Eden, Part 7

[bookofnicodemus]

Summary: Captain Cid Highwind has been alone in the forest, injured, starving - when he finds Eden, a place of beauty and sustenance. Little does he realize, that every pleasure to be gained here has it's price.
Warnings: Totally AU and OOC. Dubious consent, super kink, and wangst. You know how we do. Unbeta'ed because I'm easily distracted by rocket bison.
Disclaimer: Square Enix owns Cid and Vincent, the rest is sadly our own mad-cap invention XD
Notes: Posted for zombie_cheese. She had a shit day, and still she managed to make me smile, and come up with the title.



However, in the space of minutes that felt like hours, it suddenly just stopped, simple as that, like it had been switched off. There was solid ground beneath them, and a cool breeze, and Vincent was still holding to him while he got his balance.

Slowly, Vincent began to draw away, and all around them was the forest, an autumn forest. The trees were tall and slender, and the ground was littered with their golden brown leaves, uneven with moss and undergrowth. A few paces away, a white swing fit for two creaked in the breeze.
When Cid lands on the ground, his knees almost give out on him. He trembles unconsciously, and struggles to keep his sanity together, along with his stomach. He's trying to make up his mind whether to kiss the ground or shout at Vincent to never, EVER fucking do that again, when he realises where they are.

Outside.

Cid takes a half step towards the trees, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, body lax with shock. Was this an illusion?

"..... Is this real?" He asks hoarsely, transfixed by the environment.

"It is," Vincent says, smiling to himself. "We're deeper in the forest. From here, you get the best view of the sunset, and the sunrise. The glow comes through the treetops," he says, turning his face to the sky. "Everything turns gold, and the world stands still. It's beautiful." He looks to Cid, then. "I thought, if anybody, you would appreciate it." He moves away then, the thin grey silk of his gown dragging through the leaves, rustling, and takes a seat on the swing. It creaks as he uses his weight to stir it back and forth, and despite his bared nape and shoulders, and naked feet and arms, he seems unaffected by the coolness of the air, at home here.

Cid watches Vincent with mixed feelings, before revelling in being out of the cave. He can feel the air on his skin - not a breeze, but the simple movement of air, not stuffy and old like that in the cramped space of their abode. He can smell, damp soil and rotting foilage and grass, and the hint of frost. And he can see the sky, the sky.... the sky.

Cid quickly gives Vincent his back. He crouches down and pretends to look at the leaves on the ground as he struggles to blink back the tears that burn his eyes.

Vincent knows how overwrought Cid is; can smell his tears, and sense the vulnerable feelings radiating from him. It tears at his heart in a way that it shouldn't. He shouldn't have even taken Cid outside. It shouldn't matter to him. He shouldn't care.

He abandons those thoughts for happier, more peaceful memories, rocking silently on the swing, eyes on the spray of dead leaves in his passing. She used to love this place. He used to hold her, on this very swing, and pass the day with her in his arms. She was so beautiful... so good and kind... she used to love this place...

... but that was a very long time ago. And now she as gone from him forever. All that was left for him now was an eternity of days like this, days spent living in the past... if he even remembered her, then.

Cid manages to gather himself together, only to be struck by an even more painful feeling.
The smell of freedom.

He was outside. Hadn't he once planned on convincing Vincent to let him outside, and then make a run for it? Should he take this opportunity? Should he run? Would he get far, knowing Vincent's magic? Could he play friend, find a log and hit Vincent unconcscious? Was it -really- the outdoors? Perhaps it was an illusion, a test on Vincent's part, to see what Cid would do. Was Vincent reading his thoughts now? Had Cid already given himself away?

And yet for all the panic, flightly thoughts Cid had for escape, he contemplated them all with a lethargic consideration. Because whatever the scenario, he didn't really think he was going to get free. And he wasn't sure if that was a lack of faith in his own cunning, or because something.... something was tying him to Vincent's side. Something didn't feel right about abusing Vincent now and leaving.

In that moment, Cid hated both Vincent and himself violently. He wished he'd never been brought here. It would be harder now than ever to return to that cage. Harder after the taste of air and the sight of the sky. Harder with the sickening realisation that he wasn't even going to attempt to flee.

Cid sits down on the mulch and holds his head in is hands.

