Work Text:
Cumulonimbus Flammagenitus
Part 1/?
By nomadiccentrifuge
Cid had started to deeply regret his nurturing side. After years of collecting, honing, mothering his charges, his people, The Hideaway was it's own functioning world. Hidden from the realms that threatened it's existence.
The toiling he had faced, the dangers he had quelled and eviscerated that stood on the precipice of it's very safety, had been non-sacrifices. Simply necessary. Perhaps that was why some thought him cunning.
Manipulative.
Protection and strength had not come without it's quirks. However, forgiveness, his old nemesis, was not a word he tolerated or even used. He was familiar in resorting to trickery in it's many forms. He reasoned that it all came good in the end, and that it was a small price to pay for freedom and a personhood of autonomy.
He pitied and empathised the Bearers and the Branded. Forced into subjugation and slavery as soon as their cursed powers manifested. The release of their names was customary, to remove any pesky humanity. Made it easier to make them subservient.
Cid was a free spirit, charged with the power of Ramuh. He never followed and always led. It was his nature, and not simply at Ramuh's behest. He did not have the mental fortitude to be demeaned, nor have it to see it done unto any other. Cursed or not.
He felt the warm crackle of Ramuh from within his leather gloves. Just at the thought of more suffering from enslavement, his sense of justice belied a beast. Many Branded were used baselessly by their 'Masters', and ended up suffering the most painful and torturous of deaths. Cid had been a witness to countless examples.
He looked across the way and stole another prolonged examination of his newest acquirement. The brand seared across his cheek, stealing just beneath his stubbled jawline. Juice rolled down the corner of Cid's mouth, he let it make its journey south. The slight cold wetness tracing it's way down his throat and slowly sneaking it's way into the collar of his leathers. He was glad he had gone after the Shiva Dominant girl.
He grasped the apple in his hand tighter.
Years of infantry had claimed his youth, bulked his body and wearied his eyes. Well used shoulders and arms tapered down into a cleanly cut waist, trim and narrow despite his musculature. An uncustomary deviance of his big stature.
From underneath a shag of dark hair, those blue eyes regarded his new surroundings. Slightly more open than what they were usually, distracted by the simultaneous appearance of awe and dilapidation that their gaze was met with.
Cid could see the boy was more confounded by those that passed him by than the ruins themselves. Almost like he had never seen the sunlight, he regarded them with the tiniest hint of a daze, which would have otherwise be missed, except Cid was a splendid analyst.
He was lucky Clive's attentions were so strongly diverted at that moment, otherwise Cid would have been sunk. He had held his gaze there for far too long, and when he finally found it in him to turn on his heel and slink away to his solar, a bristling of embarrassment took hold of the stiffness in his spine.
He closed the door behind him and turned inwards towards his desk. There was a wooden bin just on the wayside of his desk, in which he threw the half eaten apple into and frowned desolately at.
Fuck.
—
Cid's skin crawled as Clive slipped in between the boulder and that upright log. Swallowed thick when he threaded those gloved fingers together and pushed back to create an opening for him to slide through.
That little brat.
"After you."
His tone was maddeningly innocent. He was prideful even, that he had been of assistance. Cid threaded his way through without a breath. He did not want to be caught. He was far too old to be aghast, and yet inside himself he seemed to have forgotten which way was up or down.
"Thank you kindly." He answered in turn, steeling his tone, his damned resolve. He felt his fingertips sizzling ever so quietly, as he ducked beneath those arms, making sure to brush solidly against Clive's lower abdomen.
He didn't look back. He couldn't. So he trudged forwards through The Greatwood, just ahead so he would miss seeing the lad groaning softly as he pulled away from the makeshift thoroughfare he had so elegantly brute forced.
He wondered briefly whether the lad felt it too. This… tension, whatever it was. But it minutely dissolved under the picture of Jill's face, which suddenly sprung to mind. Tenderness was not Cid's forte. He would rather fuck a nice young courtesan than be curled up next to a lover who stroked his scars and whispered sweet honey in his ear. Jill could give him that.
Clive looked like the lover type. The deprivation of kind words and a hug for probably over a decade long probably made him yearn for the comfort. A necessity in his blossoming adulthood that would not go unanswered.
Pretty, but not his type.
