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“So, what do you think?” Clive asks. Otto and Vivian look over at Cid who shrugs, a small movement with his right shoulder.
“It’s a sound plan, you don’t even need my input.” The dismissive way he’s talking is indicative of the mood he’s been in. Otto sighs and Vivian crosses her arms, much the same mood Clive has been in.
Clive rubs at his temple. “I thought you might have some insight to offer. Concerns, maybe?”
“I’ve told you a dozen times, Clive, I don’t need to hold your hand through this. Not like it’s my place anyway.”
Clive has had enough. God forbid he try and keep Cid involved, try to actually talk to him and listen to his supposed wisdom. He turns on his heel and walks out of the map room before he does something stupid, like lash out at the others who haven’t earned his ire. As he’s turning the corner for the stairs up to the observation deck, he hears Otto’s voice behind him.
“What the bloody hell’d you do?”
“What?” Cid scoffs, voice still recognizable even from a distance. “S’not like I’m his keeper, or him mine.” The words sting, and Clive swallows down the ache until he’s alone up on top of the rear stacks, looking out over the still water in the late evening light.
It’s not the first time Cid’s made a comment like that, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Cid’s had moments like this before, downswings and upswings in demeanor ever since he survived Oriflamme. It's usually just a couple of days, then he curls back up in Clive’s arms after a couple nights, rubbing against him like a coeurl, and everything is back to normal. This particular mood swing has lasted a few weeks, and every side comment about the two of them cuts deeper than the last. It’s not like Clive’s kept his feelings a secret, not since falling into bed with Cid at that brothel before they took on Drake’s Head, nor any day after when he refused to leave Cid’s bedside. Or the way they gravitate to each other’s company, staying up long into the night to make love, preferring to talk about anything and everything instead of going to sleep.
And yet Cid continues to say things like that , like he’s less than, washed up and broken. Like he doesn’t deserve to have this. Like the two of them aren’t… Clive is beyond frustrated, he’s actually pissed that Cid thinks so little of himself, thinks that Clive doesn’t-
“Oh, didn’t know this spot was taken,” Cid says behind him. “Was gonna grab a quick smoke before turning in.”
Clive’s patience snaps. He moves faster than he thought he could, hand shooting out to grab Cid by the arm before he can walk out of reach. For weeks now, Clive has put up with this, and he’s done. Whatever is going on with Cid it’s ending tonight, one way or another.
“We need to talk. Downstairs. Now.” Clive tries to keep his voice low, calm, but there’s an edge to it.
Cid doesn’t struggle, just looks at Clive in mild surprise. “Alright then, guess my smoke can wait till later.” Clive lets go of his arm as he stalks off, Cid following behind, the few still awake in the Hideaway ignoring them as they pass. Seeing the two of them headed to the solar isn’t anything new, after all.
As soon as the door is closed behind them Clive unsheathes his sword, carefully setting it aside before he rounds on Cid. “What the hell is up with you lately?”
“Too many things to count,” Cid chuckles, apparently unaware of how close to snapping Clive is as he casually walks over and plops himself on the couch. Clive feels heat beneath his skin, angry in a way he hasn’t felt before, because this anger hurts. He doesn’t want to be angry at Cid, but he can’t keep going on like this.
“Do you want to end this between us?” Clive asks, a low growl in the back of his throat.
Cid doesn’t look at him, but the smile falls from his face, his shoulders falling as his right hand subconsciously rubs over his abdomen. “Want? No.” The way he says it makes Clive’s chest constrict.
“Then what the fuck, Cid?”
Cid leans forward, elbows on his knees, chin dropping to his chest. “Clive… I think you’ve suffered from this old man’s selfish arrogance enough.”
“Suffered?” Clive repeats, stepping closer to Cid, knowing his boots are within his eye line but not moving any closer. “The only time I suffer is when you pull away like this.”
“I don’t own you,” Cid sighs. “If you want to go find someone better, someone more your age-“
Clive’s gloved hand reaches out and takes sharp hold of Cid’s hair. He watches Cid’s shoulders go tense, and suddenly the fire of Clive’s anger flares into something else, something possessive. “You don’t think you own me, fine,” Clive growls. “But I have news for you, Cid. I own you .” He pulls until Cid’s forced to look up. “And I am going to show you what I like to do with what’s mine.”
