Fic: Disguised (Final Fantasy VII)
After so long chasing shadows and fruitlessly looking for any hint of a way to defeat Sephiroth, it was a relief when Cloud directed the Highwind to Wutai for a needed break and replenishment of supplies. The girls and Barrett had barely been able to mask their relief, slumping into the chairs around the conference table. Yuffie, forgetting about her airsickness, dropped her head down to sleep right there. Not even the normally imperturbable Vincent was completely steady on his feet - it seemed as though they had been running and flying and fighting for weeks without rest.
Actually, Cid thought, tossing a few threat-laced final orders over his shoulder to the crew, they really had. He dropped to the thick grass of the field outside Wutai where they’d landed, adjusting to the shock of completely solid ground under his feet.
“All right, dumbass, give ‘em here!” he shouted, over the still-deafening roar of the massive propellers.
One of the crewmen, used to this kind of treatment, tossed down the packs gathered from their rooms. They landed with solid thumps all around him, the last just barely missing his head. He dropped his cigarette and made a gesture skyward, though the crewman just grinned before slamming the hatch closed.
“I do not think they are frightened of you anymore,” he heard, and turned to see Nanaki watching him with solemn eyes.
If the creature didn’t have the face of a wolf, Cid would be sure he was being mocked. “Don’t make me use you as a pack animal,” he said.
Nanaki turned away and shook himself, settling his wind-ruffled coat. “I would be amused to see you try,” he said, and burst into a sprint.
“Hey, damn it!” Cid grumbled, to himself.
The others had already gone ahead into the town, scouting accommodations for their large party. Cid watched Nanaki’s shape disappear rapidly between two of the smaller pagodas and sighed. This really was going to suck.
By the time Cid finally slammed in to the inn, the sun had sunk below the high bluffs to the west and he was dying for a drink, a smoke, and a bath, though maybe not in that order.
“Cid, where the hell you been?” Barrett said. He raised his glass, waggling it back and forth. “We already on round two.” Next to him, the powered-down doll of Cait Sith on his giant mog slumbered, like a strange, overstuffed cushion. Apparently Reeve was already resting, back in Midgar.
He let the bags clunk to the floor, struggling for breath. “All right, you bastards,” he said, panting. “Next time we ship out I’m supervising the packing. What the hell kind of shit are you bringing along? Bricks?”
“None of your business, old man,” Yuffie said, bounding in from out of nowhere and scooping up one of the backpacks. She’d claimed it as her own with a bit of shockingly pink ribbon. She slung it over her back. “Tifa, you coming?”
“Sure,” Tifa said. She straightened from where she’d been stretching against the wall, came over and picked up her own pack. “Thanks so much for carrying them, Cid,” she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
She smiled at him, but he could see how tired she was. “Don’t mention it,” he said, clearing his throat. “Go get some sleep. You ain’t gonna be no use if you conk out in the middle of a fight.”
She nodded, following the impatiently bouncing Yuffie down the hall to one of the rooms. Normally they didn’t bother with separate sleeping arrangements, but it seemed like whenever they had the luxury of an inn the girls naturally broke away to a private room. Maybe it had something to do with female bonding.
The ladies taken care of, he turned his head from side to side, popping his neck as well as getting a feel for the place. He hadn’t stayed at the inn last time they’d come through, and looking around - well, maybe he was glad he hadn’t. The main room they’d instantly taken over wasn’t just a little shabby. He grimaced, yanking off his gloves and muffler. It didn’t look like the maid had been through this decade.
On the other hand, he decided, fumbling in his jacket for his pack of cigarettes, if they weren’t too concerned about cleanliness then they certainly wouldn’t mind him lighting up in here.
Barrett sat cross-legged on a mat before one of the low tables, bottle of sake already half-gone in front of him. “How long we staying?” he said, after downing another shot. “Don’t want to know what kind of shit Yuffie could get up to if we let her sneak around her hometown too long.”
Cid grimaced. “See, that’s the kind of thought that sticks with you.”
On the other side of the room, Cloud was just finishing a murmured conversation with a fussy-looking little man who looked about twice Cid’s age. As Cid watched, the man bowed deeply, which Cloud returned with a nod, and scuttled out down the hallway.
“We’ll stay here two days,” Cloud announced, turning back to them. “Mr. Masahashi has agreed to leave us completely alone, if we can handle serving our own food and drinks and not messing the place up too badly.”
“No problem,” Barrett said, pouring himself another shot.
“Cloud,” said a quiet voice, from almost directly behind Cid. He nearly dropped his lighter.
Vincent was leaned up against the wall next to the door. He hadn’t made a sound to indicate his presence. Cid tried to glare and pretend he hadn’t been startled at the same time - never an easy feat, but particularly difficult when Vincent didn’t even glance his way.
“Are you certain that Don Corneo’s influence is completely gone?” Vincent continued, still quiet. “This will not be a respite if we’re forced to deal with disgruntled lackeys.”
Cloud nodded. “Last time we were here, I overheard Reno and Rude talking. If Corneo had anyone left by the time we got rid of him, the Turks definitely took care of it.”
“Creepy motherfucker,” Barrett said. “Bet Yuffie’s dad is just as glad to have him gone. Even if he was a paying customer some of the time.”
Cid took a long drag at his cigarette. “Perverts are only good for business if your business is fucked up.”
