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Eden, Part 5

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.

After exactly an hour, Vincent moans, writhing as he comes awake, and pushes himself up, looking for Cid absently.

Cid's lying on his back on the bed, awake, lazily reading a novel with one hand. His other dangles over the edge of the bed, and his index and middle fingers keep closing together, like scissors. It seems to be an unconscious action, as if he's use to feeling something there that he's no longer holding. He doesn't seem to notice Vincent wake up, absorbed in his story.

Seeing Cid contently absorbed in his book, he climbs out of his nest of pillows, and carrying the orb, trundles off to the new bathroom he'd created for Cid, intent on having the luxury. He sets the bubble aside, and strips of his clothing by dispersing it before filling the tub and warming the water. He adds lotions and oils to it, and then gratefully sinks into the water with a sigh. He rolls the ball into the water with one hand, and it drops in and sinks before bobbing back to the surface between the creature's legs.

For a long while there's just peaceful silence. Then a voice comes suddenly from the door.

"Good bath?"

Cid leers at Vincent from the doorway, arms folded infront of his chest.
Vincent's head bobs up from beneath the soapy water with a gasp, his dark hair slicked back and mouth looking particularly plush and pink. He goes to fold his arms over the edge of the tub and smiles slyly at Cid. "Get in and find out."

Cid gives him a wolfish grin and steps into the room.

"Maybe I will."

He hooks his thumbs into his pants and gives them help to drop down over a slim waist and powerful thighs. He strips off and starts to get into the tub.

As soon as Cid's slipped in, Vincent slithers up to him, between his legs, and engages him in a kiss right from the get-go, languidly snacking on his simmering interest.

"Jesus," Cid grumbles good-naturedly when he gets the chance for air. "Ye don't fuckin' know the meanin' o' "foreplay", do ye?" As he gently chastises Vincent, his broad hands trailed down the pale back of the creature, lightly caressing, delighting in the milk-smooth skin.

Vincent keeps at his mouth. "I know what it is," he mumurs between kisses, "I just don't care." He presses himself closer to the broad, tan body, and puts a slender arm about Cid's shoulders for balance, as his other hand slips down to Cid's cock, teasing it with slow, easy touches.
Cid melts into the hot bath and Vincent's clever, wicked, sinful working fingers.

"Ooooh fuck.... Think I could come te not give a fuck either," he agrees in a deep rumbling purr, and kisses Vincent back with a little more interest, his cock starting to fill out.
".... Can ye breathe underwater?"

Vincent pulls back, his mouth quirked up with knowing amusement, and slowly sinks below the surface. He ignores the warmth of Cid's attention and optomistic words, instead attending to Cid's cock with his mouth, kissing up beneath it, along the fat vein there, bubbles bursting softly against the tender skin.

Cid sighs, half contentment, half moan, and buries his fingers in Vincent's thick, wet hair, like ink, tendrils in the water. He gently encourages for Vincent to come closer, to explore his cock more, supporting a healthy erection now. He remembers the feel of Vincent's lips, mouth, tongue, throat. God he wants it again...

Vincent lets his tongue loll free of his mouth, taking in both water and Cid's cock in his mouth. His tongue was a firm wet pressure, his hands coming down to the blond's thigh and heavy sack as he began to slowly bob his head, Cid's pleasure seeping into him more strongly now.
Cid tugs on Vincent's hair, making him go fast, making him taking his cock deeper, taking a little vengeance on his host by forcing himself further down Vincent's throat. But it was more out of lust than any real maliciousness.

Finally he tugs on Vincent's hair, wanting him to resurface.

Vincent lets him ravage his throat, gulping noisily and sending bubbles to surface as he gasps through his nose. When Cid changes his tugging, no less urgent but instead hauling him off his cock, he surfaces easily with a soft gulp of air, blinking water from his eyes.

"Sit on me," Cid says gruffly, lust lacing his words with urgency, his cock throbbing pleasantly in the hot water.

