts his gaze of tarnished blue-gray and glares at the large blond standing in front of him.  It was the only action permitted for the dark-haired man, his arms bound and spread wide into a defenseless position.  "... What do you want?"

His smirk gaining a sharp and dangerous edge, Seifer replies, "Tell me what SeeD is.  Edea demands to know."

Eyebrows furrowing, Squall repeats in question, "SeeD ... ... Don't you already know?"

"I'm not a SeeD.  There must be some kind of secret you're given when you become a SeeD!" Seifer insists with an erratic wave of his sword arm.

"There's nothing," the brunet replies casually, as if mocking the other man's anger.  A shine of vindictive silver then enters his eyes when he adds, "Even if there were, you think I'd tell you?"

A frown of displeasure slowly regains its smug curl and Seifer chuckles lowly.  "You're on my 'tough-nut-to-crack' list.  Didn't think you'd talk that easily."

"... Geez, I'm honored."

"So here's a little somethin' for ya."

Without allowing the shorter man a chance to react, Seifer steps forward in a long stride and closes the space between them.  Just as confused stormy eyes cross to keep the blond rival in focus, a large hand lowers to dark leather pants and flicks open the top button with nimble experience.

"Wha... Seifer, that isn't in the script," Squall complains in a harsh growl.  Standing between two Queen-sized beds, Squall Leonhart - actor/singer, twenty-four-years-old, Tony award nominee - tugs against his makeshift bonds consisting of a bed sheet around one wrist and a bathrobe belt at the other, not caring which hand would be freed first to punch the horny blond.  The headboards of the hotel beds creak at the strain, but the dark-haired actor fails to make any more progress than that.

"Uh uh," Seifer Almasy - actor, twenty-two, lead of primetime's 'Edgeline' - scolds as he places his 'sword', a rolled up tabloid magazine, beneath his captive's chin.  "You're supposed to be writhing from the effects of electricity coursing through your body.  It says so in the script."

Glaring at the arrogant man, Squall mutters angrily, "Private rehearsal, my ass.  No wonder you made the knots so tight."

His eyes never leaving metallic blue, Seifer grins while slowly lowering the zipper of leather pants as he recites, "Even if you don't talk, others will.  The instructor, the little messenger girl, or that Chicken-wuss...  He wouldn't last 3 seconds!"

Squall scoffs at the line.  "I'm not playing along, you walking dick.  I still have a hangover from Dincht's birthday party last night and we're shooting the D-district prison scene tomorrow; this game of yours isn't helping in the least."

Pretending that the brunet had said something else, Seifer leans in and brushes his lips against the exposed neck.  "Since I like you so much, I thought you should go first."  Moving lower with his kisses, Seifer drops his 'sword' to the ground and uses his freed hand to pull the neckline of the brunet's shirt lower.  "I was hoping you'd be there, Squall," he says longingly before kissing above the man's heart.  "So... how'd I look in my moment of triumph?  My childhood dream, fulfilled.  I've become the sorceress' Knight."

Though a biting response comes to mind, Squall exhales a shuddering breath when Seifer glances up, his green eyes bright with hunger and need.  "Bastard, you're twisting the purpose of the scene."

"Am I?" Seifer asks with child-like curiosity.

"The characters are rivals."

"They are equals in a world of idiots," the blond argues as he nudges the waistline of leather pants lower, making the dark briefs more accessible.  "More than that, they are like their scars, reflections of each other - one arrogant and proud, the other stoic and honorable.  They're both knights with differing visions of what that entails."

No longer struggling against his bonds, Squall stares at the larger man.  "You've really thought about this."

Seifer grins at the statement, looking much like a dog happy to have pleased his master.

Squall huffs at the almost innocent look and accuses, "You prick, you never mentioned why you wanted me on this project."

"Now you know," Seifer replies as he wraps a muscular arm around the brunet's waist, pulling their bodies close together.