Cloud gave them both a look, but let it pass.
The inn’s owner had left a warm pot of soup and enough rice for Cid and Barrett to have third helpings. Tifa and Yuffie emerged from their room already clad in unexpected pajamas - Yuffie in particular was an odd sight in pink flannel - to accept their bowls, but went right back to the girls’ sanctuary. Barrett had found a whole case of sake behind the bar, along with a few out-of-place bottles of vodka, and the drink had been flowing a little more freely than the whole group was used to. Vincent, of course, hadn’t touched a drop, though they had managed to get him to eat something for appearances’ sake. Cid was far more surprised that Cloud, the not-quite-SOLDIER, had unbent enough to have a drink, too. And it was having an effect, which was even more of a shock.
They’d ended up all around the same table, now piled high with discarded bowls and chopsticks and glasses. Vincent stayed quiet, for the most part, but that wasn’t a problem when Barrett and Cid could have a pretty expansive three way conversation by themselves.
“And, see, the thing was, the little fuckers knew they weren’t doin’ right,” Barrett was saying, his good arm providing wide gestures. “I had to explain some shit to ‘em, proper.”
“Explain meaning beat seven kinds of hell out of ‘em, right?” Cid said, grinning.
“Oh, hell yeah.”
Cloud rubbed at his forehead. “Wait, wait.” He frowned, trying to concentrate. He’d taken off his gigantic sword, leaning it up against the wall out of the way, and the absence of that combined with the puzzled frown on his face was making him a lot less imposing, in Cid’s opinion. “Who are we fighting again?”
“I,” Barrett said, jabbing his thumb into his chest, “am fighting a platoon of Shinra grunts who don’t know no better. You,” and then a finger poked into Cloud’s black uniform, “were prob’ly one of the damn grunts, just in another damn platoon!”
Cloud looked down at the finger in his chest, expression going a little odd, and for a muzzy second Cid thought they were going to have a broken bone on their hands. Then Cloud shrugged, and the moment of vague tension eased as he hooked the vodka bottle with the hand that wasn’t behind him, propping him up. “You’re probably right,” he said, cheerfully enough, and splashed vodka in his glass up to the brim.
Cid raised his eyebrows when Cloud gulped it down like water.
Almost an hour passed, in much the same manner. At some point Nanaki nosed open the front door and paced in, to a cheer from Barrett and Cid. He wagged his tail for a moment, but trotted away down the hall toward the bedrooms before they could do something like offer him his own bowl of sake.
By the time Barrett slowed down enough to actually hold his glass against his huge chest without gulping it down, it was almost midnight. Cloud was sitting with his elbows propped on his knees, one hand cradling his chin, eyes closed. Vincent had actually found himself a bottle of red wine - Cid had gone to a lot of trouble not to crack any vampire jokes - and was nursing his second glass, staring into the middle distance. In the lull, Cid realized his cigarette had long since burned down, and turned to find his discarded blue jacket.
A prolonged rummage in the various pockets turned up nothing. “Damn,” he grumbled.
“What?” Barrett said, startling like he’d just been woken up.
“Can’t find my friggin’ smokes.”
“I believe I saw one of your crew purchasing a carton some weeks ago,” Vincent said, tapping the golden claws of his gauntlet against the table. “Assuming you haven’t yet smoked them all, they may be in the packs.”
“Hey, good point!” Cid said, pushing away from the table. He managed to stand up after only two tries, which was pretty good, if he did say so himself. When he took a step backwards, though, he promptly tripped over his discarded spear. Barrett immediately started laughing. “Hey, fuck you, buddy,” he said, once he’d caught his breath.
“Are you all right?” Vincent said, calm as ever.
He dragged one hand through his hair, inadvertently shoving his goggles off. “Gravity blows.”
“Maybe we should get all of our weapons out of the way?” Cloud mumbled.
Cid picked his head off the floor and stared. He’d never heard the fearless leader sound quite so sleepy and - young. His eyes were still closed, and he was wearing something that was very nearly a smile. Drink did weird things to people. Vincent silently leaned over and dragged the spear out from under Cid with a drawn-out scraping sound, rolling it up against the wall behind him.
Barrett was still chuckling, which Cid valiantly ignored as he rolled over and dragged himself to hands and knees, then pushed himself up with a grunt. He made his way over to the pile of packs with no further incident.
“They better have given me the right ones,” he said, yanking at the buckles and straps keeping everything locked tight.
He saw Cloud stand up, off to his right. “Maybe we can find something behind the bar, if they didn’t.”
Barrett shifted so he could pillow his head against the silent cushion of Reeve’s mog doll. “Mebbe you could just smoke some of that seaweed they wrap the sushi in.”
Cid ignored this, finally tearing open the pack he was struggling with and pawing through the contents. A few spare boxes of rounds, a fat wallet, a tank top that could only fit - “Shit, well, this one’s yours,” he said, heaving it at Barrett.
He ignored the ensuing crash and curse, already digging into the next one. Off on the other side of the room, Cloud was up on tiptoe, trying to see over the bar. “Well, they’ve got matches, at least,” he heard.
“That’s a start,” Vincent said.
In this small pack was another, rather nicer box of shells, along with a gleaming bottle of gun-oil and absolutely nothing Cid could identify as a personal effect. “This one’s from your room,” he said, throwing it at Vincent. Vincent snatched it out of the air with the gauntlet, not looking. “Freak,” Cid said, sighing.
