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Eden, Part 6

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.



The next morning, the room is very still, and very bright - at least, on Cid's side of the room. It glowed like the afternoon sun, bright and fierce, but in contrast, the rest of the room was pitch black. Cid was alone in the bed. Vincent was either out, or in the darkness - but there was an electricity, something like that, that let Cid know that Vincent was there in the room with him.

When Cid woke and found the strange phenomena, he felt a dread in his belly that he didn't much care for.

"...... Vincent?" He gets up from the bed and hesitantly walks towards the shadows.
Vincent is there, his shape dimly visible in the shadows where he sits with head bowed on the long sofa, his hands in his lap.

Cid enters the shadows, walking up to him.

"...Hey," he greets softly, gently. "How ye doin'?"

He doesn't reply. A bowl, a spoon, a box of cereal and a carton of milk appear on the table between them. There's also the anti-nausea pills, and the aspirins.
Cid sits on the floor by the table, opposite Vincent. He pours himself a glass of milk and takes the tablets. He doesn't eat any cereal though. He just sits there, staring at the table, waiting.




"... I'm sorry."

It had not been the response Cid had expected. Shocked, he looks up at Vincent.
"..... Ye don't need te apologise. I'm the one who's sorry."

Vincent's reply is stark in the ringing silence, despite how soft his voice is.

"I'm sorry, that I hurt you. The things you said.... were all true. She... she used to say them all the time, too."

Cid gets up, very casual, and moves around the table. He sits down next to Vincent and tugs the creature in, giving the miserable thing a kiss on the temple.
"She sounds like she were very smart."

Vincent doesn't respond, letting Cid draw him in and kiss him, all the fight gone out of him. His eyes are dull, and well with tears, and his mouth is soft and wet with crying.

"Hey," Cid says softly, brushing a thumb over Vincent's wet cheeks to dry them. "It's never too late te change. For yerself, for her."

He gently turns Vincent, pulls him in close, and kisses Vincent softly on each cheek. Then at the corner of his mouth. Then on his lips.

Vincent lets him do all these things, but when the blonde presses a sweet, chaste kiss to his mouth, he sobs, abruptly. "I'm lonely," he cries. "I am. I am. I want Lucretia back. I want her to love me. I want to be loved. I am lonely - I am lonely." He drops his head, weeping quietly, slender shoulders hitching. He made a good picture for ruin.

Cid's heart broke all over again. He had thought as much, once, but Vincent had played the snide, self-confident role so well, Cid had come to doubt his first impressions, had really begun to think Vincent didn't feel human emotion. He couldn't imagine the lonliness the creature must have gone through, out here, in this forrest.

"I'm sorry," Cid whispers, hugging Vincent against him. "It's okay now. I'm here. I aint goin' anywhere, am I? I'm here, shhh, shhhh."

Vincent tenatively puts his arms about Cid's waist, but when he does his grip is strong and urgent, desperate, clutching Cid to him. "Lie to me," he whimpers. "Say you'll never go. Say you'll never leave me. Please. Please."

Cid hesitates. He's not of the habbit of making false promises. Even though Vincent's asked it, Cid knows if he promises anything, he'll try and stick by it, as crippling or impossible as it may be.

Finally, Cid presses his mouth to Vincent's hair, and murmurs, "I'll never leave ye. I promise." And despite thinking furiously that it'll be an easier promise to keep than, 'i'll never go', that there's some flexibility in his vow, Cid still means every word.

Vincent breathes a shuddering sigh, and squeezes Cid hard, his slender back still hitching with tears. He's promised him, now; he can't ever go. Not ever, not ever, never ever. And in return, he'll try to make his life here as bareable as possible. Deep down, though, he knew Cid didn't mean the promise, and though he was a good man who stuck to his word, he was still very much his own man. If the opportunity presented itself, he knew Cid would go. But this realisation he buried deep, deep enough not to interfere with his pleasure - he crammed it down below, with the secret fear that his touch was death, and that no one would ever find it within themselves to love him.

Cid holds Vincent for a while, simply hugging him and petting his hair. After a time he scoops the delicate creature up and takes them to the bathroom. He runs a hot bath with bubbles and pleasant smelling oils. He strips off and helps Vincent do the same before settling them both in the tub, Vincent lying ontop of him, cuddled up against his lap and chest, Vincent's dark head tucked under his chin. Cid amuses himself by scooping up handfuls of water and letting it run over Vincent's arms, chest, gently washing him.

