Sweet Dreams

Just a little someting wrote to pass the time. I don't own Cid or Vincent, I just use them and abuse them.

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Cid's back struck the wall with enough force to hurt, but his mind was far away from such trivial matters as bruises on his back or who was on the other side of the wall. Instead he sank his hands into the hair of the man that was kissing him furiously, battling the other's tongue with his own. Vincent's knee was firmly wedged between Cid's legs, his thigh pressing and rubbing Cid's pounding erection without mercy. Pinned between Vincent and the wall, Cid felt as if he'd died and gone to heaven as Vincent's human hand roamed under his shirt. Those questing, supple fingers found his nipple and squeezed sharply, wrenching a short gasp from Cid's throat. His body, already hot, was suddenly burning with need. He tangled his hands in Vincent's hair, driving his tongue between the gunman's lips and tasting the sweet wine they were both drunk on.

Abruptly, Vincent changed tactics, breaking away from Cid's lips to attack his neck with short nips and slow licks. Cid gave a throaty moan even as Vincent slid to his knees, unzipping the pilot's pants and reaching inside, bringing him out, touching him with lips that were smooth and soft and so fucking hot-

Cid Highwind sat bolt upright in bed, his skin flushed and his breathing heavy. His hard on felt like it was about to rip out of his boxers and his hangover threatened to split his skull down the center. According to the light from the windows, it wasn't even dawn yet. Cid stumbled from the bed, idly rubbing at the ache in his head and trying to ignore the one in his groin. He wasn't about to jerk off to the thought of his best friend, even if he was so goddamn gorgeous and Cid would love nothing more than to find out what all of his skin tasted like when he was pinned to the-

Cid gave his head a sharp shake, the agony at the movement driving the thoughts away. He shuffled over to the bathroom, massaging one temple. He opened the door and blinked in confusion as a voice drifted out of the darkened room from somewhere near the toilet. "Turn on that light," The voice said in a tone that was tired and pained. "And I will shoot your foot off."

Cid blinked warily, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. His roommate (and more recently, his fantasy) was kneeling on the floor, his cheek pressed against the closed toilet lid. Red eyes that glowed in the darkness peered up at him from behind a cascade of ebony hair, tired and clouded with pain. Cid frowned and walked over to the sink, turning his back slightly to the gunman to hide his still aching erection. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?" he asked, turning on the faucet and splashing his face with cold water. "You look as bad as I feel."

"I'll take that as an insult." Vincent said, sounding at least slightly amused. He closed his eyes a moment, his human hand massaging briefly at his temple. "Too bad a Restore Materia does naught against a hangover."

Cid managed a short laugh. "The gods're punishing us for drinking by not giving us an easy out." He grumbled. He heard Vincent give a quiet, pained chuckle. Cid grinned, it was nice to hear Vincent laugh occasionally. He looked back over his shoulder, his tired eyes scanning Vincent's dim form. His hair spilled over the closed lid he rested on and down his back in a flow of ink and ebony. His pale skin seemed to glow in the gloom, silky-smooth and inviting. His eyes gleamed, brilliant scarlet and watching Cid silently, revealing no emotion. The golden claw of his left arm rested lightly on the floor beside him, as exotic as it was deadly.

Cid walked over to Vincent and kneeled beside him. Vincent sat back on his feet, a question in his eyes, then Cid pulled him into a rough kiss. After a brief moment of surprise Vincent responded, his claw hand trailing lightly across the pilots skin. Cid's hands roamed, questing and seeking and touching and trembling and siding down the back of Vincent's pants, curving over his cheeks, his fingers delving between them as Vincent gasped against him, his human hand slipping down the front of Cid's boxers-

"Highwind?"

Cid didn't realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them again. He was still standing by the sink, still turned slightly away from Vincent, still highly aroused and now with his newest set of fantasies to trouble him. He gave Vincent a tired, half-assed grin over his shoulder. "Sorry." He said. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought. Nearly dozed off." His brain was screaming at him in two different voices, one in pain and telling him to go back to bed, and one as horny as hell and telling him to walk over and just act on some of these thoughts, for the love of the Planet. He decided that the voice of pain was the most rational. "'Night, Vince." Cid said, turning to leave the room.

He heard the silken-smooth movements of Vincent standing and glanced at the gunman as he walked back into the hotel room proper. As he passed the pilot, Vincent trailed one finger along his collarbone. "Sweet dreams, Chief." he said quietly, his finger ghosting across the other man's skin. Cid shivered, his eyes briefly closing. He opened them again in time to see Vincent settling into his own bed, pulling the blankets up over his head.

The path Vincent's finger had taken across his chest burned like fire. His brain confused and in pain, Cid decided to drop the matter until he was sober enough to think. "Sweet dreams, Vince." He muttered, sliding back into his own bed.