I
Leaving the palace was easy, it was finding somewhere to go that was the difficult part. Well, leaving the palace was easy just so long as you didn’t mind the few lesser Judges who peeled away from the shadows to dog your steps; so long as you had no qualms about knowing that your every movement would be reported upon to your illustrious Lord Father.
The very same Lord Father who, upon hearing the news of his son’s victory over his other sons, had called said son to his chambers and proceeded to pick fault with every part of the operation - the operation that he had explicitly not ordered, you understand. The message was received loud and clear.
Vayne could be circumspect, had had a lifetime of practice so far - all twenty years of it - of being circumspect, but the implication that his father was unhappy with him, even with all his secrecy, had been the last straw - the one that broke the chocobo’s back, as it were. He’d done nothing more than he’d been ordered, bloodying his own hands for his father’s entertainment, and all because he’d been foolish enough to think it might earn him but an inch of respect from the old man.
Even three years later, the bitterness had not left him, but Vayne ever excelled at schooling his features to a placid facade, hands clasped in the small of his back as Gramis expounded on some failing of Vayne’s or another.
Compared to that room, the streets of Archades were a breath of fresh air, and even moreso when he realised he knew just the place for a breather: Draklor Laboratory. The pair of Judges were still behind him, armoured ghosts in the crowd, but not close enough to catch him as he slipped in through the great doors.
They closed silently behind Vayne, and he took a moment, back pressed against them, to breathe a sigh into the quiet, dim vestibule. Draklor had been granted not only immunity from the city’s policies, but her head scientist, the Etria Doctor Cid himself, had installed some obscure variety of Paling which served to make Draklor more of a fortress than the palace itself. Perhaps that was why the sounds of the city bustle were cut off with the closing of the doors, why Vayne felt, for the first time he could remember, as though there were no eyes upon him.
He had chosen his bolthole well.
The sound of boots on tiled floor roused him from his thoughts, and quiet as a sand wolf, Vayne slipped behind one of the many wide pillars, pressing himself into the shadows as the footsteps grew closer.
One set of footsteps, but the owner of them was holding an animated conversation. How curious…
“It will work, I’m sure of it. Yes I know, we have to account for the inertia and gravitational pull, but the mathematics works out, I ran the numbers five times last night remember? You were there, as I recall.”
A hasty laugh rang out into the quiet. “I know, you can do multiple things at once my dear Venat, but not all of us Humes are so lucky, much to my chagrin as you can imagine! Oh the things I could do if I could split myself like that! What’s that? No, I don’t think it would have helped. I’d already lost him, you see…”
There was a pause, pregnant with strain, and then a sigh. “I know. The work must continue, and continue it shall, never you fear, Venat. We will see history back in the hands of Man, of that you have my word. No longer shall we be puppets to be manipulated!”
The voice grew quieter, the footsteps fading, and Vayne realised that the owner of both had left the vestibule, presumably to one of his workshops. Though he had not glimpsed the man’s face, he knew without a doubt that it was no less than the famed Doctor Cid himself.
Vayne tapped his chin, pensive. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, a madman? Surely not, or he would have heard of it. But what was this about puppets and history? There was but one way to find out. He would have to make the acquaintance of the man himself, make no doubt about it.
He paced the few steps back towards the double doors, his glance lingering behind him in the direction the Doctor had walked for a moment longer, before he shook his head minutely and slipped back out of the building.
II
No amount of tomes in the expansive library of the palace had given him the answers he sought. Delirium, madness, insanity, illness, all had distinct markers, and none of them shared all commonalities with what he knew of Doctor Cid. He was a genius, it was said, and by enough people that it was like to be true rather than exaggeration. He spoke to the air, aye, but only since he’d returned from Giruvegan, and that was enough evidence alone that there was no malady ailing Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, unless there happened to be some variety of sickness one could contract from just being in that place.