Vincent easily settles against him, pliant and willing, his head on Cid's shoulder, nuzzling his throat, and one bloodied hand curled on the blonde's chest.

"... you aren't like him. Your father," he says softly. "I got what I deserved, but you didn't. I'm sorry."

Cid clenches his jaw and swallows. He doesn't say anything, just continues the slow, gentle, tender motions of lavishing Vincent with warm bubbly water.

"..... Do ye have a first aid kit?" He asks eventually, murmuring so as not to distrub the quiet.

"No need," he says softly, shifting in the water, settling himself more easily against Cid, relaxing. He drops his hands beneath the sudsy water, the blood on his hands slipping away through the water like red streams over snowy ice. He didn't move them, didn't even seem to be trying, but slowly, the tiny soft hands were washed clean, and the shimmering, hurtful shards of glass - or whatever the globe had been - were tenderly eased from his flesh. He healed in the water, or was perhaps healed by it, his flesh closing, the blood sloughed off, the tiny crystal miseries embedded in him rolling into a cluster, contracting like a seizing heart before easing, and drifting silently away through the water, melting like snow.

Cid watches silently, still half washing, half petting the fey creature in his arms. "... Ye never cease te amaze me," he admits softly, heartfelt, into Vincent's hair.

Vincent slowly curls his hands in, his feelings mixed. It felt so good to have Cid not only hold him like this, touch him like this, but also to murmur such tender things into his hair, like he really meant them. A part of him wanted to say, "You don't have to carry the charade this far," but he didn't; guiltily, he hoarded al of Cid's kindnesses, the gestures that carried an intimacy that far surpassed sex. It felt good to be praised - but he wondered, Do I amaze him because I am so foreign to him? Because I am so fey, because I use a magic he cannot use, cannot understand? Do I amaze him... scientifically? He warred with himself, jointly revelling and chastising himself, until after a strained pause, he replied. "Yes. I suppose I must." It was all he could think of to say, the most neautral thing.

Damn Cid, damn him for making him think of the blonde as a person, for liking him, for wanting him.

Cid doesn't reply to Vincent's statement, doesn't push the point. His actions gently become less involved with washing, and more obviously engaged in touching, petting, feeling. His fingers wander down Vincent's cheek, his throat. Over a nipple, and down his soft belly.
"...Are ye well now?" He asks in the same low, unhurried murmur.

Vincent flushes - entirely unlike him - and ducks his head. He nods.

"I...- if you...-" He starts stiltedly, swallowing awkwardly. "Do you mind if I, um... I mean, we, if we... if I... had... um, something, to eat...?"

Cid smiles minutely and pulls Vincent in closer - tighter against him, up higher, so that he can kiss lavishly at Vincent's mouth.

"How d'ye want it?" The blonde asks huskily against Vincent's mouth, his hands sliding down to grip Vincent's ass cheeks. ".. In yer pretty, hungry mouth? Up yer tight, lovely ass? Over yer beautiful face, yer hair?"

Suddenly, it's difficult breathe; the room is suddenly very warm. Vincent's hands go to Cid's broad shoulders, steadying himself as their mouths meet hungrily, sloppily. But right now, despite the fact that nothing has changed - or so he tells himself - despite the fact that he's still the predator, that Cid is still the meal, despite the fact that they are physically still the same, he can't bring himself to be bold in his word or in action. Instead, flushed, mouth pressed to Cid's, he asks weakly, "Anything... anywhere... anything you want..."

Cid kisses him, slowly, always tender, careful, drawing the moment out. His fingers gently massage Vincent's backside, spreading and pressing and pinching.

"Ye can breathe underwater, right?" Cid asks inbetween messy, open-mouthed kisses.

Vincent nods, and makes a lazily affirmative noise.

Cid keeps kissing at Vincent's mouth, but he changes his grip, wrapping an arm about the small of the creature's back, holding Vincent close. He shifts fluidly, turning them about until Vincent lays underneath him and he sits powerfully ontop. Cid tears his mouth apart from Vincent's, and moves down the line of pale throat, kissing, as he fidgets to settle them comfortably, lifting Vincent's legs to wrap about his waist, spread open beneath him.

