Guys, sorry we're so slow! I've been in the process of moving around again, and we decided to rework a huge portion of the story so that it better filled reader requests and advanced the plot. Thanks for being patient!
Also, ShadowCasper, we are working on that fic you requested. ;) It's gonna be a bit more involved than we thought at first.
Reaching behind his head was not working out well for Cid. His shoulder, already aching, threatened to start throbbing. He set the bowl precariously on the edge of the sofa and stood, careful to keep from blocking Vincent's view of the screen. He moved to the end of the couch that held Vincent's feet and prodded, prompting Vincent to make an annoyed sort of grunt and, eventually, scoot toward the edge and lean up to allow Cid in beside him. Once settled, Cid took his share of the afghan, wrapped his hand around the bowl or popcorn, and relaxed, heaving a shaky sigh of relief. This was how it was supposed to be, only without the grumbling.
Cid kissed the column of Vincent's neck, then scooted upward a bit more so the other man's head rested approximately in the vicinity of Cid's chest when Cid twisted his torso to lie more on his back than his still-sore side. "Think maybe I seen this one before," he said when the movie faded into a commercial break. "Liked it enough, I reckon."
Vincent was stunned into irritated silence by the most awkward shifting and finagling of positions. Twice he was almost shoved off of the couch and onto his ass, and then he had to persistently tug on the afghan until it was evenly dispersed between them. However once Cid had gotten himself comfortable, Vincent found that he was too, resting in between Cid's thick thighs with his head on the man's chest. He grumbled a little bit more under his breath, further irritated by the fact that this whole maneuver had taken the first several minutes of the movie. But in the end the pleasant heat they both were generating was enough to make him relax again, and gradually his headache began to fade and his eyelids drooped lazily. "Really," he murmured. "I have not seen it." He listened through another commercial before he tilted his head back and to the side to look at Cid peripherally. "Have you ever been to the ocean?" He asked abruptly.
"Nah. Me, I don't think I'd know what t'do with that much water. I think I'd like t'see it, though, just once. Prob'ly be too chicken t'go in." He grinned and placed a hand on Vincent's hip while the other hand went behind his head, much like the way Vincent had initially been resting. "But maybe I wouldn't be if you went with me." Cid had expected the movie to be on again by this point. Commercial breaks during movies were always so ridiculously long…
"Hn," Vincent snorted softly as the movie came back on, and fell silent once again. The plot was contrived and predictable: small isolated island community, so naturally the whole "man-eating shark" problem was conveniently contained; an ignorant government in denial in the face of losing economic assets, and finally the hero predictably being ignored and labeled 'over-reactive and foolish', because let's face it folks, you wouldn't have a movie if everyone listened to reason in the first place! He and Cid munched on the popcorn, quietly absorbed in the slow unraveling of the tiny community as more people (and more food for the shark) moved onto the island.
When a commercial break came on, Vincent stretched with a contented grunt, and wriggled a bit to get more comfortable as well as get his blood flowing again. He sighed softly. "While overall not terribly original, it has a certain appeal doesn't it?" he said, indicating the movie. "I can certainly see why one might be afraid to go into the water after seeing this movie." The hand that Cid had placed on his hip towards the beginning of the movie had crept up and over until the cop was tracing small circles and figure-eights on his chest, and twice those blunt but nimble fingers had found his nipple, which caused Vincent's attention to shift abruptly from the movie to his chest. Now Cid's hand was still again, a warm weight over his heart that he found rather pleasing. "Perhaps this movie is where your hesitance to go in the water came from?" he teased lightly.
Cid had found it was very difficult to focus on the movie while Vincent was lying on him. He'd spent more time staring at the top of Vincent's head than he had watching the on-screen "terror." And, quite honestly, he'd looked at Vincent's chest more than his head, and watched his hand more than he'd stared at Vincent's chest, and- well, let it suffice to say that he had seen only a few minutes of the movie, and then had usually only looked because Vincent had pointed something out. He did hear the question, though, and the hand on Vincent's chest idly rubbed the flesh beneath it. "Well, I dunno. I reckon it's just 'cause I've never really been around lots o' water b'fore. Never would go swimmin' at th'pool. Was scared it was gonna have jellyfish, 'cause I'd seen some show on them. Creepy fuckers, them things." Cid shuddered at the thought, remembering horrid tentacles and painful poison and deceptively beautiful colors. "Yeah, I reckon it's the jellies, not th'sharks," he said, and laughed. "Though I don't think I'd wanna run inta one o' them either. But if one attacked ya, I'd fight it off for ya." He winked and grinned although he knew Vincent could not see it, and his hand stilled again as he kissed the side of Vincent's head.
