FicWad

The PHS was ringing. Cid felt like groaning, and not for the reason he'd been groaning a moment ago: half-naked underneath of him was a very aroused, very friendly Vincent - and Cid could already tell from the slack feeling of his lips that he was going to answer it.



"Don't," Cid warned, grabbing the long, pale arm before it could make a move toward the desk. "Just leave it."



"I can't. I'm waiting for a call from Gongoga about the parts I ordered."



"Let them leave a fuckin' message."



"I don't have voicemail. You know that."



"And why the hell not?"



But Vincent was already shrugging out from under him and reaching toward the cluttered night table. Cid rolled over with a sigh and felt around blindly for his cigarettes, nearly knocking over a lamp in the process. Damn lucrative gun-repair business. If he'd known it was going to take up so much of Vincent's time, he might've tried talking him out of it. Well, maybe not actually, he admitted with a vague scowl. The work had presented Vincent with a much-needed direction for his life, and he'd proved to be surprisingly good at it - even the bits that required him to work alongside customers and suppliers. He could be extremely polite when he wanted to be, the gruff pilot had discovered - and also extremely savvy.



"This is Valentine."



Damn, he sounded sexy first thing in the morning. Cid rubbed his face and sat up as he reached for his lighter. It didn't help to remember that, just minutes ago, he'd had that deep, even voice moaning with abandon as he'd scratched a very welcome itch trying to poke its way out of the loose-fitting pants his lover wore as sleepwear. His cock twitched hopefully; he took a quick drag of his cigarette and tried - tried - to think about anything else. Chances were, if the parts Vincent was waiting for had come in, he would have to leave right away. Not that Cid was suffering from a lack in this particular area; last night Vincent had given him one of the best blow jobs of his life, right before enthusiastically fucking him into a state of coma-like ecstasy. He should've been nice and sated, he thought with a wry smile. But, with Vincent lying practically naked beside him all night long, sated wasn't a word he figured he knew the definition for any more.



"Good morning, Cloud."



It was the kid; what the hell did he want this early in the morning? "Tell 'im we're busy," he muttered under his breath, knowing full well Vincent's super-duper extra-sensitive ears wouldn't let him miss hearing the suggestion. The gunman, however, did no more than slip his legs over the edge of the mattress, a blatant bid for silence.



"No; I haven't seen him."



Cloud was looking for Barret, Cid guessed immediately. A month ago, the man had plunged himself into a rebuilding effort in North Corel - an effort that had required a lot of gil and much needless bickering with the town's sketchy inhabitants - that had necessitated a temporary caregiver for Marlene, 'just for a few days'. Tifa, of course, had volunteered for the job without a second thought.



"I suppose I could..."



Cid felt a jolt of protective anger and swiveled around on the bed. "Fuck no. You're already runnin' around like a goddamn chocobo. Tell 'im no."



Vincent fixed him with a glare he obviously hoped would shut him up. "No, it isn't a problem. Yes; I'll call as soon as I know anything."



That was it. Cid wasn't going to stand for anymore of this bullshit. Last month, Barret had wanted materials delivered to help with the restoration; the month before that, it had been Yuffie looking for help replenishing Wutai's dwindled weapon supply. And Vincent never seemed able to say no to them, as if he felt he still owed them for having saved him from the coffin, and for the redemption of his soul they'd helped to buy through the deaths of Hojo and Sephiroth. Sure, his life was now his own to spend the way he wished, with whomever he wished - which had allowed him the freedom to kiss Cid back when he'd finally mustered the courage to make his move - so, obviously, Cid was grateful, too...



He just wished they would get it through their thick skulls that Vincent wasn't the roaming ghost he'd been six months ago. He had a life - he had a business - not to mention a relationship with a certain foul-mouthed, chain-smoking pilot. He was settled. He didn't need them dragging him out of the house - and out of Cid's bed - every few weeks to lend them an extra pair of arms they could find anywhere else.



Hastily, he stubbed out his cigarette. Vincent was sitting with his back to him now, phone held awkwardly in his claw so he could plug his other ear, presumably to block out any more of Cid's objections. It was perfect. He wouldn't even hear him coming. And that, Cid had learned, was the secret to catching Vincent off-guard - wait until nearly all of his senses were attuned to something else.



"No, that's not necessary, Cloud. All I need is the locati - "



Before the transaction could go any further, Cid made his move. He already knew trying to rip anything out of that metal grip was an exercise in futility, not to mention vaguely hazardous to his health; but Vincent, he'd discovered one night not long after they'd gotten together, was ridiculously ticklish just about everywhere on his body - and Cid was determined to make this an end of things. Moving with as much stealth as was possible for a thirty-five year-old whose joints already tended to crack, he extended his hands toward the other man's sides, just below his armpits...



Reflexes as deft as ever, Vincent clamped his arms down a moment before Cid could initiate his bout of his ruthless 'intervention'; but the maneuver was just an instant too late - the pilot's fingers were already in. With a grin, he began to wriggle them and watched in satisfaction as Vincent writhed in response. He didn't need to see his face to know it was locking into a pained grimace as he fought for the composure to finish his phone call.