Vincent grins down at him, and kisses him breathlessly, over and over again, as he shifts both their bodies, putting his ass in Cid's lap. He draws Cid's big hands down beneath water to clutch at his plush ass cheeks, and leans into the kisses and Cid's grasp as he begins to rock, disturbing the water, fingering himself into loosening.

"Thought ye... didn't care about fore-play.." Cid teases, and tries to push his cock up between the ripe ass cheeks he's so deliciously spreading, pressing against the hole and Vincent fingers.

Vincent flinches away from the big head of Cid's eager and straining cock, still roughly fingering himself. He mewls as he does, arm locked tight behind Cid's neck. He keens and shifts from resting his weight on his knees to folding his legs up, and the hand that he'd had buried inside himself now fumbles for Cid's cock. The position makes it so that once Vincent had gotten the head inside his body, his weight dropped him down smoothly on Cid's fat dick, pushing up deep inside him with a groan.

Cid starts swearing, fluently, the words tumbling over themselves and blending together like a chant, like poetry, as he mumbles them softy over Vincent's shoulder. Vincent's incredibly hot, tight channel of muscles squeezing hard about his dick makes him want to cum right then.

"..movemovemovemove fucking move..." he groans, and forcibly lifts Vincent up and then back down on his cock, fucking the slender creature over himself, his balls already tight at the base of his dick.

Vincent gasps, his head dropping back as his body bowed forward against Cid, his arms about the blonde's strong neck, the steady on-rushing tide of his passion becoming a crushing flood as he came closer and closer to cumming. He again submitted to Cid's will, letting the pilot fuck him as he liked, move with him as he liked, too mindless with concentrated lust to even beg for more, let alone get it himself. His ass squeezes and milks the heavy cock inside him every time it shoves up into belly, thirsting for his cum to rest heavy there, inside him.

"Ye know," Cid pants as he fucks Vincent slowly, solidly. "I watched ye dribble my cum from yer asshole last time I filled ye up. Even.. even stuck a finger up there te help more out... Ye didn't even fuckin' blink."

Vincent cries out at that, and then something strange happens - the pleasure he receives is not Cid's - but his own. His body trembles hard, and his insides screw down hard on Cid's cock, his hips jerking abruptly in Cid's lap.

Cid grimaces and hugs Vincent to him, struggling not to lose it too soon.

"Christ, fuck baby, don't be gettin' ahead o' me," Cid murmurs softly, petting Vincent's head. The words roll so smoothly off the tongue, the gesuture coming so easily, that it seems likely Cid's forgotten who he's fucking. "Stay with me, stay with me now. Wanna.. oh fuuuck.... wanna.. enjoy ye fer a little longer..."

Vincent keens, clutching Cid to him, light-headed from the massive influx of hot passion erupting from Cid's core like a steady, constant, delicious orgasm. After a tense, trembling minute, the creature begins to rock abruptly in Cid's lap, jerkily at first, and then smoothing out into tiny hitches.

Cid helps him, guiding Vincent's rhythm with his hands on the creature's ass. He thrusts up into the tight body, tight, ribbed stomach mucles and biceps bunching with the effort. He leans in and takes one of Vincent's nipples into his mouth, biting more than sucking, playing with it savagely as he feels himself start to peak.

Vincent's hands turn to claws at the abuse to his swelling nipple and he makes a helpless sound, his body jerking with ecstasy and brows furrowing as if pained. He couldn't take much more of this... he was going to pass out... God, it was too much, too rich, too fast...!

Cid doesn't feel the pain of Vincent's fingernails, only a stinging pleasure. He snaps his hips up harder, pulling Vincent down into his lap harder, practically bouncing the creature on his heavy cock. He lets Vincent's nipple go and instead spares a hand to wrap around Vincent's cock, just teasingly playing with the swollen head of it as he filled Vincent's belly with his dick.

"Cum Sunshine, cum, wanna feel you try an' squeeze me out as I fill yer tummy up."
Vincent shudders, and abruptly bows forward, dropping his head, and watches Cid fist his long cock between them, the head swollen and pink. "I don't," he gasps, struggling to be coherent. "I don't cum... nnnggggoh God, please Cid, please cum inside me, I said please, please... I don't how much... more I can take...!"