Cid’s throat bobs as he swallows, eyes wide. “Clive, you-“ He cuts off with a hiss when Clive’s grip shifts. “You don’t-“
“No.” Clive is literally growling now, a desire to claim, to keep, to show Cid just how much he wants him burning in his chest. “You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t want. I have done nothing but love you since we met, you don’t get to throw it all away because you don’t think I should.” Cid whimpers, and Clive feels a shiver at the sound. “You are going to sit here and let me show you, understand?”
He releases his grip and steps back, waiting. If Cid says no, if he doesn’t agree to this right here Clive will step away, but if he… Cid’s jaw sets, and he looks up at Clive with a mix of wonder and the slightest bit of fear. Something inside Clive likes it.
“Yes,” Cid nods.
Clive’s entire body shivers as Cid’s body language shifts slightly. Okay, time to begin.
“Hands to yourself,” he commands, reaching out to brush the underside of Cid’s chin with his thumb, digging the metal from his gauntlet in just enough to leave a red mark behind. Cid’s hands drop to his knees, eyes turned up to Clive’s, his face somewhere between apprehensive and needy. Clive swallows thickly. This… this might be harder than he thought.
But it’s Cid. Cid is worth everything .
Clive slowly takes off his gauntlets, right then left, then his gloves, setting them on the couch next to Cid. By now, on their other nights together, Cid would have had Clive’s armor off his shoulders and started in on his belts, and Clive can see by the way he grips his knees he’s itching to do so again. But he’s listening to Clive, he’s allowing Clive to do this for him and fuck , ok, breathe. Clive reaches up, slowly unbuckling his plates and setting them aside, the cape following next, folded and placed carefully on the couch.
“Well, you’re listening so far,” Clive says quietly. He watches Cid’s jaw work, reaching out with his finger to trace the tight muscles, from his ear to his chin, fingernail trailing through the beard he’s let grow in a bit thicker. “When I’m done tonight, I want you to tell me what you think I feel about you.” Cid opens his mouth but Clive closes it with a not so gentle flick of his finger. “No, not yet.” Clive then traces his lips with the same finger, those lips he knows so intimately well in so many places on his body. “You need to wait till I’m done with you, then you tell me.” Cid’s pupils blow wide, and he purses his lips slightly, a gentle kiss to the pad of Clive’s finger. Clive pulls back, pinching Cid’s jaw sharply. “Ah, ah, none of that.” Clive releases him, head tilted thoughtfully, and taps Cid’s nose. “Stay right there.”
He walks over to the bed, pulling the crate out from underneath it and fishing out a few things, the ones normally saved for special occasions. He can feel Cid’s eyes on him, the anticipation in their gaze, but is careful he doesn’t look over at Cid gathering up what he wants and pushing the crate back. He sets out all his supplies on the bed carefully, then finally turns back to Cid.
He burns the hungry look on his face into his memory, because words will never do it justice.
Clive walks back over to kneel in front of Cid, making a show of slowly removing his greaves, then his boots, relishing every twitch of Cid’s fingers, every not so muffled grunt. Clive stays kneeling in front of Cid as he reaches for the laces on his jerkin. Teasing. Taunting.
“You’re doing surprisingly well,” he breathes, his quiet voice feeling loud in the stillness of the room. “Such a good little thing, Cid.” It’s far from dirty talk, but the way Cid’s nostrils flare as Clive strips out of the linen and leather shirts all at once you’d think he just said something filthy. Clive pushes to his feet, watches Cid’s eyes follow him, then Clive reaches up to run his hands over his pecs, massaging them the way he knows Cid loves, the way they give the illusion of cleavage.
Cid’s hard swallow is audible as Clive’s thumbs brush across his nipples, swirling until they’re hard, and Cid actually whimpers. “You love doing that, don’t you?” Clive asks with a soft moan. “Playing with my tits, sucking and biting till I squirm.” Clive pinches his nipples hard, moaning, and Cid moans along with him. “Like that, Cid? Am I doing it right?” Cid’s hands clench and unclench, almost mirroring the way Clive continues to massage his chest until his nipples ache and the skin spread across his chest is pink from the friction.
