What Friends are For

'What Friends are For' Chapter 14: Clifftop Lovers and Cliffhangers
In which there is dessert, and a bedtime story. [WAFF, Oral, Anal, mild S&M, mentions of self-harm, Yaoi]

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"So," he said quietly, in a voice that sent a shiver along my spine and straight to my groin, "are you ready for dessert?"

How the hell can I say no to a question like that? Though I was damn sure hoping he didn't mean cookies or something. Knowing him, he'd be twisted enough to pull a that kinda stunt. I sighed, and pulled him down for another, shorter kiss.

"Mm, if yer talkin' about what I think yer talkin' about, then sure." I said with a smile. I moved a hand to run my fingertips over his lips. "But that wasn't what I was thinkin' when I brought ya up here. I just wanted more time with ya before we gotta go back to the real world."

Vince nodded slightly and stood up. Silently he began working at the buckles and fasteners on his shirt. He'd had a while to get used to the things, so it was easy for him to do it, even with the unfeeling metal. It was interesting to watch. I'd never seen him actually take it off - ever since I had to cut the last one from him, he'd worn nothing but cloth shirts, so seeing how deftly he managed it with those claws was surprising. I suppose it shouldn't be. I'd seen him work on his guns often enough, and he's helped me around the Highwind, but I don't think he so much as scratched the leather or metal he was wearing.

"I know," he finally said, with that soft smile of his, as he continued undressing. "But why should I not take advantage of such a perfect setting, all alone with you? After all, how long will it be before we are so secluded again?"

I couldn't think of a single reason why not. Seemed perfectly logical to me. After all, I was only human - and male at that. Again I was stuck just looking at Vince as he stood over me, slowly working to shed his clothes, one thing at a time, baring himself a gradually. It was wonderful to just watch; the sun made his pale body almost blinding and accented each scar, and glinted off the metal of his gauntlet. When he stood completely nude, nearly shining, with the wind toying with his long hair, those brilliant red eyes staring at me, I remembered what I'd thought not long ago - that he looked like some kind of deity, a beautiful god of war.

And I had to wonder - when the hell did I start thinking like that? Vince was just a man too. Yeah, he's been through more shit in his lifetime than any ten people should. But he took my breath away, and made me realize how lucky I was.

That train of thought was quickly derailed; Vince was already moving to help me out of my own clothes, ever gentle with his claw as he pulled at the fabrics. I was glad - didn't wanna ruin another shirt, though I almost laughed that that thought could run through my mind at a moment like that. He made me let him remove everything from shoes to goggles, and did it with a slowness that was as arousing as it was annoying. His metal hand pressed me back to the mat, and the small part of my brain still capable of logical thought was glad the padding was thick enough that I couldn't feel any rocks we'd missed.

Vince threw a leg over me and sat straddling my hips, our erections rubbing together as he rocked teasingly. I shuddered, and arched upward, hungering for any touch he'd give me, anywhere, as long as he did something. And was relieved when he leaned down and kissed me again, tongue invading my lips, lapping over the inside of my mouth with a growl that went straight to my cock. I arched into him again, craving any kind of friction, so much that it hurt for him to be still. He ground downward, making me gasp and press upward once more.

His lips pulled away, my own staying open to let me pant beneath him as he kept up the slow rocking of his hips. His stiff flesh slid against my own with a heated pressure, both of us leaking enough to ease the friction with the slickness. It was the most delicious torture, just enough to make me want more yet not want it to stop; once again, I was caught unable to speak, though I think I might've been whimpering a bit at already.

Again he leaned down, never stopping that delicious rocking, and my hands moved from clawing at the mat under me to grip his hips, clinging without interrupting his rhythm. I shifted my legs to dig my heels against the mat, helping me meet the rhythm he'd found, both of us interrupting the silence with soft moans and quiet panting.

I know I started whimpering then; the too-familiar sensations were building fast, and I didn't want to finish like that. I wasn't a kid anymore; an orgasm meant downtime, and I wanted more, damn it. My body wouldn't cooperate enough to let me tell him so, though; when I tried to talk, all that came out was a moan, and the only thing I could do was shudder and hold onto Vince's hips as if my life depended on it.


He got the message, though - or maybe he was as anxious as I was to take things farther. The end result was the same, either way, so it didn't really matter. All that mattered was the way he slid from straddling me, nudged my legs apart, and knelt between my thighs in what had to have been the single most seductive movement I had ever seen in my life. I hissed when his metal hand cradled my erection; the combination of hard, warm metal and a gentle stroke was strange, but damn good. Having those sharp claws so close to my tender bits sent a thrill of apprehension through me, and increased the anticipation.

