Final Fantasy VIII: Midsummer
Irvine woke up hot, the air heavy around him, and kicked at the sheet with his feet to let cooler air touch his skin, even if it wasn't much better. He wiped at his face, and swore that he was going to force Seifer to at least buy a fan. Even with the window open to the outside, it was still hot. He turned his head to where Seifer lay on the other side—he always curled away when he slept—but found him awake instead, staring at the ceiling.
"Seifer?" Irvine shoved himself up on his elbows. "Heat bothering you, too?
"No."
And there was a tone Irvine recognized. He grinned, even though it was as hot as hell. He rolled, sweat-slicked skin letting him slide on top of Seifer easily, and rocked his hips. "You need to get a fan."
Seifer only smiled. "Maybe I will," he said, and moved his hands to Irvine's hips.
This was something Irvine didn't take for granted—Seifer didn't talk about his feelings, didn't explain his moods, but let Irvine deal with them by taking his mind off them. He hadn't cared about Irvine being a fool with his hands the first time, or all the times since, and Irvine tried not to care that Seifer wouldn't talk to him about what woke him up and kept him up all hours of the night.
He found a nice rhythm, his cock sliding between Seifer's and the curve of his thigh, and rocked. "You've been saying it for weeks." Irvine bent his head, hair falling past his face to stick to both of them. He slowed and stopped, and gave Seifer a smug look. "You promise?"
Seifer had expressions Irvine thought might have scared a lesser man that didn't know how he looked asleep and peaceful. Sometimes it was fun for Irvine to pretend they intimidated him, too, but something was off tonight—Seifer had moods, but this one was different. He turned his head to the side as Seifer glared at him and arched up, once and then again, and Irvine didn't have to be a genius to see Seifer didn't want to be teased.
He moved quickly, pinning Seifer's wrists on the pillow above his head. He rocked up once, shivering with it, and they were both soaked completely when they slid into the motions together, familiar and comfortable.
Seifer twisted a leg behind Irvine's calf and pushed up, and making a low noise in his throat. He kept his eyes open. "Come on, come on," Seifer said. His voice was almost a growl, and that was new, because Seifer didn't talk, he never said anything, and the surprise of it made Irvine shake and come all over both of them.
Seifer rolled them to the side to press into the slickness between them while Irvine was still trying to figure out what had happened, and a few seconds later Seifer went over, too, pressing his forehead against Irvine's, eyes glazed but amused.
Irvine lay still, not really wanting to move. "What—?"
"If you have to ask—" Seifer didn't bother finishing his sentence, and kissed him instead, rare enough that Irvine finally understood that a line had been crossed.
Irvine wasn't a fool, and decided he was more than fine with operating behind the lines—and kissed Seifer back.