The Conference Room Table
Title: The Conference Room Table
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters/pairings: Cid/Vincent
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Cid decides that Vincent isn't allowed to be distracting
Warnings: Rough man sex
Notes: Old writing, from way back in the day, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made) Generally ignores Advent Children and later.
o o o
My exact thoughts while lying in bed, massively sleep-deprived and
trying to sleep:
"Seme!Vin's taking over. He's everywhere. Cid's ass hurts. Vince
needs pounding, like Haruka-style. But not like a complete bitch.
Maybe I can write in blood somewhere."
Seriously, I went back and read the four or five latest fics on the
list, and Vince is on bottom only in one, and that's only after Cid
was first. And I can think of a bunch more, too.
XD, I've been writing a LOT lately. And playing FFVII a lot, only
this time through, I named them after the Fellowship of the Ring.
Which brings me to a sort of challenge: draw me a good pic of Cid and
Vince dressed like Gimli and Legolas and I'll write whatever ya want
in return.
o o o
Full title: The Conference room table has to be good for SOMETHING
Written in about four-point-five hours.
o o o
I watch him, memorizing his movements, following him with my eyes. He's my friend, my fantasy, my hidden desire. None of the others have a clue, none of them are observant enough to catch the way I act towards him. I am too subtle, too quiet, too private to let any of them see. They wouldn't enjoy it, I'm sure, wouldn't like knowing that every word I say in his presence is underlaid with double meanings and innuendos. He ignores most of it, writing it off as my being eccentric, my being from the decades before he was born, when things were different. He apparently sees this as just a part of our friendship, maybe a sign that I am more comfortable around him than the others. Most of it, anyway. Sometimes, I force my hand a bit more, a small motion or thinly veiled comment that only the thickest idiot wouldn't catch, something light and teasingly seductive, something that can't be written off as eccentricity. Something that lets him glimpse my truest feelings for him. What does he think of these? I do not know. Is he confused, bothered, angry? Is he disgusted, delighted, or just uncaring?
All I know is that I want one thing from him, and one thing only. I want him beneath me, around me, inside me, screaming my name.
Chief, do you know what you do to me? Do you know what longing I've had for you, since the very day we met? Do you know how many times I've had to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing you and kissing you until neither of us could breathe? Do you know that I've imagined you with me, imagined that the hand touching me was yours instead of my own, brought myself to climax with you name on my lips?
Do you know that I want you, far more than I ever did Lucretia?
Do you know that I despair that you will never see my teasing as anything beyond just that?
I doubt he knows any of this. I doubt that, if he did know of it, that he would respond favorably. But I will not hide and deny my attraction again. I did for Lucretia, and got thirty years of horror for it. If he responds negatively, so be it, but I refuse to 'not want him'. I refuse to deny myself of this feeling, for that road only leads to pain.
He stalks the conference room, smoking, brow furrowed as he tells us of Cloud's condition, of Tifa's decision, of the group's next action. He is our leader now, doubtless, no one else has the knowledge, passion, or ability to take the role. Yuffie and Nanaki are too young, Cait Sith is not to be trusted, Barett himself admitted he wasn't cut out for leadership, and I, well, I tired of being a leader long ago, when I left my Turks behind to watch over a pair of scientists in Nibelheim. Cid is not the ideal man for the job, but he is far from the worst we could do, and quite frankly, there is no one else.
He outlines out next directive: recover the Huge Materia at Fort Condor before the Shinra do. The flight north will take the night, so we may as well get some rest before we go in. Then we are dismissed, Cid's military style sending us along much faster than Cloud's apathetic 'all right, I'm going to bed' would have done.
Cid catches my wrist as I go to leave the room and I stop, looking at him with a raised brow. "Need to still talk to ya, Val." He says, keeping me within the room after the others leave. I stay, silent, wondering what he needs to speak with me about, and I am surprised when he shuts and locks the door.
The room is empty save us, and quiet save his footsteps as he moves to stub out his cigarette butt in the tray. Then he looks at me, pinning me where I stand by the door with his eyes, stern and commanding. "I've noticed," He says, crossing his arms. "That you've had a downright distracting attitude as of late, Valentine, and I think we need to discuss this. The last thing I need while running this circus is to be distracted, so I think a rule is in order."