I stared, transfixed, as he leaned over, breeze-swept hair tickling my belly before his lips met my leaking tip and gave a slow, suckling kiss that drew a groan from the depths of my chest. Oh, that was good, and it just got better as he drew his own mouth down with the vacuum, taking me in inch by inch. Vince kept his arms on my upper thighs, golden claws still cradling me, the combination keeping me from writhing as I so desperately needed to.

It was hard to believe that, with as much as we had done over the past few days, I could still feel such a needy hunger, one that churned deep inside me. I understood more than ever the jokes about insatiable newlyweds; seems we were gonna be the same way.

My thoughts stopped when Vince's mouth dropped completely around me, lips clinging to the base of my cock, his throat contracting around the tip with repeated swallows. I threw my head back, arching up and clawing at the mat beneath me; when his uncovered hand tugged and kneaded my balls, I couldn't hold back the scream, or the orgasm that sent my cum flowing into his throat.

And still he was relentless, two very different hands working with his throat and tongue to drain me dry, stroking and squeezing and sucking until I could've sworn it wasn't just my seed, but my blood, my essence he was pulling from me, and all I could do was slump down and whimper from the treatment.

I was seeing stars when Vince finally decided I was dry enough for his satisfaction, and I nearly screamed again when his pulling off my softening shaft created enough suction to hollow his cheeks. I laid there, panting and twitching, while he just watched me with the most insufferably smug look on his face. I needed to do something - anything - to get rid of that expression; it took every ounce of strength I could muster to sit up and pull him in for a kiss.

Absently I wondered if I'd ever get used to tasting myself on Vincent's lips; hopefully, I'd have plenty of chances to try. For the moment, I was content to explore his mouth, keeping him held against me as I laid back again until he was laying over me. His tongue followed mine to return the favor, a growl vibrating between our lips when I nipped the muscle. Vince was still hard; I could feel him, solid and heavy against my own cock. Slow thrusts of his hips rubbed himself against my groin, making me shudder from the heightened sensitivity.

One at a time, I drew my legs up and curled them around his, and rubbed my heels over the backs of his thighs. He rewarded me with a shudder, and another growl; a moan was my response, and a grind of my hips against his. It was then that Vince pulled away, and I opened my eyes, but the protest died when I saw he'd grabbed the all too familiar tube of that fruit-scented stuff he liked to torment me with.

His stare caught mine, and my breath caught as his claw flipped open the tube and drizzled the slickness onto his palm. That hand drifted down to curl around his own cock, and stroked it much more slowly than he had mine, just enough to make it glisten wetly in the sunlight. And there was that hunger again, building somewhere other than my stomach, something I was starting to enjoy as much as the satisfaction that makes it go away for a while.

Vincent didn't have to ask before I bared myself to him; just the movement of his hand toward my ass was enough to make me realize what we both wanted. Though, really, there wasn't any doubt. When his fingers slid inward, there was less resistance than the first couple of times, which meant less work for him when he stretched and rubbed to loosen me up enough that I wouldn't tear. And as much as I missed those fingers when he pulled away, I knew what was coming made those sensations pale in comparison.

He tucked his hands behind my knees and drew them to rest over his shoulders. This let him bend me when he leaned forward and shifted to bring his hips to mine again. The claw rested on my chest as his free hand guided him, and he pressed into me with one smooth, quick thrust that made me groan in satisfaction. He paused there, eyes closed and head hanging down, and I saw a shudder run through him. I couldn't help but flex my inner muscles around his cock, and his head whipped up to look at me with an expression so hungry, it was almost frightening.

With his metal hand keeping its place on my chest - where I was starting to think it belonged - and his other gripping my waist, Vince slowly drew out of me; as if pulled out by the retreat of his flesh, a moan clawed out of my throat, and was replaced by something closer to a yelp when he thrust in again with a quicker movement. He build that into a rhythm - slow out, quick in, and it didn't take more than a couple of thrusts to find that bundle of nerves hidden inside me. If he wanted to torture me, he succeeded; even though I'd already had an orgasm, the repeated ramming of that spot was enough to reawaken my poor, drained flesh.

It wasn't until I was hard enough for his still-oiled hand to stroke me that he relented and settled into something a bit more regular, rocking against me with a steady pace that made us both pant from the building pleasures. The glide of his fist matched the pace of his hips, and I was glad I'd had my release once already, or I was sure I'd've been lost by that point. Especially when those claws drew across my chest once more, just hard enough to raise reddened welts without breaking the skin, the pain contrasting with the pleasure so sharply that they blended into one utterly perfect sensation which nearly blew my damn mind.

And I remembered what he'd told me in the shower - that he can control his body as he needs, to the point of willing away his arousal. What if he could do the opposite - keep himself from coming for as long as he wanted? I don't know whether the thought worried or excited me.

Maybe a bit of both.

Later, it would make me wonder at myself that it was the possibility of Vincent having unlimited stamina during sex that made me think he was inhuman, and not the fact that he tends to turn into a demon who hunts monsters for fun.