Cid doesn't really believe him, but he lets the matter drop, although not Vincent's cock, enjoying playing with it, and the way it makes Vincent's passage flinch about his dick pushing up inside it.

Vincent's fragile little pleas is enough to undo Cid. He completely buries himself inside his host, nestling Vincent solidly in his lap, and comes impressively, spewing pearly liquid into Vincent's insides, his cum throbbing out his cock as though it means to never end.

Vincent bows back again, his head snapping back hard and body seizing up on Cid's dick impressively - painfully - as Cid reaches an amazing climax, his cum jetting hard and hot up into his belly. He claws at Cid, writhing, keening, moaning, mindless with his pleasure.

Cid half slips down into the bath, water slushing over the sides onto the floor. He couldn't care less, just as long as he's still got that hot, tight amazing ass wrapped about him, letting him let his load go inside.

"Oh god, Vincent... feels so fuckin' good...Christ..."

Vincent writhes still on his lap, his small hands rubbing all over his body, through his hair, over his dick and nipples, alive with ecstasy. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, oh God, that's it, oh God it's so good... so good... oh...." It seems impossible for him to come down from his high, his insides throbbing demandingly about Cid's cock.

Cid groans, his dick starting to feel over sensitive, over used. He rocks inside the lithe body for a little longer, before lifting Vincent up and lets himself slip out.

The creature keens, his body abruptly tightening with a shiver, like he were cold, and then he was back in Cid's lap, only this time without the intention of feeding, simply overstimulated. He kissed, mouthed, tongued, bit, touched, clutched, and rubbed any part of Cid he could reach as he rode out the intensity of his high. This was all together more powerful than anything he had ever experienced, even with-

That was different. This... this was incredible. Powerful, pure, undiluted, Cid's pleasure was like heroin to him, hot and strong, throbbing in his veins... in his belly.

Cid lets him, enjoying the attention. He'd never been averse to a bit of affection after sex, even if it was just to hold the other person before falling into an exhausted sleep. He kisses Vincent back, trying to guide him, calm him, slow him down and bring him gently back to reality, like an old dog guiding an over-eager puppy. He pets Vincent's back, ass, thighs, face, hair, gentle, attentive, slow, the opposite to Vincent's frantic lust. But that's not to say he isn't keen to take advantage of this new Vincent.

He hand wanders back to the creature's ass, and he slips two fingers inside the loosened hole, stretching it teasingly. "Push it out, beauiful," he purrs against Vincent's mouth. "Squeeze it out."

Vincent flinches and jerks forward as Cid fingers him, stretching out his loose hole. He almost obeys, a victim to his lust and Cid's dominating personality, but at the last moment a combination of his stubborn streak and his own selfishness makes him disobey. "No," he gasps against Cid's mouth, without any force behind it.

"Yer call," Cid says, still fingering Vincent lazily and mouthing at Vincent's throat. "But I bet'd feel real good, squeezing it all out, so full and heavy inside, letting it all go, pushing it out yer stretched little hole..."

Vincent whimpers, collapsing against Cid's chest - but his hole screws down obediently on Cid's encouraging fingers, soaking the blonde's hand in short spurts of cum as he presses out all of Cid's impressive orgasm, his seed thick and heavy and copious. His stomach flinches as he does it, and he mewls with the effort - the pilot had shot his load deep, deep into his belly. And Cid was right - it felt so good to do it, so lewd and debauched. It was worth losing the meagre nutrients to feel the man's cum gush down and out of him.

Cid cradles Vincent to him, gently helping Vincent loose the cum, fingering the sticky mess out from Vincent's ass.

"There, shhhh, see? All better... Goddamn ye should see yerself. Look so fuckin' good, could fuck ye all over again. Don't let yer food go te waste though," he croons, lifting his fingers thick with his cum to Vincent's mouth.

Grabbing his wrist sharply, Vincent eagerly licks the mess clean from Cid's fingers, and even after they're clean, he lets his tongue slip between them and tease them, sucking them hard, his cheeks hallowing.