Vincent gasps as he's tugged in tight against Cid, legs spread lewdly wide, his hands slipping and grasping for the edges of the tub. He hates this. He hates feeling this vulnerable, this helpless, this weak, but... it also feels good, to be treated so carefully. With tenderness. He swallows, and pretends to ignore the warring sensations within him, focusing instead on the strength of Cid's body, the surety of his grip on him, how big his hands were...

When Cid has them settled, his half hard cock rubbing gently against Vincent's spread ass, he hesitates. He lifts a hand and gently cups the back of his host's neck, his thumb gently rubbing over Vincent's throat. He feels he needs to reassure Vincent, the creature looking so small and needy and fragile, but he also knows it's ludicrous; it was an illusion. Vincent was far from helpless.

Still, Cid found himself speaking before he could really stop himself.

"If this becomes uncomfortable, lemme know," he says, as neutral as possible. Then he gives Vincent a last kiss, and with his large hand on the tiny, slender throat, pushes Vincent under the water as though he wanted to drown the creature.

Vincent slips obdediently beneath the water, his dark eyes wide and watching Cid as he went down; he closes them once he's submerged, tiny bubbles floating to the surface as he breathed peacefully. His hands shift on the bathtub, coming to grip the edge above his head.

Cid smiles softly, a strong thrill of dominace flushing down his body. He hadn't realised power-play had been one of his kinks, but holding Vincent down under the water by his throat pushed some of the right buttons for Cid, and he found himself rocking his swelling cock against Vincent's anus, eager to push in, eager to enjoy this rare treat, to see how far he could push it. To watch Vincent writhe and gasp liquid as he was thoroughly fucked...

Vincent's hips rocked with him, thighs and buttocks flexing, smooth and slow, shy. He desperately wanted to look up, but it didn't seem right to raise his eyes to Cid here, not now, not this way. Cid's hand was strong but not uncomfortable around his throat, and against his will, the feeling of being held down with such deliberate strength and cruelty made his cock throb. He had never experienced anything he like this. He was the one to be calculating, cool, cruel, in control, never his prey. But with Cid, it didn't feel as hateful or uncomfortable as he thought it would. It wasn't being underwater - he spent most of his life in it - it was surrendering so completely to someone so utterly powerful. That was what terrified him - and thrilled him.

Cid knudged the head of his cock to Vincent's small little pucker, and started to push in, hard, relentless, not giving the creature any slack or any way out. He wanted in, and he was going to get it. He grinned wolfishly down at the water nymph, feeling the fluttering muscles start to give around his thick girth.

Beneath the water, Vincent's mouth parts, an enormous bubble breaking on the surface as he does, and his hands tighten on the tub. The invasion in careful, but merciless, the blonde's massive cock pushing it's way against the denial of sleek, pressing muscle, stertching him wide and deep - as ever, it feels like too much. But against Cid's powerful domination, the flow of lust is warm and steady, not the overwhelming rush of a craving. It felt familiar, but he couldn't place it, and the sensation soon drifted to the back of his mind, absently shoved aside as Cid pushed deeper, deeper...

Cid breached the tight ring of muscle and slowly pushed his way inside Vincent's tight body, pushing up deep into his insides. He could feel the water lap about them, warm at his back and belly, the ripples making Vincent's image blur and destort.

He paused, pulled out. Then thrust back in. And did it again, and again, picking up an unforgiving rhythm.

Vincent's jostled cruelly, his slick grip slipping, and more bubbles come to surface as he gasps and swallows, his noises of passion and discomfort muffled by the water. He squeezes his eyes shut as Cid's thrusts take on a demanding rhythm, rippling the water so that he could no longer see clearly - bending his body to his will, his lust slowly heating up like water on the boil.

Cid leans over the water as he keeps fucking Vincent's ass, the warm passage abused enough now that he can push in balls-deep, the head of his cock pushing up into Vincent's belly. The tight, restricting heat is incredible, achingly good, but there's a lack of intimacy that Cid misses, craves... needs.

He takes a breath and bobs under the water, crushing his mouth to Vincent's and kissing the creature hard.

He doesn't hesitate, sucking Cid down into the kiss, breathing with him, nursing his mouth hungrily, but also with an uncertain tenderness - exploratory. Vincent's body folds, contorting, as Cid bends over him, kisses him, and pins him, their bodies still firmly connected.