There had been no periods of illness, no retreating from public eye save the same level he usually did - which is to say, he disdained public gatherings as much as Vayne himself, but the man had cultured enough eccentricity over his years that he at least was able to get away with it. Perhaps he’d gone too far down that road and tipped into madness? It was common knowledge that working oneself too hard was unhealthy for both body and spirit, and all knew that Doctor Cid spent most of his life in his laboratories, burning the midnight oil at an almost alarming rate, though all to the benefit of Archades, of course.
But all that being said, Vayne would stake his name upon it that Cid was not mad.There must needs be another explanation, and he intended to find it.
This time, he slipped into Draklor with a purpose beyond simply catching his breath away from the jackals that hounded his every waking moment. Though he knew not where Cid’s office lay, Vayne was certain that it wouldn’t be so long until he came across it, or at least, found some hapless scientist to take him there, which would be necessary if the legendary security of Draklor Laboratory held true.
The first door opened willingly, the next proved more difficult, giving him but a dull sound of negation. Barred at the second hurdle. Vayne sighed and pinched his brow, then perked up as the sound of footsteps and spirited chattering sounded from behind said door.
It whisked open, and there stood the Doctor himself, both arms open wide as though welcoming Vayne to his household.
“Precisely as you suggested,” he said to the air next to him, “and there he is. What are you waiting out there for, boy?” this addressed to Vayne himself. “Come along in, come along.”
He held out his arm again and pressed it to the small of Vayne’s back as he entered through the doors, guiding him through another two sets to an elevator.
“How did you know I would be here?” Vayne looked up at Cid, slightly taller as he was. “Some sort of security system, perhaps?” It was the first time he’d got a chance to really look at the man, taking in the way his hands twitched and his head canted to the side a little, as though listening to some sound inaudible to other men.
“Oh, that.” Cid waved a hand, gesturing to his left shoulder and up. “Venat made me aware that there might be a visitor I’d be interested in meeting.” He looked back at Vayne, eyes creasing in a twinkling smile. “And correct Venat was! But let’s get to the laboratory before we say more, shall we?” He looked around, then, eyes darting this way and that. “One never knows who may be listening in.”
Vayne raised an eyebrow. Venat, was it? Hm. “Very well, as you will.” He clasped both hands in the small of his back and settled into parade rest as the elevator continued on. “Though you did not seem to show such reticence in the corridors with your Venat.”
A sharp look, at that. “Ah, so there was someone there. Just as I suspected.” Cid laughed under his breath. “Yes yes, you were correct, Venat, as ever. And I suspect even moreso, since the lad took the bait, yes indeed.”
“The ‘lad’ is standing right here, Doctor.” The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, whisper-quiet. “Tell me of this bait, if you would.”
“All in good time, all in good time. Patience is a virtue, you know, and one that the youth seem to avoid to their detriment.” Cid stepped out of the elevator and gestured down the corridor, then set off at a fast walk, as though eager to be able to spill whatever it was he was hiding. Patience indeed.
Vayne smiled to himself and followed, and before long they were outside a grander door, which beeped at the application of a card then opened in the same manner as the rest of the doors in this place: soundlessly, with a quick slide of metal, then back again as they entered.
Lights sprung up at a gesture from the Doctor, and Vayne glanced around the room, taking in the massive wall of blackboard stretching near to the ceiling, covered with diagrams and equations drawn in blue and white chalk. An ornate stepladder stood at one end, wheels at the base of it, and a basket hanging over the side laden with chalk sticks and a stack of papers filled with cramped writing surrounding diagrams of what seemed to be airships.
There were various desks laden with baskets of skystones of varying sizes and shapes, and on the biggest desk - clearly Cid’s actual writing desk - there was a glass cylinder, capped top and bottom with metal, containing another skystone suspended in the centre. Everywhere he looked, Vayne saw something new and fascinating, and it took all of his prodigious self control to stop himself from running his hands over the contraptions and gadgets strewn around like discarded children’s toys.
Cid, seemingly not noticing Vayne’s awe, had hurried over to his writing desk and was stacking papers on one side of it, making a little space. “Come, come, do sit. Let me just move some of this, so I can actually see you. It’s not every day we get visitors at Draklor, you know.”
