DISCLAIMER: If you recognise anything in here, it probably belongs to Square… Unless you’re reading this for a second time in which case some of it will be mine.

AN: I know, I’m being naughty, starting yet another multi-chaptered fic when I’ve already got all those others going, but you’ll enjoy it. Coincidently, Squall and the gang live in the same part of East London as I do, go to the same school too. Only I had the sense to leave before sixth form. It’s a C of E school so take this fic as a warning: Let your kids go to a church school and they’ll end up writing stuff like this!

Thanks to beta-girl Atsuko (of Rie and Atsuko – go read their fics!)

Something Vaguely Hedonistic

1: Squall: Everybody’s Bitch

Squall blinked slowly. There was cold warmth in his stomach and a delicate smile on his lips. He watched the liquid light of the waxing moon flood the unfamiliar room with cool silver. If he closed his eyes he could almost see the Goddess’ face in that pale light, or feel her icy fingers brush lightly against his cheek.

He was brought sharply back to his situation when a hot sweaty body moulded itself to his. He flinched away from the clammy touch, and felt his eyes burn. He had to breathe heavily to calm himself down until he felt the arm about his waist loosen. Squall pulled back the sheets with a practiced quiet, and the other youth in the bed unconsciously shrank away from the cold that met him. Silently Squall swung his legs off of the bed and curled his toes into the lush carpet that met his feet.

He sat motionless for a while on the edge of the bed, asking the Goddess to wipe the sleaze from his mind. How many times would he wake up in other people’s rooms like this? At least this time it was someone he knew. This time it wasn’t a nameless face that was grunting into his back while he buried his head in the pillow. Still, it was just as sadistic as every other time. That was fine by Squall. He got off on the pain. There were only two things that brought Squall pleasure, sex, and the Goddess. But the Rituals for the Goddess were the only things that didn’t make him feel emptier when they were over.

Squall looked over his shoulder. Jamie Wight was there, still asleep. Still stinking of beer and cigarettes. Squall wondered if he would remember what had happened when he woke up. Perhaps the alcohol would chase the event out of his peroxide blonde head.

Squall pushed a lock of dyed black hair behind his ear. An effeminate gesture he knew, but he was an effeminate kind of guy. The two went together like flies and shit. He looked back at Jamie. Squall should remind him to get his roots done. He might appreciate that enough to be up for a rematch some other time. It had been a while since he had felt so dirty. He needed that. Somehow, it made who he was, what he was, justified. It made him feel righteous.

Jamie was 17, like Squall. They knew each other because they had gone to the same school. They went to the same sixth form now. They were in the same psychology class even. Jamie, however, didn’t like Squall. A mutual feeling. In the words of that American twit, Jamie was a ‘jock’; Squall was a ‘Goth’. The two didn’t really mesh. And of course, Squall was a fag. Apparently Jamie was one too. He must have been repressing because until that night no one had had any idea. Maybe tomorrow, Squall should sit on his lap in the canteen and thank him for the spanking, then everyone would know what he did.

Who would have thought that under that tough, laddish exterior, there was a sensitive homo kink just waiting to get out? Squall would make it come out in a big way…

Squall felt about on the floor by the bed for clothes. He stood carefully and pulled on his tight PVC trousers, deftly zipping them up in such a way that made sure nothing got caught in the metal teeth of the zipper. With his pants creaking quietly, he started searching the room for his shirt.

When he found the black lace garment on the desk he threw a curse at the sleeping figure under his breath. It was great that Wight had been eager for him, Squall had no problem with being treated roughly, but when his favourite clothes got torn it meant the guy was going too far.

Jamie could get him another one when he went to get his roots done.

Squall picked up his boots from by the door and slipped out of the room. He was less concerned about making noise out here. Jamie lived alone in a one bedroom flat, subsidised by his parents who had moved when his sister, who was fourteen at the time, fell pregnant. It was rumoured that Seifer Almasy had never seen his daughter. A fact he was quite proud of.

Squall took a look at himself in the mirror in the hall, running his fingers through his hair to comb it into place, and wiping a smudge of eyeliner from under his eye. Then he took a black lipstick from his pocket and wrote a message for his host on the glass. Smiling, he applied the colour to his lips and kissed the mirror. Even if he didn’t believe what it said, Wight would get edgy whenever one of his little gang insulted someone for being queer. Of course, if he did believe it, he might never be able to look at a mirror again without getting flashbacks of biting down on a pale shoulder as a slender male body moved underneath him, and him moved inside it.

The front door closed with a click, and Squall sat down on the step to pull on his boots. Then he was walking across the landing, down the stairs, and out into the night.

The cold air rushed to him, wrapping itself around him like the Goddess’ chill arms, holding him, and comforting him. But he still felt hollow, and ashamed, and, because of that, he felt like himself.

“Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly, with an empty smile to the moon. “I’m used to it. I’m everybody’s bitch.”

He shivered and folded his arms across his chest, trying to ward off the cold as his thin ripped shirt failed too.