“Cloud, what the hell you doing?”
Cid looked up from trying to unbuckle the third pack to see Cloud - or, rather, the back half of Cloud - hanging off the bar. One leg waved in the air for balance. “There’s so much stuff back here!” they heard, slightly muffled. There was a thump and Cloud… giggled.
Vincent’s head snapped up from his usual contemplation of the infinite. Barrett almost dropped his drink, fumbling with the glass before he secured it back against his chest.
Cid swallowed and turned his eyes back to the bag in front of him. This was one he didn’t recognize, but then he didn’t pay too much attention to how his crew packed as long as he ended up getting his stuff. A quick check of the pockets on the outside revealed a bunch of random keys and swipecards he didn’t recognize, though that didn’t mean anything, either. Inside, a few tightly-capped potions and some of their older, less useful materia balanced on top of a densely-packed wad of stuff.
“You stuck up there, Spiky?” Barrett was saying.
Cid pulled away a thick black sweater he didn’t recognize, trying to see if the carton had somehow ended up stuck in the bottom of the pack.
“Nope, still looking!” Cloud replied, still oddly cheerful. A crash of broken glass made Cid jump, but when he glanced up Cloud was still draped over the bartop, idly swinging legs now crossed at the ankle in the air.
He shook his head, looking down as he pulled at some of the clothing that had become knotted. There was a lot of black wrapped around something silvery he couldn’t quite see. He yanked hard, and with a sudden jerk everything came unraveled, some of the pieces falling out of the bag, the silver thing leaping into the air and rolling along the floor, and a mass of fabric landing on his face.
Barrett barked with laughter. Cid shook his head, pawing the stuff down. “Goddamn. Who packed this shit?” he said, once his face was clear.
“I don’t recognize the bag,” Vincent said, taking a few steps closer. “Is it Tifa’s or Yuffie’s, perhaps?”
“Nah, they already got their stuff,” Cid said, rummaging through what had fallen into his lap. There was another black sweater, this one a sleeveless zip-up thing, a shapeless t-shirt that could have belonged to anyone - and then something fell out, landing on his thigh. He went to brush it away, but -
“What the hell?”
He picked it up between two fingers, staring. It was a little white scrap of fabric, which unfolded away from his fingers when he pulled it up.
“Perhaps it actually is Tifa’s,” Vincent said, after a moment.
They were bikini briefs, delicately constructed with lace and ribbon, all in white - except, Cid noticed, for a tiny pink bow where the seams gathered in the back.
“Can’t -“ Cid coughed, dragging his eyes away. Vincent didn’t seem fazed. “Can’t really see Tifa wearing something like this, though.”
Barrett leaned over, craning to see what they were talking about. “Shit! What the hell you guys lookin’ at?” he said, eyes going wide.
“That is what we are trying to decide,” Vincent said, not turning. “The bag could be Yuffie’s, I suppose.”
“Can’t really see her wearing ‘em, either, though,” Cid said. He held the underwear up between both hands. “Little too big, and anyway, she’d have something, like, yellow with cartoons on ‘em.”
“Well, shit. What else is in there?” Barrett said, heaving himself to his feet.
Cid looked down. He’d uncovered a heart-shaped glass bottle of scent, which had miraculously survived the pack’s rough handling. He picked it up and handed it blindly to Vincent, already uncovering something else that needed explaining.
“Surrender, by Shinra?” Vincent read, sounding just slightly bemused.
Cid was still holding the lace underwear in one hand, pulling gently on a soft fold of blue-purple silk, when Cloud finally gave a triumphant “A-ha!” and turned over on the bar.
“I knew they’d have something,” he said, sliding off the tall bar-top and onto his feet. He held up a lonely pack of cigarettes. “I don’t recognize the brand, but they definitely contain nicotine.” He looked up from examining the logo on the front of the pack, and frowned at the Vincent and Barrett standing around the kneeling Cid. “What are you guys - ?”
His eyes focused on what Cid was holding and he went abruptly pale, the happy flush draining from his cheeks almost comically fast.
Cid pulled the silk garment out of the bag, unfolding it a little more carefully. This was a simple, rather modest dress, in a deep purplish-blue silk caught about the waist with a red sash. Cid stood up, pulling the dress free by the shoulders to measure it.
“Little too big for Tifa and Yuffie,” Cid said, after a second. Cloud was still staring at the dress.
Barrett frowned. “Well, it sure as hell ain’t mine! You got any girls on your crew?” he asked Cid.
Vincent was looking at Cloud, now, too. “No, the crew is all-male,” he said.
Barrett looked back and forth between them, then looked down into the pack. “Yo, there’s something else in there,” he said, bending down. He pulled out a rather crumpled-looking blond wig, complete with braids tied with red ribbons. “What the…”
Finally, he followed Cid and Vincent’s eye line. Cloud, faced by their triple scrutiny, seemed to get over the pale stage and immediately flushed deep red.
“No way!” Barrett half-shouted.
“Cloud?” Cid managed.
Cloud folded his arms over his chest, face flaming. “What?”
Cid glanced at Vincent, who was still staring evenly at Cloud. “Don’t suppose this is your bag, is it?”
“Yeah,” Cloud said, lifting his chin. “So what?”