An eyebrow rose at that. "Jellyfish?" Vincent asked, mildly incredulous. He chuckled and shook his head. "If I ever needed you to save me from a jellyfish, then I would be in bad shape indeed." Before Cid could reply the movie came back on, and they fell silent again. He snorted at the point in the movie when the reward was offered for the "man-eating shark", and laughed derisively when he saw men out in rowboats throwing over large chunks of bloody meat. He did however nod in approval when the "shark expert" was brought in. That was something he would have done, but of course no one listened to the "expert." At the commercial break after the introduction of one rough-looking, rough-talking captain of a somewhat decrepit fishing trawler, Vincent said with a little snicker, "Now he reminds me a little of you, Cid. I imagine you two would get along quite famously." He had to force himself to focus on the movie at this point as Cid's hand had begun playing with the waistband of his borrowed sleep pants, and quite on their own, his legs had parted a little in unconscious invitation. This is the most tedious movie I have ever watched, Vincent thought wryly.
He wanted to. He really, really wanted to reach in and just feel, maybe massage Vincent to hardness and then to orgasm, smell him sweating, hear him panting, and feel him writhing as Cid held him…he had to force his hand away, and he hoped the movement was at least somewhat less jerky than it seemed to him. He brought it back to rest over Vincent's heart again, noticing the firm muscle that hid just under the skin as his hand moved up Vincent's body. The paler man was deceptively skinny from far away, but here Cid could feel the latent strength that appealed to him so much. He sighed and settled back into the couch, arm heavy around Vincent.
Vincent murmured something unintelligible before picking up Cid's hand and linking their fingers. Now that his headache was gone, he felt lighter, calmer and as a result this intimacy with Cid was soothing. Gone was that boiling hatred, and sickening confusion. In their place was only a strange, deep yearning. And were it not for the easy peace he felt right now that pushed all other malevolent thoughts away, he might of wondered and been extraordinarily suspicious of the nature of those dark and poisonous feelings. Movie mostly forgotten, Vincent ended up in thought as he lay on Cid's chest. He was so warm, and once all the shifting and situating had been accomplished he found he was just as comfortable. Cid's chest was a solid expanse under his head and he was soon lulled into a warm stupor by the slow rise and fall of it as Cid breathed. He was ashamed and embarrassed by his behavior earlier; ashamed that he would even stoop so low as to put Cid into the same category as Rufus, because Cid would never, ever hurt him like that. He knew it and still he had panicked. Panicked and fainted. He sighed. They had already been intimate, in several different ways, had already had sex and still he was so hesitant. He wished he could give Cid what he wanted. Hell his body already responded to Cid's touch, seemed to crave it, why was his brain so reluctant to follow?
Cid sighed again and closed his eyes, enjoying Vincent's weight against him. When the movie returned from the commercial break, Cid's eyes opened again to watch it. He wasn't really watching, though; he cared much more about the warmth and peace he was feeling. If he could have this every day… well, if he could have this every day, then he would probably never do anything else. "Sometimes I wonder if y're even good fer me, Valentine," he grumbled affectionately, squeezing the fingers that were holding his own.
Vincent grinned wryly. "That's the thing with most obsessions, Cid. They're not good for you, and by the time you realize this, you're too addicted and can't stop anyway." He'd tried to put distance between them, tried to make Cid give him up, even tried to push the man away, several times, but they always ended up together again. Fate, it would seem, had a very sick sense of humor.
Cid grunted. "Well, it wasn't fer lack o' tryin'." He closed his eyes again, listening to the movie's loud sounds- clearly there was some sort of climactic action going on now, likely something to do with the damned shark. "Would y'really wanna visit the ocean," he asked, nose wrinkling at the thought.
"Yeah," Vincent breathed. "There's something beautiful about it; beautiful and powerful." He resituated his head so that he could look up at Cid out of the corner of his eye. "You don't sound very thrilled with the idea though."
He chuckled. "Guess I just don't see the appeal. I mean, I'd like t'see it, but I dunno about all that swimmin' an' whatnot." Smiling, he opened his eyes in time to catch Vincent looking at him. "'Sides, I got somethin' beautiful an' powerful right here, so I don't need t'go nowhere."
