Gryvon – Writer of LGBTQ Erotic Fiction

Obsession’s Eyes (Final Fantasy VIII, Seifer/Squall)

Obsession’s Eyes (1553 words) by gryvon
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Seifer Almasy/Squall Leonhart
Additional Tags: Community: springkink

Squall knows that there’s always someone watching him.

The streets of Deling were dark. Half of the street lamps were out, and those that weren’t flickered dimly, as if too tired to put in any real effort into illumination. Squall Leonhart walked quietly, barely making a sound as he trod through the streets – just another shadow passing over the dirty cobblestones. It was late, well past midnight and the point where most sane people had already made their beds. Most of the windows were shuttered and all were dark, not a soul visible save Squall.

He knew he wasn’t alone.

Eyes watched him, following his every move, every breath. He was used to it by now. As the head of Balamb Garden, the son of the President of Esthar, and a hero of the latest Sorceress War, he was used to people watching him. Some watched him with admiration, others with fondness or loathing, or even envy. This was different than all of those, yet still familiar. He knew this gaze, though that didn’t stop his fingers from curling, itching to reach back and loose his gunblade.

These eyes watched him with an emotion so dark it bordered on obsession. That didn’t make Squall move any faster down the empty street.

He turned down an alleyway, a shortcut back to the hotel. Quistis was probably foaming at the mouth right now, wondering what was taking so long. Or maybe she’d taken his earlier advice about not waiting up and gone to bed already.

Hand grabbed him unexpectedly and Squall was taken by surprise for a brief moment, not because he was being accosted but because he’d honestly thought his observer was behind him instead of in front. That surprise gave his attacker the edge he needed. Squall barely caught himself before his hands hit the wall. His gunblade clattered to the floor, it and the entire holster stripped off of him in a second. A move like that required practice, confirming Squall’s suspicion on the identity of his attacker.

Not that he’d really doubted it to begin with.

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