Barrett spoke first. “So, what the hell you doin’ with a bunch of lady clothes, man?”
Cloud’s blush went even deeper, if that were possible, streaking down his throat and across the bridge of his nose. “Tactical supplies,” he said, after a second.
Cid shook his head, starting to grin. “Now, this I gotta hear.”
It took some cajoling and another few shots of vodka (and Cid dropping the lace panties back into the bag, so they wouldn’t always be in Cloud’s line of sight) before Cloud was quite up to telling the story. They’d ended up back around their messy table, though Vincent was leaning up against the wall, arms folded.
“So, then me and Aeris thought we needed to save Tifa,” Cloud was saying, cradling his empty glass between his palms. “But Corneo’s guy was pretty serious about not letting any men into the mansion, and if I went in sword-first we didn’t know what would happen to Tifa. So Aeris came up with… the most logical solution.”
“Damn, that girl could talk you into anything,” Barrett said, shaking his head. He took a long gulp of sake. “Where’d you get the dress? Borrow it off someone?”
Cloud’s flush hadn’t gone away. “No, nothing fit. Aeris convinced this tailor to make it for me, special. Only took him about two hours.”
“Fast work,” Vincent said quietly.
“Wait,” Cid said, after a second. Cloud glanced up at him, still toying with his glass. “This guy had to, like, take your measurements and shit, then?”
Cloud cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
“Yeesh.”
Barrett frowned. “But, then, hang on. What about the rest of the stuff? That perfume, and them undies, and - what was that silver thing?”
Vincent strode over and picked it up. Cid peered at it when he brought it back - it was a finely worked headband, relatively simple in design, but studded with tiny, sparkling diamonds.
“Did a few favors for the tiara and the cologne,” Cloud said, shrugging uncomfortably.
Cid waited. “And the - other thing?” he prompted.
“Well -“ Cloud bit his lip, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “You remember that guy Mukki? Kind of a… bodybuilder type? He was at the Honeybee Inn with a bunch of his - his friends. He, um, gave it to me. As a present.”
Cid opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He did remember Mukki. From Barrett’s sudden expression of deep discomfort, so did he.
Vincent spoke up again. “Kind of him.”
“What about the wig?” Cid said. “It didn’t look that awesome.”
Cloud wrinkled his nose. “Man, I hated that thing,” he said, embarrassment fading slightly. “Some friends of Mukki’s had it, these other weightlifters. It stinks, but I guess it worked. We got in.”
Barrett chuckled. “Damn, man. I can’t believe it. Who’d ever believe you for a woman? You ain’t got none of the right curves.”
“Well, it worked on the guards. And on Don Corneo, too,” Cloud said, with a frown.
“They must’ve been blind,” Barrett said, finishing his glass of sake. “Right, Cid?”
Cid was still looking at Cloud. “Right,” he said, after a long moment.
For some reason, Cloud was still frowning. “You guys don’t believe me?”
“Nah, I know you got in, ‘cause you and Tifa and Aeris met up with us and got us that info about Sector Seven,” Barrett said, waving one mollifying hand. “Just, maybe one of those guards knew you was with AVALANCHE or sympathized or something.”
“So you don’t think I could infiltrate an enemy camp on my own?” Cloud said, eyes narrow.
“Sure you could, man, sure you could,” Barrett said, expansive. “Just not as a girl. You just ain’t the feminine type, Spiky.”
Cloud surged to his feet. “Yeah?” he said, balance wavering only slightly. His flush had returned, but maybe for different reasons. “You don’t think so?”
He reached out and snatched the tiara out of Vincent’s hand, still crazy fast despite all the drinks. Barely pausing, he darted over and scooped up the pack that had started the whole debacle, movements quick and angry. He grabbed the wig off the floor, too, just tearing the red ribbons off the braids before discarding it and dropping his armload onto a table in the corner.
The table he’d picked was half in shadow, but Cid could still see clearly enough when he started fumbling at the straps holding on his pauldron and backplate.
“The hell?” Barrett said, frowning.
Cid looked back at Vincent, whose gaze was fixed on Cloud in the corner. Vincent glanced down at him for a second, but there was nothing to say, and when the red eyes flashed back to Cloud Cid turned back around, and fought not to curse.
The armor and magnetic sheath dropped to the floor with a clank. The leather straps used to keep them in place fell lazily against Cloud’s hips while he yanked his sleeveless turtleneck out of the waistband of his trousers and pulled it over his head. Cid blinked at how pale he was. His shoulderblades created sharp shadows against his back as he fumbled with his belts, tugged off his thin leather gloves with his teeth.
By the time he bent to yank off his boots and socks, even Barrett had fallen still. Half a case of sake notwithstanding, this was a little far beyond what he could deal with.
Now barefooted, his hands went back to the front of his trousers, loosening the belts and the remaining leather braces. The trousers went down in one smooth motion, carrying with them whatever underwear he might have been wearing.
Cid sucked in a breath. This was something… new. Cloud, it turned out, was pale all over.
Barrett was right, there were no curves. It was a masculine body, from strong shoulders to narrow hips. And yet - Cid tossed back a gulp of sake - he could see how it would work. Cloud was strong, amazingly, shockingly strong, but that was a property of the mako and Jenova cells flowing through him. He had almost no bulk, Cid realized, just lean muscle that revealed itself unexpectedly, as the long muscles in his back were doing now when he bent over the table to rummage in his pack. His balance wobbled for a second when he picked up one foot to put on the underwear, but then the other leg flexed (surprising appearance of muscle in his calf, thigh) and he stayed upright.