Jamie Wight stood at the window rubbing his eyes furiously as he watched the figure with its pale skin in sharp contrast to its black clothes moving in and out of the glow of the street lamps. If Squall had still been there in the morning it would have been that much harder to forget the fact that he had been there at all.

The walk home from Jamie’s took half an hour. Squall stopped short of the door and tipped his head back to look at the window above. The light was out; his parents were asleep.

Briefly he considered taking his keys out of his pocket, but changed his mind. It was late, and jangling keys would be just one more noise to wake the sleepers. He was doing it for them as much for his on ego, surely it didn’t fall into the ‘personal gain’ category. Either way, it was so trivial it couldn’t have too much of an affect on his karma…

He leant in close to the topmost of the three locks on the door and blew softly into the keyhole. He felt a static prickle on his neck, and down his spine, and then a sharp click resounded from the lock. He smiled happily to himself then repeated the trick on the remaining locks.

Squall was experienced at sneaking in and out of the house. Stealthily he slipped in and shut the door. He could feel the prickle rising again on the backs of his arms, but then he heard a voice behind him and his concentration broke.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Squall turned slowly and looked along the dim hall at the figure standing in the living room doorway. It was his father with his long hair was in a mess from a restless sleep.

“L-Laguna, I thought you were in bed.”

“I was. I couldn’t sleep though. Your mother and I have been worried shitless! Why are you back so late?”

“Well, you see,” Squall began relaxing now. “First I was kidnapped by this bunch of blokes, then raped, and then they murdered me and dumped my body in a ditch just outside of London. I had to walk all the way home. Can you believe the cheek of it!” Squall explained with sarcastic innocence.

“Listen Squall…” Laguna started angrily.

“No, you listen. You gave up all right to question me when you pissed off fourteen years ago.” Squall spat the words like venom.

That phased Laguna for a moment. When Squall pulled his trump card, the fact that Laguna had disappeared from the lives of his wife and children when Squall was just three, as Squall often did, he had no answer to it. Guilt was a powerful weapon, and Squall knew exactly how to use it to its best effect.

“It’s a bloody school night!” was all Laguna could think of as far as retorts were concerned.

“I don’t go to school.” He was just trying to be difficult; he knew he wasn’t being particularly clever or witty.

“Fine, sixth form, whatever! The point is that you’ve violated our trust…” it was a stock phrase, one all parents learn from their built child-rearing handbook. It was also a mistake.

“I violated your trust?” Squall said raising his voice above his fathers. “Laguna, you can talk all the shit you want, but don’t you ever, ever, talk to me about trust. What about how I trusted you. I was three fucking years old! I can remember for two weeks mum saying you had to work late, which is why you were never home before I was in bed, and that you had to leave early, which is why you weren’t there when I woke up. It was Ellone that had to tell me you were gone, because mum couldn’t. Not that she wouldn’t, she couldn’t.”

“Squall…”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” Raine’s voice cut into the argument and both men fell into silence. “It’s two in the morning and you’re at it again, can’t either of you just leave off? Elle’s in bed, and she’s sick. You know that. What is it that the two of you are trying to do?” She was tying the belt of her gown as she was spitting angrily at them. “Squall, you will be in by eleven from now on. Now get to bed.”

Squall walked quietly up the stairs, brushing lightly passed his mother, and went into his bedroom. He shut the door and sat on the edge of his bed. He could hear her speaking to Laguna now. “Don’t push it,” she was saying. “We were fine, we don’t need you Laguna. If you do anything to hurt my children again and I swear you will regret it.”

Squall was walking along the school corridor. The walls were a funny colour; they looked like they had been stained with coffee rather than beige paint. Squall was going to be late. He had hardly any sleep last night and he had to be up early. He had missed Fuu at the bus stop, he had missed the bus at the bus stop, and he had left his watch at Jamie’s last night. He was not in the best mood to deal with people.

“Heya Squally!” Squall tensed visibly when he heard that phrase. It wasn’t so much the words as the accent that accompanied them, an American one. There was only one American in the school, and he was loud, hyperactive, and annoying. The offending individual slapped Squall heartily on the shoulder. “’Ow’s tricks?” Zell asked in a poor imitation of a cockney accent.

“Fine.” Squall picked up his pace, but Zell was more than capable of keeping up with him.

“Cool baby! Say, I was thinking…”

“Listen, Zelly baby,” Squall had stopped outside the psychology classroom. “I don’t know what I did to make you think we were friends, but whatever it was, I sincerely apologise.”

Squall opened the door and closed it on the boy with the ridiculous hair. “Well, um, apology accepted…”

“A’right?” The silver haired, elfin girl asked as Squall dumped his bag on the table and dropped into the seat by her. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks Cyclops,” Squall shook his hair out of his eyes. “I thought my self-esteem was due a bruising.”

“Sorry…” Fujin touched her eye patch self-consciously. She narrowed her good eye at him. “So, what happened to you after you stomped off last night? I was trying to phone you for ages. Your mobile was off.”

“Yeah, I met some bloke on the way.” Squall shrugged.