Clive finally pushes to his feet, his arousal obvious in his leathers, and he watches Cid’s tongue slide out to wet his lips, and oh is he tempted to just slide into his talented mouth right there… but he has a purpose, so he simply unlaces his pants, letting them fall open before shifting them down, stepping out of both his pants and small clothes in one fluid motion. He teasingly palms himself, not enough to really do much just letting himself grow to full hardness, Cid’s eyes never leaving his hand as it moves against his soft flesh.
“It’s strange,” Clive sighs, brushing his thumb across the tip of his cock with a breathy sigh, “to have you here and not touching me.” He lifts his thumb, just the smallest amount of precome on the pad, and holds his hand out to Cid. Needing no further encouragement, Cid opens his mouth, sucking down Clive’s thumb eagerly, moaning as his tongue slides over the tip for just that small taste. Clive presses down on Cid’s tongue, and Cid sucks harder, the suction making Clive’s cock twitch sympathetically. Slowly, caught in the moment and the way Cid is so into it, Clive slides his thumb in and out, fucking into Cid’s mouth while he sucks and drools like it’s Clive’s actual cock. Clive knows Cid is trying to work him up, to get Clive to give in so he’ll get more. “Eager brat,” Clive hums.
He pulls his thumb out, trailing saliva from the corner of Cid’s mouth all the way across his cheek, watching the way his lips fall open as he gasps for breath. Clive hopes he looks calmer than he feels, already so close to breaking when Cid looks lust drunk just from these barest of touches. He wants to reward them both by leaning forward, giving Cid the shortest of kisses on the lips, but instead Clive pulls away once more.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, sincerely. Cid nods vigorously, eyes slipping closed. “Then get those shirts off and sit on the bed.”
Cid’s jacket and shirt fly off his body so fast Clive’s concerned about the stitching. Cid eagerly moves across the room to the bed while Clive picks up his clothes, setting them nicely on the couch with his own before he follows behind Cid.
He’ll never get tired of mapping the shape of Cid’s body with his eyes or hands or lips. His shoulders are broad, and his body quickly tapers into a small waist, firm muscles beneath age softened skin, and scars of every shape and size dotting the surface. The newest of these, the starburst pattern on his lower left abdomen, specifically draws Clive’s attention, angry red skin that’s still healing even after a year. If Cid is self conscious about it, tonight at least it doesn’t show, he’s sitting up straight as he was on the couch, hands balled into fists on his knees, watching Clive with eager attention.
Clive bends to pick up the first item off the bed, a soft coil of rope that’s velvety smooth to the touch. His pulse quickens as he carefully unties the knot keeping it wrapped up, letting it come loose and cascade back down onto the mattress.
Clive then turns his attention back to Cid, hands rubbing gently at his shoulders. “I think I’m going to give you something better to wear,” he purrs softly. “It’s been a while since I made you one, after all. I think tonight might call for it.”
“Please, Clive,” Cid barely whispers, but his voice resonates in the quiet room anyway.
Clive bends to drag his lips over the shell of Cid’s ear, biting at it. “I didn’t give you permission to talk, but since you have such good manners I’ll let it slide.” Clive reaches over and picks up the end of the rope, looping it a couple times in his hand, savoring the feel of the soft, wound fabric. Oh. Clive has been so caught up in their work lately he didn’t realize how badly he himself needs this too, not until the strands brush his skin. Now there’s a buzzing in his mind, one he knows will only calm once his work is done. Cid watches Clive’s every move, eyes tracking him as Clive rubs a soft coil against Cid’s chest, teasing at his nipples with a few swipes of the rope until Cid’s gasping with each light touch.
