For Lane, who wanted Ansem/Squall with extra mayo. Merry Christmas~

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Leave It Unsaid

-o-o-

There was a door in his heart that had no key to it. Or so he had once thought.

How do you measure 'love'?

He would ask himself this at night as he slipped into bed alone. He would wonder it each time Squall's smaller hands tentatively touched him. He would write it in his journal as if the blank face of the page could answer such a riddle.

He had thought himself incapable of love—at least, the kind of love told in the fantastic tales he collected and shared with Squall. The kind of love that one knows is true, not fiction. The kind of love that transcends time and reality and moves even the most frigid of men. The kind of love Ansem had been deprived of his whole life.

Was it possible for someone like him to feel it, too?

When your heart is thrown off balance, you know it's love.

He had read that somewhere.

His heart had not been thrown off balance, though. No. What had been done to it had not been so sudden.

He would call it something more like...

Unraveled.

-o-o-

The sound of a harsh piano key pulled Ansem out of his thoughts. He listened to the soft music echoing in his private chambers, appreciating the calming tune of the fine instrument.

Squall was getting very good at this. Nearly five years of 'piano lessons' certainly had paid off, and Ansem mused silently that in another few months, Squall would be better at the Dearly Beloved sonata than he himself was.

Lifting his gaze from his work, Ansem glanced past the second story railing to the balcony area below where Squall was seated at the grand piano. The weather had been nice today, so he had kept the curtains and doors open, allowing a gentle, cool breeze into the room. Now, as the sun bled into the faraway horizon, the evening glow filtered through the open balcony and the stained glass windows, making the polished black of the piano glimmer with warmth.

Squall himself was in deep concentration, brow furrowed and gray eyes intense as they scanned over the worn sheets of music. Even though he probably already knew the notes by heart, the boy still insisted on practicing with them. Nimble fingers flew across the keys, reciting the familiar song with memorized perfection. Squall's style of playing was quiet but furious, so different from his own, which was finely tuned from years of strict teachers and being forced into a particular style instead of finding his own.

He preferred Squall's melody. It always sounded more honest.

Letting that truth settle within him, Ansem calmly closed his notebook and rose to his feet. The long tail of his frock coat brushed the back of his knees as he moved away from the desk and began to head for the spiral staircase. The melody had segued into something louder, the rolling tempo of the keys sounding beautiful as they gradually died, the song falling into a quiet lull of soft, melancholy notes.

Just as Ansem reached the bottom of the stairs and began to approach the balcony area, Squall was reaching the pinnacle of the song, his favorite part to play, and he played it very well, his fingers flying over the keys, pressing harder to draw the sounds out, the tune growing more spirited but in the well practiced, heart-felt way. Squall's face remained unchanged for the forty remaining seconds of the song, his eyes focused only on the music sheets, lips pressed firmly together as he focused. Ansem continued forward, approaching Squall from behind. As his shadow fell over the boy and the pages of music, he noticed the slight fumble Squall made at the end of the song when he realized Ansem was watching him.

"Does this mean you're done with your work?" Squall asked in a blank tone, slipping his hands away from the piano.

Ansem knew he had interrupted something very private for Squall, and the boy probably felt embarrassed for getting so lost in the music, for letting that much of his feelings out. Even after years of confessions and days spent exploring each other's hearts and bodies, Ansem had yet to learn all of the Squall that existed beyond those walls of his heart.

And similarly, Ansem had yet to open himself completely to the boy. Squall was mostly oblivious to the projects and experiments that Ansem kept performing in the lower parts of the bastion. He wanted to protect the boy, and a part of him knew that if Squall ever found out what he was doing, who he was experimenting with, why Sephiroth and Cloud came to the bastion so often, or what had really happened to his beloved Rinoa, Squall would hate him. If that ever happened... Ansem wasn't sure how he would feel. He feared that above all.

Being hated. Abandoned. Misunderstood.

-o-o-

It was at that moment, he found his own definition for that mystery called love.