Vayne smirked. “Yes, I can tell.” He pulled out the ornate chair in front of Cid’s desk and removed a stack of books from it to the floor, before taking a seat.
“There, that’s better. Now I can see your face, my boy.” Cid leaned both elbows on the desk and rested his chin atop his clasped hands. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of what I could do for you, actually.” Vayne crossed one long leg over his thigh and leaned forward, one finger resting just so on Cid’s desk. “But first, tell me of this ‘bait’.”
“Oh that, it’s quite simple really.” Cid waved an airy hand, and Vayne could have sworn he saw the gentlest ripple of air behind him, sensed a disturbance in the Mist that had the hairs on his arm standing on end. “I get an alert, you see, whenever someone unexpected enters Draklor.”
Cid held out his arm and tilted it so his wrist faced upwards, where a golden contraption slid out of his coatsleeve on a delicate chain. “Just like a timepiece, but more convenient in my opinion. Anyway, I got the alert, Venat informed me of our visitor’s provenance and thus did I make haste to the vestibule, to lay my little seeds.” He laughed - a hasty, breathless little noise - and Vayne smiled in return.
“They were well sown indeed.”
“You of all men, I think, know something of puppetry, no?” Cid’s gaze was piercing, the smile not leaving his lips but an intensity in his eyes that Vayne had rarely seen directed at himself. The man saw through to the quick of it, make no mistake.
“I know not of what you speak, of course.” Vayne inclined his head to the right, just so. “Though I have heard tell of a son bloodied as a blade, used against his family.”
“A sad thing, that,” Cid shook his head, those eyes never leaving Vayne’s, “that a father could mould his son to such a weapon. Much as Men are driven by those in the shadows, forever holding our reins. Does any man ever truly know freedom, in these circumstances?”
“No, I think not.”
Cid’s head tilted again, and his eyes grew far away, as though listening to words on the wind at his ear. “Yes, yes I must agree, you have the right of it. A partnership, there could be, here.” At this, he turned back to Vayne, one eyebrow raised.
Though any man would say that Doctor Cid was mad, that he spoke to the air, there was… something here. Something real, almost tangible - or someone. And Vayne Carudas Solidor was not just any man.
“I will fund your research.” Vayne held out his hand, finger pointing down at the desk for emphasis. “You will keep me informed of every step of progress, as well as debrief me on your work to date. And,” he looked up, catching Cid’s eyes with his own, “this will be discreet. Are we understood? Not a breath of this will reach my father or any other members of the royal family, their entourage or staff.”
Cid’s eyes sparkled and he shifted in his chair, as though he could not keep still - no doubt his mind was racing with the possibilities that Solidor chops could give, the opportunities it might provide for his research. “Of course, of course.” The words were fast, and he held out his hand to seal the deal.
Vayne took it, gladly. “I hope the rest of your day is free, Doctor. I find myself most eager for you to fill me in.”
III
“Surely you cannot be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting!” Cid’s hands fluttered, agitated, as Vayne looked on. “It’s impossible - impossible, Venat! It’s never been done.”
Vayne raised a polite eyebrow as he took a delicate bite of the rapidly cooling meal he’d brought for their repast - a medley of vegetables done over potatoes with juicy pieces of meat on the side.
“Perhaps you should eat, Cid. Take a breather.”
“Take a breather?” Cid harrumphed as he sat down heavily on the stool next to Vayne’s. “How can I take a breather with this harridan in my ear, spouting stuff and nonsense?” He jabbed his fork in the air, presumably in the direction of Venat. “No, it is nonsense Venat. Occuria you may be, but I! I am a scientist! Etria, in fact, isn’t that right my boy? I have seen experiments like this fail countless times and then some, and all of them ended badly!”
Some food made its way to his mouth while he listened, eyebrows growing more furious by the second. “I’ll not do it. That’s the last I’ll say on the matter.” Another mouthful of food, and his brain seemed to catch up with his stomach finally, as Cid turned to look at Vayne in surprise.