Vincent understands Cid's violent hate, and the painful longing that clutches at the pilot's heart, longing for permanent freedom. Understands then, that no gesture of his will ever please him, never appease him.

Except letting him go.

But he can't, he can't do that. He doesn't care if it's selfish (he does), he doesn't care if Cid ends up hurt (he does), he just can't let him go... can't let go the only thing with any real meaning in his life.

... not that Cid matters. Because he doesn't. He could replace him. He just doesn't want to. That's all.

That's all.

He lets them sit in silence, feeling his helplessness and frustration and loneliness keenly, and pretending he doesn't feel anything inevitable in this moment. The sun begins to dwindle and drop, but as it does, it's glow intensifies, nearly obliterating the trees like golden fire, and seems to hang there, motionless, and as Vincent said, time slid to a stop, breath was held, hearts paused, and all the world stood still.

Cid feels the pull of the sun like the tide does the moon. He raises his head and watches solemnly the magnificent sunset. Grudgingly, his woe and despair is melted away by the intensity of the one solid truth of the fierce yellow star, burning it's way to the horizon. Cid watches it like it might be the last time he'll ever see a sunset again, and tries to forget that's probably the case.

Vincent doesn't bother to raise his head to watch the sun set. He's seen many of them. They no longer mean anything to him. He wanted to be wooed again by the awe and wonder of watching something so beautiful, so naturally magnificent. He wanted to feel a warmth in his heart, a satisfaction with life itself and the world he lived in.

He understood then that that was what he'd been hoping for from this excursion. Another taste of that wonder, another taste of that contentment. He wanted to share this moment with someone. It wasn't for Cid at all.

He really was a miserable, selfish bastard.

He turned his face away from the glow, and paid it no heed as it began to wane.

By the time the last glowing ember of the sun disappears from view, leaving the sky smudged with a faint glow of early evening, Cid's mind has been wiped of everything but the glory of what he'd just witnessed. He sits there for a few moments longer, like a child after his first firework's display, wondering - hoping - for more, not yet ready to accept that the moment is over.

Finally, Cid looks over his shoulder to where Vincent's sat on the swing. Unaware of the creature's inner tumoil, Cid feels guilty, for having thought of escape, for having hated Vincent for sharing this with him. The pilot gets up and moves over to the double swing, taking the other half of the seat.

"Thank you," he says, putting his hand on the small of Vincent's back.

"My pleasure," He says dully.

After a brief moment of silence, he offers, "We could come here, everyday, if you like." He doesn't raise his head, instead watching the leaves as they sway back forth, and the occasional glimpse of his small white feet.

Cid's blown away by the offer. That small, suspicious voice in the back of his mind wonders if it's somehow a trap, a trick, but Cid's getting use to not listening to it anymore. Besides, it's not as though Vincent hasn't been acting strangely, differently, the last few days.

"...Yeah. I'd really like that. Thanks." He leans in and kisses Vincent softly on the temple.

"It's no trouble," Vincent says softly, and pretends that the kiss doesn't make his throat tighten.

"Well thanks all the same. Can't say I fancy the mode o' transportation much, but it's worth it, te see somethin' so amazin'.... Te be outside again."

Cid lets his fingers wander up to play with Vincent's hair.

Vincent's eyes fall shut as Cid's big fingers twine in his hair.

"I can't get you out any other way. But if you like, we can walk back. That way, we only need to drop through the pond."

Cid bites his tongue against the temptation of making a comment about needing to return at all. He just nods instead, but doesn't make any signs of getting up.

He edges closer, and rubs his fingers at the base of Vincent's skull, massaging.

"What are you doing...?" Vincent groans, despite making no gestures of escaping Cid's hands, his head dropping and body losing tension he hadn't even recognised.

"Massage," Cid says nonchalantly, with a little self-satisfied smile. "Feel good?" He runs firm fingers down Vincent's neck, then back up his skull and through his heavy hair, pressing, rubbing.

Vincent makes a soft noise of agreement, melting beneath Cid's strong hand.

Cid smiles wider, pleased, and leans in, nuzzling Vincent's throat.

"When was the last time ye rolled around in the grass and leaves under the starlight?"

Vincent pulls back sharply at that, giving Cid a look of confusion that's almost indignant. "What?"

Cid gives Vincent a bemused look in turn.