Cid grins, watcing the display, enjoying it, but too worn out to get aroused again by it. He finds himself leaning in and planting a soft kiss against Vincent's brow for his trouble before he can stop himself.

Vincent's too hazed to mind the gesture, instead pulling back and sitting up straight, panting still. He looks about them, seeing Cid's cum as a milky contrast to the water. He stares at it, and it seems like he doesn't move at all, but the water swiftly condenses like it's being sucked down an invisible drain, and then is gone. The orb rolls audibly in the bottom of the tub. Slowly, the tub begins to fill again with warm water, gently steaming, and then Vincent leans over Cid's shoulder, behind him, and when he draws back, he has a cheap lighter and a pack of Cid's favorite smokes in hand. He shoves them at Cid, and then moves away, through the water, going back with the intention of enjoying his bath.

Cid stares at the treat with surprised disbelief. Then he collects himself and fetches a cigaratte, affraid it'll disappear if he dawdles too long.

He lights a fag and his eyes close in pleasure at the familiar, long missed taste. A good fuck, a hot bath and a good cigarette. He was getting spoilt.

Vincent slips beneath the sudsy, oily water up to his neck, his knees jutting up in the water. He amuses himself by toying with the orb in the water. Without looking up, he offers, "Thank you. That was delicious."

Cid smirks around his cigarette.

"I second that..... 'n' yer welcome. 'M gonna get dressed," he says, stepping out of the water, taking his cigarettes with him. He ruffles Vincent's hair on the way out.

Vincent glances up sharply at the affectionate touch to his hair, and turns around to watch Cid leave, an expression of confusion and wonder on his face. He turns back to the orb, having watched Cid dress. "He's strange," he mumbles to the dim glow. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him." He kisses the orb happily, and lets it bob back in the water, taking his time to enjoy splashing about in the bath.

The next couple of days go rather smoothly. Cid entertains himself with his new possessions, and when he's not doing that, or eating or sleeping, he makes himself readily available for Vincent's hunger.

But the smallness of their living space starts to affect him again. He can no longer rub off the feeling of being constantly caged, especially when Vincent disappears now and then. Cid couldn't hate him more during those vanishing tricks, envious of being able to go to the surface, to leave this lavish prison. It's all so pointless... Eating, fucking, reading a book, going to sleep. Even the sex starts to become frustrating, as Vincent never comes, and pays more attention to the damn crystal ball than Cid, and Cid can't get the connection with the creature that he craves in a lover. He needs to feel needed, and while Vincent certainly needed Cid's lust, it's not the same. Cid knows he's not being desired, wanted, he's being used.
The pilot feels himself die a little more each day, with each stolen orgasm, and with each evening that he can't watch the sun, cant feel the wind, can't see the stars.

He wakes up one day feeling ill, and manages to crawl into the bathroom to huddle over the toilet bowl.

Vincent appears after a while, coalescing like smoke, clad in a simple form-fitting gown, his hair twisted at the back of his head and left free down his back. He cocked his head at Cid, standing curiously in the doorway. "What's the matter?"

Cid shakes his shaggy head, not looking up.

"... Don' feel so swell," he mumbles, tasting bile. He feels weak, ill, fatigued. How the hell could he get sick here? Perhaps it was the lack of sunlight. Perhaps even conjured food could still be bad. Perhaps Vincent had poisoned him for a laugh. Cid didn't know or care, he just wanted to be left alone and feel better.

Vincent comes forward, and crouches at his side. He regards him with a cold detached air, clinical. "You're not sick," he says simply. "It's psychosomatic."

"...What?" Cid asks with an effort, too ill to try and make sense of the statement himself.
Vincent sighs again, and gets to his feet, walking away dismissively. "You're not sick," he says absently over his shoulder.

"No, 'course not," Cid snaps sarcastically.

He closes his eyes against the nausea and rests his brow on his arm, slumping against the toilet.