Besides, the lad had been too preoccupied getting acquainted with the inhabitants back at home. Serving guests at The Fat Chocobo, mending support beams and running errands for Otto. He has nought the time to even entertain any romance. There was something between him and Jill, that much was for certain. However Clive struck him as extremely shy and unsure, at least around the pretty Dominant. Awkward in showing his intentions for her, which were surely pure. At the suggestion of him still being a virgin tickled at the edge of his mind, arousal curled darkly beneath his belt.
Cid made sure to stay ahead of him until they reached the clearing.
—
The Fafnir had been persistent, bloody bony thing. Clive had done exceedingly well, and had held his own. Those many years on and off the battlefield had turned him into a calculating, tactical soldier. Aye, that was certainly the truth. The Phoenix had blessed him with some impressive abilities, Cid would certainly attest to that.
Fleet as flame, fierce as a wildfire.
There was no denying it. Hotness spread in his belly, coiling in his abdomen like molten lava. He envied him certainly, but he felt more than that. There was something else there, an urgency to corner, to capture, to suffocate. He wanted to feel those flames, raging in his impregnable grasp.
Suddenly, the Fafnir rumbled to life again. Cid looked at Clive, looking well exhausted. Right. His turn, he supposed. He brought forth Ramuh, the purple flashes of lightning flourishing from his fist.
It only took the click of his fingers, and that was enough. The beast was enveloped in a loud clash of lightning, the ensuing explosion it's final send off into the afterlife. That had only been but a fraction of the power Cid could control, yet he felt his lungs ablaze suddenly, and retched up a fine wad of blood to his gloved hand. Ah fuck. He was getting old. It would be only a matter of time until it claimed him.
"You're… you're a Dominant." Those pretty eyes were wide, his expression freshly worn. In another situation he would have found it charming, cute even. But Cid felt nothing but a burgeoning moroseness, a feeling that had bubbled to the surface from somewhere dark and untraversed below.
"I am, aye. Though not by choice, mind. Whole bloody realm of strapping young lads, and it was this sorry sack of bones Ramuh saw fit to haunt." He lit up a cigar from his pocket. He needed something to calm the welling in his mind, fogging up his clarity. He hated being transparent and truthful. He had better things to talk about, and he preferred on principle to be playful rather than boring and sullen. It was more interesting that way, kept everybody's spirits higher.
"Cid." That questing voice. He could not find it in him to ignore him. Besides, Clive had seen it now, there was not much point in prolonging the non-secret. If they were to have this conversation, better it be now than when he was in a better mood and to bring that down. He paused and drew in a long warm, welcoming draught of his cigar. Go on then lad.
"You say you want to help Dominants and Bearers. But what's in it for you?"
Cid let out a breathy sigh, always the suspicions. He didn't blame anyone save for himself, mind. "What's in it for me? The same as for all of us. What we want and deserve.
Save for our 'knack'. Dominants and Bearers are no different from anyone else." He tightened his fist, squashing his cigar as Ramuh's power seeped forth through his hand. "The ability to use magic or summon great beasts should command respect… but instead has left us outcasts.
Our kind are used and discarded like tools - yet we are men, so why must we die as less?" The righteousness deep within him had resurfaced momentarily so that Cid almost spat the words out. His indignation, his resentment, had all appeared in the light of The Greatwood. Had he not felt cornered and obligated to be forthright with the boy, he most certainly would have hidden it much better.
Clive's face brightened unexpectedly at his response. "I see. So what you're trying to say is, you want to start a war." A flicker of mutual understanding, and a flame that looked all too familiar. Dangerous. Powerful. Cid could hear it, that defiance that had lulled for him in more recent times. He was no hero, no rebel master. He just wanted peace, and peace for those who had been made to kneel in front of cruel, nepotistic bastards.
He needed to quell this, less the little Lord felt entitled enough to make him join the cause. Death and destruction brought upon more death and suffering. Something needed to transpire, however, Cid would not be the one to lead the people to their deaths. He could not bear it, this he admitted only solely to himself.
"You flatter me, lad, but my days of a firebrand are long behind me.
No. I only wish to offer our kind a choice - a place where we can die on our own terms." He strode up beside him, and nudged his hand against his crooked elbow, then gently, platonically, pushed him onwards. A silent plea to end this episode and to move onwards.
Clive stumbled forward a bit, Cid hanging back. That had drained him a bit, so he let himself have a fleeting couple moments to admire Clive's turned back. However the kid seemed stiff and unsure, and did not stride forward with the same ooze of confidence as before.
