Title: The Highwind
Author: Enide Dear
Pairing: Valenwind + the Highwind
Rating: NC – 17
Warnings: smut! And spanking! And Voyeurism! And the world's largest vibrator!
Summary: Just Valenwind pr0n, honestly
A/N: Woha, and I thought I couldn't write smut anymore! Didn't these two surprise me…damn K. Haruka and her smutty doujin: .com/watch?v=AcXSyAleO5A
AN/2: Art trade with :iconmintflavoured: who wanted 'hot steamy Valenwind, on the Highwind or in the hangar, with the crew watching' ;) Hope ya like it! :D
The problem with being a Gods-damned hero and saving the world, Cid reflected grimly as he twisted a bolt so hard the metal screamed in protest, was that it didn't pay the Gods-damned bills.
"That any better?" The cell phone almost slipped from his oil slippery fingers, but he wedged it firmly in place between shoulder and stubble. A little ash fell from his cig onto the poor thing. "Hey! Ya asleep up there or somethin'?" He frowned as there were no answer forthcoming and swore, long and inventively. The little cell phone was however used to the abuse and didn't seem to care; neither apparently did the crew member he'd left on the Highwind's wing.
"If ya'd fallen ta yer death out there, I'm gonna kick yer ass!" Two weeks of annoyed frustration came out in the shape of a harsh kick that sent an innocent monkey wrench flying across the engine room; stomping after it, Cid shoved the phone down his pocket and started to climb out of the hot and greasy room, irritation cracking light lightning around him. Had any of his crew been around, they'd have recognized the signs and fled for their lives because the captain in a foul mood was nothing to be trifled with. Luckily he'd given them all two weeks land permit - all but the unfortunate second mechanic who'd been ordered to stay on board and help Cid solve whatever was wrong with the right engine; it vibrated during flight in a quite unnerving way. Not dangerously so, not yet, but enough that Cid's oh-shit-ometer was tingling. And now that he got two weeks of down time, he might as well look into it.
Unfortunately he'd found out that the problem was that various components were getting old and worn, and needed replacing. And *that* was a problem because he simply didn't have that kind of money. He'd been more than happy to fly Avalanche wherever they needed to go during their long search for Sephiroth but what with exploding craters and all, his poor Highwind had taken quite a beating.
"Useless fucking ShinRa," he muttered to himself as he walked out on the right wing; the airship was in hover mode so it was at least ten meters over the ground, but no one could claim Cid Highwind was ever scared of heights. The crew man he'd left out here were nowhere to be seen, but, damn it, the engine was still shaking, sending vibrations all along the airships engine-wing. Peering down, Cid saw no trace of the mechanic. Maybe he'd needed to use the bathroom or something. "Well, he'll get plenty accustomed ta the damn things after I put him on cleaning duty fer a month!" Straddling the engine, Cid leaned over for a closer look, muttering to himself.
If he'd been quite himself, he'd had admitted that this annoyance had little to do with the poor lost mechanic, ShinRa, or even his lack of funds. After all, everyone needed to use the loo once in a while - probably even Sephiroth did, although what he did with the hair in the meantime did not bear thinking about - he was a good enough mechanic to build spare parts from scrap if he needed to and ShinRa, well, they'd always be ShinRa. Might as well whine the sun didn't rise in the west.
No, the real reason for his frustration stemmed from the same reasons he'd been stranded here for two weeks - two long and growingly more frustrated weeks.
Vincent Valentine was gone.
The damn engine's vibrations were more than a little distracting against his thighs and groin, especially with those two weeks of abstinence behind him. Cid clenched his teeth and leaned a bit more forward, taking his weight on one arm as he prodded the internal workings of the engine again and tried to shove *those* thoughts way down, at least for now. There were limits to how much a man should love his airship after all. *It happened once, no matte what that damn brat of a ninja says! It ain't ever gonna happen again!*
And it wasn't as if Vincent was *gone* gone, it was just that the man had some personal matters to settle - alone, he'd stated quite firmly - and he would be back as soon as he could. Cid sighed. It was just that ignoring these kinds of stirrings had been a lot easier when it had just been him alone. Thinking back of the past few months, remembering the pliant body in his lap, the jet hair, those dangerous smiles - well damn it, no wonder he was feeling frustrated. And this damn engine wasn't helping either!