Vincent continues to harangue from his seat amongst the cushions by the table, idly toying with the orb. "You're in a snit," he hollers at the bathroom. "So your body is responding accordingly. Here," and there's a clatter by Cid's knee. "That should help with whatever wretched symptoms you've cooked up for yourself." On the marbled floor, lie two bottles of pills - one for the pain and the fever, the other for the nausea - and a glass of water.
Cid looks hatefully over at Vincent.

"A snit? A fuckin' snit? Cram yer good charity up yer ass. Should be an easy fit, the way ye spread yer legs."

Vincent tsks disapprovingly, eyes on the orb rolling over his hands. "You're just making it worse," he singsongs.

"Hell would ye know," Cid grumbles petulantly, turning to rest his head on his arm once more. He ignores the pills spitefully.

"I know you're pitching a fit like an ungrateful little brat because I deny you one, just one, of your wishes, and also because you're beginning to hate sex with me because of one little technicality - which would be control, your control specifically, over me and over the sex, because if you found me in a bar and wooed me with a beer and a bowl of peanuts and we fucked for one night, you'd want to fuck me every night, but because I didn't give the choice, and I'm in control, you petulantly refuse to enjoy it. Stop me if any of this is wrong," he drawls.

Cid lifts his head again and glares darkly at Vincent.

"Don't ye goddamn start. I didn't fuckin' wake up an' wan' te be ill, ye goddamn insensitive bastard. An ye are fuckin' wrong. I'm hatin' the sex because I gotta be the fuck-puppet of some snotty-nosed spoilt little brat. The only reason I can get it up is 'cause ye look as though ye haven't dropped a set yet. If ye were anythin' like a real man I wouldn't let ye whore yerself onto me within five goddamn feet."

"If that's how you want to justify enjoying fucking a man, then that's fine. But saying that you fuck me because I look like a little boy isn't something you want bandied about," he says with a sneer.

"Har, fucking ha," Cid snaps back. "Boy, ye must be all full up, sweet-talkin' me like this te ensure I don't even so much as look at ye fer a week, let alone fuck yer loose hole."

"Don't flatter yourself. Your dick isn't that big."

"Ye were sayin' different the other day I didn't let ye loosen' up first. Ye were practically sobbin' fer me te take it out, an then put it back in when I did."

"You see?" He says, sidestepping that comment entirely. "Now that you're not pitching your fit, you're perfectly fine. Fine enough for me to reconsider that box idea."

"I aint' perfectly fine!" Cid shouts back, slamming the toilet seat rim. "I feel like 'm gonna pass out, or throw up, or fuckin' both. Not only that, but I'm goddamn trapped in this fucking place FOR THE REST O' MY GODDAMN LIFE. Maybe longer, if ye don't give me the mercy o' death. An' don't ye goddamn dare threaten me. Don't ye fuckin' dare."

"Well obviously I've come to the conclusion your father did - being good to you is a waste of my time and effort. The only way to truly bring you to heel is to punish you, and severely." He says it nonchalantly, rolling the orb back and forth over the back of his hand loftily.
Cid pushes up from the toilet, and stands there for a moment, fearing he's going to be ill. Then the rush of nausea passes and he staggers over to Vincent.

"Stop. Talking. Like ye've GOT. Any. Fucking. Idea. Because ye don't. I aint a kid anymore, an yer certainly not my old man. Ye think ye know? Ye don't know anythin' about sufferin', about punishment. What's the worse ye've ever had te deal with? A broken nail? Goin' hungry for a few years, which is like, what, days, hours te you? Yer so fuckin' spoilt, even if I weren't sick I'd want te fuckin' vomit."

Vincent looks up at him coolly from beneath long lashes, and sneers. "Oh yes, Cid, because you're the only one who's ever suffered, who's ever been punished, and nobody else can possibly conceive of your pain. That box? Is exactly like your being ill. You made yourself afraid of that box. You made yourself ill. You made yourself so that no one could love you. You made yourself so that you'd be a failure. All your unimaginable suffering, your multitude of agonies, are of your own making. Not your father's, not mine, not Shera's, not Ash's, not ShinRa's. Yours. So cling to it if you want to, but you'll get no sympathy from me."