He had to fight a little to pull the briefs over his hips. They didn’t quite fit. Cloud did what he could to snap them into place, running his fingers under the seams, but the lace only settled an inch or two above the swell of his buttocks. His hands did something to his front for a second, and then he reached behind himself and tugged at the pink bow, making all of the ribbons and seams pull a little tighter. They rode low, from what Cid could see, the faint edge of lace on the top just barely reaching the dip at the end of Cloud’s spine.
Next he dragged his fingers through his hair, pulling the long spikes straight back and parting them down the middle. Surprisingly quickly, he managed to twist the gathered strands into two small bunches, tied into tiny pigtails with red ribbon bows. Then he picked up the dress, shoving his arms into the sleeves before pulling it carefully over his hair. For a moment Cid thought it wouldn’t get over his shoulders - but, of course, it had been tailored carefully just for Cloud. He was a little more careful with the delicate silk, letting it skim slowly over his ribs and hips until it dropped into a graceful, flaring swirl at the tops of his calves. It gaped at the back for a moment until his fingers found the zipper, pulling it up until it closed at the nape of his neck. Finally, he picked the tiara off the table, carefully settling it on his messy hair.
When he turned around, Barrett actually gasped. “Motherfucker,” he muttered.
Cid swallowed. What hair hadn’t been gathered into bunches fell in soft, ragged bangs over Cloud’s face, pale against his furious blush. The diamonds on the silver headband sparkled when he took a few steps into the brighter light - and even the walk was different, slower, steps a little more carefully measured than when he was in trousers. The dress had been made perfectly, as well - it swirled out from the hips, giving the illusion of fullness, the red sash tight to accentuate a feminine waist. It fit close on the chest, the wide slash of the collar dipping only low enough to reveal the hollow of his throat, the shape of the collarbone. The sleeves were a little looser, sliding over the muscles of his arms rather than clinging when he moved, and flared over his wrists, highlighting already delicate hands.
“There,” Cloud said. “You believe me now?”
His voice was a little uneven, but his eyes were wide and a little defiant, his mouth just slightly parted. He took a few steps closer, padding silently on bare, white feet, and held out a hand to Cid.
“Come here.”
Cid put his glass down and let Cloud pull him to his feet, not knowing what else to do. Closer, the illusion was somehow even stronger. He wasn’t all that much taller than Cloud, but with his boots on he had him by at least four inches. When he glanced down, there was no incriminating bulge in the skirt - making him finally realize what the underwear was for - and Cloud’s small frame included relatively small feet. He wasn’t a shrinking damsel, by any means, but…
“Cloud?” Vincent said, penetrating Cid’s thoughts.
He turned his head, making one of the pigtails brush along the pale skin of his shoulder. Cid swallowed again.
“What, exactly, did you do for Mukki?” Vincent said, head tilted and arms folded over his chest.
His voice was deep as ever, but there was a rough edge to it, and Cloud licked his lips, the silk of the dress making his eyes seem to glow a darker blue.
Barrett dropped his glass and scrambled to his feet. “A’ight, Cloud, you convinced my ass,” he said, snatching up his pack. He backed away from the table, vaguely waving his gun-arm in the air. “I’m just gonna - I’m gonna go find a room. Don’t know which, y’all just figure it out when you -“
The door to the hall slammed behind him. Vincent and Cloud’s eyes hadn’t moved.
“Cloud,” Vincent said again. He pushed off the wall, walking towards them. “What did you do?”
“I…” Vincent stopped, two feet away, and Cloud pulled in a breath. Cid’s hands curled into fists. “He and his friends came into my room in the Honeybee.”
“What did you do?”
Cloud licked his lips again, now tilting his chin up slightly so he could look Vincent in the eye. “They - they helped me get undressed so we could take a bath.”
“Really.” Vincent raised his hand and pulled his high collar away from his face, exposing his mouth and part of his throat.
Cloud blew out another, shakier breath. Something… intense was happening, something Cid didn’t quite - “He said he wanted to make sure I was comfortable. Wanted me to stick around and - and play.”
Cid could actually feel his own pulse, hammering away in the base of his thumb. Vincent’s expression gave nothing away, but he was still staring right into Cloud, still standing closer to him than Cid had ever seen.
“Did you?”
Cloud shook his head. One of the ribbons in his hair was loose. “No, I -“ He dropped his eyes. There was a pause. “There wasn’t time,” he said, eventually.
Something twisted. Cid blinked, trying to focus. No - no time. That meant -
Vincent reached out and closed the gauntlet over Cloud’s upper arm, hauling him close. Cloud let out a startled breath, then bit his lip when Vincent tilted his chin up with his fingers. “There’s time now,” he said, sliding a touch along the line of Cloud’s jaw.
Their mouths were so close they were almost touching. Cloud’s eyes closed. “Yeah,” he said, voice faint.
“Yeah,” Vincent echoed, and then he leaned in and kissed him.