Once he decides where to start, Clive carefully wraps the rope around Cid’s torso, every turn and slide lulling him into a trance. Clive is conscious enough to be aware of any discomfort or too much tension in the rope, but floating enough he’s moving on instinct, hands moving up and around, fingers brushing warm skin, tickling body hair, crafting intricate patterns and twists and knots. All the while Cid’s breathless pants and gasps echo in his ear, turning even sweeter when his breathing calms, his gasps turning into soft moans on his exhales, the white knuckle fists on his knees relaxing. Every sign that Cid’s tension is leaving him elicits a similar release of tension in Clive, until with one final tug he pulls the rope as taut as is safe, tying it off and stepping back to admire his work.
A series of diamonds runs down Cid’s sternum and belly, the rope looping around his back, and then around his upper arms, keeping his shoulders set, his upper arms kept stationary where they’re wrapped and bound to the pattern across Cid’s chest, his nipples framed ever so prettily. He has freedom of movement from the elbow down, though his hands remain relaxed, resting on his knees.
Clive’s entire body purrs at the image of his Cid wrapped so beautifully, contained in something Clive made, trusting Clive to keep him safe. And just as Clive is the only one who can bind him, so too is he the only one who can free him of his binds, and a possessive shiver floods Clive’s body with goosebumps.
“All mine,” Clive growls, giving a little tug to the main strand running across his chest, pulling the rope a bit tighter under his pecs and into his arms. Cid blinks up at him, eyes hooded with both lust and quiet calm, a flush high on his cheeks that spreads to his neck, breathing deep and slow, and hard cock painfully obvious in his leathers. Clive’s own dick is heavy between his legs, but he’s not worried about that right now, fingers running across his handiwork, watching the way Cid twitches when they run across skin instead. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this,” Clive gives another tug to the rope at a strategic point, making it pull tight across Cid’s abs, the muscles beneath it clenching and releasing. “God you’re so beautiful.”
Cid turns his face away at that, the flush on his skin deepening. “Clive…” Whatever else he might say seems to fade on his tongue, and Clive steps into Cid’s space, tugging on the rope until Cid’s forced to lean forward, Clive’s hand tilting his chin up so it comes to rest just below his sternum, Cid’s gorgeous green eyes looking up through the gap in Clive’s pecs. Well, what little green is left around the lust blown pupils.
Clive tugs on the rope again, harder but not enough to hurt, making Cid follow the pull down off the bed onto his knees, and the soft, plush rug that Cid had the forethought to purchase. “Cid the Outlaw,” Clive hums, “down on his knees for me.” Cid whimpers, hands sitting on his own thighs, shoulders shifting and pulling slightly at the ropes, which draws another whimper from him. “What to do with you? Put that wonderful mouth to use?” Clive takes himself in hand, stroking slowly, watching in amusement as Cid’s mouth falls open. Instead of giving him his cock, Clive slips two fingers into Cid’s mouth, and without prompting he goes to work, sucking and licking, getting them both wet as Clive strokes himself.
Fuck he wants to be in there so badly, Cid is so good at this and he damn well knows it, but there’s something… off that Clive can’t quite put his finger on. Something Cid needs, and his instinct tells him to keep pushing until he finds it.
So as badly as Clive wants to fuck Cid’s face, he instead pulls his fingers from his mouth, drawing wet lines down his chin to his throat, jerking himself slowly as Cid stares eagerly. Clive moves around to his side, using the knots at the center of Cid’s back to pull him upright, shoving him back on the bed forcefully. The moan that punches from Cid’s chest is pure pleasure, and Clive continues to stroke himself as Cid watches from where he’s prone on the bed.
“Oh dear,” Clive sighs, reaching down with his other hand to drag a finger down the hard line in Cid’s leathers. Cid’s hips buck, a broken whine leaving his throat, and fuck he’s so much more worked up than Clive realized. “Let’s get these off, must be awful uncomfortable,” Clive purrs. Carefully he tugs Cid further up on the bed to lay on the pillows, before moving down and straddling his calves, the sudden touch making Cid whimper. A whimper that intensifies into a whine when Clive reaches up to untie Cid’s laces slowly. Every incidental brush of his hands on the cock underneath makes Cid twitch, his muscles in his legs tight as he tries not to squirm. “Being such a good boy,” Clive whispers.