"I meant," he explains patiently, "when did you last - if ye've ever - enjoyed outdoor sex with someone under the stars? Because I thought the moment seemed nice te try it now."

Vincent's eyes stay locked on Cid's, searchingly, and instead of replying, leans in for soft, hesitant kiss.

Cid gently cups Vincent's face and returns the kiss.

After a short time, he scoops Vincent into his powerful arms, and carries them aways from the swing, to a soft patch of grass dotted with a few new fallen leaves. He lays Vincent out on the ground, and takes a moment to admire the picture.

"Ye look enchantin'," he compliments, petting Vincent's hair. "No wonder yer so use te gettin' yer way. Who could say no te you?"

Uncharacteristically, Vincent flushes, dropping his eyes. "I can think of at least one," he mutters pointedly, and brings his arms up to draw Cid down to his mouth, stilling anything further. He couldn't take such compliments. Not from him. Not without his heart aching for more.

Cid's happy to use his mouth for things other than talking. He takes his time enjoying kissing Vincent, slow and lazy and intimately. His hands run down the lithe body, tugging on the cool, misty, elegant clothes to peel away, and slowly his mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing and licking down bared skin.

Vincent shivers beneath Cid's mouth, his body undulating under the big blonde. His breath comes loudly, hitching when Cid makes his skin tighten with his licking kisses.

"... yes..." It's barely heard, unintentional, as he melts for Cid.

"Taste so good.." Cid growls against Vincent's throat, nipping down his collarbone, down a bared shoulder, using his teeth playfully as he goes. "Could eat ye up.... Think I might..." he mumbles as he moves down, sliding kisses down the creature's chest and belly, and keeps pushing away liquid fabric until he reaches Vincent's groin. Cid licks his mouth hungrily. He'd allowed Vincent to play at safe, detached sex for the last few days, but he wasn't having any of that now.

Vincent's hands go down to Cid's hair, stroking his head encouragingly, winding his fingers in the blond locks, tugging only gently. He was eager to see where Cid would take them - but wary also. This could be dangerous in ways Cid didn't understand.

Cid runs his wet, warm, heavy tongue around Vincent's lower belly, leaving a fat wet trail behind. He follows down with small nipping kisses, working his way around the base of Vincent's sex, but not touching it yet, teasing. His fingers tickle the soft skin of Vincent's inner thighs, stroking lightly as he rubbed his stubbled chin against the creature's pelvis.

Vincent gasps at the strange sensation, his fingers tightening in Cid's hair rythmically. His slender cock began to swell and fill out, throbbing and pulling tight as Cid's touches lanced him to his core. His thighs trembled, jerking they wanted to close, his skin alive with the feeling of Cid's tongue, his mouth, his cheek... God, when was Cid going to stop teasing him? God!

It seems as if Cid never will. Finally, finally, he lifts Vincent's cock up with the smallest contact possible, a finger at the base, and runs his hot tongue over the balls beneath.

"Tell me how it feels," he growls, his blue, blue eyes looking up the length of Vincent's body. And with a wicked grin, he sucks a testicle into his mouth.

Vincent groans, his head falling back to expose a long white throat. In the leaves, his toes curl and feet slip. He struggles to remember what Cid had wanted him to do. He swallows.
"Good," he gasps thickly. "So good..."

"Mmmm," Cid agrees around his mouthful, and sucks both balls into his hot mouth, rolling them with his tongue and gently stretching them, massaging them.

One finger moves up Vincent's trembling thigh and presses against the creature's soft anus.
The nymph bucks up with a cry at the pressure on his flinching hole, the drops back bonelessly to writhe in the grass and debris, trembling - slowly coming undone beneath Cid. When was he going to hurry up and just fuck him already?

Cid lets Vincent's balls drop wetly from his mouth. He showers the crease where thigh meets pelvis with soft kisses, as he slowly pushes his finger inside Vincent's passage.

"Little Valentine, I can't hear ye. Don't ye want it, like it?" He teases.

Vincent keens, finger tightening in Cid's hair, body writhing up.

"I like it, I want it," he pleads mindlessly. "Yes... more..."

"Like what?" Cid purrs, slowly pushing his finger in and out of Vincent's soft insides. "More what? If ye don't tell me, I can't know."