“How long have you been here? Do you hear this?”
“About an hour, and no, I do not.” Vayne chuckled into the last mouthful of his food. “Venat has not deigned to be visible to me yet, and I will not push the matter.” He set aside the now-empty container on top of a teetering pile of books as tall as his shoulder when sitting. “Perhaps you ought to explain. Maybe I can offer a different perspective?”
The rest of the food disappeared in short order and Cid sighed, leaning over Vayne to stack his container in the other. He patted Vayne on the thigh, hand lingering slightly longer than was proper, with some weight behind it.
Vayne looked down at Cid, noting the deep shadows under his eyes, the tiniest of shakes in his hand. “When did you last sleep?” His voice was gentle, as though talking to Larsa when he’d had a foul dream, and Vayne laid his hand atop Cid’s.
“Hm? Oh, that. No more than twenty seven hours ago, I assure you.” Cid looked up at Vayne, then seemed to realise his hand was gracing the thigh of the heir to the Solidor throne, withdrawing it like it’d never been there. “Venat seems to believe that my equations will stand, that- that it will work.”
“Manufacted nethicite.”
“Yes.” Cid pinched the bridge of his nose, above his spectacles. “Now you mention it, I am a little tired.”
“If Venat says they are ready, then it must be so. You trust, do you not?”
“I do… I do.” Cid’s hand slid back to Vayne’s, gripping his wrist. “But oh the cost if they are incorrect. Such cost…”
“The Paling will stand,” Vayne said, firmly. “You know it will.” His other hand clasped Cid’s atop his wrist, and he allowed his thumb the tiniest whisper of a graze over the back of the Doctor’s workworn hand. “It will look brighter in the morning. Come, now, you have a bed here, no? Do not try to feign otherwise, I know that you sleep at Draklor most nights.”
Cid laughed under his breath. “Naught gets past you, does it my boy?”
“Not if I can help it.”
IV
“Why do you still labour under this pretence?” Cid looked up from his equations, peered at Vayne over the top of his spectacles.
Vayne eyed him back, bemused. “I’m afraid I’ve no notion what you mean.”
“The food.” Cid waved a hand over the pair of boxes, cleaned out and stacked neatly together on one corner of his desk. “You’re making sure I eat.”
“Why Doctor Cid, such a suspicious mind you have.” Vayne met his gaze evenly. “If I did not bring food, would you, indeed, eat? Or would you perhaps be satisfied to continue losing yourself in your research, night after night, until Archades’ brightest star of industry has burned out?”
“You’re funding my research,” Cid replied, pointedly.
“Indeed I am. And I see no reason why I shouldn’t also make sure my best scientist is still alive to complete it.”
“Bah! Missing a few meals and sleeping late will not kill me, you exaggerate.” Cid waved a dismissive hand in the air.
“Perhaps it would not kill a younger man, but a man of your years ought to take more care of himself.” Vayne offered a smirk. “Besides, I did not think you objected to my company so. You wound me, Doctor.”
There was a shimmer from behind Cid and Vayne saw the briefest glimpse of lambent eyes, heard the barest whisper of a laugh.
“Betrayed by you as well, Venat? Callous, so very very callous. We stoop to base jabs at my advanced years, and by such youth!”
Vayne reached out and rested a hand on Cid’s wrist, fingers light against his skin. “Are you quite finished?”
A sigh, but Cid’s eyes twinkled over his glasses. “Oh, quite, quite.” He caught Vayne’s gaze, not moving his hand from beneath Vayne’s touch. “You’re not expected back at the Palace, tonight?”
“Nay, not this night nor any other. I have leave to move as I will, as well you know.”
Cid cleared his throat. “Yes, yes of course. I had but thought-”
“There’s your first problem.” Vayne canted his head, eyeing the large clock face behind Cid’s desk. “Now here’s another one for you, and much easily solved: it is past midnight, you have been awake most like more than twenty hours once again. You have a bed, it is roomy enough for two. And the final part of the puzzle: you have a very, ah, persuasive patron who will not be deterred. What do you expect the result will be?”