The girl sighed in mock exasperation. “Anyone I know?”

“Yeah actually.” Squall sat forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table. He nodded to the front of the classroom where Jamie Wight was hunched over his desk making notes on child development rather too diligently, and throwing the occasional look back at Squall.

Fujin’s eye widened. She leant in close and whispered in an incredulous voice: “You fucked Jamie?”

“No, he fucked me.”

“Are you serious?” She laughed disbelievingly, and the whole class turned to look at her. All except Wight, who shifted uncomfortably and wrote even faster. “Yes?” she said aggressively to the other students who were still watching her. They turned back to their work muttering, and she back to Squall. “I never would’ve guessed he went in for that.”

“Well, he was pretty drunk.”

Fujin shook her head. “That’s a man’s excuse for everything.” She put on a deep voice. “I was pissed out me nut! It’s pathetic.”

“At least he had an excuse.”

“It’s ok Squally, you’ve got one too.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you’re a complete slut. Can’t live without a decent shag.”

Squall grinned. “So what did you get up to?”

Fujin sighed. “I bumped into Seifer.”

“Get anywhere?” Squall asked with morbid curiosity. He despised Seifer, but Fuu was near obsessed with him.

“Nah. You know what I get like around him. Say more than one word in each sentence and I choke.”

“I’ll never understand why you like him. He’s a complete wanker.”

“As are you my dear.”

“I know, but I just can’t help myself. It’s the hormones you know.”

Fujin rolled her good eye. “Another excuse Squall? At least us girls can admit we do it for the fun.”

“Well go and have fun in front of Seifer. You might have more luck.”

Fujin laughed and poked her tongue out at him. She pulled a notepad out of her bag and started copying from the blackboard as their teacher talked them through child attachment theories.

Squall collapsed against the wall and groped about in the pocket of his leather jeans.

“You know, I could seriously do without that woman and all her crap.”

Fujin raised her dark eyebrows as she flicked some ash from her cigarette. “What did she want with you this time?”

“You remember the other day when…” he pulled a gold coloured cardboard box from his pocket and opened it. “Shit! I don’t s’pose I can have one of yours? Thanks.” He threw the empty packet on the floor and took the cigarette his friend offered. He held the tip between his fingers and let go suddenly as it flared red and burnt him.

“Squall!” She looked about quickly. “Don’t do that here you moron! What if someone had seen?” Squall pouted in reply and blew smoke into her face. “Fine,” she glared at him. “What did Miss Johnson want?”

“You know when she caught me going down on Aaron in the toilets?” Fujin nodded as she exhaled a stream of smoke. “She wanted to make sure I knew about safe sex… And give me the number of her therapist in case I ever needed to talk about my ‘deviant sexuality’.”

The silver-haired girl snorted smoke through her nose.

“Speaking of deviant sexualities, what was Jamie like?”

Squall shrugged. “Jamie was like all the rest. Didn’t care what he was doing to me as long as he got himself off. Look…” He half unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of his left shoulder to reveal a purple bruise where he had been bitten.

“You loved every second of it didn’t you?”

“Never said I didn’t.” Squall buttoned his black shirt back up, careful not to burn it. “I’m a sucker for guys that like to play rough.” He stood up straight suddenly as he saw Fujin turn red. “Fuu…?” Then he felt and arm circle his neck and pull him close into a large hard body.

“If that was the case Squall, I’m sure we would be the best of friends.”

Squall wrenched himself away. “Fuck off Seifer.”

Seifer backed away with his palms raised and approached Fujin. He placed his hands on the wall either side of her head and leant close to her face. “What’s up with your girlfriend?” he asked her looking back at Squall.

“He… Uh… STRESS!” she blurted suddenly as she turned scarlet.

Seifer hooked a finger under her chin and raised her down-turned face. “And what’s up with you?”

“Uh… LUNCH!” She pulled away from Seifer, gave Squall an apologetic and hurried off toward the cafeteria, throwing her cigarette on the floor.

“I really should fuck that girl. She’s cute.”

“Leave her alone Seifer.”

“Why, you can’t be interested. I heard you’re with Jamie Wight.”

“Who said that?” Squall asked warily.

“Raijin,” he said matter-of-factly still looking in the direction Fujin had walked off. “He heard you talking in psych.”

“One night hardly makes a lifelong commitment.”

“But you’re a fag, either way.”

“I know,” said Squall with a leer, as he ran his hand down over his stomach to his groin and squeezed himself tightly. “But a few drinks and I’m anybody’s bitch.”

“That’s funny,” Seifer said coming towards him and placing on hand on Squall’s hip and using the other one to cover the hand Squall still had over his crotch. “You always refused to be mine.” He leant down to kiss Squall, but the other youth turned his face away.

He put his lips close to Seifer’s ear and whispered words and second-hand smoke. “I said I’d be anybody’s bitch. Not a nobody’s.” He pushed past the larger boy and followed after Fujin.

TBC

As always, reviews are appreciated. Thank you for your time.