"More of you," he moans thoughtlessly. "Please..."

Cid can't argue with that. He lets his finger slip from Vincent and moves up the length of the water nymph's body, finding Vincent's mouth.

"Then ye got me."

He hitches a pale thigh over his hips, and hastily undoes his pants, pulling out his cock and pressing it to Vincent's ass.

Vincent lets his hands fall back by his head, and glances down the length of his body with heated eyes, biting his bottom lip with hazy anticipation. All he can think of, the one hunger that consumes him, is Cid's cock stretching him wide, and stretching him deep, his big, hard body crushing his own, Cid's mouth kissing at his...

Cid rests his hand on Vincent's, carding their fingers together.

"Wanna conjur up some oil there, beautiful?" he murmurs, kissing at Vincent's jaw as he rubs himself against the tight pucker, pre-cum slicking the creature's ass.

The way Cid grips his hand makes his heart thump heavily, and he feels a weightlessness in his belly that's part fear, and part... joy.

He stretches his other hand above his head and hastily draws a sloppy symbol in the wet grass. A bowl of oil is conjured there, and it wobbles, sloshing; Vincent's too distracted by the things his heart is doing, by the things Cid's cock is doing.

Cid doesn't care. He lets go his cock to slick his hand, and rubs himself over with the oil, making a soft, pleased sound at the sensation. He wipes his hand off over Vincent's anus, rubbing a circle about the hole a few times to loosen it up, before he presses the head of his erection and pushes in.

Vincent sucks in a breath, and keens, as Cid inexorably pushes his way up into his insides, his hand tightening on the pilot's. His thighs tremble, his belly fluttering at the strain.

"Cid...!"

Cid slows to allow Vincent some time to adjust, and kisses at his lips.

"It's okay, it's okay. 'M here. Relax..."

Vincent pants against Cid's mouth, looking drugged.

"Move," he gasps softly. "Fuck me. Please..."

"Yer wish..." Cid grunts, and with a smart snap of powerful hips, he sheaths himself completely inside the creature.

Then he half pulls out, and shoves back in. And out and in, out and in, over in a quickly building rhythm, fucking Vincent lose as he goes.

Vincent's hips roll to match his pace, his other leg hitching up onto Cid's thigh, spreading himself wide for Cid's demanding thrusts, and holding him down tightly to him by the hand that wasn't clutching Cid's. God, it felt so good, Cid felt so good, and smelled so good, and tasted so good, and soon, soon, Cid would cum thick and heavy in his belly... How could anything with just one man be so incredible...?

Cid was wondering a similiar thing. He'd initiated the sex in a way of saying 'thank you' for Vincent, for giving the creature a meal he seemed of late, too shy to ask for. But Cid was beginning to realise he looked more and more forward to these sessions. Gone was the squemishness of sleeping with another man. Gone was the frustration of having an unresponsive partner. Now, Cid couldn't get enough of the way Vincent mewled, begged for him, writhed beneath him and clawed at his skin, or the way he felt virginally tight each time he fucked the nymph again, all hot and wet and trembling.

Cid bends Vincent's legs up higher, and fucks the creature brutally, pistoning in and out like a train out of control. He finds Vincent's free hand and latches it instead on the creature's erection, indicating he should stroke himself off.

"Cum for me, Vince," he groaned, his own pleasure threatening to spill over.

There were tears in Vincent's eyes, his hand frozen, his heart bottoming out. "I can't...! I ca-an't, I...! Oh God!" But no matter his protests, his body was moving with Cid's urgently, his cock long and heavy and rosey with blood.

"Sshhh," Cid reassured, and covered Vincent's mouth with his own, kissing him hard and taking up Vincent's cock and hand with his, and helping the creature jerk himself off. The sight of his large, sun-bronzed hand over Vincent's pale elegant one and his long throbbing cock was too much. Cid peaked, muffling a cry into their kiss and spilling himself thickly inside Vincent, his hips rutting for the last few bursts of friction as he came.

Vincent shudders hard beneath him, face screwing up, and abruptly bows up with a muffled scream as Cid wrings his orgasm from him ruthlessly, filling his belly with his seed, stretching his hole wide, and milking his dick demandingly. He cums, and keeps cumming, but in the back of his head, something's tugging at his attention... something he's forgotten? Lost? Has missed...?