But at the moment, there were much more important things to focus on, like the perfect way Vince fit inside me and rubbed all the right places when he thrust, or how he knew just the right twist of the wrist when he reached the head of my cock to make me whimper and squirm as much as I could with my legs still over his shoulder, or how one of his clawtips teased circles around my right nipple without quite marking the skin, and oh by all that was Holy I was coming already, again, erupting over our bellies and his fist as he milked me.

It was like a dam burst inside me, letting all the noises I'd held back spill out finally, as wordless cries mixed with profanity I couldn't remember later, all mingled with his name repeated over and over and over until his voice joined mine, and I could feel his own thick release filling me, warming me from the inside out.

I dropped my legs from his shoulders just in time for him to collapse on top of me, both of us panting and twitching slightly from the exertion. The shift made him slip out of me, and I moaned lazily at the emptiness. That made him chuckle, and I smiled, closing my eyes and tilting my head up to the sun. I sighed in contentment when I felt him nuzzle into my neck, then kiss my throat.

"Y'know, Vince," I murmured, "if it always feels that damn good, I don't think I'll ever see 'bugger off' as an insult ever again."

He laughed at that, and if I thought the sound of it was pleasant, the feel of it pressed against my chest with his weight made it that much better. "Then I shall endeavor to make it as good - if not better - every time. If only to see if such a comment can make you imagine things interesting enough to make you blush."

Oh, great. "Thanks a lot, Vince, yer kindness is overwhelming," I said, rolling my eyes.

"You are most welcome, as always," he replied. "As you say, what are friends for?"

I tiled my head up to peer down at him, where his cheek laid on my shoulder. "Smartass," I grumbled. Couldn't really complain, though. 'Teasing Vince' was more fun than 'Gloomy Vince' or 'Brooding Vince' - both of which I'd seen far too much.

We laid like that for a little while, until the sun got a bit too warm. Vince had had the foresight to bring along a damp cloth, which we used to clean ourselves up a bit, and I eyed him suspiciously. Apparently our spontaneous 'dessert' wasn't as spontaneous as I'd thought. Decided not to complain, though. Really, who would?

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After redressing and cleaning up our picnic, then making sure the birds hadn't strayed too far, we laid back on the mat again. Vince rested his head on my shoulder, his own shoulders pinning my arm down. Absently I carded my fingers through his hair, letting the strands drift back down behind him. I knew there'd be a while still before the Highwind would return for us, so we had some time to just be lazy together.

We had both almost dozed off in the warmth before Vince moved his left arm to rest the claw on my chest, over the shirt I wore. The index tip toyed carefully with the materia pendant at the base of my throat. "Will you tell me why?" he asked softly.

I knew what he was asking, but not which part. Why did it affect me the way it did? Why did I enjoy it so much? Or... Why did I fear it, that pleasure I got from pain?

I sighed. "It's... a long story, kinda. I guess we've got time, though." I paused a moment to gather my thoughts. It was my biggest secret - the only one, really, now that the fact that I was in love with my best friend was out in the open. I think that made it even harder to let go.

And yet, i wanted him to know all of me.

With a deep breath, I began.

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High-level materia was more abundant back when I was a kid, several years after you... well, went to sleep. Think about it - some of it had been around for centuries. Even half of all the new stuff around today was from a mastered parent, that's still a hell of a lot of power. All the major things like elementals and status effecting were controlled by the military and the bigger corporations like ShinRa, but nobody thought twice about restricting something as harmless as a Restore.

My father was a mechanic for ShinRa, back when they were between 'small company' and 'evil megalomaniacal bastards.' He helped design and build the flying machines for them - the Gelinkas, the 'copters. He started work on the Highwind, too - but that came later. So, I grew up around that kinda stuff - pilots, soldiers, mechanics. It's where I found my love for flying.

Because of the kind of people my dad hung around, I'd hear rumors and things about what was happening. I was thirteen then, just a kid, so hearing about bodies being found without a mark on 'em, but almost completely bled dry caught my attention.

Regen and Cure don't restore blood, just heal flesh, so you get to deal with heavy blood loss if they're used too much too soon. It was being used by the sorta people who shouldn't - borderline suicidals, or gutter kids with nothing better to do than see who can cut the deepest before it heals.

And then there was another kind. The ones the soldiers really liked to talk about. The ones that enjoyed the pain. The ones that paid whores with the right materia to give them the best of both worlds - pain and pleasure. But they didn't know what they were doing, so some of their 'clients' started dying with their pants around their ankles and grins on their faces. It started happening too damn often. So, they started restricting the Restores. Anyone caught unlicensed was punished.

My dad was one of the ones who got to keep a mastered Restore. He did dangerous work, with heavy machinery, cutting and welding tools. Having a quick heal made the difference between life and death on more than one occasion.