"Vincent?" He could hear Cloud's tinny voice through the receiver. "You still there?"



"Y-yes..."



He was pulling away from the bed - no doubt hoping to get to his feet. Cid chuckled grimly; oh, it wasn't going to be as easy as all that. With an insolent ease, he hauled the gunman backward onto the mattress and, kneeling on the only arm he knew Vincent would use to fight him off, swiftly launched an attack against that sveltely muscled abdomen.



"C-Cid, what are you... Ah, d-dammit, stop!" Despite the rigid, faintly manic grin on his face, Vincent attempted to give him the glare-of-death. It really was too bad, Cid decided, that the only thing he associated that look with now was several instances of aggressive sex. Plus, the look couldn't really be called menacing when it was obvious the other man was doing everything in his power not to explode with laughter.



"Vincent?" came the disembodied voice again, sounding faintly confused.



"Vincent's not 'vailable at the moment," Cid growled, loud enough to make sure Cloud could hear him. "I'm currently ticklin' the shit outta him. I'm sick of him takin' jobs for you assholes every other week. He's busy, in case you didn't know!"



"Cid? Is that you?"



"Yeah, it's me. I live here, too, remember? In fact, it's my house." Vincent was starting to lose it; Cid decided to take cruel advantage of his loose pajama pants and snugged them down an inch or so, just enough to bare his brutally ticklish hipbones. This always made him scream.



"Cid! I swear, I'll shoot off both your ba-ahh! Ahahahaha! Stop! Stop! Oh, fuck, stopit!"



Cid cursed as Vincent very nearly bucked him off the bed. "Tell him you're not gonna traipse all over the bloody continent lookin' for Barret."



"No! I've al-already...a-haha...ah-agreed..."



"It's fine, Vincent." It sounded like Cloud was practically shouting into the receiver. "I'll ask someone else." There was a click as he hung up.



The pilot felt all of the thrill of a hard-won victory - Vincent wasn't going to leave in search of a seven foot man with a gun on his arm who'd never had any trouble taking care of himself before. And that, he decided, was worth anything the gunslinger might do to him. Well, nearly anything - the moment he let Vincent up was probably the moment he forfeited his testicles - so, instead of trying to stumble through some half-assed apology, he did what came naturally. He wormed a hand into Vincent's pants and began to fondle him back into his former state of aching readiness.



"If you ever do that again while I'm on the phone," Vincent began with a disarming calmness Cid knew meant he was really pissed, "I promise I will turn Chaos loose on the deck of the Sierra, and I won't be responsible for wha-what..." He sighed suddenly, as Cid ran his thumb over the sensitive juncture where the underside of his cock met the tip. "Ah, god. Don't think what you're doing right now changes anything, either. I'm still...oh...angry."



Cid couldn't help smiling as Vincent sagged bonelessly into the bed. "'M sorry, Vince. But they really are takin' advantage of you. You don't need to say yes every time. They're not gonna hate you for having a life."



"I don't mind helping them." Vincent tensed with a groan, arching his hips as Cid gave his erection a slow, firm pull. "Though I suppose I...ahh...do have other responsibilities now." He sucked in a breath through his teeth and shuddered as Cid drew his fingers lightly around the head of his arousal. "Are you going to play with me all morning?"



"I've been trying to get to third base since I woke up with your hard-on pokin' me in the hip," Cid reminded him gruffly. "If you hadn't answered the phone, I'd probably have your ass in the air by now." But he obligingly moved between his lover's legs and began to trace a moist path down his taut stomach until he was hovering over his pulsing member.



Vincent moaned when he hesitated. "What are you waiting for?"



Cid glanced at him with a smirk. "Forgive me?"



The gunman's eyes narrowed. "That's not fair."



"So?" He darted his tongue out to tease the tip of the other man's cock. "Do ya?"



"Fine. Yes, I forgive you."



"Doesn't sound like you mean it."



"Cid..."



He pulled the loose pants down a little further and breathed hotly against Vincent's contracting testicles, smiling as his lover sighed with pleasure. The anxious moans that followed as he licked a slow, deliberate course from the quivering shaft's base to its weeping tip made his own groin throb impatiently. "So?"



"I forgive you, Cid. I know you were just trying to help. It's fine; I appreciate it. I...ungh!" Vincent jerked with a moan as the pilot swallowed him to the hilt and began to work him up and down, his tongue a darting, teasing presence wherever it could reach. And then Cid had a malicious idea. Gradually, he drew back until he was sitting on his heels, and then he waited for Vincent to look at him. The desperate, dark-eyed gaze left him in no doubt of his lover's state of mind - which was fuckin' do something.



"What about that time I spiked your cranberry juice?"



Vincent groaned and dropped his head back to the covers. "Forgiven."



"And when I left the milk on the counter and it tasted like..."



"Forgiven. I forgive you for everything, even the stupid, irresponsible things you haven't done yet. Satisfied?"



Cid grinned as he lowered his mouth once more, reveling in the heartfelt groan his lover gave as he was enveloped in heat once again. It wasn't even breakfast, and already he was getting laid and he had a clean slate. Could the day possibly get any better?



Then the PHS began to ring.