"Now I know," Squall agrees just before warm lips press against his.  It's instantly a lost battle, only Seifer knowing the proper techniques that could drive away the sense from his older lover.  Though Squall curses how easily the man had taken control over the situation that was supposed to have been a practice session, he relaxes with the thought that Seifer wouldn't let him regret the change in plans.

The kiss eventually breaks when Seifer lowers to his knees and rakes his teeth against dark briefs.  Squall hisses at the unreserved touch and tries not to buck against the mouth and its sharp incisors.  Seifer hums amusedly at his partner's restraint, but with no intention to let that resistance last, he pulls down at the waistline of the briefs and slowly exposes hardening flesh to cooler air.  Squall swears under his breath at the taunting touch, a sound that promptly changes to low moan when a heavy tongue licks the length of his dick.

"God, I've missed that," Seifer says between tastes of salty flesh.  "With you in New York all of the time and me in LA, I started to forget the sounds your voice can make under the right influence."

"Don't tell me that you've been lonely."

"Very," Seifer insists without hesitation, and then takes the firm arousal into his mouth.  With the same skillful touch as with his kisses, Seifer uses his tongue in a dexterous manner that some times leaves Squall wondering if his lover was entirely human.  Every lick and every pull of suction serves the sole purpose to bring the brunet further into pleasure without hope of easy release, and Seifer smiles with each moan that slips past full lips.

"I hate you," Squall eventually growls at the kneeling blond.

"You've been saying that for almost two years," Seifer comments before releasing the heavy erection from his hold, and then pushes up from the ground.  With his focus turned to untying one of the bound wrists, he adds offhandedly, "And I think you only meant it for the first three months we knew each other."

Pale-eyes narrow at the statement.  "Six months."

"If you think so," Seifer concedes as the knot comes loose.

In the next instant, Seifer chokes when a hand clutches his throat in a dangerous hold, and after a moment of surprised green meeting harsh blue-gray, the larger man is shoved onto one of the hotel beds with enough force that he bounces on the stiff mattress.  Momentarily startled, Seifer doesn't notice the quick action of Squall to adjust the remaining bond and provide himself the proper angle to climb on top of his lover.  A fine hand buries into golden blond and tightens into a firm hold to prevent Seifer from thoughts of sitting up.

Despite the stinging pain of pulled hair, Seifer chuckles with pleasure.  "And the director doubted my word that you'd make a fine mercenary.  He thought you were, and not my words, too girlie lookin'."

Squall scoffs and pulls harder on short hair.  "Don't talk about that jackass when you're trying to fuck me."

"Mmm, try growling at him like that tomorrow.  He'd likely piss his pants."

"Last chance, Almasy - talk or fuck."

"Is someone stopping you?" Seifer questions in a low purr.

Lips pulling back into a near snarl, Squall replies, "You are."

After a confused blink, Seifer's eyes brighten with sudden insight and he glances back over his shoulder to see that his lover hadn't gotten completely free, the bathrobe belt still around a thin wrist and holding fast.  "My, my, it's hard to remove leather pants with one hand, isn't it?"

"Easy to masturbate with, though," Squall threatens.

Seifer's expression quiets for a moment before he asks, "Would you?"

Dark hair shading his face, Squall stares dumbly at the blond trapped beneath his body.  "... Would I what?"

Seifer brushes aside the obstructing hair and smiles encouragingly.  "Make yourself cum, lovely.  I want to see your body sing... while I'm not otherwise distracted," he adds offhandedly.

"... Why?"

"Because I'm obsessed with you," Seifer replies with an unrestrained leer.

Shivering at that sharply seductive smirk, Squall hesitantly surrenders to the request, but not with words.  Instead, he moves his free hand from softly spiked hair and lightly presses his fingers against the center of his own chest.  Green eyes watch attentively as long fingers trail along white cotton until stopping just short of the arousal that had yet to cool from Seifer's previous manipulations.  A single finger presses against the tip of the erection and rubs tiny circles around the visible opening, the seemingly minor touch causing Seifer's entire body to stiffen in readiness.  Though a slight smirk forms at the reaction, Squall's focus wavers as he moves his hand lower and grazes his fingernails across receptive flesh, never applying more pressure than a gentle caress.