Cid’s stomach clenched. Cloud’s hand flashed up to grab the arm with the gauntlet, but instead of pushing, instead of digging his fingers in and breaking bones like Cid still half-expected him to, he only seized a fistful of the crimson half-cape, knuckles going white. Vincent’s hand slid around to the nape of his neck, black-gloved fingers cradling his skull as his head tilted back. Cid heard a faint, faint sound, and then Cloud’s lips parted and Vincent was kissing him in earnest, the gauntlet dropping to let the claws spread against the small of his back. When Vincent finally pulled back, Cloud was panting, eyes tightly shut as he ducked his head down against Vincent’s chest. Vincent wasn’t even breathing fast - and then his eyes cut over to Cid and his lips curled into a smirk, and Cid was abruptly, unbearably hard.
Vincent lowered his mouth to Cloud’s ear. “If you want me to stop,” he said, voice low, “you’re going to have to convince me.” His hand circled Cloud’s wrist and slid up his forearm, pushing his sleeve away and baring his skin to the air, but his eyes were steady on Cid.
Cloud shuddered, turning his head away. Vincent let his mouth drop to the exposed neck, sucking a kiss to the pale skin harshly enough that when he pulled away a deep red mark flared and didn’t fade. Cid didn’t dare move, just looking back at Vincent as he stroked his thumb against the inside of Cloud’s wrist.
Vincent kept his mouth busy, lingering on the slant of Cloud’s jaw, on the tendons that shifted in his neck when he tilted his head. Cloud’s free hand came up and clenched in the black shirt and Vincent brought his fingers to the nape of Cloud’s neck, finding the tab of the zipper and dragging slowly down.
He’d seen it from the other side of the room, but Cid was still a little shocked at the whiteness of Cloud’s skin. Vincent only unzipped to the middle of Cloud’s spine, but it was enough to show the clean shape of his shoulderblades, the pale lines of scars scattered over his ribs. Vincent brought his mouth to the shell of Cloud’s ear, breathing something so faint Cid couldn’t hear, but it made Cloud shudder under his hands. His hand came up again, sliding up Cloud’s spine and pulling his hair up and away from his neck. His eyes found Cid’s, again, and communicated without saying a word.
Cid stepped forward, feeling unsteady. Vincent’s gauntlet moved to grip Cloud’s hip, the golden claws digging gently into the silk, leaving room for Cid’s rougher hands to slide onto his waist, settle into the center of his back. The resulting gasp disappeared into Vincent’s mouth, and Cid took advantage of the bare skin Vincent was offering and placed his lips at Cloud’s pale hairline.
Cloud made a muffled sound, deep in his throat, and Cid slipped his hand under the silk to grasp his waist. His skin was - soft, unbearably so, the faint puckered edges of the scars only making it that much easier to touch. He stroked carefully, fingers wrapping around to the front of Cloud’s ribs, and was rewarded when Cloud squirmed, breaking away from Vincent’s mouth to pant. Cid pulled back, eyes meeting Vincent’s, and then Vincent dropped his hand between his and Cloud’s bodies.
“Oh, gods.” Cloud pressed his face into Vincent’s throat, hands going up to dig into his shoulders. Cid stroked at his back and Vincent did - something, something that made Cloud flinch and come out in goosebumps. “Oh!”
Vincent pulled Cloud’s hands away and spun him, shoving him into Cid. Cloud blinked, gripping Cid’s chest for balance. His eyes were half-glazed, mouth wet and lips red, and Cid couldn’t help it - he clasped him around the waist, dragging him close. Vincent crowded close behind, the gauntlet closing over the skin of Cloud’s shoulder and shoving the silk down to expose the top of his arm, his hand skimming down his stomach and flattening over the crotch.
“Kiss him, Cloud,” Vincent said, and Cid’s head jerked up, he stared into Vincent’s calm face, but then Cloud was raising himself up on his toes, eyes closing, and his mouth sought Cid’s without hesitation.
It was warm, and wet, of course, and shouldn’t have been anything new. And yet - Cid closed his eyes and put one hand to Cloud’s jaw, because it was Cloud. His mouth tasted almost metallic, and for a moment he thought he caught a tang of blood, but it didn’t matter, because strong fingers were digging into his chest, and there was silk under his hand, and when he opened his eyes and pulled away Cloud’s skin was flushed and breathing more ragged than ever.
“Sit down,” Vincent said, and it took Cid a moment to drag his eyes from Cloud’s face and see that it was directed at him. Vincent’s eyes flicked to the table behind him and he blinked, his head clearing. He shoved at the plates and glasses, barely registering when something crashed over the other side, and settled on the edge. It was low enough that his knees rose almost to his shoulders, but that seemed fine with Vincent, who nodded.
He closed his hands around Cloud’s wrists, the gauntlet dragging down over his shoulder and shoving the sleeve almost to his elbow. Clouds hands balled into fists when Vincent pressed another kiss to the side of his neck - but then Vincent was pushing him forward, bending him at the waist until his hands planted on Cid’s shoulders.
“Don’t move,” he said, and let go. Cloud’s eyes were screwed shut, lips parting when Cid reached up and stroked over his throat. Vincent reappeared behind Cloud and held something over his shoulder. Cid took it, unthinking. It was the flask of gun oil.
His eyes flashed to Vincent’s face, but he was kissing the back of Cloud’s neck, hand and gauntlet going down to the hem of the skirt. Cloud’s fingers dug into Cid’s skin when he pulled it up, moving slowly, and gathered it against his waist.