Cid makes a sound almost like a whimper as he finally slows down, exhausted, his hips slowly rocking in the after affects of pleasure. He keeps fingering Vincent's cock, and floops over the creature, breathing hard, getting back his breath and cognitive thinking.

The nymph jerks spasmodically beneath him, mouth gaping and body writhing restlessly as wave after of pleasure washes over him, with no end in sight - his mind short-circuited.

Cid finally heaves up. He lets Vincent's sex go, and carefully pulls out of the abused hole, enjoying watching the way Vincent's ass gapes and drools his cum afterwards. He guiltily enjoys pushing two fingers into the hole as he watches Vincent still ride the wave of pleasure.

"....So fuckin' amazin'...."

Vincent's eyes flutter closed, and he arches his lower body down into the cradle of Cid's hand, the blond's cum rushing down his big hand. Vincent gasps, and grasps at leaves, ecstatic -
... hungry.

He was hungry.

He hadn't fed.

Oh God.

He jerks to a stop, straining, and then falls back to the grass, panting, wide-eyed, and tried to absorb that information. He hadn't fed. He'd had sex purely for pleasure's sake - because of the sex, not the food. Because of Cid. God, this couldn't be happening! How did this happen? How? This... this was nothing like her! How had it happened? How did he stop it? Could he? Images of Lucrecia and their son dying flashed in his mind's eye; he winced, and turned his head away as if he could avoid the gruesome display.

Cid pauses, seeing Vincent flinch away. He pulls his fingers out from Vincent.

"Hey.... Hey, ye alright?" He asks gently, petting Vincent's cheek, trying to get the creature to look at him.

Vincent swallows; he doesn't look at him. "Yes, fine," he says shakily, voice high and strained. "Just cold." He starts to sit up, pulling at the whisps of his clothing.

"... We should get ye back 'en," Cid says, worrying over the fey creature, sensing that Vincent wasn't being completely honest. He tucked himself in and helped put Vincent on his feet, ready to guide them back to the lake.

Vincent brushed his hair back into some semblance of order, hands shaking, and drew his clothes back together. Leaves and grass clung to his hair and clothes, but he was oblivious to their irritation. He felt badly for having ruined the mood - he shouldn't.

"... I'm sorry," he says, humiliatingly awkward.

"Don't be," Cid reassured, gently brushing the leaves from Vincent's hair. "Which way's the lake?"

"That way," Vincent says, pointing ahead of them, and heading off. The silence between them is so awkward. Vincent can feel his face flame with embarassment, feeling more naked and exposed than he had with his skirt hitched up in the leaves. He didn't know what to do with Cid, how to respond to him. He'd never felt this way before... not quite this way.

He had loved Lucrecia. Deeply and truly loved her. Her every action made his heart twist with love, the way she smelled, how soft she was... he could never believe that something so beautiful was his... that she loved him in turn. He had been easily wooed by her beauty, but he had never expected to be wooed by her. She loved him. It was clear from the first day they met, that she loved him.

They had been together many, many years before they conceived. They had lived together in a house on his pond, and they were happy. Vincent had known real sex for the first time with her. He had never experienced anything like holding her, making love to her... waking up to her. Lucrecia did conceive, a son, but she grew ill as the pregnancy progressed. Her light and her glow began to wane. Afraid for her, Vincent would not feed from her, and he could not even imagine feeding from anyone else. It would be a betrayal.

Their son was born, but though he lived, he was silent. He was weak. And Lucrecia never recovered. She slept, for a very long time.

He'd only been a father for a week. He became a widower at the end of that same week.

He doesn't remember much after that. He can't. It hurts too much. Too much.

One day, he simply woke up. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep. He was at the bottom of the lake - and he had the orb with him.

Slowly, he began again to feed. The ache lessened. And the less he thought of what he lost, the more he pretended those years never happened, the easier it became to live again. But alone with himself, it was harder to lie. In the dark, he'd lie with his lover's memory and burn himself with the truth of her misery and death. His seed - his love - had killed her. His son... his baby... he'd killed them both.