"God, Squall," Seifer whispers in a throaty voice, "Do you always tease yourself like a true masochist, or are you fucking with me like the sadist you really are?"

His smirk broadening, the dark-haired actors replies, "You'll never know."

Growling in response, Seifer moves his hands to the brunet's lower back and massages in a firm press that draws a low groan from his lover.  Encouraged by the sound, Seifer lifts his hips at the right angle to create momentary friction against the underside of Squall's arousal, but receives a scolding glare for the interference.  Reveling in that angry stare, Seifer keeps his hold on the slim waist to ensure Squall decide to end the pleasure game.

Long fingers continue their measured strokes until gradually curling around the rigid cock that curved ever-so-slightly to the right.  Though entranced by the sight, Seifer manages to shift his gaze to focus on the face of his lover, dark hair once again obstructing some of the desirable view of flushed cheeks, narrowly parted lips, and half-lidded eyes of burning silver.  With a rumbling purr at the alluring sight, Seifer lifts up to press an uncoordinated kiss against teeth-bitten lips and earns a keening whimper from the overly aroused brunet.  Unable to keep that angle, Seifer lays back down onto the mattress, but Squall follows with a dangerous creak of the headboard and another clumsy, desperate kiss.

"Seifer..." he half-accuses, half-pleads into the press of lips.

Without the need of further words, Seifer places a hand over Squall's and adds new strength to the stroke of unusually warm fingers.  Squall growls at the initial break in rhythm, but eventually sighs in relief given the firmer hold around his cock and the steady pace that soon follows the beat of their shared breaths.  Stormy eyes close for a bare moment, but reluctantly reopen when Seifer demands to see the 'lightning of his gaze'.  Hands moving as one and eyes locked in heat, Squall doesn't restrain his voice when harsh climax burns throughout his body.

Exhausted and slightly shaking, Squall slumps against Seifer's chest, and after a few deep breaths, complains, "My arm hurts."

Seifer chuckles at the dry tone.  "God, I spent my load without you touching me and that's all you have to say?"

Drowsy blue-gray eyes blink before Squall glances downward at loose jeans that were hiding any evidence of Seifer's statement.  Returning a harsh glare at the blond, Squall repeats, "My arm hurts, and you had better do something about it."

With a sigh at the lost moment, Seifer reaches over his head to undo the bathrobe belt and struggles with the twisted knot such that Squall is forced help with the endeavor.  After a minute of curses and harsh commands, the knot loosens enough for Squall to slip his hand free and rotate the abused wrist.  Seifer winces at the sight of dark red flesh and the vengeful gleam to stormy eyes.

"Damn, that's probably going to bruise.  I suppose it's a good thing you're wearing gloves for the shoot tomorrow."

Squall scowls in response.  "Is it really necessary to mark me like this?"

"Until that Kinneas guy stops admiring your ass - yes."

With a quiet snort of disbelief, the brunet massaged his wrist once more before lying next to the larger man.  "If you would stop grabbing my ass between takes, then maybe he wouldn't think to look there."

Seifer huffs at the option.  "He's not the only one checking you out, y'know."

"... ... Wait a fucking moment, are you going on about that article again?" Squall groans while rolling onto his back and covering an arm over his eyes.

Growling, the blond reaches over the side of the bed and picks up the tabloid magazine that had been his 'sword'.  "'The Ice Prince of the stage meets the Princess of daytime television'," Seifer reads from the corner of the magazine cover displaying a picture of Squall standing close to Rinoa Heartilly - 'actress', nineteen-years-old, soap opera star on 'Strangers and Lovers' - between takes on the FFVIII set.  "And I quote, 'Could it be love at first sight?'"