“Hold this,” he ordered, and Cid let the bottle fall to the floor, reaching up both hands to pin the material out of Vincent’s way. Cloud’s grip tightened at the movement, so strong now Cid was sure he’d have bruises.
The gauntlet went to the small of Cloud’s back, holding him in place while the hand untied the bow. Cloud grunted, then blew out a sigh as the constricting ribbons eased. Vincent brought both hands to his hips, slipping first the gloved fingers and then, carefully, the golden claws under the lace. He pulled the briefs down slowly, and Cid could hear the faint scrape as the claws dragged down Cloud’s thigh. Vincent went to one knee, bringing the underwear all the way down and letting Cloud lift one foot, then the other, before tossing them aside. He leaned forward and put his mouth at the very top of Cloud’s thigh, dragging along the tender skin, and Cid actually saw Cloud’s legs shake.
“Knees,” Vincent said, and it was almost shameful how fast Cloud dropped. Cid had to let go of the skirt and it swirled back over his thighs, but Cloud’s hands stayed right on Cid’s shoulders where Vincent had put them.
Vincent’s claws flicked over the straps on his bracer and it clattered to the floor impossibly fast, followed by the protective leather glove. He picked up the bottle of gun oil from where it had rolled against the mat and pushed Cloud’s skirt up once again with the gauntlet. One-handed, he removed the cap from the bottle and covered his fingers with oil - something he’d probably long since mastered.
When he brought two wet fingers down to the base of Cloud’s spine, his whole body arched, eyes flying open and staring past Cid, through him. Vincent dragged down, past Cid’s line of sight, and Cloud sank his teeth into his lip, brow furrowing. Vincent met Cid’s eyes again and twisted his wrist, and Cloud surged forward. “Fuck,” he breathed, and his eyes slammed closed.
Vincent’s forearm flexed and Cloud made a strangled noise, and Cid couldn’t help but cup Cloud’s face in his hands and take his mouth again. Cloud’s lips parted instantly, his breath almost desperate, and Cid just held on. The longer Vincent worked the harsher Cloud’s mouth became, until he was nearly biting at Cid, moans grating out from his throat.
Then, without warning, Vincent withdrew. Cloud flinched away from Cid’s mouth with another cry, hips jerking backward. Cid stroked one thumb along his cheekbone, looking up to Vincent.
Vincent wasn’t looking at him, though. His eyes were dark, though the tint of red was still there when he tilted his head and said, “Belt, Cloud.”
Cloud’s eyes slid open after a moment, and though his breath was still coming dangerously fast he firmed his lips and nodded, starting to turn around.
Vincent caught his shoulders and kept him in place. “No,” he said, and the gauntlet closed around Cloud’s forearm, pushing his hand down until his fingers brushed Cid’s belt buckle.
Cloud froze for a long moment. Cid fought to say something, to - to object, or curse Vincent for the presumption, or tell Cloud that he didn’t have to, but - but then Cloud’s other hand came down from his shoulder, and Vincent was holding his hips to keep him balanced, and his belt was already tugging free.
Without having to be asked, Cloud undid the button and dragged down the zip on Cid’s old fatigues, moving carefully because his hands were quivering. As soon as the fly was open Vincent’s hand returned to Cloud’s entrance, pushing two fingers in. Cid could see, now, with Cloud bent over him, when the spine arched, when Cloud’s hips lifted into the sensation.
Vincent didn’t move any further, though. His eyes lifted to Cid’s face, and the gauntlet rose to settle gently on the back of Cloud’s neck. “Continue,” he said.
There was another bare moment of hesitation, but then Cloud’s fingers were peeling the fabric away from his crotch, sliding into the fly of his boxers to pull his erection into two shaking hands.
“Fuck!” Cid said, teeth clenched. His hands flew to the edge of the table, clenching around the lip so as not to rip into Cloud’s skin. One of Cloud’s hands settled next to his, letting him balance, and as warm breath moved over the head Vincent pulled his fingers out and pushed back in, and again, and when Cloud moaned outright he pulled out all the way, settling back on his heels. Cloud didn’t move, though the gauntlet had released his neck, waiting with Cid while Vincent removed his gun belt and undid the ties on his trousers. He shoved the fabric away just enough to free his erection and slick it with the still-oiled hand. Then he rose on his knees, letting himself glide between Cloud’s cheeks.
“Cloud,” he said, putting his hand in the center of his back.
Cloud exhaled shakily against Cid, making his hands clench harder on the table. So slowly Cid thought his heart would stop, Cloud licked his lips, sucked in a deep breath, and lowered his mouth onto Cid’s erection. When Cid groaned, Vincent positioned himself at Cloud’s entrance and pushed.
The yelp Cloud gave was muffled, but Vincent gave him little time to adjust. The pace was slow, but hard - Vincent held Cloud’s hips in place, but Cid still felt the shock with every thrust. Cid’s erection was still buried in Cloud’s mouth and after a few punishing thrusts Cloud gave another moan and closed his lips, starting to suck. Cid fought not to thrust, finally closing his eyes against the sight, but it was - too good. Cloud’s hand circled his base, keeping him from choking, but when Vincent thrust particularly hard the hand flew to the edge of the table and his mouth sank further down. Cid barked out another curse, eyes slamming open, and put one hand on the back of Cloud’s neck because he couldn’t do otherwise, and though Cloud almost choked he pulled back, and swallowed, and went right back to work.
