There was smut in this one, I cut it out, and you can find it here: http : / / community . livejournal . com / cerberusgospel / 14852 . html if you take out the spaces. If that link doesn't show up, follow the link to cerberusgospel in my profile and it'll take you to the same place :D
Cid scoured the living room in search of the clothes, growling at sofa cushions when they revealed nothing to him. The towel had worked loose, and he was too frustrated to re-secure it, so he was holding it closed with one hand and still searching under things with the other hand. He checked his bedroom, tried the bathroom again, then returned to the kitchen. He spied the pizza box and threw his hands up in surrender and laughed at his own stupidity. "Dammit, Vincent, I gave 'em t'the damn pizza kid!" he realized, grinning. "How stupid d'y'hafta be, huh? Shit…" Only after finishing his good-natured rant did he realize that there was no longer anything covering him. "Uh. Well. Yeah. Sorry," he said, bending over to grab the towel and pulling it around himself, leaving the room and slinking in mild embarrassment into his chair in living room.
Vincent had gaped, openmouthed a moment when had Cid stood before him wearing nothing but his own skin, and revealing what his trousers had done a superb job at hiding from the world, and felt his face grow unbearably hot. Quickly he averted his eyes behind a slightly trembling hand and mumbled, "Yes, well surely you have other clothes!" Just as the cop reached down to recover himself and leave. When the man failed to return, and he managed to turn down the furnace in his face, Vincent stood up and poked his head into the living room to see Cid sitting moodily in his recliner, towel back in place. "Well that was…unexpected." He said a little shakily.
Cid just nodded, looking in the other direction. He feared that if he met Vincent's eyes, he would erupt into laughter, and Vincent would feel that it was at his expense. "Y'have m'other pants," he pointed out, lips twisting in a grin. "Reckon I c'n sleep in shorts," he said, then teased, "'less y'd rather I go in the nude." Finally somewhat under control, Cid turned to face Vincent. "M'sorry. Didn't mean t'make ya uncomf'table, I just didn't think much about it 'fore I let go, y'know?"
"Clearly." Vincent said wryly, crossing his arms, and leaning on a hip against the doorframe. "Or perhaps you would like these back and I sleep without…no, no, do not answer that." He sighed and went back to sit at the table, slumping down and nursing his tea in mild irritation. He didn't even know exactly where the irritation came from, only that Highwind knew how to call it forth without fail.
"Aw, Vincent…" Cid said, put out and a bit hurt at the abrupt change in attitude. "I said I was sorry," he called. Cid quickly threw on a pair of clean shorts, then returned to the kitchen to stare at Vincent, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong…besides the obvious.
Vincent sighed and looked over at Cid with bland affect. "I know. It is just, I am…unaccustomed to such open displays." Gods that was pitiful, you idiot, he thought lamely. He wasn't about to admit that he had liked what he had seen. He was still a bit uncomfortable with it himself, and he shifted slightly to ease the sudden tightness in his groin and belly. That tingle was back, the one that made him both nervous, and excited all at the same time. The last time he had felt that was with…Lucrecia. He shook his head, dislodging a few strands of hair as he banished those inappropriate thoughts. But the realization had him glancing back over at the disheveled…and muscular blond. Oh, what am I going to do? He thought with mild panic.
Cid smiled. "Well, no worries, 'cause I don't usually give 'em." He knew that if he suggested returning to bed now, Vincent would sit up all night in thought, so he did not ask. "Vincent," he said quietly, "talk t'me. It's all right. Ain't nobody here gonna judge ya." He placed his hand on the table, palm up, not grabbing for Vincent but extending the offer for contact. If Vincent refused, Cid would not be hurt; he tried very hard to understand, but figured the best he could do was to be accommodating and supportive.
Vincent stared at Cid's worn palm and strong fingers a moment before transferring his mug to his off-side hand, and reached out to place his palm flat against Cid's. He stared the color and texture differences of their skin, the differences in the lengths of their fingers, the scars on Cid's hand compared to his own seamless flesh. Slowly he slid his palm down Cid's until only their fingers were overlapping, and he threaded them loosely so that his hand rested palm down upon the table, and Cid's rested palm up. "What is there to talk about that is not sad or forbidden?" He asked softly to himself, watching their hands. Then he said, a little louder, looking up to meet Cid's eyes. "I do not wish to talk about myself, and I do not care what others think." And he didn't. It was himself that was the problem.
