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It’s not often that things are calm enough for Clive to enjoy a drink. Actually enjoy one, not just gulp down some wine or ale because the stress of the week has been mounting. It’s even less often that he’s invited back to Cid’s solar for one. Got myself a small treat, drawled Cid earlier that evening, flashing a bottle beneath his coat and giving Clive a wink. Join me after supper, would you?
Ergo, Clive finds himself sitting on that awful green couch, thanking Cid as he refills his chalice. The two have been talking shop, but as the liquor flows, so does the conversation.
“Come now,” coaxes Cid, a faint tint to his cheeks from both drinking and laughter. “You can’t tell me there’s nothing you haven’t wanted to try.”
Clive scoffs. He doesn’t miss how Cid’s leg spreads toward him, his knee resting at the side of Clive’s lower thigh. This is typical. When Cid drinks, he flirts, and he can get a little horny.
Not that it’s a problem for Clive. They’ve had this… arrangement long enough that both are comfortable. At least, as comfortable as Clive can get. Letting his guard down wholly isn’t something he can truly risk. Neither can Cid.
The perks of wartime.
Though Cid’s knee is like a brand against his thigh, even through their leathers, Clive contemplates the question with a bit more solemnity. He trusts Cid. So…
“I suppose there’s one thing,” he admits, his mind and throat loose with the influence of alcohol.
“Mm?”
Even the low, brief rumble of Cid’s response makes him flush a little. “Promise not to laugh?”
A strong hand captures his jaw, nearly making Clive drop his chalice. He allows Cid to turn his head, the other man leaning in close, eyes piercing.
“Clive,” says Cid, all husk and thick thunder, “when have I once laughed at your desires?”
The question sends a chill up Clive’s spine. He swallows. Allows Cid to take the chalice from his trembling hand and set it aside. Then the older man is swinging a leg over his lap, settling himself there. His breath is hot and sour with wine, his eyes bright with lust and—
Mentally shaking that last observation, Clive barely whispers his answer. I want you to…
Cid groans, eyes briefly closed. Then his mouth is on Clive’s, tongue prying his lips open, swallowing Clive’s gasps and whimpers as they begin to furiously make out.
Over an hour later, Clive is muffling his wails into his own arm while Cid fucks him deep and steady until he spills between them. It’s not long after that Cid finds his own orgasm, teeth clamping on the muscle between Clive’s neck and shoulder, his hips fucking Clive further up on the bed as he fills him completely.
When they fall asleep, Clive too shy to do more than allow Cid to snuggle him close, the younger Dominant assumes Cid will forget their conversation.
A few nights later, Cid grasps his arm on his way out of the Fat Chocobo, rasping a suggestion into his ear that has Clive all but fleeing to the solar a good two hours earlier than usual.
***
Despite knowing what he’ll find, Cid’s breath is stolen the moment he opens the curtain to his own room.
Never, in his wildest dreams, has he ever considered such a delectable feast laid out just for him. He waited a solid six hours after speaking to Clive to even make his way toward the solar, and at the time he allowed anyone and anything to give him pause. Just to add a little more time; to increase the suspense.
It works. Beautifully.
The lad is stretched out on his bed, his back rising and falling in the deep, rhythmic pattern of sleep. The blankets have long since been kicked down, Clive snuggling a sad sack of a pillow with a sheet over his legs, barely covering the curve of his ass. Quickly lighting a candle, Cid looks and nearly chokes on his own tongue. His lover—physically, not emotionally, he reminds himself, this is a mere arrangement as far as Clive is concerned—is utterly passed out. Every sharp curve of muscle on his back displayed, carving paths down to his ass, where the faint glisten of oil gleams under the weak, flickering light, a small sheen in his asscrack. All in all, a gorgeous, vulnerable gift waiting to be unwrapped… entirely for Cid.
Fuck me.
With more eager than strictly necessary, Cid shucks his jacket. Much as he wants to pounce the lad and fuck him senseless, he can’t help but feel a bit soft inside looking at his peaceful, slumbering expression. A man utterly open and trusting.
It makes him very, very hard outside.
He strips his shirt off, trying to temper his breathing as he visually drinks in the artform laid out before him. Boots discarded, pants unlaced as he approaches the bed. He half considers not being naked, but one look at the way the sheets lay over Clive proves he is utterly nude, and Cid just… he wants it. Desires it. Needs it. That perfect, close, hot physical contact.
Barely does he step forward when Clive shifts, his ass delightfully more present as the sheet slips down a little more. Cid freezes. Watches.
Clive murmurs and snuggles into the pillow more. So sweet. So trusting and lovely.
Blood throbs through Cid, all the way to his cockhead.
