Final Fantasy VIII, Seifer/Squall, orders
Seifer had been told more than once during his checkered career that he had issues with authority. It was, in fact, the reason he'd become the head of the disciplinary committee - because the Headmaster had some idea that if Seifer had to enforce the rules, maybe he'd respect them a bit more. He'd declare that policy a partial success; it did give Seifer something to occupy his time, but he still preferred giving orders over taking them.
And it didn't help, when people tried to give him orders, that as a non-SeeD he wasn't even in their chain of command. He was back at Garden because there was really nowhere else for him to go, and he had a feeling his continued presence had been sold to objectors as 'keeping an eye on him'. He was conscious enough of the sentiment that he did try and avoid trouble when possible, but he'd never been one to back down from a fight. Fighting was what he did, after all.
And if you were looking for a fight, Garden was the place to be. Despite not being a SeeD, he'd gone on several missions, and for downtime there was always the Training Centre.
Seifer still had issues with authority. His biggest issue was who that authority was. He'd known Squall since they were both kids, had been butting heads with him just as long. Just because the other man was now SeeD Commander, didn't mean Seifer had any intention of leaving Leonhart alone. For one thing, he was the only gunblader anywhere near Seifer's own level. For another, he figured he was doing a public service, messing with him the way he did. The way everybody else treated the brunet, Seifer considered it a serious possibilty that he'd freeze over completely with an icicle lodged up his ass.
"Seifer,” Squall growled, levelling a heated glare in his direction.
Of course, he wasn't cold at the moment, something Seifer took full credit for. And the only thing lodged up Squall's ass were Seifer's fingers. He didn't look at all like the cool, calm SeeD Commander that the press loved so much. The uniform was gone, and he sprawled naked across Seifer's bed. His skin was flushed and sheened with sweat, and as Seifer pressed against a particular spot deep inside, he arched, mouth falling open in an inarticulate cry.
His body sagged back onto the mattress, and he panted. Finally, he lifted his head, and gave Seifer yet another glare. “Dammit, Seifer, stop fooling around and fuck me.”
Seifer pulled his fingers free with a smirk, and positioned himself between Squall's legs.