At that, Vincent pushed in as far as he could and held, slipping his hand into the gaping side of Cloud’s dress to rub at his chest. Cloud moaned again, trying to move his hips, but Vincent flexed the gauntlet slightly and he subsided, though the noises he made around Cid’s cock were nearly frenzied. Cid almost bit his tongue, but he knew that if Cloud really needed to get away, if he didn’t want this, he and Vincent would be so badly broken they’d be unrecognizable - and so he felt safe to cup Cloud’s jaw, holding him in place, and push carefully up.
Cloud froze, but sucked hard, and Cid pushed out a breath and started to thrust, carefully, sweat beading at his temples and the small of his back. After a few moments, Vincent released Cloud’s hip, provoking a surprised grunt before he thrust again. Easily, Vincent started a counterpoint rhythm, and Cid let out a startled moan when he pushed up and Cloud was already moving forward, lips and tongue working frantically to keep himself from choking. Vincent moved a little faster, and Cid’s hand clenched in the fine hair at the back of Cloud’s head, getting unbearably close. Cloud let out another moan, the vibration buzzing along Cid’s sensitized skin, and he pulled at Cloud’s hair, trying to let him move away in time -
But then Vincent’s hand was there, clenching over the back of Cloud’s neck, and he caught Cid’s eyes and shoved in particularly hard and Cid was coming, that was it, and Cloud let out a startled cry, swallowing madly, and Cid would’ve just shut his eyes and fallen into darkness, but Vincent was still there, still watching him, and so he dug his fingers into Cloud’s scalp and rode out the aftershocks.
When Cloud’s mouth finally fell away the cold air was a shock. His hand unclenched, slowly, and Cloud let out a sharp breath. The ribbon had come undone under the tension, and dropped when Vincent seized him around the ribcage and pulled him upright.
“Fuck!” Cloud sank back onto Vincent, his head tossing back. Vincent’s hand moved under the skirt, now spread over Cloud’s lap, but when Cloud let out another startled cry Cid could guess what was happening. His mouth went dry at the expression on Cloud’s face and he came off the table, kneeling in front of Cloud and bending down to another kiss. Cloud barely participated, just breathing against his mouth, the dress falling down to catch in a pool of silk at his elbows. Vincent was still moving against him, mouth latching to the curve of his throat, and when Cid let one of his hands trail down Cloud’s smooth chest and rub at one tight nipple Cloud went abruptly stiff. Cid tugged once, twice, and with a jolt Cloud cried out, hips jerking against Vincent’s, his hands fisting in Cid’s shirt and not letting go.
In a moment, Vincent pushed forward. Cid sat back as Cloud came forward, his hands bracing against Cid’s chest as Vincent came up on his knees and started to thrust in earnest. Cloud was still shaking, breath sobbing in his chest, and Cid grabbed his biceps, keeping him steady. Vincent’s expression was set, brows furrowed tight, but he was still watching Cid. After a moment, Cid brought one hand up and dragged his fingers along Cloud’s mouth, hot breath gusting against his skin until he pressed the thumb in over his lip. It immediately closed, Cloud making a noise deep in his chest as he started to suck. Vincent’s mouth tilted, just a little, and he leaned forward, his motions against Cloud nearly violent. It took another long minute of thrusting before Vincent set his mouth against Cloud’s neck and bit down.
Cloud’s eyes flew open and he let out a low noise around Cid’s thumb. Vincent thrust slowly, raggedly against him. Cloud’s nails dug in to Cid’s skin. Finally, without him ever making a sound, Vincent’s teeth dragged away from Cloud’s shoulder. The mark was enormous, already bruising, and Vincent blew carefully against it. Cloud shivered. When he finally pulled out, Cloud flinched at the loss.
Vincent pulled back, dropping kisses along Cloud’s back before beginning to put himself back together. Cid drew his thumb out of Cloud’s mouth, swiping it back and forth along his lip before sliding his hand back to cup his jaw, leaving a damp trail. The faintest tug had Cloud pressed against his chest, kissing him lazily. He could still taste himself. After a moment, Cloud drew away, and Cid opened his eyes to find Vincent there, pulling him back against his chest and settling claws softly against his throat until he’d turned enough to let Vincent kiss him. It was gentle - or, at least, gentler than he’d been before - and their mouths moved slowly while Cid watched. Vincent’s other hand crept up and slipped the remaining ribbon from Cloud’s hair, and then carefully pulled the tiara away, letting it drop to the mat below them.
Cid pushed himself up, dragging one hand over his face. “Goddamn,” he said. His voice came out rusty.
To his shock, Cloud laughed. It was shaky, admittedly, but he leaned his head against Vincent’s shoulder and laughed until he was breathless. Without the restraint of the ribbons, his hair was slowly settling back into its natural messy spikes, and the dress had just about fallen past the waist, now only loosely bunched at his wrists.
While he fought for breath, Vincent dragged a finger from the base of his spine to his hairline. “You did convince us as a woman,” he said. Cloud jerked back, staring at him. “But if you tried to convince Don Corneo in quite the same way, I think your methods need refining.”
----
The title, it turns out, is a double entendre. Cloud's disguised as a girl, and this is a bit of porn disguised as fiction. Kelly told me not to bother that it was uneven and just revel in it. Her wish is my command.
Please comment!