My brows draw together into a frown as I attempt to discern exactly what he is saying. "A rule." I say flatly, and he nods. "Exactly what kind of rule are you proposing, Highwind?" I query.
He moves, quickly, and I am far too surprised by his actions to fight as he presses me against the wall, pinning my hands by my sides, his face bare inches from my own. "Only one rule, Val." he says, his voice husky and his breath warm against my cheeks. "And that is that you're not allowed to tease me during the duration of my leadership."
I open my mouth to respond some way, any way, and he takes full advantage of this by latching his lips over mine. I am shocked, but quickly recover when I feel his tongue running along my lips. I respond, wrapping my clawed hand around that ridiculous scarf he wears, yanking him closer as our lips bruise and our tongues explore. Oh sweet, merciful gods, he tastes so much better than I had ever dreamed, his tongue plunging into my mouth as his now-free hand wraps around my waist. One knee presses between my thighs and I spread my legs willingly, moaning into the rough kiss as his leg rubs against my already throbbing cock.
I bite at his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, and he breaks the kiss, staring at me, his eyes full of the most feral lust I have ever seen. He's searching my eyes, making sure he read my actions correctly, making sure I'm not going to repulse him, and I remove all doubt by freeing my human hand from his grip and grabbing his crotch. He stiffens, hissing, as I stroke him through his jeans, delighted in the feel of his shaft hardening beneath my hand. I pull him back to kiss him again, moaning as his hand returns the favor, pressing between my legs, roughly sliding over the fabric of my pants. I thrust back against his hand, all of my normal composure lost as I writhe against him, countering each of his strokes with one of my own. Our kiss can not even properly be called such, as we're both panting through it, lips and tongues meeting and parting and meeting again as our lungs fight for air.
Suddenly tired of this game, Cid grabs my shoulders with both hands, roughly turning me towards the long table in the center of the room. I nearly stumble, catching my balance and he pounces on me again, catching my lips with his as he pushes me against the table until I sit on the edge, him between my legs. My legs wrap around his waist and my hips roll against his while his hands make themselves busy with my cloak and shirt, yanking at the cloth with little consideration for buttons or buckles. I tug on his own shirt, pulling it up over his head, along with his jacket, scarf and goggles, and lean forward, trapping him with my legs as I latch my teeth around one nipple.
A sharp noise escapes through his clenched teeth as my tongue rolls over the trapped nub, my hands working loose the buckle of his belt. His hips rock steadily against mine, making it rather difficult to work, but eventually I get his belt and pants unfastened and slide my claw inside his underwear. He gasps at the feeling of cold metal against his hot skin, stilling his motions to avoid cutting himself. I smirk, teasing his cock with my claw, carefully running one talon over the heavy sac beneath, delighted in the sounds he makes. Every ounce of his self-control is concentrated on not moving against the sharp claw and I relish the power I have over him. His hands tremble, rolling into fists at his sides, before settling on my own belt, tugging at the double buckle. I lean back on my human arm, just enough to give him room to work while keeping my claw in his pants, and his hands falter as his eyes trace my body. He licks his lips, eyes darting back to my belt, and he finally manages to get it and my pants undone.
I finally withdraw my hand from his cock so he can step back and divest the both of us of our pants and boots. My eyes trace his body, drinking in the sight of his richly tanned skin, licking my lips as my sight rests on his arousal in it's nest of gold curls. He smirks, pushing up both of my thighs and hooking my legs over his shoulders, then grinds his hips against my exposed ass. I make a noise of mingled pleasure and protest, throwing my head back as my spine arches. He leans over me, leering, and kisses my exposed throat. "Beg for it." He whispers. "Beg for what you want."
"Fuck you." I gasp out.
He backhands me, snapping my head to the side, and grabs my chin and forces me to look at him again. "Beg." He commands, grinding against me again, our cocks meeting and sliding together. I moan, my eyes slitting as I glare up at him. He grins down at me, thrusting against me, making me writhe ecstatically.