Until Cid. He was so like her, tasted so much like her... that mix of strength and tenderness. Cid was a strong man, but his hands knew how to hold a body as much as they knew how to break it. He made the loneliness go away. He made the truth disappear. He made his heart ache. He didn't know what he'd intended to do with Cid - there was a reason his kind, no matter the temperament, no matter their element - didn't keep their meals "past the expiration date". Once, then let them go. Or kill them, if they felt like. (Earth and Fire were like that. If Cid thought he had it rough with him, he should try knocking on their doors. Air and Water were much more easy-going.) But they weren't supposed to keep them - humans didn't keep. Lovers were of course acceptable - but Cid was not his lover. Nor would he ever be. He was just a prisoner making the best of his situation.

And now, it looked like Vincent had fallen a little in love with him.

Oh God.

"''...M sorry," Cid says, breakin' the long silence as they near the lake. He doesn't quite know what he's apologising for, but he senses it's somehow appropriate. Vincent has withdrawn into himself, and Cid can only presume he's done something wrong. Again.

Vincent glances up sharply, face uncharacteristically open, and young. "Hm? Why? You've done nothing wrong," Vincent says softly, returning his eyes to the ground. I'm the one that's done wrong.

"...If ye say so," Cid responds, unconvinced.

They reach the water's edge, and Cid sighs, looking into the depths, as if trying to see their cave beneath the murky water.

Vincent stands quietly by the water, at Cid's side, saying nothing.

"... I can give you things no one else can," he says softly. Then, "We don't have to go in yet. There's no hurry. We have all the time in the world."

Cid looks at Vincent for a long time.

"...What's going on, Vincent? What're ye thinkin' about?"

Vincent turns to him then, expression flat and unreadable. "I can make you fly."

Cid feels the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and not in a pleasant way.

"....Hey, yer freakin' me out. Why don't we have a hot bath tegether, eh?"

"I could," Vincent continues, persistent. "I could turn you into a bird. Any bird you like. Or an insect. I'm good at fireflies. I could do this for you. I would do this for you."

Cid suddenly feels like time's running out, like there's this giant hourglass somewhere, and the sands of time and trickling madly away.

"...Why? So ye can keep me as yer pet even more? I don't understand, Vincent."

Vincent feels the same way. Too helpless, too desperate.

"No. It would only be for as long as you like. I know," he confides in a lower voice. "That you want to know what it feels like, to be able to fly without controls and glass and metal. I could do that for you. Please. As a gift."

Cid's hesitant. Vincent's taught him to be wary, to sense foul play, traps, or simply a bipolar tendancy to be kind one moment and cruel the next. But the water creature seems so sincere now, so desperate to bestow this gift onto Cid. And Vincent was right, the offer did intrigue Cid. More than intrigue...

He wanted it. Wanted it so badly he could already taste the air.

"... Well um... I had this dream once, I was a golden eagle..."

"It's done." He catches Cid's eyes, boring into them intensely, until the world narrows to those two dark pools, his pretty eyes, the darkness... and there's a strange sensation in the blonde's chest then, like being in an elevator in freefall, then suddenly rocketting up in it, and falling again, and then finally, slowly, riding to a halt, at peace and even-keeled.
And golden, perched on Vincent's arm.

"You can fly as long as you like, as far as you like... but I will always, always, bring you back to me." He flings his arm up and out towards the night sky, hurling Cid's great feathered body from him.

Flight.

The night is crisp. Good. Good for hunting. He can smell, lots of food. Can see - see so far. So close. Tiny creatures miles away.

Air feels good. The night, so beautiful. Dazzling lights shattering across the sky. He could fly for hours, fly all night. He wasn't hungry. He could hunt later. Tonight, tonight he'd fly.
And the eagle did just that.

And the part of Cid that remained conscious almost wept with the joy of it. If he could have grinned, could have screamed in glee, he would have.

The eagle cried out. And flew.

Vincent watched him go, heard his scream. It felt hurtful. It felt like letting him go. He watched him, and when he dove out of sight, Vincent made his way to tree, slow and stooped and stiff, and curled up in the niche of roots, and rested his heart for a while. He closed his eyes, and almost slept.

As dawn broke, Cid the eagle stood in the grass not far from Vincent's feet, pulling apart a field mouse and happily devouring his first kill.

Vincent watched him lazily, saying nothing, in tune with Cid's thoughts, waiting for him to capitulate. The dawn's light etched him with cool gold, and showed him in a light Cid had never seen him in before, looking softer and younger, more delicate.