Love is letting someone unravel the most intricate patterns of your heart. Love is letting him run his fingers through the worn threads as he studies your deepest thoughts, memories, and dreams. Love is letting him weave new designs of emotions and experiences without your consent. You end up sharing your imperfect loom with him as if it is perfect anyway. It's an unraveling of defenses. That's what love is.

The questions that haunted him beyond that had no such answer yet.

-o-o-

"No," Ansem replied calmly, running his hand through Squall's hair in a gentle manner. "I decided to take a break."

The boy tensed slightly at the affectionate gesture. They both knew what it meant.

"It's getting late, though..." Squall murmured as he turned his head to glance out the balcony. He hesitated a moment, sunlight kissing his young face, bangs casting subtle shadows over his gray eyes. Then, slowly, he lifted those eyes to regard Ansem, expression guarded. It was a gorgeous picture, and Ansem knew it would stay with him for years. "You've been getting kind of reckless lately," Squall commented, watching him watching him.

That was true. Ansem had been keeping Squall later and later at the bastion, and had been seducing him at uncalled for times, sometimes in dangerous places. No one really knew of their relationship still, and he valued that secrecy, knowing the chaos and controversy it would otherwise bring if it were public knowledge. An orphan boy and the king. It was unheard of.

Ansem didn't have an excuse for his behavior. Some part of himself just wanted to have all he could have of Squall before it was too late—whatever that may mean.

"If we could have a public relationship, I would announce it in a heartbeat," he whispered against Squall's ear, drawing a hand down the boy's side, resting it on his hip. It wasn't an explanation or even an acknowledgement, but it was partly why he always felt the need to do this to Squall whenever they were alone.

He knew, at least, that Squall did not mind.

The sixteen-year-old slowly turned his face, brushing his lips against Ansem's, his breath a warm caress. "I know."

Ansem pressed his lips back, letting the tender connection linger for a moment, his fingers slipping up from Squall's hip to skim just under his small white shirt. The boy's body felt like a furnace, his skin smooth under his palm as he slipped it up, feeling Squall's muscles tighten under the wandering hand.

Those gray eyes were a shade darker now, his pale hands reaching up to thread in Ansem's silky tresses. White spilled over his broad shoulders as he leaned forward, cupping the side of Squall's face as he moved in for a deeper kiss, finding Squall's fascination with his hair rather amusing. The boy returned the kiss as his slender fingers moved through Ansem's bangs.

"Why don't you have your hair down more often?" he wondered aloud as he pulled away from his king's mouth, their lips separating with a soft wet sound. His eyes flicked over Ansem's somewhat mussed bangs, which were hanging in his face today.

"Habit," Ansem murmured in reply. His hand was still tracing paths over Squall's warm skin, noticing how the boy's body tensed and relaxed with each brush of his right nipple. "My father insisted on pulling his hair back. It leaves our eyes clear for others to see. It makes us as intimidating as well as honest, he would say. And he was right, for once."

Squall said nothing about that, eyes sharp as he leaned back in, taking another kiss from Ansem as he curled a hand in the older man's coat. That was his silent way of letting his king know that it was okay to continue.

Cupping the boy's cheek again, Ansem traced his thumb along Squall's bottom lip, easing his mouth open. Their tongues gently brushed as Squall tilted his head, accepting Ansem's control of their intimate exchange, his lean body arching into the older man's touches, silently encouraging and seeking more attention. Ansem lowered his face, nuzzling against Squall's jaw as the boy licked his lips, breath quickened.

"To the bed, then?" Ansem suggested in an amused but quiet voice, pulling at Squall's shirt with his finger as he stepped away from the piano bench.

The white cotton shirt fell back into place, but not before Ansem spotted a flash of the toned skin of Squall's stomach as the boy rose to his feet to follow. As they stumbled together down the steps towards the immense bed, a heated gaze met Ansem when glanced at his young lover, a very faint blush on his cheeks, his lips already roseate and slightly swollen. Anticipation moved through him as he admired that look on Squall's face, still finding pride after all these years that he was the only one who got to see this side of the seemingly impassive boy.