I can't take much more of this, and give up the last of my dignity in hopes of release. "Please." I hiss, "Please, Cid, oh, Cid, fuck me, please." I kick my legs, trying to get them free to wrap around him for more leverage, but his grip is too strong. "Please, oh, oh fuck, I want you inside me, I want you to grind in up to your ankles, oh please, don't, don't make me wait any longer for you, I want you, want you so fucking bad......" His lips latch over mine again, and I feel one of his hands leave my thigh but I'm more concerned with wrapping my hands around his neck and bucking against him than I am with my legs right now. I hear a rustle and a few clinks, then smell something high and sharp and familiar. The grease, a small bottle strapped within my cloak that I use to oil my guns at night. Before I'm able to open my mouth to ask how he knows where it was, or to warn him not to use it all, two of his fingers plunge inside me, straight up to the knuckles.
My howl of pleasure and pain is muffled by his lips and his fingers pump within me, the rough calluses on his fingertips incredibly stimulating. It's literally been decades since I've taken a male lover and his probing hurts, but I am beyond caring as I fuck his fingers all that I can. He holds down my hips with his other arm, my knees still hooked over his arms and unable to get free. Another finger slides inside me and I bite my lip to keep from waking the whole ship.
Cid's fingers leave me, and I have barely a second to miss their presence before his cock slams into me, my scream muffled into the crook of my elbow. He pulls my arm away from my face to kiss me, pinning both of my hands over my head as he pounds in and out of my body. My legs, finally free from his shoulders, wrap around his waist and I fight my arms free to cling to his shoulders, nails and claws digging into his skin, drawing blood as payback for his earlier slap. He growls in pain, lips and teeth and tongue fierce against my own, meeting me nip for nip, thrust for thrust. One of his hands holds my hip, bruisingly tight, while the other tangles in my hair, his elbow on the table to hold himself up.
My human arm unwinds from his shoulders, his blood dark beneath my nails as I reach down to stroke myself. Once, twice, three times, then his cock hits something deep within my body and I can't fight it anymore, my whole body going as rigid as a board as I come, my seed thick against our stomachs. As my body clenches around him, Cid buries a cry of pleasure into my neck, climaxing after a few more sharp thrusts.
We spiral down from our peak, languidly thrusting the last bits of pleasure and residual energy against each other, and Cid carefully withdraws from my body, his movements oddly gentle when compared to his earlier roughness. I can't help but be grateful, however, because the pain I ignored in the pursuit of pleasure has returned full force, my entire being aching. I taste copper and carefully touch my mouth, nearly wincing as my finger ghosts over my split lip. I look at my fingers and realize that all of the blood isn't mine, then look at my claw. The talons are tipped with Cid's blood and I frown. Both of us must look like we've been through ten rounds with several behemoths, and in no fit condition to go to Fort Condor on the morrow.
I look up at Cid, who smirks slightly before bending down and kissing me gently. I return the motion a bit, and pull back to meet his gaze. "Definitely no teasing allowed." He murmurs, his smirk now more in his voice than on his lips. I roll my eyes and push him back so I can sit up, wincing at the sharp ache that spreads from the base of my spine up. I push away my discomfort in favor of concern for Cid's back, and turn him around.
Ten lines of red mar his back, those on his left mere scrapes, those on his right actual gashes. I lightly touch the edge of one and he flinches, the movement barely discernable beneath my fingers. "Sorry." I murmur, kissing the back of his neck soothingly.
He turns around and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me closer, our foreheads touching, and it's strange and wonderful to be so close and tender with him. "Nothing to be sorry about." He replies. "I deserved that, and personally, I find it a better mark of your claim on me than, say, a hicky." I can not fight a smile at his words as he grins at me. "And if anyone ever asks," He continues. "I'll just tell them that the scars are a memento of the best fuck I've ever had."
The complement warms me in a way our little session couldn't and my smile widens the tiniest fraction. "Memento or not," I say. "They need attention before anything else. We can not have you getting tetanus, now can we?" I gently push him away again and slide down from the table to retrieve my clothes.
Cid rolls his eyes even as he snags his pants from the floor. "I'm not gonna get tetanus, Val." He says, shaking his head.
