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BY : larch
Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 532
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Cid woke up to snow accumulating on his face. He sat up and looked around.
Vincent was gone. No surprise there.
Vincent had left the window wide open before he left. Also no surprise. Last night had been not just surprising, but had crossed the border into surreal. Vincentís actions werenít surprising, just the fact that heíd been real.
Or had it? Maybe it was all a dream. It made more sense that way. He wouldnít have been surprised if his fourth grade teacher wandered into the room and started yelling at him about a test heíd missed. It would have made sense in itís own weird way. Then again, with Vincent in the room, he was lucky to have remembered the conversationówell, the gist of it anyway.
Cid got up, still in his clothes, and looked around for some sign that he wasnít going crazy. He glanced at his watch as he checked under the bed. He still had half an hour until he had to talk to the authorities.
Cid found his proof tucked under the pillow Vincent had tossed to him the nightómorning if youíre technical about itóbefore. It wasnít anything useful, such as where he was, when heíd be back, or what he was doing. It just said heíd called the crew and told them to go back to their schedule.
Cid wasnít sure if Vincent did him a favor or was torturing him, but he was glad either way. Vincent was paying attention to him. In his worst moods, Vincent just ignored you. Heíd walk away and make it known that to him, you didnít exist; that if you were eaten alive by a gigantic monster, heíd wait until someone else was killed to start counting victims.
Cid looked around. He had half an hour to kill before telling the authorities he had no clue. The hard part would be coming back and telling it to Vincent. Vincent probably wouldnít forgive him, but Cid hoped he at least understood how much Vincent meant to him.
Vincent didnít have to explain anything; just asking for a favor would get Cid to agree. That was probably why Vincent had asked him to help. Vincent had Cid wrapped around his finger, probably the middle one.
Cid glanced at Vincentís things, few though there were. Vincent apparently planed on staying for at least another night. His pack was in a corner, here was a pair of pants next to the heater, a toothbrush in the bathroom, and another note held down with a pill bottle.
After finally shutting the window, Cid glanced at the note, which turned out to be a newspaper clipping.

Woman Found Dead in Caveó
A womanís body was found in a remote cave yesterday evening. It was later identified as the body of Lucrecia Marisa Hojo, wife of the notorious Dr. N. Hojo.
A political or revenge case has been ruled out; she had been missing, presumed already dead, before her husbandís research turned malevolent.
It is unknown as to specific details of the death. Most of the body had been mutilated beyond recognition; police had to use dental records to identify the corpse.
The police report they have no leads on the matter, nor do there appear to be any related cases.
Cid sighed. He shouldíve known. Then again, he shouldíve known heíd be treated this way for kicking Vincent out of the house.

* * * * *
Cid returned to the hotel immediately after the interrogation. Although he agreed there seemed to be a related pattern to the murders, he had no idea where to start looking, or what to look for.
The police seemed more like car salesmen than enforcers of the law. They kept rewording everything, refusing to take no as an answer. When Cid finally proved his innocence, or just wore them thin and wouldnít buy anything, they let him go saying theyíd keep in touch. If he were here, it would be obvious to Cloud that he didnít do anything.
He had been unconscious at the scene of the crime. What was there to knock himself out with? The snow? The corpse?
To his relief, Vincent had come back. To his perversion, Vincent was changing his pants.
"Donít stand there drooling, youíre letting the cold air in," Vincent said.
"Sorry, didnít think youíd be back yet," Cid said. "Hey, um, can I ask a question?"
"You already did. And if youíre going to ask another, itís not like I can stop you."
"No, Iím wondering if youíll answer or not."
"Maybe. Depends on my mood."
"So thatís a ĎNoí then?"
"Ask your stupid question."
"Whatís with the pills?"
"Pills? What pillóbut I left those withó"
Cid suddenly decided this might not be the time or topic for questions. Vincent said he had almost as much tact as vocabulary, and when Cid asked what tact was, Vincent said it proved his point.
"Mood stabilizers," Vincent said, fastening his pants.
Cid was getting opposing thoughts of wishing heíd brought a spare pair of his own to change into and wishing Vincent would take his off and keep him warm under the covers.