Cid sighed inwardly, but nevertheless copped a few glances of that slender waist swaying with each step. Just below, the rounded swell of his ass drew his attention. Sure, he was a perverted old geezer, but this was his nature. Simply looking was not going to get him into arrears. Plus, he tired of all this shop talk. Banal and unremarkable. It had achieved nothing. He may as well satiate something.
—
It had become nigh impossible to keep a train of thought clear from trouble lately. Ever since returning from The Greatwood, his eyes had strayed in the worst of ways. It felt interminable.
Cid was slowly losing his mind. And when Clive touched him, he felt like it was purposeful. That damned brat. Desperate to be star pupil it seemed, going that way then there, asking to be used, asking to be helpful. Cid regretted letting him in. Deeply.
They hadn't spent even five minutes in each others' presence, and yet the lad had discovered how best to make Cid's skin fucking singe through merely existing. Every peek, every regard… every brushed up contact and hand press on his shoulder was agonisingly painful. His being at The Hideaway made him feel like he was drowning, in his own filth no less.
Had it been anyone else, Cid would have had his fill of them by now. He would have had them in the closest low lit alleyway and then be done with it. The lustful thoughts that plagued him would have been allayed and he could be at some peace.
But this brat was different. Unconscionably beautiful. Moody. Strong. Respectable. He was technically a Lord, after all.
Yet every time he heard the timbre of his voice, all he could think of was how sweet Clive would sound with Cid's cock choking his pretty little mouth instead.
So when Clive fucking Rosfield would give him a playful nudge, or a friendly clap on the shoulder, it took everything within Cid not to be sick. The lad probably thought him a father figure, for lack of his own. It was his own fault, Cid knew that. He had taken him under his wing and given him a place to call home, even if temporarily. Food, supplies, forge… guidance. And there he was, imagining doing the most sordid and dishonourable things to him.
Perhaps when Jill recovered he would be rid of it.
—
The kid was just full of surprises.
Sure, Cid had had his suspicions, but they couldn't be confirmed for certain until he had quelled the insurmountable Ifrit with the help of Ramuh. Pity had become an old friend of Cid's, but this pity was different. He felt empathy. Even just a small part of him felt Clive's pain. He had looked at his crumpled form and dread took hold of him, knowing that he would inevitably wake. He judged Clive would not be the forgiving type, least for himself.
Benedikta's fall was another pain entirely. Pushed down with everything else warring within him, Cid stifled his cries of loss. He instead focused on carrying Clive back to The Hideaway. But that damned smell haunted him his whole journey back, stuck up his nose. The smell of a perfume he would never breathe in again.
He didn't save her. Couldn't save her. Now she was lost, and it was all such a bloody waste.
Oh, Benna. What have you done?
—
Desire had reared it's ugly head again, replacing that sense of sympathy he felt for the boy. Stripping the clothes and armour had been necessary, damn it all. Cid had tired of feeling sorry about the whole situation, had stewed long enough in his chambers with too a cigar. He had always been the resilient type, whether he quashed the feeling entirely or simply made the pragmatic emotional choice that would serve himself and those around him best. He was efficient at distractions until whatever it was that bothered him no longer stung as hard. He would make things so for Clive.
So when he bust his fist against his cheek, he did so as a favour.
"I reckon I can take you, if that's what you want." He countered Clive's pleas for death with an air of nonchalance. He undid his chains, allowing him to slump on the floor, and it took all of his energy not to linger, to let his eyes wander over that naked, quivering frame. "It seems to me, you see, that since you're still breathing, you might as well make yourself useful." He threw him his clothes, the pitiful thing, and started walking away. He was afraid he would do something he would regret, honestly. He'd already seen quite enough. Merely the thought of it had given the lower part of his body a delicious aching feeling.
Clive didn't move from his place, facedown on the cold, dank floor.
"Get dressed," Cid pressed. "Pretty as you are, you're not my type."
The words felt ill coming out of his mouth but he continued, unable to block out Clive's soft, withering cries. "I'll see you in the hall." Vulnerability made Cid uncomfortable. And Clive Rosfield weeping on a prison floor was something he very much wished to avoid. He escaped out into the main hall of The Hideaway and waited patiently. He didn't expect the kid would jump to his feet, so when he finally eyed him stumbling out from lockup like a newborn fawn, Cid was smiled warmly to himself. Baby steps.