"I refuse to take the risk." I counter. "Besides, you will get blood all over the bed sheets." He looks up at me for a moment, and I smirk back at him, then he lets out a short bark of laughter and together we stumble off towards his room, intent on resting up for the long day we have ahead of us.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters/pairings: Cid/Vincent
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Cid decides that Vincent isn't allowed to be distracting
Warnings: Rough man sex
Notes: Old writing, from way back in the day, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made) Generally ignores Advent Children and later.
o o o
My exact thoughts while lying in bed, massively sleep-deprived and
trying to sleep:
"Seme!Vin's taking over. He's everywhere. Cid's ass hurts. Vince
needs pounding, like Haruka-style. But not like a complete bitch.
Maybe I can write in blood somewhere."
Seriously, I went back and read the four or five latest fics on the
list, and Vince is on bottom only in one, and that's only after Cid
was first. And I can think of a bunch more, too.
XD, I've been writing a LOT lately. And playing FFVII a lot, only
this time through, I named them after the Fellowship of the Ring.
Which brings me to a sort of challenge: draw me a good pic of Cid and
Vince dressed like Gimli and Legolas and I'll write whatever ya want
in return.
o o o
Full title: The Conference room table has to be good for SOMETHING
Written in about four-point-five hours.
o o o
I watch him, memorizing his movements, following him with my eyes. He's my friend, my fantasy, my hidden desire. None of the others have a clue, none of them are observant enough to catch the way I act towards him. I am too subtle, too quiet, too private to let any of them see. They wouldn't enjoy it, I'm sure, wouldn't like knowing that every word I say in his presence is underlaid with double meanings and innuendos. He ignores most of it, writing it off as my being eccentric, my being from the decades before he was born, when things were different. He apparently sees this as just a part of our friendship, maybe a sign that I am more comfortable around him than the others. Most of it, anyway. Sometimes, I force my hand a bit more, a small motion or thinly veiled comment that only the thickest idiot wouldn't catch, something light and teasingly seductive, something that can't be written off as eccentricity. Something that lets him glimpse my truest feelings for him. What does he think of these? I do not know. Is he confused, bothered, angry? Is he disgusted, delighted, or just uncaring?
All I know is that I want one thing from him, and one thing only. I want him beneath me, around me, inside me, screaming my name.
Chief, do you know what you do to me? Do you know what longing I've had for you, since the very day we met? Do you know how many times I've had to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing you and kissing you until neither of us could breathe? Do you know that I've imagined you with me, imagined that the hand touching me was yours instead of my own, brought myself to climax with you name on my lips?
Do you know that I want you, far more than I ever did Lucretia?
Do you know that I despair that you will never see my teasing as anything beyond just that?
I doubt he knows any of this. I doubt that, if he did know of it, that he would respond favorably. But I will not hide and deny my attraction again. I did for Lucretia, and got thirty years of horror for it. If he responds negatively, so be it, but I refuse to 'not want him'. I refuse to deny myself of this feeling, for that road only leads to pain.
He stalks the conference room, smoking, brow furrowed as he tells us of Cloud's condition, of Tifa's decision, of the group's next action. He is our leader now, doubtless, no one else has the knowledge, passion, or ability to take the role. Yuffie and Nanaki are too young, Cait Sith is not to be trusted, Barett himself admitted he wasn't cut out for leadership, and I, well, I tired of being a leader long ago, when I left my Turks behind to watch over a pair of scientists in Nibelheim. Cid is not the ideal man for the job, but he is far from the worst we could do, and quite frankly, there is no one else.
He outlines out next directive: recover the Huge Materia at Fort Condor before the Shinra do. The flight north will take the night, so we may as well get some rest before we go in. Then we are dismissed, Cid's military style sending us along much faster than Cloud's apathetic 'all right, I'm going to bed' would have done.
Cid catches my wrist as I go to leave the room and I stop, looking at him with a raised brow. "Need to still talk to ya, Val." He says, keeping me within the room after the others leave. I stay, silent, wondering what he needs to speak with me about, and I am surprised when he shuts and locks the door.
The room is empty save us, and quiet save his footsteps as he moves to stub out his cigarette butt in the tray. Then he looks at me, pinning me where I stand by the door with his eyes, stern and commanding. "I've noticed," He says, crossing his arms. "That you've had a downright distracting attitude as of late, Valentine, and I think we need to discuss this. The last thing I need while running this circus is to be distracted, so I think a rule is in order."