Cid practically vibrates off the bed as soon as Clive says boy, head pressed into the pillows, moaning as his cock slips free of his pants when Clive shifts them down his hips to his knees. Clive leans forward, hands taking hold of the stronger knots at the center of Cid’s chest and pulling until he’s sitting upright, only letting go once he’s sure Cid has his balance. Clive leans down, and with a slow deliberate lick he wets first one of Cid’s nipples, then the other, closing his lips over the bud and sucking. “ Fuck,” is the only intelligible thing that comes from Cid’s muttered noises, and Clive moves onto the other nipple, till they’re both red and wet. Clive gently blows on them, cooling the dampness and making Cid shiver.
“Doing surprisingly well, letting me play with you how I like,” Clive soothes, watching Cid’s flush spread down his neck to his chest. Clive slides off Cid’s legs again, pulling his pants the rest of the way off, standing next to him and petting through his hair. There’s something in his eyes, something vulnerable, so Clive whispers into his ear. “I think I needed this as much as you.” Cid’s gasp is beautiful, and when Clive pushes on his chest once more Cid goes without a fight, letting Clive manipulate him how he wants, bending and spreading his legs to put him on display, cock twitching where it rests against the ropes on his stomach. Clive climbs into bed between Cid’s spread legs, running a hand down Cid’s inner thigh. “So gorgeous, perfect cock attached to the perfect person,” Clive sighs.
Cid whimpers, face turned away, eyes squeezed shut. Clive can’t stop himself, crawling over Cid, careful to not touch, just leaning over far enough to kiss along his jaw, moving upward along the stubble covered skin until Cid turns into it, letting Clive kiss him, tender and soft, loving. A contrast to everything else that’s happened so far. Clive pulls back all too soon, fingers running behind Cid’s head to tangle in his hair, heart nearly bursting.
“Beautiful.”
Cid closes his eyes as he chases the taste of Clive on his lips with his tongue. A drop of moisture leaks from the corner of one eye, and Clive reaches up to catch it with his thumb, Cid’s face turning into his touch. He’s trembling slightly, and when he speaks the waiver in his tone sets an alarm off in Clive’s mind. “Wanna be… be good enough for you.” He sounds… broken .
Clive’s next exhale rattles in his chest, and in spite of everything he’s tried to establish he can’t stop himself from breaking the scene. “Rake.” Cid shakes and Clive leans closer, cradling Cid’s face gently. “Oh darling,” he breathes, “you always have been.”
Cid’s breath catches, and he leans into Clive’s touch, another tear leaking out. “M’sorry, fuck I’m sorry.” Cid’s forehead furrows, eyes squeezed shut as Clive’s thumb traces the curve of his cheek.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Clive scoots back, helping Cid sit up carefully so they’re on even ground, sitting in front of him, his other hand reaching up to rest on the back of Cid’s neck, “just talk to me, love.”
Cid takes a breath, hands still curled in fists at his sides in spite of Clive breaking the scene himself. “It ain’t easy for me, always feels too selfish.” Clive doesn’t move, just waits patiently as Cid takes his time to sort through his words. “Bringing you into all this was for the cause naturally, but then I got to know you.” Cid pauses to breathe, and Clive just waits. “I got to know you in all your stubborn, selfless glory and for the first time I wanted something for myself. Wanted to keep you here for me, in spite of all my grandstanding about saving people.” Another pause, this one longer, and Clive lowers the hand on his neck to reach down and hold Cid’s hand, waiting silently for him to continue. The minutes stretch on, and Clive starts to think Cid won’t say anything else, until finally he breathes deep, eyes downcast. “ Being with you, taking you to my bed that first time… back then it was easy to just take what we could. But now… now you have responsibilities, you’ve taken up what I started and made it your own. It’s only a matter of time until you realize you don’t need me anymore, and I thought it would hurt less if I just...” Cid trails off into silence again.
“Gave me a reason to end things now,” Clive finishes for him. Cid hangs his head, and Clive pulls him forward, letting him sag against Clive’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his rope wrapped waist, holding him as best he can at this angle.
“Fucking Greagor I can’t believe I’m muttering all this nonsense-“ Cid tenses to pull away, but Clive holds him firm.