"Itís not what I think."
"Vince, youíre completely dressed, nothingís what you think."
"Iíd say re are a bad liar, but youíre not lying. You know perfectly well what Iím talking about."
"Pants?" Cid asked.
"You saw it! I left it out last night. You werenít supposed to see it. You donít understand."
"If youíre mad about the pills, Iím not going to thinkó"
"This isnít about the pills, idiot! You found the clipping. You think this is about Lucrecia."
"No I donít. If it were about Lucrecia, youíd be moping around in her cave. Youíd have kept the whole newspaper. Youíre not like that anymore. You think the newspaperís lying, that this is either revenge or politically motivated."
"When did you get so damn smart?"
"Since you needed me like a chocobo needed a deep fat fryer."
"You started it."
"Vinceó" Cid exclaimed, about to tell Vincent how childish he just sounded. He decided against it. It wouldnít make Vincent any happier, it wouldnít get them back together, and it wouldnít get him any warmer.
"You threw me out of the damn house, Cid! You told me to go find my own life, figure things out for myself. After all that you expect me to crawl into your lap and ask to go home?"
"There were days you wouldnít get out of bed. All you ever did was cling to me. I couldnít stand it. Vincent, I was killing you. Donít get any stupid ideas that I donít want you to be in control of your own life. Youíve been through enough shit, and I barely know about any of it. If you wanna be pissed off, then go be pissed off. Whatever makes you happy."
"So youíre just going to sit there and take whatever I throw at you?" Vincent yelled.
"Whatever you want. As long as it makes you happy, Iím not going to stop you."
"Youíre not going to try anything? Youíre not even going to bother with me? You kicked me out of the house because I liked you too much and now Iím not worth going after?"
"Vincent, you hate me. Iíd rather you hated my guts than loved me and spent to rest of your goddamn life unhappy."
Vincent grabbed Cid by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him up. "Goddamn you! I hate you! Stop mocking me!"
"Vince, Ió"
"Shut up!" Vincent yelled.
Cid suddenly found the argument taking a very different turn than heíd anticipated as he felt not Vincentís hand, but his lips.
His feet gently touched the floor as Vincent roughly grabbed his face and pressed harder, Vincentís tongue forcing its way in Cidís mouth.
Not that Cid was complaining. On the contrary, he was kissing back, too distracted to realize he was the tamer of the two or to wonder at the fact. Vincentís hands moved to grab painfully at Cidís short hair, the other to his neck.
Cid stopped, his eyes shooting open as he noticed his hand brush against something it shouldnít.
Cidís hands had never paid attention to the rest of him and always went wandering off and getting him in trouble. Usually down Vincentís underwear when Vincent wasnít in the mood, and he was never in the mood.
Yet again, even three years after a tearful and angry farewell that neither of them wanted or liked, Cidís hands were at it again. One hand was pulling Vincentís shirt out of his pants and the other had unbuttoned it enough to slip in over Vincentís chest and find a nipple to tease.
The hand on Cidís neck just slipped downward, pushing his jacket off his shoulders.
Cid wanted to ask why. He really did. He meant to ask why Vincent was letting him trace ticklish areola with his gloved thumb. He said they never talked enough and wanted them to talk more. He didnít even mind Vincentís angst; he figured since Vincent missed the last thirty years, there wasnít much else for Vincent to ever say.
He meant it all, but somehow, when he opened his mouth, his tongue was on Vincentís ear, and soon he forgot what he was going to ask.
Vincent twisted suddenly and kicked Cidís feet slightly, intentionally tossing them both on the bed without taking his lips from Cidís neck.
"Fuck it!" Cid said, sitting up slightly, and tearing off his jacket and shirt, then divesting Vincent of his shirt before starting on Vincentís pants.
This was where everything dissolved into dťjŗ vu. Cid had taken off Vincentís pants enough times to undo them blindfolded from behind Vincent. He looked at Vincentís eyes. He always looked at Vincentís eyes. There was something different in Vincentís eyes this time that jolted Cid back into the present so fast herly rly tore Vincentís zipper off the fabric.