"No," Squall replies as if the question was real and not a piece of tabloid idiocy.  "Her ideas of love were outlawed when they made slavery unconstitutional.  In any case, she's a pedigree bitch, through and through.  Remind me to show you what the film crew did with that promotional cardboard cutout of her."

His mood lightening, Seifer asks, "Is that the one with the ball-gag in her mouth?"

"Hn, and they added a dildo, in quite a creative fashion, too.  I think you'd approve."

Tossing the magazine over his shoulder, Seifer rolls over the smaller man and pins him to the mattress, careful of the bruised wrist.  "So, you haven't fallen for the charms of our Miss Heartilly?"

"Charms?  Like the ones who got her this role and half of the producers herpes?  Not likely."

Seifer smirks proudly at the statement.  "Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?"

With a softer smile, Squall wraps his arms around the man's back and rakes his fingers deep into golden hair.  "I think you were about to."

"Let's see what we can do about those pants of yours."

~ > < ~

[.... And then, the next day ....]

"CUT, CUT, CUT!" the director yells before chucking his headphones to the ground and storming onto the set of D-district prison's interrogation room.  "Almasy, a word.  Now."

With unrepentant grin, Seifer props his gunblade on a shoulder and faces the approaching director.  "What's the problem, boss?"

"That."

Following the direction of the pointing finger, Seifer stares at the obvious bulge of his pants.  "Ah... yeah... Well, I can't really help it," he states lamely while glancing back at the dark-haired actor pinned to the metallic wall, Squall positioned much like he had been the previous night at the hotel.

At the gaze of concerned green seemingly asking for help, Squall rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Absolutely ridiculous!  How are we supposed to continue with the scene now?"

With a wince at the rebuke, Seifer offers questioningly, "Uh, how about you shoot from another angle... like from the back?"

The red-faced director opens his mouth to argue against the suggestion, but then abruptly stops and mutters to himself, "Hn, because... the knight has turned his back on his allies... and this is the final moment of his betrayal..."  Turning a critical gaze at the blond, the director eventually huffs, "You got off easy this time, Almasy.  Don't pull a stunt like this again.  Hire a prostitute or something next time."

While the director hurries back and yells commands at the cameramen to change their positions, Seifer turns toward his lover and smiles with delight at his near escape from the director's wrath.  "Didn't I tell you this project would be fun?"

"... Idiot."

 

{Owari}

 

Author's Whining -- Happy birthday, Gnome!  I hope this works as a 'get out of jail free' card with this particular bunny. ;)  To everyone else, this story idea came up when I was talking to someone (either Miss D or Gnome, I forget who was first) about 'Hang in there, Nakago!', an omake from Fushigi Yuugi where the author, Watase, did a series of 'if the characters were actors' doing Fushigi Yuugi.  It was amusing with the whole change in personalities for many of the characters (who kept their names, i.e. Tamahome was playing Tamahome), such as Nakago (the villian) being "a star who recently made his debut", Miaka lying about her age by ten years, Tamahome being a popular movie and commercial actor, etc.  It's hysterical with them trying to 'film' the kiss scene between Nakago and Tamahome.

Anywho, we got to talking about the FFVIII version of this type of omake.  Truthfully, I forget all of the details (though I'm fairly certain Nida was a onetime child actor trying to get back into the acting scene) and I can't find my chat logs where we talked about it, so I made things up here.  I've been avoiding this thing for years, but Gnome keeps reminding me about it, so I'm surrendering to this extent.  I hope it satisfies her until she remembers the next plot bunny I stupidly told her about.  Memory of an elephant, I tell you.  It's scary.

BTW, the quotes from the beginning are directly from the game.... the child's vocabulary is killing me. =P  Oh, and yes, I made Squall and Seifer older.  For whatever reason, twenty-year-olds tend to be hired for teenager roles and I wanted to play with that.