-o-o-

Real love...

How long does it take before you know?

How is it measured when you do know?

When can you admit it to him and not feel fear as if you have just spoken a lie?

And, most importantly...

How do you know it's not a lie in the first place?

-o-o-

Ansem eased Squall onto the bed as their lips met again, but it wasn't as if the boy needed any more encouragement. His smaller hands were already working at the top buttons of Ansem's frock coat, pulling them free as Ansem's fingers expertly unfastened the two belts Squall was wearing. Sliding both free, Ansem let them drop to the rug below, their metallic clink resounding sharply in the large room.

Boots came next, and these were done away with within a minute, Ansem having perfected this undressing routine months ago. Judging from how easily Squall slid the coat's jabot free and tossed the ruffles away right before impatiently running his hands over the now exposed skin of Ansem's chest, he was becoming an expert at this as well. Letting a pleased smirk curl at his lips, Ansem leaned into Squall's hands, using his own to slide beneath the waist of the boy's pants to trace the curve of his firm behind. Greedy fingers unlaced and unzipped and tugged buttons free, littering the floor with clothes as the two men hastily worked together, arms brushing as each of them sought out every inch of revealed skin.

Ansem's palms skimmed up Squall's thighs as he moved onto the bed over him, Squall's fingers lacing in his hair and tugging his face forward. Ansem spread the boy's legs as Squall rained hot kisses along his neck, lips finding every sensitive descent of muscle, mouth tasting the dark skin as if it would be his last time. As always.

Teeth sank gently into Ansem's shoulder, eliciting a quiet gasp from him, heat building inside of him with each practiced touch and kiss and caress of Squall's body against his own. Turning his face, he met Squall's gaze again, the gray slightly predatory now as the teenager peered up at him through his bangs, lips glistening with saliva.

Squall didn't show it, but Ansem knew he was secretly reveling in the fact he had just gotten a reaction—small or not—out of his king. Considering both of them wore so many masks, any lowered defenses were an accomplishment to feel smug about, including a soft gasp, or a sharp intake of breath, which was exactly what Squall did when Ansem slipped his hand around the boy's hardening cock and gave a firm upward stroke. Openly pushing his hips into Ansem's hand, rolling with the quick strokes Ansem was giving him, Squall lowered his eyelids, almost closing them as he stared up at the older man, lips parted with harsh breathing.

Offering a confident smile, Ansem narrowed his eyes and leaned in, delving into Squall's mouth with a slow, passionate kiss, earning a low hum of gratification from the boy. Knee rubbing against Ansem's hip, Squall arched himself off the bed as Ansem released his erection.

"Mnngh—" The sound of frustration fell into a breathless pant as Squall pulled out of the kiss, looking flushed and a bit aggravated. Noticing Ansem's spreading smile, his brows furrowed as he immediately glared, starting to demand, "Why did you—"

But Ansem cut him off with a shake of his head, giving him a sidelong smirk as he lifted a hand, drawing his tongue over his palm where a sticky string of Squall's precum had remained. Then, after licking his lips, he gave Squall an amused look, loving the aroused expression on his face as they studied each other.

The older Squall got, the more defiant he seemed to get in bed, Ansem had been noticing. He liked taking advantage of that.

Squall's frown deepened a fraction before he suddenly began to sit up, closing his legs as he got to his knees, rising onto them. Ansem watched as the boy placed a hand on his hip and chest, a silent command to follow his lead, and, curious, Ansem decided to listen. He straightened himself, sitting on his legs as Squall moved in, pink tongue darting out to trace a path up his neck, nipping Ansem's jaw before rubbing his nose just under his ear. His hands glided over the curves of Ansem's body, almost marveling at the man's quiet strength, his graceful and arresting physique, and the soft but firm contours of muscle. As his lips trailed downward again, brushing over the sharp line of his clavicle on its way down his broad chest, Squall's fingers continued their unspoken worship, running in delicate lines down Ansem's sides, feeling the grooves of his ribs and jut of his hips.