“You pose an interesting problem indeed.” Cid turned his hand so that it was palm up, pressing against Vayne’s palm. “Come, then. Let us retire and puzzle it out.”
Vayne stood fluidly from his customary stool and followed Cid into the side room of his laboratory - not a bedroom, not by the standards of the Palace, but a homely enough space for someone who spent more time working than in his own mansion.
The bed was indeed roomy, and while it was not as comfortable as his own, well, Vayne could overlook that for the warm weight of Cid beside him, looking somehow different without his spectacles, in the dim light.
They settled underneath the coverlets in just their underclothes, facing each other like two halves of a bracket. Cid’s hand lay on the pillow, palm upwards, his eyes fluttering with tiredness as they lay.
Vayne, after a pause and a breath, laid his hand atop Cid’s, intertwining their fingers as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Their bare forearms pressed against each other, and he swore he could feel the gentle pulse of Cid’s lifeblood through his own.
So, this was what it was like, was it? To have the simple press of another against your skin, giving comfort for comfort’s sake, and not in the name of any secret motive?
A ragged sigh escaped his lips, but Cid was not awake to hear it.
V
Cid cradled his head in his hands, spectacles pushed upwards into his hairline, as Vayne entered his laboratory.
“I came as soon as I heard. It is true, then?”
“Yes. Nabudis is no more.”
“A powerful bauble indeed.”
“Hah! An understatement.”
“And we lost Judge Zecht, in the explosion?” Vayne rounded the edge of Cid’s desk and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
“Aye. He’s not been seen since. At the epicentre, the likelihood is that he was obliterated along with the palace and the rest of the capitol.” Cid laughed, a little bitter, but Vayne sensed an edge of triumph to it. “Venat, I told you, did I not? These experiments have a cost, one which cannot simply be overlooked!”
“You did not overlook it.” Vayne squeezed his shoulder, let his hand trail up to Cid’s bearded jaw. “It was right there in your equations. We estimated the cost of Manufacted Nethicite, and this proves that Deifacted Nethicite is beyond even that.” His thumb caressed Cid’s cheekbone, and Vayne bent down to his opposite ear. “One step closer,” he breathed, “we are one step closer to bringing our plans to fruition.”
Cid exhaled, shakily, his hand coming up to press against Vayne’s, holding him there. “You are right, of course. Perhaps I am simply tired. Too tired to appreciate the moment.”
“Breathe, sleep. In the morning we shall look at the situation with fresh eyes and plan our next course of action, what say you, Doctor?”
“You know what my answer will be, no need to ask foolish questions, lad.” He tilted his head up to peer at Vayne over his spectacles, the tiniest smile gracing his lips.
Vayne’s heart thumped, and he schooled his face into a careful picture of concern. “I am but looking out for your-”
“Health, I know,” Cid interrupted. He patted Vayne’s hand then stood and turned, til he was but a breath away. “I appreciate it. And besides, it’s becoming a habit, by now. You may as well leave some of your things here.”
Vayne smirked, then turned on his heel and walked into the bedroom. “Cid, I already have.” He pointed at the bureau of drawers, one of them open with a dark green sleeve hanging over the edge, then at the neatly draped pair of white gloves over the back of the single chair.
“Ah, I see. So you have.” Cid adjusted his spectacles and gazed about the room as though seeing it in a new light. “Good.”
Vayne closed the door behind them and turned his back, as was their habit, to allow them both the privacy of undressing without onlookers. Although he would like nothing more than to watch Cid disrobe, nay, to help him do so, but it was not to be. He must not let his guard down thus, and besides, there was important work to be done. Work that needed no distractions of the flesh: they could not afford such at this time.