He explained about the meet up with Gav, and was met with some predictable anguish.
"Gav's gone to a fair bit of trouble for you. The least you can do is hear the poor bugger out. He's going to meet us at the Kingsfall. Pack your stuff. We'll leave as soon as you're ready." His warning tone was clearly not missed. The lad already felt too much guilt that he wouldn't do away with a sliver more. Besides, what else was he to do? Cid knew he had lost whatever drive he had going, even in his eyes, he could see that spark had blackened.
Clive could not meet his eyes, and looked downward. "Fine. I'll gather supplies and meet you at the gate at the first hour of sunlight."
Cid nodded in acknowledgement and left Clive to his own troubled thoughts. This would give the lad time to collect himself at least. And Cid would not be saddled with a sulking teenager. Sure, he was the Eikon of fire, but as far as he was concerned, the lad had no choice over that, nor control. To be of any use in this world, he would have to come to terms with it quick smart, lest he be left wallowing in the dirt with nothing left to his namesake. Hence it was wiser for him to spend the rest of the sunlight in some pale reminder of a routine, to experience some normalcy again.
He also suspected Gav's intel would not be a disappointment.
—
A knock was all the warning Cid received before the door to his chambers opened. Clive entered, looking none the more dejected as before. The door clicked shut behind him with a jarring finality that sent a dark shiver down Cid's back.
"Clive." He pulled the cigar from his mouth and breathed out a haughty puff of smoke in his direction. "Please, come in why don't you?" His facetiousness truly knew no bounds. Stubbing the singe out on his ash tray, he sat back in his chair and stared at the little Lord, appearing shrunken, a contrast to his usual upright, commanding appearance.
His handsome features were darkened by despair, and still he could not meet Cid's calculating eyes just yet. His hands were crossed behind his back, his back pressed against the door, separating, distancing. His normally fluffed out hair hung in soft tresses that framed his face, flattened by what Cid guessed as freshly dampened by a recent bath. He was dressed in a dark grey threadbare tunic that hung low and loose across his shoulders, the strings just barely holding the lapels together across his chest as the cleavage from his vast pectorals peeked out, even in the dim candlelight that lit the solar. Lower, were simple black trousers in which the tunic was roughly tucked, as if hastily done.
Well fuck.
Cid hadn't seen Clive so casually dressed, but fuck if it didn't suit him. However, he was certain anything would suit that body, clearly carved by the Gods themselves. He bit at the inside of his mouth, triggering a modest amount of pain to deviate the path his perilous thoughts were taking.
"Well?" He provoked after a few beats. "You've got my bleedin' attention. What brings you this late hour?" It must have been just past midnight, and the distant murmurs and laughter from The Fat Chocobo had long ceased. "Did you run into trouble with Charon?"
"No."
Cid turned in his chair and rose, approaching him. "If it's misery you wish to dwell on, then you'll be better suited crying on your own." Reaching around him, Cid grabbed the door handle. "Go on back to your room and get some sleep. We've a mission tomorrow. Gav's waiting, remember?"
A hand halted his movements. Clutched at his elbow, and finally those once bright blue eyes regarded his presence, glaring up at him nebulously from under a dark cloud. "I need… you."
Cid froze. His heart raced suddenly, and his veins felt ice cold. He swallowed the lump growing in his throat as Clive held onto him, unmoving, but with purpose. Whatever game Clive was playing at was a dangerous one. The lad had no idea… no inkling of what Cid had been trying to suppress for weeks now. He'd maintained control up until that point, and it wouldn't take much for his stuttering morals to simply lay waste to it and just take what his depravity craved. His pulse started thundering loudly in his ears. He chuckled anxiously. "
"Help me. Please. I need you," Clive whispered pathetically. That deft hand suddenly slid downwards, circling Cid's wrist, just above his glove. With a deliberate slowness, he dragged that wrist down and pressed his hand up against the swell in his crotch, testing, wary.
Cid's belly lurched with excitement. No concubine had ever had this kind of hold over him. No woman, no man. And Cid had had many of them over the years. He was an experienced fiend, familiar with all the spots, numerous techniques. So when he fucked someone, he craved experience and confidence, not someone who needed instruction and reassurance. He was used to many potential partners being forward with him, yet there was something inherently compelling about virginal Clive fucking Rosfield, Lord of Rosaria, propositioning him. "I doubt you've ever taken a man before," he pressed, wrestling again with his paternal duty, and his animalistic nature to consume.