Ansem said nothing, lifting a hand to curl in Squall's hair as he let the boy explore him for a moment. His heart was trilling with something warm, something completely different from his immediate attraction to the boy. He knew what it was, but...

Should I say it this time?

The thought soon escaped him, however, as Squall found a dusky nipple and closed his lips around it, teasing the hard nub with his tongue. As a hand came up to roll the other nipple between his fingers, Ansem relaxed into the pleasurable torture, leaning back on an arm and sliding his other hand through Squall's hair as the boy drew circles around the brown pearl with his mouth. A small hum of concentration left Squall, vibrating along Ansem's dark skin and sending a small tremor through him, his body reacting enthusiastically to the boy's attention.

He tried to keep his mind on the growing elation inside of him, but he felt Squall leave his nipples, cool air hitting the damp one and making his skin prickle at the contrast with his feverish body. Soft hair tickled his chest as the boy kissed a line down his torso, pausing to taste the ridges of his abs—Squall's favorite part, he knew. Slick tongue trailing along his stomach, Ansem tensed only slightly when Squall sucked playfully at his navel, his hand cupping Ansem's thigh and giving it a light squeeze.

Quiet, but impish when he wanted to be. That was Squall Leonhart.

Ansem briefly closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath. His heart felt light, but it was beating more quickly than usual, sending his pulse racing as desire continued to awaken within him. "The middle pillow," he instructed shortly, somewhat surprised to find his voice as husky as it was.

The warmth of Squall's body left him momentarily, and he watched as the boy lifted the wine-colored cylindrical pillow to reveal the small vial he had placed there earlier in the day. Squall took the glass present without question, replacing the pillow before returning to Ansem, handing him the pale blue oil. After giving his king a knowing look, Squall lowered himself again, this time focusing on Ansem's erection, slipping his lips around it as Ansem reached an arm over the boy's lean back, fingers now coated with lubricant.

Slick wet sounds resounded in the canopied bed as Squall gingerly sucked at the head and Ansem used his middle and ring fingers to prepare the boy for penetration. The two of them were so used to each other that even preparation was an unconscious, experienced act, Squall willingly accepting his submissive role and adding in a wayward surprise or two. Holding the tip of Ansem's length, Squall tilted his head, licking a line up the side of the heated skin, nipping it, which in turn made Ansem press his fingers sharply into the boy, deep enough to earn him a muffled gasp. That was a simple command. Play nice.

"Nnn..."

Squall's eyes wrenched shut as Ansem inserted the third finger, but the boy returned to his task, taking Ansem's arousal into his mouth with a quiet slurp, keeping his balance by holding onto Ansem's thigh as he swirled his tongue around the heated length, spreading his saliva. They worked in silence for a minute, Squall fighting back the urge to react too much to Ansem's stretching, and then they were done, almost simultaneously pulling away from each other. Squall lifted his face, a line of cum trailing after his lips before separating, pooling on his bottom lip until he licked it away, raising his dark eyes to Ansem expectantly. He was more than ready.

Squall rose back to his knees, and Ansem moved quickly, pressing the boy down into the pillows and sheets, sliding his hands under Squall, caressing his thighs as he lifted them, spreading the boy's legs, who obediently hooked them on Ansem's hips, positioning himself. His head was tilted slightly upward, but his eyes were on Ansem again, expression calm despite the shade of red on his cheeks and the way his fingers were already curling into the blanket beneath him.

Should I say it now...?

But Squall was beginning to look a little awkward as he waited there for Ansem to move. There was an unspoken question there—What keeps distracting you?—as both of them knew each other's tendency of drifting into deep thought at odd times. Ansem, however, did not appease the boy's curiosity.

He pushed into him, watching with strange pleasure as Squall fought back a look of pain, and Ansem knew well how he usually eased into Squall and had bypassed it this time. Sinking completely into the boy, he breathed out with a faint sigh of satisfaction, his body thrumming with intense emotions as he relished in the exquisite heat of Squall tightly encompassing him. The boy had clenched around him a little, tensing up at the almost reckless penetration. The white of his knuckles showed just how hard he was now clutching the coverlet beneath him, but the boy gradually eased up, giving Ansem permission to continue.