“It’s not nonsense, not to me.”
Cid’s self deprecating chuckle is muffled against Clive’s neck. “Talk about ruining the moment.” Sure, in light of Cid’s discomfort both of their dicks have softened, but that wasn’t what this was about.
“If you’re done I’ll untie you right now,” Clive offers, hand on the one knot that will let everything loose. “Or I could leave you tied and we can just sit here together.”
“Clive, the point of this is usually-“
“To get me out of my head, or you out of yours.” Clive’s voice is firm, even as Cid sits back to raise a confused eyebrow at him. Clive can’t help but smile, rubbing his palm over the diamond shapes in the rope on Cid’s chest. “Knowing you trust me to do this… being able to focus on the knots and your comfort… it makes everything else, the pain, the sadness, just fade away.” Clive climbs onto his knees, moving around behind Cid to lean on the headboard and pulling him back against his chest, the ropes pressing against his own skin now. “You don’t have to say anything, but I think that giving yourself over to me, trusting me completely? I think it helps you, too.”
Cid doesn’t answer, other than to bend his arms at the elbow, hands coming to rest on Clive’s. Clive reaches over to undo the ropes on Cid’s arms and allow him movement again, but Cid pulls away, shaking his head. “No, I’m- I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Clive runs his fingers under the ropes, checking that they’re loose enough. “Circulation is ok?”
“Aye,” Cid leans his head back and smiles. “You know your craft, love.” Clive won’t admit to it but that little bit of praise makes him warm from the inside out.
And so they sit, Clive’s hands shifting over Cid’s skin, over the ties that bind him, and Cid shivers and sighs. Clive waits until all the tension leaves Cid, waits until he’s gone completely lax, then shifts his hands down to Cid’s hips, pulling him closer, and when Cid moans Clive smiles.
“Feeling better?” Clive asks against his ear.
He can feel Cid smile. “Quite a bit, in fact.”
Clive runs his hands inside from Cid’s hips, fingers trailing through the hair on his inner thighs. “Want to finish what we started?” Cid’s legs spread under Clive’s touch, and he nods.
“You did promise to show me what you feel about what’s yours.” The words spark a challenge in Clive’s chest, and he grins, taking hold of the rope at the center of Cid’s sternum and pulling so that Clive can slip out from behind him. Clive pushes to his feet once again, stroking himself back to full hardness and watching Cid’s eyes go from content to hungry.
“Alright then, Cid. On your knees.” Clive makes sure to help Cid balance as he shifts, kneeling at the edge of the bed, chest rising and falling under the ropes. Clive does one more safety check, making sure no marks or welts are showing, and that his skin isn’t blotchy from lack of circulation. Then he shifts to stand in front of him, taking hold of his hair, and tilting his head back. “Be a good boy, now.”
The good boy sends a flush creeping down Cid’s neck, and he allows his jaw to fall open tongue out, looking up at Clive expectantly. Clive leads Cid by the hair to his cock, fully hard and flushed once more, and moans at the first brush of Cid’s wet mouth over the head.
Cid is perfectly pliant under Clive’s fingers, letting Clive move him how he wants, sliding into his mouth, letting the drool pool and spill over his lips and chin. It’s wet and perfect and when the head of his cock presses into Cid’s cheek, the obscene image it makes nearly undoes Clive.
Clive wants- no needs to get inside him tonight. And judging by the way Cid’s hips shift, thighs clenching, Cid needs it too.
Clive pulls out of his wonderful mouth, those beautiful green eyes hazy with lust, looking to Clive to be taken care of. Carefully he turns Cid, laying him facedown in the mattress with plenty of room to breathe, and Clive grabs the oil. No longer teasing, he slicks up Cid’s skin and his fingers, sliding inside his tight heat. He twists his wrist and spreads the oil, stretching, pressing. Cid mewls where he’s pressed into the mattress, spreading his legs wider, arching his back further.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” Clive sighs, leaning forward to run his free hand down the twists in the rope along Cid’s spine, fingers sliding over the little isolated patches of skin one at a time as he slips a second finger inside Cid. Cid’s moan rumbles in his chest, hands clenched where they lay at his sides, and when Clive rubs over his prostate the moan turns into a long drawn out groan. Cid’s ready, so Clive climbs on the bed behind him, getting carefully situated while he gently continues to fuck Cid on his fingers.