Every other time, there was something Cid could never describe in Vincentís eyes. He knew what it was, he knew why it was there, but he could never describe it. It always made him wonder if Vincent would be happier if they never went that far, if his pants stayed on and they just curled up together, half-naked.
Whatever it was, it wasnít there anymore. In fact, Vincent seemed rather annoyed that Cid stopped. Then Vincent turned away to the drawer.
The drawer that was the only reminder, save for their temporary insanity, of what had made Cid tell Vincent he couldnít stay. Not the drawer really, it was just innocent furniture. But it was harboring the bottle of pills. The plain gray pills were meant to prevent panic attacks. The clipping under them was completely ignored for the time being.
Cid went back to Vincentís pants and slid them down his long legs. Whenever Vincent would let him, Cid would find a way to get as close as he could to actual sex with Vincent.
Heíd slip fingers and even his tongue up Vincentís boxers, his hands all over Vincentís legs. Heíd always focus on Vincentís legs. They were the most pleasurable place he could get his hands on, and from his experience of Vincent waiting until Cid was pretending to be asleep to change out of sticky boxers, it was the most pleasurable place for Vincent as well.
For once, Cidís mind was elsewhere. He wondered what happened to that unnerving gleam. He wished heíd been there to see it disappear, he wished it had been him who made it disappear.
Theyíd made love only once, total, and Cid always knew it had been during a panic attack. Vincent had snapped, and waking up with Cid still next to him, not wanting to leave, not caring if they never did it again, put him back together.
After that, Vincent never let Cid take his boxers off again. As much as Cid tried to please him, Vincent refused to ever have sex again. Sometimes Cid got away with making Vincent come all over the inside of his boxers, which Vincent always kept closed. Cid had stayed awake and watched Vincent change out of his underwear in the middle of the night, unable to bear the fact that heíd gotten them sticky and wet afterwards, though.
Cid had contemplated Ďaccidentallyí waking up and consoling Vincent, but always rolled over and tried to fall asleep for real. It had been a mistake to try it when he did, and it drove gigantic wedge between them.
Cid flung his gloves off and spread a hand over Vincentís abdomen, pushing the band of Vincentís boxers lower until a thin streak of black hair was uncovered.
Cid looked up again, wondering how far Vincent would let him go. It used to be the worst he ever got was Vincent would stop everything then and there, roll over, cover himself tightly with the blankets and give Cid such a long and chilling silence and Cid would end up on the couch. Now was a different situation. Cid didnít doubted Vincent had regained enough of his stoicism and strength of will to point the Death Penalty at him and pull the trigger.
As he looked up, something flew at him and stabbed him in the eye. He looked at it and realized his question had been answered.
Before, Vincent had come to some crazy conclusion that he wasnít human. Cid had managed to convince him he was no monster, but Vincent refused to have sex, ever.
Cid tossed the thing aside, still not yet aware of how they had switched, the tame and the aggressive.
It was a small, thin, silver package; a wrapped lubricated condom.
Cid, having learned the to do nothing but tease over the years of trying to get Vincent to relent, pulled Vincentís boxers down, but only enough to reveal his unruly black pubic hair and ign Vin Vincentís erection, still buried under delicate silk.
Vincent let out a noise somewhere between a word with too many vowels and a gasp. He struggled to free his leg from the last few inches of his pants and wrapped it over Cidís back as he felt Cidís tongue in his pubic hair.
Finally, giving in to both of them, Cid pulled Vincentís boxers down to his knees. Cid had seen Vincent naked before, and it wasnít like what was between his legs was any different from any other man. Still, Cid let out a hungry purr before closing his mouth over Vincentís erection.
Vincent gave a tiny, sharp moan and began to squirm. The noises from him didnít stop as Cid continued, spreading Vincentís legs and adjusting himself between them.
Vincent couldnít help trying to move. Cid put one hand on Vincentís hips while the other played over Vincentís pubic hair and the sensitive skin of his testicles.