"There's nothin' forbidden between us unless you make it that way. As fer sad things, they have a place here too. Nobody says we hafta like 'em, but they happen." His voice sounded oddly hollow, and he hoped Vincent was not hearing it that way as well. Cid curled his fingers up slightly to squeeze Vincent's. "But if you don't wanna talk, I won't press ya to." He looked deeply into those eyes, wondering how this man could be so cold, so mature, yet so much like a child. He was the most confident and the most insecure man Cid knew other than himself, and the complexity of Vincent amazed him.
"Ah, they do, don't they?" Vincent chuckled. "It is a sad world we live in, full of monsters and shadows, lies and deceit. Only the strong may survive in this wasteland that we call home." He leaned forward, raising their joined hands and twisting them so that he could brush Cid's hand against his cheek. He had not missed the dead tone to the man's voice, and it saddened him to hear it. The sorrow weighed heavily upon his shoulders. There was so much death, and pain, betrayal and nightmares. It was slowly killing him, and he was beginning to think he wouldn't be able to reach his goal, his "out" from this mad world. "What I would give, but to have a moment of joy, a moment of hope within this void that consumes me." He released their hands, and turned Cid's so that the cop's palm rested upon his cheek unobstructed. "How do we live? Day in and day out, always running in circles, trying to get somewhere only to end up right where we started from?" He sighed and gently dropped Cid's hand back to the table. "But enough of this. I grow weary of chasing my tail. Is there nothing we can find to discuss that would allow us to enjoy each other's company more?"
"I think we were enjoyin' each other's company better when we weren't talkin' at all," Cid answered when he failed to discover a suitable subject. He stood, rinsed out their cups of tea, and turned to face Vincent, sighing. "I dunno about you, but I think I c'd go right back t'bed. 'Course, we'll hafta use th'guest room now, since we got th'other one all stunk up w'blood an' whatnot." Cid had not slept in the guest room yet, but he was sure it was nearly as comfortable as his own. "Whatcha think? We c'n talk more there if th'mood strikes us."
Vincent considered for a moment, and in the end the residual weariness in his limbs made up his mind for him. He nodded. "It would be welcome." He said, standing and putting the left over pizza into the fridge, he turned and began heading for the guest room.
"Hey," Cid called softly before Vincent left, and when the other man turned to see what the fuss was about, Cid jerked his head to indicate that Vincent should walk back toward Cid. Cid met him halfway and placed his hands on Vincent's waist, rubbing with his thumbs. He grinned and strengthened his grip, lifting Vincent with little difficulty and setting him on top of the table. Before Vincent had time to protest, Cid stepped in between his slightly parted legs and kissed him, hot and hard at first, then quickly slowing down into something more manageable as he carefully requested entry into Vincent's mouth. One of Cid's hands was still at Vincent's waist, but the other rested behind dark hair on the back of Vincent's neck. As Cid pressed another soft, questioning kiss to Vincent's lips, his eyes met the red ones and reflected the smile Cid felt. He let his tongue press against Vincent's mouth, using the same "trick" Vincent had used against him earlier and hoping Vincent would respond as favorably as he had.
Frowning, Vincent had returned to Cid only to grunt in surprise when the cop wrapped very strong hands around his waist, 'thunked' him down upon the tabletop, and proceeded to very soundly kiss him. Now he sat, leaning back onto his hands, and opening his mouth to Cid's bold tongue. The heat he felt radiating from the cop enveloped him, making him pleasantly dizzy as the quickly-becoming-familiar tingle returned to encompass his entire body. He shivered and released a breathy little moan before scooting his body forward to press more fully against Highwind's, as he slid his arms around the man's waist to steady himself, all without realizing that he was doing it. When they broke apart, he was breathless, and a little dazed. "What was that for?" he asked stupidly, blinking and licking his lips.
Cid couldn't answer that. Why did he need a reason? He pulled Vincent's body closer to him by the hips and kissed him again, shivering at the feel of Vincent yielding more easily for him this time and at the way the other man's arms had tightened around him. Cid's eyes were growing heavy now, and when they broke apart this time he nuzzled into Vincent's neck, kissing what he could reach of it. He felt so right here, was so comfortable, that it was almost a chore to drag his mouth back up to Vincent's one more time. He kissed him once more, then rested their foreheads together, breathing finally beginning to quicken.