Cid slows the pace down, just a notch, but takes his time to thoroughly violate Vincent from both ends, still pushing in and out of Vincent's tight passage, while moving his lips against the creature's, and sliding his tongue deep inside Vincent's mouth. It's strange, kissing Vincent under water, the sounds of the world vanishing beneath the water, everything narrowed to just him and Vincent, together.

Vincent feels it to, a special isolation, a certain intimacy to the moment, in the silence, in the sluggishness of their coupling, in the leisurely kiss. It was like... everything was stripped away, simplified. Just he and Cid, and all the time they needed. His hands slip down into the water, going to Cid's neck. Tiny little spikes of that worrisome, strange weightless feeling assault his gut, but they feel pleasurable too... pleasurable... pleasure... his own pleasure...

Cid finally breaks away from the kiss, delivering a last nuzzling nip to Vincent's jaw before he pulls back, breaking the surface of the water to take in air, water pouring off his face, down his neck and shoulders. He then scoops Vincent up, pulling him out of the water and up against his front, moving about in the tub until Cid's on his knees, Vincent nestled in his lap - on his dick- and held closer to his front.

"Hold onto me," he gasps, his hands going down to Vincent's thighs so he can lift and drop Vincent on his cock.

Vincent surfaces with a deep gasp, water sluicing off him, dark hair slicked back to his skull, eyes looking wider for it. He doesn't need to be told to hold onto Cid, instantly drawing himself up and tight to Cid's front, clinging to him and going for his mouth as Cid's big hands spread his thighs wide. The strange little tingles go to his groin, nestling in his cock and balls and just below, making him swell and grow heavy, his cock now bobbing in the water, frictionless.

Cid kisses Vincent back, frantically and messy, moving away from his mouth and down to his throat, kissing down the pale chest until he can latch onto a nipple, biting and sucking on it cruelly as he raising and drops Vincent onto his dick, fucking Vincent hard.

"God, fuck ye feel so good!" Cid groans.

Vincent keens, his hands winding in Cid's blonde hair, clutching the pilot to him. "Yes, yes, yes...!" He gasps urgently, feeling the frenzy build up in Cid, but less interested in it than the feel of Cid's mouth on his swollen nipple, on the feel of his hands on his body, the silkiness of his wet hair, the thickness and depth of his cock as he ruthlessly fucked him. When had these things begun to feel so good?

Cid growls at the hair in his hands, the whimpered words. It makes him feel like Vincent's enjoying this, like he's achieving something other than his own pleasure. He wants to make Vincent writhe more, plead more, shiver more at his touch. He pushes up harder into Vincent as he tears at the little swollen nipple, before abandoning it - leaving it wet and bruise and aching - to maul at Vincent's throat.

Vincent's head drops back on a slow groan, his hands tightening in Cid's hair. God, what the Hell, why did this feel so damned good...? Whatever, it didn't matter, all that mattered was that Cid keep his mouth on him, continue to brutalise him so sweetly - when had human bodies become so powerful? - to fuck him, to tear at him, to bite him, to hold him, to kiss him, to-
Wait, what?

Cid pulls back, sensing a pause in Vincent, and looks down in time to see something amazing.
He looks back up at Vincent and grins widely, kissing at his mouth.

"Yer cock's leakin'," he growls lewdly, and spares a hand to go to Vincent's penis where it sits erect in the water, a small trail of pre-cum floating above the erect head in the water. Cid fingers the swollen head lazily.

"What?" Vincent gasps, and drops his head to look down the length of his body where he is, indeed, completely hard - and leaking. His heart seizes up in his chest, even as his breath hitches with pleasure. This couldn't be happening... how could this be happening...?

Cid watches Vincent's face intently. He leans forward, nuzzling the creature's ear.

"Why are ye so affraid te let go, te let someone make ye feel good for you alone? I wont hurt you. Not again. Trust me." He wraps his hole hand about Vincent's cock and slowly fists it in-time with his own thrusts inside the creature's backside.

Vincent shudders convulsively, and goes limp for Cid, his hips the only thing in motion as he works in tandem with Cid. His head drops forward, and watches with hazy eyes and a clenching belly as Cid's hand works wonders on his swollen cock, pulling on it, jerking drop after painful drop of pleasure from it. It's been so long... and the last time, oh the last time...
He whimpers. "It feels good..." He whinges, as if complaining of a pain. "It feels so good..."