"Ye fuckin' WHORE," Cid shouts. "Ye wont give me sympathy because ye can't feel any fer anyone but yerself. Well guess what, Princess, maybe if I take something precious from you, like ye did te me, ye might fer once understand what the rest o' the world suffers through."
And before he can think it, before Vincent can read it in his mind to stop him, Cid snatches away the orb and throws it with all his might against the nearest wall.


Vincent lunges up, over the table and then-

A meadow erupts in the room, blinding sunshine and girlish laughter and the scents of fresh grass and wild flowers and rain bursting like shrapnel through the room. Then, as quickly as it had flared to life, it dies, and all that's left is the dimness of the candles and the soft tinkling of glass.

Vincent scrabbles over the table, all of his stately airs and elegance lost completely. "No, no, no, NO! Lucy! Lucy, Lucretia, no! No, no, no, no!" He writhes on hands and knees and belly to the mess and makes to put his hands into the mess, but something stops him - reverance, perhaps, horror most likely - and he trembles, his face crumbling. "Lucy...? Lucy...?" He pleads, voice high and breaking, like a child waiting for his mother to answer him back. "Lucretia...?"

Cid stands there, breathing hard, watching. He wants to feel justified, he wants to think that Vincent deserves it, he wants to sneer at Vincent's pain the way the creature had sneered at his. But he can't, and with each second that he watches Vincent's pain, Cid feels an unbearable guilt, a horror at himself. What had he done?

Oh god fucking damn, he thinks to himself, I am like my father....

Feeling more sick than he had all morning, Cid swallows it down and moves over to Vincent. He remembers his feeling over the last few days, feelings of possessieness, protectiveness, affection for the creature - horribly conceited and selfish and uptight as he was - but still so fragile and timid in so many ways.

"Vincent... I'm sorry...." he whispers, going to touch Vincent's back.

Vincent doesn't show that he's recognised the touch, or Cid's words. For him, his world has slowed down; it'll be light years before he feels Cid's hand, before his words reach him. Feeling like he was both struggling against time and yet had all the time in the world, he reaches out and puts his hands into the mess of shards; they cut him, he bleeds, but it doesn't stop him from curling his fingers in on fistfuls of warm crystal. "Oh no, Lucy," he groans, swallowing. Silent tears drip down his cheeks. "Look what's happened. Oh no... oh no... please... please?... ssshhhh, ssshhhh, all right now, all better, okay, okay, okay okay okay okay okay okay okay...." He trails off as his bloodied, trembling hands reach for fistfuls of fine crystal, sweeping up all the pieces towards his knees.

"Jesus, Vincent stop," Cid says, and pulls Vincent's hands away from the shattered, sharp crystal, and lifts the pitiful creature into his lap, hugging him, petting his hair. "It's ok, it'll be okay," he lies.

Vincent lets himself be pulled limply into Cid's lap, and stares down dumbly at his hands, tears welling in his eyes. "I'm never going to pick up all pieces," he says softly, slurred - horrified by the realisation. "I'm never going to pick up all the pieces." He gulps audibly, and the tears run faster down his face, are in his voice when he continues. "I've killed her. I've killed her... all over again. Lucy. Lucy..."

Cid feels his heart break, and a dread for Vincent - for his past - that he wish he could kill. He holds Vincent tighter, petting his hair, rocking them.

"Shhh, shhh, it's ok, I got ye, shhh."

Vincent's mind can't process anything but the loss, stuck in a one-thought loop. His body is strengthless and pliable in Cid's arms, his eyes dull and staring. He can't move past this. Not a second time. Not again. Never again...

Worried about Vincent's mental health, wishing more than anything Vincent would yell at him, hate him for this, rather than sit there, crying, bleeding, numb, Cid picks them both up and carries them to the bed. He spoons the lithe creature against his body, holding him close like a child holds a favourite toy, and snuggles them in sheets and furs.
It's all he can really do.


Jun. 15th, 2010 01:52 am (UTC)

But it got bettah. /newts


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