Vincent snorted. "Right." He fell silent then, movie completely forgotten as he studied the slightly dingy curtains at the far end of the living room. He reached down with his free hand and scratched his thigh before lifting his leg to rest along the back of the couch.
Cid raised an eyebrow. "Y'don't think so?" he asked, then watched longingly as that leg stretched and fell against the backrest. He wanted- Well, that didn't matter. "I think th'couch'd be very offended t'know that y'don't think it's beautiful an' powerful," Cid said seriously. "Fact, I wouldn't be s'prised if'n it just dumps ya right off. Like so," he continued, abruptly turning his body so that Vincent was in danger of falling off the couch.
With a startled gasp, Vincent's arms flew out to grab onto Cid as the other went down towards the ground as though to keep himself from falling as he suddenly tipped precariously. He was not amused, and after a bit of wriggling around, not to mention a well-placed elbow to a gut –unintentionally of course, he maneuvered himself onto his hands and knees to glare down at Cid. His leaner frame fit perfectly in between Cid's legs, but that went unnoticed in favor of his lack of amusement. By this point his hair was beginning to come out of its braid and strands were getting into his face while the tail had snuck over his shoulder and was tickling him, which only added to his minor irritation. Blowing a puff of air out of the side of his mouth in an attempt to get some hair out of his eye, he said in a grumbled huff, "Real cute, Highwind…"
As soon as he got his breath back from the blow to his stomach, Cid laughed and lifted a hand to push back the hair Vincent was fighting. "Glad y'think so," he drawled, unraveling the braid the rest of the way so that Vincent's hair fell onto both of them. "I like ya like that best," he whispered, gaze warm on Vincent's face. "Y'look most like mine when y're like that."
Vincent shivered. Cid's reply should have insulted him, but instead it called forth a completely physical reaction. His stare remained fierce, but his exhalation came out in a little sudden puff of air as gooseflesh rose up on his arms and shoulders and his nipples pebbled. How did Cid do that to him? Every fucking time, and at the most unexpected moments… Cid had called him 'mine'. Vincent should have been outraged at being called a possession, but instead he found himself turned on by that. The feeling of belonging to someone, not as a thing, but as a person, made him feel warm and wanted. So instead of snapping at Cid, he just looked down into Cid's blue eyes and open, honest face. His gaze missed nothing; from the slowly fading bruise around one eye, down a nose that probably had been broken at least once in the man's life, down to Cid's thin lips and he licked his own. Before he knew what he was doing, Vincent was lowering his face, slowly, hesitantly until his lips brushed against Cid's and he shivered again.
Brow furrowing as he was kissed, Cid pressed into the touch while making a questioning sound. His hands slid down so his arms could rest around Vincent's waist, and he sighed when he felt the other man's body shudder. Cid's eyes closed, and he opened his mouth, yielding to Vincent, who seemed to need this. Cid gave a shudder of his own at the thought of being able to arouse those feelings in a man like Vincent. Slowly, one of his hands slid up the other man's back, gentle and mindful of the healing wounds as it moved. That hand rested, flat, between Vincent's shoulder blades. The other lay loosely against the other man's waist, fingers digging in a bit as it barely held his heavy arm off the surface of the couch. He let it slip only to raise it to drape over the other man's hips. He and Vincent really did fit together perfectly, as both Cid's body and mind noticed. Another soft sigh left him, and his eyes opened in order to seek out Vincent's red ones.
Vincent took his time ending the kiss, not allowing himself to think about the actions that had led up to this moment and the nervousness he had felt. When he pulled back he had lowered himself down onto Cid's body carefully and he lay now, propped up on his elbows, his fingers playing with the hair his hands could reach. "Why do you fight so hard for me? Why, when you know how damaged I am? How difficult I find returning any kind of affection?" He touched Cid's face lightly. "Why do you let me keep hurting you?" He asked softly, more to himself than to Cid.
"B'cause," Cid whispered in reply, "my heart knows y're worth it, even durin' the times when m'head tells me I oughta give up." He left one hand on Vincent's back and used the other to trace his lips. "My heart knows it needs yours." He loved Vincent, loved him so much, and he knew he would never be able to answer if someone asked him why he did. "And my body is willin' t'go without that affection if it means I get t'keep that heart."
Vincent didn't know what to say to that. How did Cid always know the right things to say, the words that could smash through any and all walls he could put up? His mouth worked for a moment longer before he finally gave up trying to find the right words in which to reply and, deeply moved, he kissed Cid again.