The eagle finished eating its kill, watching Vincent as he did so. It cleaned its beak and talons on the grass before hopping over to the fey creature. Cid delicately stepped up Vincent's body, and eyeballed his captor with the frank gaze of a bird.

Then the eagle bent down and picked up a lock of dark liquid hair and thoughtuflly mauled it in his beak.

Vincent gave him a small doting smile. It was easier to love Cid in this body. It was less personal this way.

He reached up with both small hands and stroked over his head and folded wings. "Ready to go in? Just think it; I'll hear you," he says softly. He realises Cid would likely never give this up if he had his choice... but then again, he did come back to him. But no, he realised Cid didn't want to go back down below.

Hunt tonight? The bird thinks, asking if they'll come back here again, if he can fly again, tonight.

His smile remains. "Of course. We can come out every night. We can watch the sunset, and you can fly until dawn. Would you like that?"

The eagle bunts it's regal head into Vincent's palm, clearly approving.

You smell of water, Cid thinks. Not meat.

Vincent's smile fades some, but his hands are still so gentle where they stroke over Cid's bird body. "That's good, then," he says softly, his eyes warm. "I would hate to be torn apart by you." There's a strange pause, and then Vincent speaks again, in a more self-assured voice. "Well then, hang on-"

And there was again that strange freefalling-rocketting sensation, steadily growing faster, it's orbits tighter, until it finally vibrated to an eerie stillness as Cid regained his human form.

Cid straddles Vincent, and looks down at the fey creature, blinking blue eyes. One can almost see cognitive thinking returning to the human mind capable of handling them.

Cid's expression is solemn. ".... You don't touch me like that when I'm in this body."

"And you want me to?" He scoffs half-heartedly. "C'mon. Let's go inside." He starts to press against Cid, never meeting his eyes, trying to escape the attractive trap of his strong body.

Cid doesn't budged, letting the solidity of his body keep Vincent under him.

"Yes, actually. I don't like fuckin' a corpse, or feel like 'm rapin' someone. Games aside, I like it consensual... Ye use te have no problem touchin' me afore. Ever since you came..."

Vincent blushes, not daring to look up and meet Cid's eyes, knowing they'd be too blue, too concentrated - dangerous. "You know it's consensual," he says evasively. "And if it's not then I'm the rapist, right?" He says, trying to joke, to take the weight from this conversation, smiling weakly, against his will.

Cid thins his mouth, but surprisingly he just pushes back, getting up and allowing Vincent the freedom to move too.

"... 'M lettin' ye get away with changin' the topic 'cause 'm too tired te argue. I aint slept in ages. Let's go home."

Vincent gets to his feet, almost disappointed that Cid had not disputed his claims to rape. He dismisses the feeling, and goes up to Cid, putting his hands on his face, and pressing tight to his front. The pilot's blonde hair glowed in the fresh dawn light, his eyes brighter than he'd ever seen them. Beneath his small hands, Cid's skin was warm and flushed and rough with stubble, but the light again worked it's magic, softening his handsome features. Why did he have to be so beautiful...?

"... hold onto me..." He leaned in then and pressed his mouth to the blonde's. This kiss though was tender, and for a few seconds, was actually a kiss, before the world spiraled away beneath their feet.

Cid's grateful for the kiss, because he'd forgotten how awful it had felt, moving like this with Vincent's magic. And when they return back to the cave room, and Cid looks up at their ceiling of water, he realises for the first time that he'd never really looked at the starts. Not once, while he was above surface. All the nights he'd spent dreaming of seeing the sky, and when he finally had the chance - aside from watching the sunset, and flying through the air as the eagle, he'd never really looked at the stars.

He'd been more concerned about Vincent.

Cid's not sure what to make of that.

Sleep and shaken up by both the magic and his revelation, Cid stumbles away from Vincent and goes to the bed.

Vincent lets him, and after a moment's hesitation, follows him. He watches Cid climb into the bed, and takes it upon himself to tuck him in, stroking his hair and cheek. "Sleep. You've had a long day. Don't worry. You have all of tomorrow night to look forward to," he says whisperingly, soothing Cid to sleep.

Cid sleepily closes his eyes, lulled by the gentle touch and promising words. He could see his stars later.

He could suss out the pretty nymph later.