Breaths mingling, Vincent brought one arm from around Cid's waist and placed it upon the bare, bronzed chest. His brain was beginning to clear, but deeper thought continued to elude him, and he didn't mind at all. Slowly, but with deliberation, Cid reached up, and began to unbutton his shirt. Vincent's breath caught in his throat, and he started to protest, "Cid, I-" only to be cut off again with yet another kiss, one which drained even more of his resolve away. Hadn't Highwind already seen him without clothing? But somehow this was more revealing, and still the cop continued to unbutton. Finally his shirt hung open, revealing some pale, lightly scarred flesh. It wasn't that he was ashamed of the scars, rather he was ashamed of what they stood for, what he had to endure in order to receive them. Already the cop was running one thick hand over his chest, thumbing a nipple and calling forth a shuddering breath from his throat. Highwind had already said, in action more than words, what he thought of those scars. And what Vincent had done had no place here. Vincent's other hand came up to cup Cid's cheek as he brought their mouths together again, this time with more fervor as he tried to drown out the screaming, howling voices in his mind.
Encouraged by Vincent's reciprocation, Cid finished undoing the buttons and pushed the shirt off the smooth shoulders. He pulled back slightly and watched as his hands ran over the slight frame, so small when it was not hidden by bold clothes and a dominating persona. I need you. His eyes returned to stare into Vincent's as he pondered what to do next, but his hands never stopped moving, and his lips often worked against the ones opposite him. Vincent's hands on him were burning, arousing him. Both were on his chest now, seemingly attempting to burn away every inch of skin there. Cid took them, kissed their palms, and placed them on his waist. He leaned forward and put his arms around Vincent tightly, running his hands over the warm, smooth skin of his back. "Don't close yer eyes," he pleaded, because he knew that if Vincent saw darkness instead of the man with him, he would too easily be engulfed by that same darkness, and become fearful again. Only ever see me.
With that last, hard, jerking thrust from the cop, it was over. Cid held himself absolutely still, resting his cheek and mouth against Vincent's leg as Vincent made a soft sound of disappointment at having the source of his pleasure taken away. He lay still, listening to their combined breathing while he felt his heart pound in his chest, sending the blood pulsing through his veins. His whole body tingled with never-before-felt sensation and the muscles in his legs trembled lightly. Finally he just let them sink down to dangle off of the table, causing the bones of his hips to jut sharply as Cid carefully withdrew from his body, leaving only a strange numbness behind.
"M'sorry," Cid muttered against Vincent's leg, "I tried. But y'felt so good…." He didn't want to pull out even though they were done- but they weren't done. He ran his hands down Vincent's sides, looking fondly and wearily at him. He had made a promise, if only to himself, about what to do now, and he lowered himself to do it. Vincent did not respond to the pleasure as much as he had earlier, but Cid could tell that was due to near exhaustion. Soon enough, Cid was catching in his mouth the proof of that pleasure, and when he had swallowed it all, he stood straight again and just looked, watching as Vincent, flushed and still breathing irregularly, began to really lose the fight to stay awake. Cid smiled and ran a hand through Vincent's sweat-dampened hair before simply scooping him up, unmindful of his injured shoulder, and heading toward the clean bedroom. "Sleepy?" he asked with a deep chuckle as he nuzzled the top of Vincent's head. "We're goin' t'bed now."
The groan Vincent had let loose when Cid had wrapped his lips around his semi-rigid cock, had been one of pleading. All too quickly, the cop had gotten him painfully hard once again, and he had begged weakly, half-heartedly for the man to stop, but his pleas had simply gone unheeded. Now he was completely spent; the past week, and the evenings' activities having caught up with him, had turned his limbs to lead. He could feel moisture cool and slowly drying on his buttocks, and on his belly, and his skin was painfully sensitive so that even the air was almost too much. So when Cid wrapped strong arms around him and lifted his dead weight, he was powerless to stop the small whimper that escaped. Head lolling inwards towards Cid's shoulder, his eyes slid shut, and he was asleep before he hit the bed.
Cid kissed Vincent's forehead as set him on the bed, and though he was tired as well, he felt he owed it to Vincent to at least clean what he could reach with a damp cloth. The other man hardly stirred as Cid wiped over his stomach and thighs, leaving the rest because he had no energy left. He worked the covers over Vincent, slid in next to him, and snuggled closely to him. After feathering more kisses over cheek and side of the neck closest to him, Cid curled in toward Vincent and also slept.