Cid nudges Vincent's face up by the delicate chin, and kisses him softly on the lips.

"All ye have te do is tell me te stop," he reminds gently, and runs his fingers down to gently pull on Vincent's balls.

The gentle reminder doesn't help, and neither does the touch to his tight, heavy sac, or the tender kiss; his body responds with a slew of tingling sensations that suddenly erupts into a heavy, demanding throb, letting him know that he was close to some precipice, that something really good was coming up. But instead of denying it, insteading of panicking, he brings his hands to Cid's face, brings their mouths together a slow, deep kiss, his hips still writhing in Cid's lap.

Cid doesn't need much encouragement to remember to pick up his rhythm. He kisses Vincent back intensely as he fucks him, hard and rough now, fucking the creature as deep as he can go as he tugs and pulls on Vincent's sex.

"Fuck Vincent... can't hold on... Fuck...!"

Vincent chokes then, brow creasing. "G-od! Oh G-od Cid, pl-ea-se...!" He whimpers, and bows over Cid, his keening rising as Cid's hand works his swollen dick urgently, and that throb keeps building and building and building and building....

"Cum my little Valentine," Cid gasps urgently, fisting and fucking Vincent frantically. "Come Vincent, let it go, god, please, fuck, cum."

He sobs, and cums violently, suddenly, shoved viciously over the edge as Cid's lust peaks - he hadn't realised, had forgotten, that he'd been feeding all this time, too. His whole body tightens, clamping down on Cid, his body diving backwards, seizing up into a tortured bow as he cums and cums and cums, gasping, flailing for purchase, clutching at Cid, utterly overwhelmed.

Cid follows barely a heartbeat behind, and cries out, hard and gutteral as Vincent bears down so violently about him, spasming and clenching violently about cock as he empties himself deep into Vincent's bowels. He grips Vincent hard, holding him close, his fingers leaving white impressions on the creature's pale skin. Cid's world whites-out, becomes blank as if he'd just dunked his head under water again. It feels divine...

Vincent feels the same, so deeply buried beneath his pleasure and Cid's that he's moved past it, into a place devoid of sensation of any kind, a place of pure ecstatic euphoria, even as his body jerks and trembles like one possessed, his kiss-swollen mouth gasping and whimpering urgently.

Cid presses his head to Vincent's shoulder, gasping as he rocks up into Vincent by tiny inches, as much as he can given the muscles tight grip about his length. He shoots load after load of white cum inside the delicate body, until finally, finally, he slows to a stop.

Vincent's taking longer to quiet, to return to sanity, his body still limp and wracked with shudders, making senseless noises of pleasure. God, what the Hell was that? This is a drug, absolutely a drug, and he was on the greatest high of his life right now. Christ. He was going to be an addict. How had he lived his life without this? How could he possibly have sex again and not experience this?

... Oh God. What had he done?

Not privy to the internal struggling going on inside his partner, Cid pulls Vincent back into his arms, nuzzling him and kissing him in post-coital pleasure. He takes his time to enjoy Vincent's pliability, and the feeling of the creature sitting completely in his lap, fully impaled and filled up with cum.

"That... were so fucking good..." Cid murmurs happily, stroking Vincent's sides.

Slowly, Vincent wraps shaking arms about Cid's neck and buries his face there, his trembling subsiding. He tries to think about how full he is - appetite more than sated, his belly full of Cid's thick cum, his ass still stretched wide and tight about Cid's dick. But he can't force himself.

He's scared.

Cid pets Vincent's back, taking his time, before he gently starts to lift Vincent off of him. "Bet yer tired now," Cid says, so softly he could almost be talking to himself. "Get ye te bed for a nap, eh?"

Vincent nods against him, letting Cid do all the work. He can feel Cid's cum dripping heavily from his stretched hole, and he whimpers, clenching down.

Cid gives them a moment to sit in the bath, letting the water clean them of their activities as much as possible, before he finally lifts them out. He carries Vincent protectively in his arms to the bed and lays the sleek mystical creature out on the mattress before pulling up a sheet to cover him. He pats the dark head fondly once, before moving off to tidy up the room.