From his perch on the top of the Highwind's main body, Vincent could almost see how Cid's thoughts chased one another round and round like horny, mechanically inclined gerbils on a wheel.
Few would have recognized the smile that slid over his face as such; it went away far too quickly. Still, just the fact that he *could* smile once more…
A small sound made him shift his grip, clamping his flesh palm down harder over the mouth of the crew mechanic that he held in a firm grip. The poor man had been happily minding his own business -or rather perhaps the Highwind's business - when the demon-man fell on him, swooping him away to this precautions perch almost fifty meters over the ground. His panicky wriggles had died down quite quickly as he realized that the ex-Turk's grip was the only thing that kept him from plummeting. Now only his eyeballs kept rolling around, equally terrified at the sight of the pale, quiet, undead man - the word *vampire* was whispered amongst the crew but not when the captain could hear it - and the lethal drop.
Vincent didn't much mind; he'd just taken the man away as kind of a lark to his chief, because he knew how it would annoy Cid. And people claimed he had no sense of humor.
Of course, it had had the added perk of luring the captain out from his hiding in the mysterious depths of the vessel and now he was presenting quite a view, oily and hanging over the engine with his ass up for all to see. Well, all who were about thirty meters above him, anyway.
Taking his time to admire the muscled back, mumbling pleased to himself as Cid sat up, tossed away his shirt and then pulled oily hands through his blonde hair, Vincent idly drew a claw over the crew mechanic's chin, up and down. The man jolted with fear, causing the razor sharp tip to draw a few drops of blood that ran down his red cheek.
"Oh, my apologize." The man jolted once more as a cool tongue licked the drops away - the undead man's breath on his face smelled of tictacs and funeral roses - and the crew mechanic looked like he'd fait.
Suddenly Vincent decided he'd looked enough; he rose up, pulling the hapless mechanic with him and unclasped his cloak; the red material didn't pool to the ground but fluttered like a sheet on a laundry line.
"Capey. Hold. Stay." Vincent pointed at the mechanic, before taking the thirty meter leap down to the wing.
Straightening up, Cid scratched his head. Nope, the damn thing was still a mystery to him. Worn down parts or not, it shouldn't be vibrating like this…
His body froze but his heart sped up as felt long thighs sliding under his, the leather smooth and worn against his cargo pants, the subtle pressure against his spine as Vincent sat down behind him, grinding their bodies slowly together. A deep humming came from the gunman, like some giant panther, part playful and part threatening and a long, deep inhale as Vincent rubbed his face against the captain's oil-speckled hair. The flesh hand had a firm grip on Cid's hip, moving him backwards almost roughly, deeper into the embrace. The gauntlet idly tore cargo pants to shreds as it move up Cid's thigh, drawing shallow cuts across his abdomen and chest as it moved up.
Rough hands rubbed leather thighs; the claw traced a red circle around Cid's nipple; sharp teeth bit into the blonde's ear, drawing a tiny grunt from him.
Encouraged, Vincent's grip got firmer, holding them so tight together – groin to ass – that it was almost uncomfortable for his own hardening shaft. Pushing his tongue into Cid's ear he could feel the little hairs on the man's arms standing up and as he abandoned the ear to bite down the strong neck he felt the pulse race against his lips and tongue, felt the strong tendons like steel wire against his teeth. Cid arched, part from pleasure, part from pain and the hum coming from Vincent deepened, became more a growl than a purr. He leaned forward, ready to bend the captain over the humming engine once more.
But Cid was faster; somehow he slipped sideways instead of forward and found a grip for his foot behind the engine exhaust. He caught Vincent's hands and with leverage on the pilot's side, Vincent found himself on his back, spread out with his legs on either side on the vibrating engine.
"Damn tease." Cid leaned over him, eyes not so much sparkling as crackling lightning. "Think ya can jest waltz back here and have yer way, do ya? With two week gone without a so much as a 'how do ya do'?" Leaning forward, he towered over Vincent, blocking out the sun which made him a shadowy figure against the blue sky, a figure of naked, broad shoulders, torn pants and oily hair barely kept back by aviator goggles. He still held Vincent's wrists caught over his head against the warm engine body, his hips on Vincent's groin. As he leaned forward, the cig glowed as red as the gunman's eyes and the dog tags scraped over black leather shirt. Mewling, Vincent tried to move, but he was inescapably caught.