Seated with his calves on either side of Cid’s knees, Clive pulls his hand out and slicks himself up with the oil. With his clean hand he gently lifts up on the rope at Cid’s back, Cid taking the hint and sitting upright. Clive wraps his hands around his waist and pulls him back, guiding him until the tip of Clive’s cock brushes his slick skin.
Cid trembles from the effort to keep still. “Ready?” Clive asks.
Cid nods, skin flushed and damp, breathing raggedly. “Yes.”
Clive leans forward to press his lips to the base of Cid’s spine, then pulls Cid all the way back onto his cock, letting gravity drive him home as a sharp cry escapes Cid. Clive pulls him closer, one arm wrapped around the bottom edge of the rope around his lower belly, forcing Cid to stay seated.
Soothing words of praise and gentle kisses peppered along Cid’s exposed skin, Clive’s hands touching him everywhere, brushing up the ropes and down to the thatch of hair just above Cid’s dick. Cid trembles, sweats, moans on his exhales, and Clive knows he’s struggling to hold onto his control, but he wants to. Cid’s enjoying the wait, squeezing Clive’s cock, thighs tense, his own cock twitching when Clive gets close.
“So good for me,” Clive hums. Cid whimpers. “Such a good boy.” The way Cid clenches and whines Clive actually has to look to see if he came. “Okay, my love, you’ve been so good, go ahead and get yourself off.”
Cid shifts his knees, bending back into Clive’s arms, and he starts to ride him, rising and falling, rolling and grinding. It’s beautiful, one of the most gorgeous things he’s ever seen, and Clive knows he’s not going to last much longer either. Cid reaches down as best as the ropes will allow, guiding Clive’s hands upward to take hold of the rope again. Taking the hint, Clive takes hold of the straps by his shoulders, pulling Cid down onto him every time Cid rises up. The result is Clive hitting Cid so deep, every brush of his prostate making him clench so tight around Clive’s cock.
Movement becomes frantic, and Clive surges forward, flattening Cid into the mattress where after three rough thrusts he’s coming, continuing to fuck Cid even as his own body spasms and his cock throbs, come leaking around it as he drives in again and again until Cid practically screams his name, shaking violently underneath him as he comes untouched, and still Clive fucks him through it until Clive literally collapses, muscles giving way as he slips out and rolls onto his side. He’s barely conscious through the post orgasm high but he manages to pull Cid with him so Cid can unfold his legs and avoid the puddle they made.
Clive takes but a moment to catch his breath, forcing his exhausted arms and legs to move and carefully roll Cid onto his back. Gently, he pulls at the knot holding his harness together, letting the rope fall loose around him.
“Alright, just a little more work and you can rest,” Clive assures him. Cid hums a fuck drunk affirmation, and allows Clive to help him sit up, slowly uncoiling the rope from around him and letting it fall to the floor. He checks his skin for any permanent damage and finds none, rubbing at Cid’s upper arms to make sure blood is flowing properly.
Kisses follow his hands, trailing over his skin anywhere there’s a mark from where the rope was, and eventually Cid pulls him up to kiss him properly, smiling against Clive’s lips with a satiated sigh.
“Thank you, love,” he hums. “I really did need that.”
“I know.” Clive tugs the soiled sheet out of the way and curls up with Cid on the mattress, tangled together in each other. “I don’t ever,” Clive adds, more serious, “ ever want you to say or think that you’re not enough for me. I love you, Cid.”
Cid shifts, face resting against Clive’s clavicle. “Aye.” A calloused hand clasps his, squeezing tightly. “I might need another reminder, though. You never know, I might just forget.”
Clive smirks. “My good boy wouldn’t forget.”
Cid shivers, tries to play it off by shifting in Clive’s arms, grumbling as Clive laughs and tucks him back in close again.
Well, at least Cid is in a better mood.