Vincent has the powerful urge to grab Cid back, to say "Don't go, stay with me! I like what you do to me, I want to be held by you!", but he doesn't allow himself to submit. Instead, he curls up, and closes his eyes, tears welling in them, and worries his long nails. What do I do? What have I done? What does this mean? I don't love him, I can't, this is nothing like with her, nothing at all... this can't be right, can't be happening. In the end, he frustrates himself to tears, the droplets rolling hot and fat down his cheeks. He buries his face in the pillows, and one hand, and eventually falls into a deep and restless sleep, tormented by thoughts of pleasure... and doom.

Cid brushes up the shards of the orb and puts them aside, not sure what to do with them, and hesitant to throw them away incase Vincent wishes to hold on to them. He eats, hungry, and goes and takes a shower to clean himself properly. When he comes back he checks on Vincent, finding the creature asleep. The man doesn't look peaceful though, Vincent's pretty brow creased and tears dotting his lashes. Cid's heart breaks all over again.

Despite not feeling tired, he settles himself in the bed and spoons the small creature from behind, petting the black hair as Vincent slept.

The next few days are awkward, the two of them trying to find their balance, certain now that they could never return to the clear seperation of captor and pet; Vincent had been brought too low, Cid had gained to much sway over the creature. Vincent fed infrequently, and was shy in his approaches. He spoke little, but disappeared less, and too often his eyes would wander and cling to Cid as the blonde read, or ate, or slept, or bathed. He didn't allow the pilot to have sex with him as he had before, instead insisting on nursing his cock or stroking him to orgasm, and in the heat of the moment, it was never commented on, or discussed. Cid was perhaps still wary of Vincent's fragility; didn't want to push lest he break him. Again.

Vincent can't let himself be that intimate with Cid again until he better understood what that encounter had meant - what he felt. And what to do about it.

One afternoon, as Cid had a late lunch and Vincent watched him with lazy eyes, he spoke up into the silence, his voice awkward.

"... I have a surprise for you."

Cid's brows raise in curiosity, and he looks up at Vincent over a mouthful of food.

"... Do I have te close my eyes're somethin'?"

Vincent gives him a small smile. "Soon. Finish up, and we'll go."

Cid jerks up straight, his fork clattering to his plate in shock.

"Go? Where? 'M finished!"

Vincent's smile widens, amused by Cid's youthful enthusiasm. "Are you sure?" He teases, in no hurry to rise. "You still have some beef left..."

Cid shoves the last of the beef into his mouth and gets up, hurrying over to the collection of clothes Vincent has aquired for him.

"Let's go!" He says around his mouthful of food, swallowing as he sorts through his garmets. "Will I need a jacket? Shorts? What?"

Vincent lowers his eyes, toying with a pillow, his smile lingering, but his voice softer. "A jacket if you get cold at night, pants and a t-shirt should do. And shoes. They're under the bed."

Cid goes to the bed and finds a box. He pulls it out and places it on the mattress, opening the lid. He goes still, and slowly pulls out a blue bomber jacket, followed by greenish cargos, a red tshirt, and big brown boots. They're the clothes he'd had the plane-crash in, only they're also like new.

Cid turns his questing gaze onto Vincent, touched and a little confused - almost wary - by the sincerity of the gift.

Vincent glances at him from beneath his lashes, then drops his gaze again. "You're wasting time."

Cid's torn, but finally he conceeds Vincet's point and turns back to the clothes, hurrying to put them on. Once dressed, he hurries to his host's side and slings a friendly arm around Vincent's shoulders.

"Let's roll!" He says with a wide grin.

Vincent comes around to Cid's front, and puts the pilot's muscled arms about his waist. "Hold on tight. Don't let go of me." He leans in then, pressing his front to Cid's, tightly. He raises one hand to the back of Cid's neck and draws him into a deep kiss, and with his other he cover's the blonde's eyes. He gives Cid just enough time to tighten his hold before whisking them away.

The sensation to Vincent is that of cold, stringent air rushing hard and fast about his form, between his body and Cid's; but for Cid, it's much more distressing and disorienting. There's a coolness, and a sudden drop, and then a sort of suspension, and then it felt like he were being torn away from Vincent and simultaneously being drowned by a frigid tidal wave, the pressure intense and the vertigo nauseating.

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