Wanderer

By Peorth Undead

(I do not own Dissidia Charries. I do own plot, which is more like Pron. Please review, I may continue I might not...all depends on my muse and your reviews.)

Zidane stretched inside the tent, yawning. It had been a long day. Running about from place to place with Bartz had worn the thief out. "Zidane..."

"What?" he asked as he snuggled into his sleeping bag.

"I'm cold."

"So what do you want me to do?" Zidane asked sitting up grinning at his friend, "it's not my fault you chose to dress like a gay clown..."

"I do not look like Kefka..." Bartz pouted, his eyes looking a mock hurt before shifting to a serious pondering, "is he gay? He looks more like he has a feather fetish..what with his feather...do you think he stole it from Kuja?"

"Doubt it..." Zidane said sourly curling back over laying down. at the mention of the silver haired, scantily clad, Chaos' minion's name. Zidane twitched when he felt the cover's move. "What are you doing?"

"I told you I'm cold," Bartz said, "and we can share body heat or something."

"...Bartz..."

"Look we're not cuddling...just trying to conserve heat." Bartz said defensively pulling his sleeping bag over them. "Then we won't have to start a fire...and we won't have to watch it...and the Manikins won't come and attack us in the middle of the night."

"...fine." Zidane said trying to keep his back to Bartz. The blond frowned and closed his eyes before drifting off to sleep. He was just about to sleep when he felt a slender arm scoop him closer. "Bartz....?" All he heard was a mumbling as the brunette snuggled close to the warm body. "Bartz wake up," no answer. "Bartz..." Zidane was starting to become distressed, it had been a while since he had, done anything sexual. And here was Bartz holding him. And Zidane's body, desperate for contact, was starting to react. "BARTZ!!"

"Huh?" he asked sleepily, "what's wrong...."

"You're cuddling me." Zidane answered in a slight flat tone his eyes not opening.

"Mnnn..." he answered as if to say so what.

"I don't want to be cuddle like a stuffed animal." came the flat tone response.

"But you're comfy..."

Zidane sighed, "Bartz...I'm not comfortable."

"Why not..." he asked innocently.

"Cause I haven't got laid in a while...and you're all but groping me." Zidane answered flatly.

"Oh," Bartz paused, "I can fix that."

"Good..." Zidane answered waiting for the mimic to get off of him. Instead Bartz's hand traveled down to grab his half hard member. "BARTZ," Zidane yelped trying to get out of his grip.

"I'm taking care of your hard on..." Bartz answered sounding more awake then he had a few moments before.

"I don't swing that way." Zidane answered squirming. "I love the ladies...not other men."

"Hmn? This doesn't make you gay." came the even yet cheerful response. "It's a necessity."

"Bartz," Zidane squeaked as the slender hand found it's way down his pants.

"Relax, if you needed to get off you should have said something sooner."

"I don't like guys." Zidane said gritting his teeth.

"And if one of the women on Chaos' side came on to you and slit your throat while getting you off?" he asked before nibbling on his friend's ear.

"Stop that," Zidane squirmed a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Bartz ignored his shorter friend's demands and slid another hand underneath his shirt. "Shhhh..."

Zidane moaned a bit, surprising himself as Bartz went to work on him. Pumping him up and down up and down. Zidane's tail rapped it's self around Bartz leg, and he let out a shiver. The thief almost missed it. But Bartz didn't relent, it was odd. Zidane thought of how intimate the mimic was getting with him, but Bartz seemed to be keeping the attention on only him. And then Zidane didn't think any more. Slender talented fingers massaged his member, while the other hand traveled down, and grasped at the smaller man's balls, rubbing them and kneading them. And soon Zidane was writhing rocking into the other's touch. Bartz didn't tease him, he just made sure he came, Zidane fell asleep not far after that.

Smiling, Bartz climbed out to go wash his hands. Happy to have helped his friend.

He didn't see the slender figure watching jealously from atop one of the plateau.

And he didn't see the smirk form on the pretty face of the man as he washed his hands before going back inside the tent, and curling up behind Zidane.