So with those stories of people who enjoyed being hurt a little too much still in my head, I snuck off with Dad's restore late one night, when I thought everyone would be in bed. Had to try it, you see. I thought I was weird for liking the sting of being cut or scraped by accidents in the workshop.

At first it was just once a week. Just small cuts to heighten the pleasure, never went farther than just enough to make myself bleed. For three or four months it went on. From once a week, to twice. Then every other night. And then it became a nightly thing, something I had to have. It was eating me from the inside, the guilt of needing something that I knew was wrong. I knew it was dangerous, but I didn't care. I was young, and immortal. Nothing bad would ever happen to me.

Until my dad walked in to find me with my cock in one hand and his Restore in the other, blood dripping down my arms from cuts that were healing as he watched.

I don't think I've ever been that afraid, that shocked, before or since. And I'll never forget the look he gave me when he stalked over and tore his materia from me. Anger I could handle. But not the disgust and disappointment he glared at me with.

We avoided each other for two weeks after that. Didn't look, didn't talk. We lived and worked in the same place, but that was it. I hated it. He was my dad, my only relative, and really my only friend. So after two weeks of being shut off from the one person I cared about, I couldn't stand it. I walked into his workshop one evening, gave him a hug, and said, "I'm sorry, and I miss you."

The next day, the Restore was back on the shelf, in easy reach, where it belonged. I never touched it again, unless someone asked me to hand it to them. And even then, I handled it as little as possible. My dad and I never had the same closeness as we did before that happened, but the temptation was always there.

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Vince was silent after I finished talking, and I didn't know what else to say. Even laying naked in front of Vincent, I didn't feel so... exposed. I was starting to get anxious, worried, when the silence stretched, until he finally spoke.

"So that is why," he said in a quiet voice. "I know it was difficult for you, but thank you for telling me."

I sighed again. "It was, but I'm glad, y'know? I'd never told anyone about it. It's why I'd avoided the Regen during fights, knew I'd get distracted by it." I stopped, and lifted a hand to brush my fingers over the band of my goggles, where the strap was permanently creased from having the cigarettes there so often, though the pack was gone now. "Some habits... Aren't easy to break. And some are too easy to fall back into."

Vince leaned up on his elbow and took my hand in his gauntleted grip, giving it a squeeze. "As always, my Highwind, I will catch you if you fall."

And when his lips met mine in a gentle kiss, I knew he would.

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There's a point in most stories where someone just has to say 'time passed'. Sometimes it's worded different - 'The next day,' 'As the weeks wore on,' 'Many years later' - but it all boils down to the same thing. There's a period where nothing out of the ordinary happened.

That's what happened for me and Vince, after the boys picked us up an hour after that little conversation. For a while, life went back to normal - or, at least, as normal as it can be for us. Business was good: fairly steady, but not booming. It was enough to keep us comfortable. We fell into patterns similar to the ones we had before that whirlwind few days; the only big difference was that our partnership took on a much more literal meaning. That, and the fact that the end of every day found Vince in my cabin instead of his own (or my shower - never got tired of Vince in the shower), or the little touches and bits of affection where there were just stolen looks before.

The blanket (our 'souvenir' from the honeymoon) made occasional reappearances when one or both of us wanted something a bit harsher, and we always made sure to hide it when company might be around - we both knew it'd give someone the wrong impression. Or the right impression, but the wrong reasons. Whatever it'd be called. As to how Vince knew I'd like such a thing? Turns out he wasn't always asleep when, after a fight where I'd get scratched up a little (but not enough to warrant a potion or the energy from a Cure), I'd give myself a bit of... relief. Damn sneak.

I was right about Tifa wanting another family reunion. It couldn't have been three weeks before she sent out invitations, which everyone accepted - even Reeve, workaholic that he is. That's where the rest of the Avalanche crew found out about me and Vince. Of course, they pretty much had the same reaction Tifa and Cloud did. It never failed to irritate me, or to amuse Vince. Once again, I found myself regretting all those lost chances, yet thanking every deity I could think of (for once) for my habit of talking before I think. At least the regret didn't last long; I was too damn content.

Vince visited with the Turks every now and then, too. I think it was because of him that the wall between our gang and theirs started to crumble. We weren't friends, not by a long shot. but things were a hell of a lot friendlier. At least, we weren't likely to kill each other on sight, which was a major improvement. Unless you asked Barret - he definitely knew how to hold a grudge.

The demon and I did end up hunting together at least once a week. It eventually lost most of the creepiness. He was a decent guy, for a demon, really. Kinda interesting, once you got past the wings, horns, claws, and blood-thirst. Maybe he was just glad to have someone other than Vince and the three weirdos to talk to for once.

It was like they say - 'things are going great, and they're only getting better.' Life was good, we were happy. It was almost our happily ever after.

Of course, that's when everything went wrong.