My brows draw together into a frown as I attempt to discern exactly what he is saying. "A rule." I say flatly, and he nods. "Exactly what kind of rule are you proposing, Highwind?" I query.
He moves, quickly, and I am far too surprised by his actions to fight as he presses me against the wall, pinning my hands by my sides, his face bare inches from my own. "Only one rule, Val." he says, his voice husky and his breath warm against my cheeks. "And that is that you're not allowed to tease me during the duration of my leadership."
I open my mouth to respond some way, any way, and he takes full advantage of this by latching his lips over mine. I am shocked, but quickly recover when I feel his tongue running along my lips. I respond, wrapping my clawed hand around that ridiculous scarf he wears, yanking him closer as our lips bruise and our tongues explore. Oh sweet, merciful gods, he tastes so much better than I had ever dreamed, his tongue plunging into my mouth as his now-free hand wraps around my waist. One knee presses between my thighs and I spread my legs willingly, moaning into the rough kiss as his leg rubs against my already throbbing cock.
I bite at his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, and he breaks the kiss, staring at me, his eyes full of the most feral lust I have ever seen. He's searching my eyes, making sure he read my actions correctly, making sure I'm not going to repulse him, and I remove all doubt by freeing my human hand from his grip and grabbing his crotch. He stiffens, hissing, as I stroke him through his jeans, delighted in the feel of his shaft hardening beneath my hand. I pull him back to kiss him again, moaning as his hand returns the favor, pressing between my legs, roughly sliding over the fabric of my pants. I thrust back against his hand, all of my normal composure lost as I writhe against him, countering each of his strokes with one of my own. Our kiss can not even properly be called such, as we're both panting through it, lips and tongues meeting and parting and meeting again as our lungs fight for air.
Suddenly tired of this game, Cid grabs my shoulders with both hands, roughly turning me towards the long table in the center of the room. I nearly stumble, catching my balance and he pounces on me again, catching my lips with his as he pushes me against the table until I sit on the edge, him between my legs. My legs wrap around his waist and my hips roll against his while his hands make themselves busy with my cloak and shirt, yanking at the cloth with little consideration for buttons or buckles. I tug on his own shirt, pulling it up over his head, along with his jacket, scarf and goggles, and lean forward, trapping him with my legs as I latch my teeth around one nipple.
A sharp noise escapes through his clenched teeth as my tongue rolls over the trapped nub, my hands working loose the buckle of his belt. His hips rock steadily against mine, making it rather difficult to work, but eventually I get his belt and pants unfastened and slide my claw inside his underwear. He gasps at the feeling of cold metal against his hot skin, stilling his motions to avoid cutting himself. I smirk, teasing his cock with my claw, carefully running one talon over the heavy sac beneath, delighted in the sounds he makes. Every ounce of his self-control is concentrated on not moving against the sharp claw and I relish the power I have over him. His hands tremble, rolling into fists at his sides, before settling on my own belt, tugging at the double buckle. I lean back on my human arm, just enough to give him room to work while keeping my claw in his pants, and his hands falter as his eyes trace my body. He licks his lips, eyes darting back to my belt, and he finally manages to get it and my pants undone.
I finally withdraw my hand from his cock so he can step back and divest the both of us of our pants and boots. My eyes trace his body, drinking in the sight of his richly tanned skin, licking my lips as my sight rests on his arousal in it's nest of gold curls. He smirks, pushing up both of my thighs and hooking my legs over his shoulders, then grinds his hips against my exposed ass. I make a noise of mingled pleasure and protest, throwing my head back as my spine arches. He leans over me, leering, and kisses my exposed throat. "Beg for it." He whispers. "Beg for what you want."
"Fuck you." I gasp out.
He backhands me, snapping my head to the side, and grabs my chin and forces me to look at him again. "Beg." He commands, grinding against me again, our cocks meeting and sliding together. I moan, my eyes slitting as I glare up at him. He grins down at me, thrusting against me, making me writhe ecstatically.
