Short!Fic: "A Proposal", Cid-centric; FF7 (Warning for Smut and Mansex)
Yeah, my writer's block went away. Yay. You get rewarded with fic. Enjoy.
He was covered in sweat and oil and grease when they’d called him to the office. He’d just been working on repairing the Shera, and he’d be damned if they’d pull him away from that for long. He enjoyed tinkering with the airship, seeing what made it tick. It was the only time he really just… zoned out. It was him and the machine, sort of a zen-like moment between the two. Being taken away from that put him in a foul mood.
He slammed open the door to the commissioner’s office. “What the fuck do you want, Reeve?”
Vincent lingered in the corner, silent, crimson eyes trained on him. Reeve put a hand on Cid’s shoulder.
“I’d like to make a proposal,” Reeve said, not giving Cid time to respond before kissing him.
Cid wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but somehow he ended up pressed between the firebrand commissioner in blue and the icy gunslinger in red. His shirt and pants went missing in the process, and somewhere along the way a tube of lubricant worked its way into the mix. There was heat on heat, bodies and moans mingling in that tiny office, and before he knew what was going on, he was coming hard.
Things shuddered and ground back to a halt after that as reality settled back in. Separate, the three men were capable, but together they ran like a well-oiled machine, and that was something he could appreciate. He lit the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear and took a quick smoke, sinking back against Vincent.
“Fuck.” He grinned a little at Reeve. “Tell me more about this ‘proposal’ of yours.”
He was covered in sweat and oil and grease when they’d called him to the office. He’d just been working on repairing the Shera, and he’d be damned if they’d pull him away from that for long. He enjoyed tinkering with the airship, seeing what made it tick. It was the only time he really just… zoned out. It was him and the machine, sort of a zen-like moment between the two. Being taken away from that put him in a foul mood.
He slammed open the door to the commissioner’s office. “What the fuck do you want, Reeve?”
Vincent lingered in the corner, silent, crimson eyes trained on him. Reeve put a hand on Cid’s shoulder.
“I’d like to make a proposal,” Reeve said, not giving Cid time to respond before kissing him.
Cid wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but somehow he ended up pressed between the firebrand commissioner in blue and the icy gunslinger in red. His shirt and pants went missing in the process, and somewhere along the way a tube of lubricant worked its way into the mix. There was heat on heat, bodies and moans mingling in that tiny office, and before he knew what was going on, he was coming hard.
Things shuddered and ground back to a halt after that as reality settled back in. Separate, the three men were capable, but together they ran like a well-oiled machine, and that was something he could appreciate. He lit the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear and took a quick smoke, sinking back against Vincent.
“Fuck.” He grinned a little at Reeve. “Tell me more about this ‘proposal’ of yours.”