He peels his leathers down, never once allowing his eyes to stray away from Clive. His breaths coming shorter and heavier as the lad murmurs and shifts again, ass briefly rising before he settles again. Were Cid not such a purveyor of fine men—and ergo Clive—he’d think the man teasing; actually being awake rather than reacting subconsciously to palpitations through the room.
Cid tears the sheets down to reveal the rest of his gift. His prize. Clive doesn’t even stir, eyebrows relaxed, one knee bent upward in a semi-fetal position. His ass is shiny with oil, some excess still dribbling down his balls. Cid bites his lip and crawls onto the bed, carefully shifting the lad so his hips are raised, never once waking him. His mouth floods with saliva at the sight; Clive’s ass in the air, spreading his cheeks slightly, giving Cid a glimpse of the little toy keeping him stretched.
Fuck me between Greagor’s tits.
He pauses to inhale deeply; the aroma of fragrant oil and musk a delight to his senses. A soft groan punts out of his chest as he hikes Clive’s hips up with one arm looped around his torso, nuzzling at the firm muscle of his ass, giving him a lick and a kiss before he zeroes in on his prize.
Cid plants a long, wet lick from Clive’s balls to his hole, over the tantalizing plug buried deep in him. Bloody gorgeous, he thinks, sucking on the base of the plug with sloppy lips and tongue.
Clive whimpers softly under his ministrations, squirming a bit before going soft and pliant again. Cid’s cock is raging hard already, feeling the trust, even if Clive himself is asleep and not aware of what he exudes.
But the lad is a light sleeper, more often than not. For him to remain asleep thus far truly is a testament to how safe he feels. It threatens to give Cid violent butterflies.
Pushing sentiment aside for the moment, he returns to his objective. Cid allows himself time to play, putting his cock secondary to the feel of Clive sleepily grinding against his mouth. His face is covered in spit and oil as he rubs and licks and groans softly. The sensation of Clive twitching against his mouth is bloody heavenly.
Finally, himself panting softly from excitement, Cid murmurs under his breath, “Let’s get this out, eh, sweetheart?” He takes a moment to capture the plug with his teeth, tugging gently just to press it back in and hear Clive moan. Still quiet, still not fully formed, his muscles shifting without him waking.
Cid can feel himself dripping. A muffled plip of pre-cum against the sheets.
He allows a shuddering sigh, reluctantly parting in order to guide Clive’s knees to support himself, at least somewhat so Cid can ease back and grip the plug with his fingers. Twisting it, pressing in, tugging until the bulb catches the oil- and spit-slick rim, earning a mewl from the man beneath him.
With a lewd pop, the plug comes free, making Clive shudder and whine whilst trapped in his single-armed embrace. Cid sets the plug aside, lowering himself while grasping both firm cheeks of the lad’s ass. Licking, suckling, laving over his twitching hole. Cid is hungry for it, pressing his tongue in as far as he can, blissful, frustrated pleasure shivering through him as Clive begins to squirm. Cid pets around to his front, fingers grazing the lad’s swollen, hot cock, dripping even more than his own. Panting heavily now, the older Dominant spits in his hole and glides a finger in.
So loosened by the plug, Clive writhes and rolls his hips, making little noises that seem to indicate he’s wavering between deep sleep and the verge of waking. The clenching heat inspires him to add another finger, then a third, now thoroughly fucking Clive while the other man moans and presses back, trying to get more. Cid rubs his prostate and Clive gasps—yet still doesn’t seem to wake despite his pretty long lashes fluttering for a moment, his face screwed up in pleasure.
“Little minx,” breathes Cid. He carefully extracts his fingers and helps Clive lie flat on his stomach, giving his cock a squeeze before positioning himself over him. Taking hold of his own dick, giving a few good pumps to smear excess oil and pre-cum before he guides himself to the desperately twitching hole.
Cid groans, expecting yet still surprised at how easily the head of his throbbing cock pops in. It takes a few good thrusts to bury himself to the hilt, teeth gritted, Clive whining and humping against the sheets before he utters a wrecked groan and spasms with an orgasm. Cursing, Cid presses his forehead against the lad’s back, clenching his own thighs in an effort to keep from coming as well. Clive’s body does its damnedest to drag him to the edge, all blistering, sopping wet heat and muscle trying to milk him. As the lad begins to whimper toward his end, Cid huffs a laugh and a breathless smirk.
“The death of me,” he mutters, latching onto the nape of Clive’s neck and sucking a bruise there. Sweat dampens the two of them, Clive’s chest heaving in the aftermath. “Beautiful. Fucking perfect.”
Great Greagor, I love him.