"No."
"Clive…"
"Please. I can't bear the weight of it any longer. I need a distraction, I need anything."
Electricity from within crackled underneath his prickling skin. Clive squeezed his hand around him and Cid and groaned softly into Clive's silky hair, perfumed lightly with whatever soap he'd used earlier.
"You don't know what you're doing, Clive." He didn't plead with him to stop. Clive was grown, and any mistakes he made were his own, but he felt it necessary to warn him. He did care for the lad a great deal, in fact, despite himself and the various fantasies his mind had indulged in.
"Then teach me." Clive looked up at him, black eyes dancing with a desire that looked almost degenerate.
"That's not what I - " The little brat bit him then, right on the side of his neck. "Oh fuck…"
Clive suckled on the skin like a newborn babe, then gave it a lick for good measure. "Help me forget. Please, Cid."
He looked tortured then, like his mind was realms away. Cid removed his hand from the growing bulge in his pants and took a step back, eyeing the lad with some manner of scrutiny, even with his own cock straining against it's confines.
"Please, make me forget." He was begging then, eyes shining, wet with the promise of tears, but never properly forming.
Very well.
"Get on the bed then." Cid felt his lips moving on their own, the husky words dissipating in the silence. He kept his distance, eyes trained on Clive as he did as instructed, sitting meekly on the edge of Cid's bed, waiting with some nervous apprehension when Cid descended upon him. He took in Clive's scent as he crowded him, forced him onto his back as he crouched above him like a beast waiting to take it's prey. Cid's dry lips worried the cuff on his ear as he hovered above him, questing, exploring. Experienced hands divested him of his clothes quickly, tossing them behind him onto the floor without even looking. He had seen him naked before, but not like this, not in this salacious context. His cock throbbed desperately in his pants, straining for release. He removed his gloves first, before undoing the front of his pants, freeing himself.
Clive's cock stood erect and twitching, and Cid licked his lips. He wanted to suck him, but not tonight. Not like this. If they were going to do this, then they did it Cid's way. There was no chance in Hell that he would let himself be chained to this misery Clive was experiencing. He wanted to undo it, all of it, even just for one night. "Roll over," he whispered into his reddened ear, taking himself in hand to relieve some momentary pressure.
Clive looked momentarily stunned, but rolled over onto his knees nonetheless. Clearly lacking in experience, he let Cid do as he pleased and take control. This is what he wanted after all.
"Head down, ass up." In all truth, Cid made him turn over for two reasons. The first being comfort, and the second being that he wished not too see that broken expression of Clive's, curled in the throes of agony.
Clive's face burned, the last shreds of whatever dignity he still clung to shrivelled and died. He did as he was told and tried not to falter when he felt the wetness of lubricated fingers at his quivering hole.
"There you go. Relax." Clive hadn't the slightest idea when where Cid had obtained the bottle of lubrication, but clearly, he had not been the first to take his cock in this solar.
He worked his fingers into that virginal hole, sweating. He hadn't taken a virgin in well over a few decades. He didn't want to stack on physical pain on top of whatever emotional turmoil the lad was already in.
However, this didn't go without it's many merits. Clive's ass was round and firm, and could certainly rival any woman's rear that came to recent memory. The arch of his back was absurdly seductive as he waited with gritted teeth. When he had stretched him enough, he ran one calloused hand down the swoop of his back, deeply satisfied when Clive shivered and moaned softly. He then gave one of his cheeks a loud, definitive slap, making the Lord yelp like a little bitch in heat.
Drizzling a bit of salve from the bottle directly onto his manhood, then letting his hand wholly coat the shaft, he lined his meaty dick up with Clive's hole and began to breach his tight ass, groaning throatily as he began the almost torturous slide.
Below him, Clive let out a impassioned wail. "Cid, fuck… Cid!" He had been stretched decently, but Cid's cock was large, and bigger than his own. It was a tall order to take… especially for a virgin. He breathed through his teeth as it slid in further and further, hands tangled up in this sheets as he scrambled for purchase. The pain was undeniable, but it was improving on him slowly, the more he adjusted and fervently tried to relax around the intrusion. It had performed exactly how he needed it to, and his mind was sufficiently diverted from the crushing agony of guilt and betrayal.