Aching from the desperate need to move, to do something, Vincent sat up and buried his mis-matched hands in Cidís hair, bucking into Cidís face against the hand on his hip.
The hand over his sensitive skin continued to play between his legs, overwhelming him so that Vincent could hardly take it. The hand on his hips crawled over his buttocks, tickling as they went, until Cid lightly grabbed the fleshy curve in his hand.
Cid slid one finger up into Vincent from behind, pressing lightly against a sensitive spot Vincent never knew he had.
Vincent was already dribbling into Cidís hot and eager mouth as he spread further, hoping Cid would take in more, despite how close he was to climax, and stretching the elastic of his boxers further.
Vincent was already making tiny noises. Even Cidís warm breath against his cold skin set him off, and he let out something louder as he suddenly spilled into Cidís mouth.
A tiny hot trickle of white leaked its way between Cidís lips. Cid pulled his face away and swallowed, before disentangling Vincentís hands from his head.
Vincent struggled out of his boxers and pants completely, with Cid watching intently, until he remembered that he was still wearing his own pants, which were uncomfortably tight.
Vincent rolled Cid onto the bed and contented himself with licking at the sweat on Cidís face and slid a hand down Cidís pants once Cid had the belt undone.
Vincent reached behind himself and searched for the condom with his free hand, then pulled Cidís pants down, eager to repay the favor of being such an agonizing tease and making him wait so long.
Cid was already aroused, having enjoyed playing with Vincent with his mouth. Vincent played with the elastic on Cidís briefs and rubbed his hips gently on Cidís legs, testing to see when the refractory period ove over.
Cid beat him to the chance to touch him when the rest of him was in the mood again. It was a beautiful, warm contrast, rough hands moving almost daintily over his sensitive skin, easily getting him hard under the light touch. Vincent never thought Cid was capable of going slow and softly with the way his hands always crept where they werenít wanted.
Vincent, hardly as interested or trained in foreplay as Cid, tossed Cidís hand away and opened the package with his metal hand.
Vincent couldnít help chuckling at Cidís expression as he applied the condom on himself. He yanked Cid closer to him, positioning himself between Cidís legs.
Never in his life had Vincent had this opportunity, not even before Hojo. Heíd joined the TURKS at a very young age, learned fast, and never had time for anyone. The last time heíd done this he wasnít thinking straight. Itís had been absolutely surreal, the only thing he could think of to stop a panic attack that lasted for hours and wouldnít go away.
There was no precision, no grace, and hardly any rhythm as Vincent drove in and out, his lustful avarice stifling any attempts to go slow and be gentle on Cid, who didnít mind in the least.
Vincent stopped trying to hold himself up or push Cidís hips to his. He wanted to spend all his energy enjoying the sensation of finally having Cid, body and soulÖ mostly body.
Cidís body couldnít take it any more. There was a sticky spray of white all over both of them and a loud grunt from Cid. They both kept moving. There werenít done yet.
Then there were the noises again, this time from both of them. The friction, the heat, the tightness, the pressureÖ the contact so perfect and so wild, they could both forget everything but how good it made them feel to be with each other and without clothes.
Cidís hands were at it again, grabbing Vincentís buttocks again, squeezing to encourage Vincentís wild movements, pulling him closer and tighter.
Vincent spilled into Cid again, with one last noise before collapsing completely on Cid.
Vincent pulled out, removing the used condom and flinging it into the trash. They were both exhausted and lay there in the heavy afterglow, hearts pounding so loudly they didnít doubt the occupants next door would hear. If they were still there at all, considering the noise they made already.
Cid meant to ask Vincent why. What made him come back and why he was so mad and why he took him back? He really did mean to ask, but by the time he caught his breath, Vincent was asleep, his head pinning Cidís shoulder down.
Cid shrugged and kissed Vincent on the forehead. He didnít get to see it often enough and appreciated the headband taking a vacation.
Cid pulled the thin blankets up over himself and Vincent. Lying under the sheets would provide more warmth and Vincent would be clinging and crawling on him all night, he never had enough fat and muscle on him to keep warm enough at night.
Cid was finally starting to appreciate the Icicle Inn.

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