To avoid saying it aloud, Cid begins to move. Little tentative thrusts at first, prioritizing long, deep fucks inward over speed. He knows he’s found the other man’s prostate when Clive chokes on a moan and finally begins to open his eyes, flushed from his forehead down to mid-back.
Blue eyes deep and wide as the ocean look back at him. Clive keens, arching his ass back. Cid grasps his hip, blunt nails biting skin as he gives a sharp, pointed thrust.
“Good morning,” he growls, fucking him in earnest now, ignoring the fact it’s well into the night and, by the openings in the ceiling, they both know it.
“G-good—ah, ah, mmmm.” Clive moans, his voice sleep-thickened and hoarse. He shifts as though to rise, but Cid threads his fingers through the younger man’s, pinning his hands in place near his shoulders as he begins to drip sweat from the effort. “Mm, nngh, oh… gods, please…”
“Please what, sweetheart?” Cid slows to grind his hips for a moment, making the other man wail as his prostate is tormented. “You’ve already come once… you need it again?”
Clive cries out when he starts thrusting again; short, powerful bursts that have the younger Dominant trying to bite the pillow since Cid keeps hold of his hands. The slick, heady warmth of his ass is addictive, friction driving Cid wild as he rabbits into him. Clive is a fucking vision under him, tight and squirming as best he can, clearly trying to hump the mattress to get that much more.
“Here, love, let me help you.” Cid barely notices the word that slips out, too caught up in the moment, and Clive’s eager flow as he guides his hips high and knees under is too tantalizing for him to care. They soon end up with Clive’s ass in the air, dripping oil, his cock messy with cum and throbbing anew as Cid rears back and fucks him with the full force of his hips.
A mantra of his name falls from Clive’s lips. His voice is thick and raspy from lingering languor, cheek rubbing against the sheets as he twists them in his hands. Cid stares at where they’re connected, wetting his lips at the sight of his cock going in and out, slick, gripped by glistening red muscle as Clive’s body seems intent on sucking him in deeper. “Ah, please, I… fuck!”
Cid moans deep, head bowing as his thrusts begin to break; become uncoordinated. “Gonna come,” he gasps, squeezing Clive’s waist with firm hands. “Fuck, love, can I come inside you?”
Clive rocks back against him, a desperate prayer of please please please please staining his lips while Cid chases his orgasm. He finally comes with a shout, driving his cum in deeper with every thrust, imagining Clive stuffed nice and full in a way that gets his dick throbbing.
Even as he’s riding the high, Cid fumbles for the other man’s cock. His bicep flexes and bulges against his lover’s side as he strokes Clive to completion, hot cum spraying between his fingers, making further a mess of the bed and his hand. Clive sounds utterly blissed yet fractured, wheezing, clenching around Cid’s softening cock as he’s milked dry.
Both men pause for a moment after, recapturing their breaths. As the blissful rounded edges begin to sharpen in Cid’s mind, he starts kissing along Clive’s shoulder, murmuring praise while the younger man goes lax under him.
A lewd, wet sound as Cid pulls out earns a yip from and bright red ears on Clive. Laughing breathlessly, Cid eases onto his side, balanced on an elbow. “All right, there?”
“Amazing,” admits Clive. He heaves a sigh and rolls onto his back, heedless of the mess. Something about his lack of caring in the immediate aftermath has Cid’s cock twitching in interest. “Founder, that was…”
“Not a bad way to wake up?” teases Cid.
“I wouldn’t mind waking up like that more often.” The lad starts at his own words, then looks away as though to hide the embarrassment creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. “Hypothetically.”
Something about the way he says it gives Cid pause. They’ve been dancing around this subject, neither willing to ruin what they have… and yet…
Humming, Cid runs his hand up Clive’s arm, amused at the goosebumps left in his wake. “What if I said it could be arranged?”
Clive bites his lip. Won’t quite look at him.
Determined, Cid leans over and guides Clive with a gentle touch to his jaw, encouraging him to face Cid wholly.
Quiet, with a little coy smile, Cid says, “It’d mean a permanent change in sleeping arrangements, of course.”
Clive’s eyes widen. He looks speechless.
“That all right with you?” asks Cid.
After a moment, Clive manages to utter, “Yes. Please, yes.”
Before Cid can speak, Clive surges up, cradling Cid’s face between his hands, kissing him eager and long and sound and open-mouthed. It’s affirmation and desire and affection all at once.
“Need you,” rasps Clive against his lips. One broad, sword-callused hands reaches down, gently tracing over Cid’s soft cock, making him groan, already twitching in an effort to thrive back to life.
“Aye,” says Cid, grinning, flushed with desperate pleasure. “That, too, can be arranged.”
Sleep is rendered forfeit for the rest of the night.