"Think maybe someone oughta teach ya a lesson in manners, hm?" The cig glowed brighter as Cid inhaled deeply, exhaling wreaths of smoke over Vincent's face, his throat, his still clad chest, before flicking the stub away. The innuendo made Vincent gasp, moving bonelessly. He was getting slick with sweat and not just from the warm engine as Cid rubbed his erection hard against the leather pants, slipping his hand beneath the lining to tease fingertips against the tip that was peeking out beneath it.
"Chief…" he begged, but the captain shook his head.
"Yer gonna be calling me worse things than that before I'm through with ya." Finally releasing Vincent's cock, he licked it, from root to top, tasting leather and sex and brimstone. *Nothing about Heaven in this. This is all Hell.* And it was just the way he wanted it.
Releasing the gunman's wrists, he grabbed his legs, flipping him over. Vincent hissed as his hard cock got squeezed between his own body and the warm, vibrating engine, but Cid's hand between his shoulder blades pressed him down until he was laying with his face pressed against the smooth metal, feeling the hum throughout his body as he hugged the huge cylinder.
He was still mostly dressed; Cid didn't bother much with that. Rough hands shoved Vincent's shirt up all the way to under his armpits; the same rough hands turned his nipples raw and pointed even as the captain's legs pushed his further up; he was spread-eagled on the engine, face down and the moaning was taking on a desperate quality.
"Leavin' me fer two weeks. Not callin'. Showin' up like that with yer hands down my pant." Cid grabbed the lining of his pants, pulling them down as far as they would go before the spread legs stopped, flaunting Vincent's ass to the sky. "I think ya oughta apologize fer that."
A sharp slap across his buttocks and Vincent yelped, heat rushing through him, pain and pleasure, heat and delicious humiliation. Another stinging slap and his eyes almost roll up under his eyelids. The humming metal underneath him seemed to vibrate at the same tune as his body, his raw nipples almost burning against the hot engine.
"Ain't gonna start the countdown until ya say yer sorry, Vince." Cid's cock, hot and hard, slid over his cleft, smearing something, but then there was a third slap and Vincent shook, begging and moaning and cursing.
"I am sorry!" He managed as the rough palm met tender skin again and was rewareded as Cid leaned forward over him, pressing their lips together in a desperate, biting kiss.
"That was one. Now ya jest gotta say it four more times, gorgeous." Cid's eyes were on fire as Vincent screamed another 'I'm sorry!' as the palm hit again. "That was two. See, if ya had jest behaved from the start, this would all be over now. But as it is…" Another slap and a gasped apology. "We're jest getting started, right?"
Two more slaps, in quick succession and begging words and then Cid couldn't take it any longer; Vincent howled as the cock pierced him, and once more as Cid's thighs and ripped cargo pants came in harsh contact with his red, tender ass. But the pain was delicious, the desperation driving him to push back harder, feeling balls bounce against his thighs, heard the harsh breath and heavy grunting from the captain behind him, the hot hot hot vibrating engine underneath him.
Vincent writhed, buckled, screamed and came; clenching Cid so hard and sweet. Hoisting the gunman's hips up, long legs spreading before him, he pushed deep, claiming the man for his own so deep that no one could be able to ever remove it.
They sank down on the engine, exhausted and satisfied. Mumbling and nuzzling and kissing, whispering sweet words and kissing some more. From his involuntary first row seat thirty meters up, the poor second mechanic had an excellent view of the whole thing, whether he liked to or not. The cloak – and the damn thing was *alive*! – had wrapped him up as neatly as a sausage in a meat burrito and here he was, dangling over a thirty meter drop and an excellent gay porn. He glanced down at the ground and hoped like hell they hadn't forgotten him, because if the airship took of he'd be in seriously deep shit.
Then he realized just what the stingy captain and his undead lover might do when they realized they had had an audience. He closed his eyes and prayed to the Gods they'd forgotten him anyway.