Pausing when he finally hit the hilt, Cid held still, letting the boy adapt and get used to the feeling of being filled by a man. He balanced his weight forward, bracing one hand beside Clive's side turned head on the mattress as he dug his fingers into the side of his soft ass. Mouth on his ear, he spoke in grated, gravelly tones. "Tell me… when you're ready for more." He could hear the lad's choppy breaths as he adjusted to his size, and fuck. His heat satiated any desire he'd ever had in his whole life. It felt so fucking good.
"Just… just do it," Clive bit out, pushing back gently against Cid in a silent plea to just hurry up and fuck him.
Cid hummed. But instead of serving him with what he'd asked, he moved hips, pressing his cock inside of Clive at differing angles, searching for that one spot that would truly make the poor lad forget himself.
"Cid… Cid." His insistence was only fuelling Cid further. Pouring more determination into him, until finally he grazed Clive's prostate.
Clive came immediately, convulsing and moaning uncontrollably, ruining his sheets.
Fuck.
"You dirty little bitch." Cid mused. He couldn't hold back any further. The sight of him, presenting himself for Cid like a whore ready to be bred had become too overwhelming. The cum splattered sheets in front of him painted a disgustingly alluring picture that he couldn't ignore. Cid grabbed a handful of those dark tresses and pulled them into a semi upright position. His other hand swept up from Clive's ass and forced fingers into his drooling, panting mouth, stifling his delicious sounds as Cid snapped his hips furiously into him. "This what you wanted? This cock filling your ass until you can barely draw breath?"
Clive moaned, nodding, even as those fingers hooked in his mouth restricted his movements.
That tight pull was maddening. It hadn't been like this with any other, not even Benedikta who had been a fierce temptress inbetween the sheets. Clive wasn't even expending much effort, he was simply letting Cid take him, pounding into his ass roughly, choking on those thickened fingers scouting his wet mouth.
Their sounds echoed against the stone walls of Cid's solar. Filthy, wet, slapping sounds of skin against skin filled the room as Cid finally drew close.
"Make me cum, please Cid."
That sweet voice, muffled against his fingers propelled him further into the throes of pleasure. He had already cum once, but clearly the torment of his poor abused prostate had become too much for him. And now that he knew where it was, Cid didn't plan on letting that knowledge go to waste. Feeling himself getting close, he let go of Clive, letting him fall flat onto the mattress, his body heaving with desire. Cid hiked his hips up and fucked him hard and fast, his hands holding him by his obscenely slender waist, guiding him back on his cock until he groaned loudly, releasing inside of that irrepressible heat, his mind going blank with blind pleasure.
Clive moaned deep in his throat as he felt that wet heat spread inside him, decorating Cid's sheets with more white streaks of cum. He turned his head vaguely to the side in a weak effort to stifle his cries into the blanket.
Cid pulled his cock out, watching for a moment as his release spilled slowly out from Clive's virgin entrance. He wiped the excess moisture and slick on his cock with his hand, then errantly rubbed it onto the blanket, before falling to the lad's side, face first onto the bed, lungs burning with exertion. "Gods..."
God, he was such a fucking fool.
He heard Clive stir from beside him, and caught his eye as he rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, his ass still leaking his cum, which was now soaking into the sheets where he was perched.
"Hang on, lad." Cid forced himself up out of his spent reverie and went in search of a cloth. He whisked over to the basin filled with fresh water, and plucked the towel that was hanging halfway in the bowl. When he turned back, Clive was already picking his clothes up from the floor, his steps slow and tender, avoiding any abrupt movements.
Cid's cheeks felt warm. "Let me clean you up a bit," he said softly, kneeling down behind the kid. He held the cloth out and started to gently wipe the remaining traces of his semen from his thighs and ass.
"You don't have to," Clive murmured, his pride once again swallowed whole at the ministrations of Cid's calloused hands. He was still bent over slightly, caught halfway leaning over to pick up his boots.
"Now now, can't have you walking about The Hideaway dripping out the evidence. What might Jill think?" his tone was flippant, and he regretted it as soon as her name left his lips.
He felt Clive stiffen, and suddenly he was pulling away. He hurriedly dressed, gingerly threading each foot through his trouser legs, making Cid swallow nervously. With the slightest whiff of a limp, he made for the door of the solar.
"I'll see you at daybreak."
And Cid could do nothing but stare dumbly as Clive disappeared into the outside darkness beyond his chambers. He tossed the used cloth aside and groaned into his hand.
TBC (?)