So it was left to his imagination. And oh, did it have such a feast for him. Lurid thoughts of Cid’s long thighboots, that ostentatious coat and what lay beneath it. Because while Vayne had seen Cid in the half-light as he slept, in the morning as he woke first, he had always averted his eyes, ever the politick, though he was certain Cid would not have noticed.
Perhaps that was the root of it. Cid did not notice. Vayne signed internally, allowed himself a moment to calm his blood, until he knew Cid had climbed into the bed they’d shared for countless nights by now, then joined him under the covers.
“Ah, there you are.” Cid looked in Vayne’s direction, eyes unfocused without his spectacles. “I have to say, this bed is surely more comfortable with the extra weight. When you are not here, it becomes… much more tiresome to sleep.” He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, then rolled over, his back to Vayne as he settled himself.
How could Vayne reply? ‘Yes, I too struggle to sleep in my own bed, alone. Your weight is a comfort for me too, now turn around and see me, old man!’? Nay, he could no more show his plain face to Cid than he could to his father, or to Larsa for that matter. They would receive no more than the face they expected to see: a dutiful son, a brother untainted with the spilling of familial blood. A patron, and co-conspirator. Provider of funding. Maybe an entertaining conversation partner, full of witticisms with the occasional good idea.
Vayne held back a sigh, but could not stop his traitorous body from rolling over to face Cid, whose breathing was slow and even already. Studiously not thinking about it, Vayne slid his arm around Cid’s waist under the covers and pressed himself to his broad back. He burrowed his head into his pillow - oh, when had Cid acquired a second pillow? - and tucked his face against the back of Cid’s neck, nose pointed downwards so as to not wake him with breath against his skin.
He drifted into sleep soon after, only peripherally aware of a hand wrapping about his own, holding him steady in place.
VI
“History begins anew, eh?”
“Hello, Doctor.”
“Never a truer word said, my boy.” Cid knelt in front of Vayne’s aching body, lifted his chin with gloved hand. “You will tell all, but first: rest.”
Vayne laughed, then winced as his ribs lit aflame with bright, shattering pain. “How our roles are reversed.”
“Indeed. Allow me this, would you?” Cid’s hand cupped Vayne’s face. “I believe you shall find my current living situation much more to your liking than the cramped quarters in my laboratory. Can you stand?”
“I-” Vayne paused, listening to his ravaged body. Though he was no longer Undying, no longer trapped within metal of his own making, his body remembered that pain. It held on to it like a child with a ragdoll. “With some help, if you would, Doctor.”
Cid nodded, slid an arm under Vayne’s armpit, and between them, they somehow managed to arrive at… somewhere. Everything was hazy, but there was a definite sense of homeliness about it, and Vayne could tell almost without looking that this space belonged to Cid, that his own hands had crafted it out of the aether, the Mist, whatever fabric this afterlife was made up of.
There was a bed - a large one, resplendent with pillows and blankets and quilts until it resembled more of a nest than a bed. The rest of the room was a blur as Cid helped Vayne to that bed, sitting him on the edge and then going to a squat before him.
“Your knees,” Vayne murmured, but he was unable to stifle a smile.
“My knees trouble me no longer, my boy. That’s the thing about the afterlife, see? And how grand it is to be able to experience it for myself! Oh, the things I have discovered already, and so little time has passed! I have filled three journals, and almost on the way to a fourth.”
Cid’s hands clutched at Vayne’s trousers, and Vayne laid both his atop them.
“I am glad for you - you must tell me all, as soon as I’ve recovered. If I recover…”
“My bo- Vayne.” Cid’s words were soft, and he touched Vayne’s hip and forearm, his thigh again. “Look at yourself. Open your eyes and truly see. You are Undying no longer, that pain has passed. You are yourself again: just Vayne, no more and no less.”
“The metal, pieces of the ships…” Vayne’s hands followed Cid’s and he realised it was true. No longer did metal sunder his flesh, there were no cogs and shards and gears rippling over his skin. No mighty wings burst from his shoulders - even his body shape had returned to its former state. “Oh.”