Wasting no time, Ansem gripped the back of Squall's thigh and pulled mostly out before plunging in again, eliciting a hushed gasp from the boy, neither pain nor enjoyment this time. Silky hair spilling over his shoulders onto Squall's stomach, Ansem slid an arm under one of Squall's legs, lifting it, and then began a slow, gentle pace at a deep and thorough angle, rolling his hips leisurely against the back of Squall's thighs as he thrust into him.

Squall swallowed, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as subtle looks of pleasure flickered on his face. He raised his arms, burying his hands in the pillows behind him, mouth falling open with soft pants as Ansem's tempo gradually built, pushing their bodies together, rocking Squall against the bed with each renewed push. Bare skin whispered over the sheets, the sibilant sound second to the suction of their wet skin sliding together, the moist noises arousing in their own right as they grew louder with the quickening pace. Squall's passionate sounds followed, breaths growing harsh with Ansem's more desperate thrusts.

Ansem watched each subtle change in Squall's expression, heart swelling as he continued to drive into the boy, feeling love and heat and the utmost desire flow through him, recognizing similar emotions in Squall's own heart as he reached out with his silent power to read him. An unmistakable pressure escalated inside of him, but he held it back, wanting this to last a bit longer, drowning in the pure elation of Squall's emotions and the act of their lovemaking.

He gently released Squall's leg, letting the boy wrap both around his waist and hoist himself up, pulling his erection even deeper each time their bodies met. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, and his hair was beginning to hug the slick skin of both his and Squall's sweat-covered limbs, but the exertion only excited him more. He angled sharply into the boy, piercing the spot Squall had been waiting for, and the reactions were immediate, Squall's muscles clenching firmly around Ansem's length as he arched off the bed with an erotic cry, gray eyes flying open as a look of bliss lighted his face before falling into a dreamy expression.

The friction of sex, of delving into Squall's tight body and feeling him practically writhe beneath his own body, was intoxicating to Ansem. He drove into that same spot again, earning another heated cry from the boy, and then again, sending Squall over the edge.

"A-Ahh—Ansem—!"

Squall reached climax fast, his frame shuddering under Ansem's as he raised off the mattress, releasing a choked sound of pleasure as he came onto himself and then collapsed against the sheets, trembling a little but still keeping his legs around Ansem as the man continued to thrust into him, reaching orgasm quickly afterward. He spilled inside of Squall with a breathless groan, remaining still for a long moment to recover from the intense wave of euphoria that seized his body. It wasn't until Squall relaxed around him that he finally breathed, feeling his heart still racing.

He wet his dry lips, tasting salt, and lowered his gaze to find Squall watching him, eyes soft with emotion that the boy allowed no one else to see.

I should say it now...

Ansem drew his hands up Squall's damp body, feeling the boy's abdomen spasm slightly under his palms, still feeling the effects of orgasm. They shared a tiny smile, and then Ansem carefully pulled out of him, letting Squall's legs lower to the bed. He moved to lay beside the boy, curling an arm around his waist and cupping his cheek as one of Squall's arms slipped under his, a hand reaching up to brush Ansem's wet bangs out of his eyes.

I should... He wants to hear it.

But the moment was passing, and Squall pulled him down for a final kiss, letting the connection linger, their lips separating with a soft sound. Ansem traced his fingers over Squall's cheek, knowing what this feeling meant, but unsure of how to express it.

And as Squall slipped an arm under a pillow and curled in on Ansem's body to take a small nap before returning home, as he usually did, Ansem let him, trailing his hand down the beautiful curves of Squall's body one last time that night before relaxing completely.

Something nagged at him, questions with answers that no amount of knowledge could give. Even a great sage like him became as helpless as a child under the pretense of something as ancient as love.

Best leave it unsaid.

After all, there would be a next time.

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