I can't take much more of this, and give up the last of my dignity in hopes of release. "Please." I hiss, "Please, Cid, oh, Cid, fuck me, please." I kick my legs, trying to get them free to wrap around him for more leverage, but his grip is too strong. "Please, oh, oh fuck, I want you inside me, I want you to grind in up to your ankles, oh please, don't, don't make me wait any longer for you, I want you, want you so fucking bad......" His lips latch over mine again, and I feel one of his hands leave my thigh but I'm more concerned with wrapping my hands around his neck and bucking against him than I am with my legs right now. I hear a rustle and a few clinks, then smell something high and sharp and familiar. The grease, a small bottle strapped within my cloak that I use to oil my guns at night. Before I'm able to open my mouth to ask how he knows where it was, or to warn him not to use it all, two of his fingers plunge inside me, straight up to the knuckles.
My howl of pleasure and pain is muffled by his lips and his fingers pump within me, the rough calluses on his fingertips incredibly stimulating. It's literally been decades since I've taken a male lover and his probing hurts, but I am beyond caring as I fuck his fingers all that I can. He holds down my hips with his other arm, my knees still hooked over his arms and unable to get free. Another finger slides inside me and I bite my lip to keep from waking the whole ship.
Cid's fingers leave me, and I have barely a second to miss their presence before his cock slams into me, my scream muffled into the crook of my elbow. He pulls my arm away from my face to kiss me, pinning both of my hands over my head as he pounds in and out of my body. My legs, finally free from his shoulders, wrap around his waist and I fight my arms free to cling to his shoulders, nails and claws digging into his skin, drawing blood as payback for his earlier slap. He growls in pain, lips and teeth and tongue fierce against my own, meeting me nip for nip, thrust for thrust. One of his hands holds my hip, bruisingly tight, while the other tangles in my hair, his elbow on the table to hold himself up.
My human arm unwinds from his shoulders, his blood dark beneath my nails as I reach down to stroke myself. Once, twice, three times, then his cock hits something deep within my body and I can't fight it anymore, my whole body going as rigid as a board as I come, my seed thick against our stomachs. As my body clenches around him, Cid buries a cry of pleasure into my neck, climaxing after a few more sharp thrusts.
We spiral down from our peak, languidly thrusting the last bits of pleasure and residual energy against each other, and Cid carefully withdraws from my body, his movements oddly gentle when compared to his earlier roughness. I can't help but be grateful, however, because the pain I ignored in the pursuit of pleasure has returned full force, my entire being aching. I taste copper and carefully touch my mouth, nearly wincing as my finger ghosts over my split lip. I look at my fingers and realize that all of the blood isn't mine, then look at my claw. The talons are tipped with Cid's blood and I frown. Both of us must look like we've been through ten rounds with several behemoths, and in no fit condition to go to Fort Condor on the morrow.
I look up at Cid, who smirks slightly before bending down and kissing me gently. I return the motion a bit, and pull back to meet his gaze. "Definitely no teasing allowed." He murmurs, his smirk now more in his voice than on his lips. I roll my eyes and push him back so I can sit up, wincing at the sharp ache that spreads from the base of my spine up. I push away my discomfort in favor of concern for Cid's back, and turn him around.
Ten lines of red mar his back, those on his left mere scrapes, those on his right actual gashes. I lightly touch the edge of one and he flinches, the movement barely discernable beneath my fingers. "Sorry." I murmur, kissing the back of his neck soothingly.
He turns around and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me closer, our foreheads touching, and it's strange and wonderful to be so close and tender with him. "Nothing to be sorry about." He replies. "I deserved that, and personally, I find it a better mark of your claim on me than, say, a hicky." I can not fight a smile at his words as he grins at me. "And if anyone ever asks," He continues. "I'll just tell them that the scars are a memento of the best fuck I've ever had."
The complement warms me in a way our little session couldn't and my smile widens the tiniest fraction. "Memento or not," I say. "They need attention before anything else. We can not have you getting tetanus, now can we?" I gently push him away again and slide down from the table to retrieve my clothes.
Cid rolls his eyes even as he snags his pants from the floor. "I'm not gonna get tetanus, Val." He says, shaking his head.
"I refuse to take the risk." I counter. "Besides, you will get blood all over the bed sheets." He looks up at me for a moment, and I smirk back at him, then he lets out a short bark of laughter and together we stumble off towards his room, intent on resting up for the long day we have ahead of us.