“Indeed! I laboured under much the same misunderstandings upon my arrival here - my body was ravaged by wounds, I felt sure I was bleeding out, despite the relative peace of my passing. But it is just the mind, unable to decouple itself from the mortal coil. The mind is a powerful tool, my boy: it can make the body believe any sorts of things, and especially if the body was in the throes of a stress response, last it knew.”
Vayne clutched his upper arms, feeling the unmarred skin beneath his clothes, and Cid’s words found their mark. He felt his body physically relax, as though he’d been carrying the heaviest of loads on his shoulders, and was finally able to set it down at the end of a hard day’s work. Well, a hard six year’s work.
He exhaled, long and hard, then realised that Cid’s hands were atop his own once more, warm and somehow real, which was strange considering they were both no longer of the living.
He met Cid’s eyes, one eyebrow raised in question. “How long did it take you to come to this realisation?”
“Not important.”
Ah, so longer, then. “Well, I imagine having someone here to ground me gives me an advantage.” Vayne shifted on the bed, leant forward until his forearms were resting on his thighs, bringing him almost nose-to-nose with Cid.
A beat of silence passed, and then, “What should we do, to celebrate our victory?” Vayne’s voice was soft, and he felt heat rise in his cheeks as Cid’s eyes flickered down to his lips then back up again.
“I’m sure you have plenty of suggestions.”
“Oh?” Vayne’s eyebrows rose. “What gives you that idea?”
Cid cleared his throat, looking down. “Ever the politician, my boy. The day that you are out of ideas is the day I’m sure the sun will fall from the sky.”
A soft laugh escaped Vayne’s lips. He leaned forward and set both hands on Cid’s arms, then drew them both to their feet. “Such a high opinion you have of me.” He turned, so it was Cid with his calves pressed up against the bed, then ran both hands down his arms, fingertips brushing the fine brocade of Cid’s coat. “But I will allow: I do have suggestions, as it happens.”
Vayne’s fingers found their way to Cid’s buttons, undoing them deftly, one by one, and then tugging his coat open with a decisive motion. “Things I’ve considered for a long time, now.”
“H-how long?” It was Cid’s turn to flush, his spectacles glinting in the dim light as he watched Vayne’s face with soft eyes. He obliged every movement, shrugging out of his coat like it was nothing.
“Longer than you know. And to think, you lecture me on seeing truly.” Vayne laughed, then turned his attentions to Cid’s long gloves. They followed the coat, soft white cotton whispering over Cid’s skin, then falling to the floor in a gentle heap.
“Ah. I see I have… dearly miscalculated.”
“You could call it that, aye.” Vayne’s hands moved over Cid’s embroidered vest, finding the buttons and unfastening them with ease. He pulled the vest open, and then the undershirt beneath, letting them fall back onto Cid’s shoulders, then paused, drinking in the sight before him. “You reached levels of preoccupation previously unknown to Man, but that is no surprise, considering how many plates we were spinning at the time. But oh, the nights you left me aching.”
Cid reached up and cupped Vayne’s face, eyes searching. “Untenable,” he breathed, finally. “And now you are taking matters into your own hands, as they say.”
“Indeed I am. Or perhaps you would prefer to lead this charge? After all, I took the centre stage as the Undying. I would not want you to feel overshadowed, Etria Cid.”
“Bah! We are towering monuments to the power of Man and what He can accomplish! There can be no overshadowing, not between the two of us.” Cid’s thumb grazed Vayne’s cheekbone, and he seemed to come to a decision. He closed the distance between them with startling alacrity, and before Vayne knew what was happening, Cid’s lips were against his own, soft and warm, the kiss more of a question than a plundering.
His eyes slid closed, both hands going to Cid’s waist, tugging him flush against his body, and even though he was still clothed, Vayne’s skin felt electrified at the touch: Cid’s hand holding his face, the gentle, unpractised brush of tongue, soft breaths of a sigh for dreams finally fulfilled.
With a push, Vayne had Cid seated on the bed. Oh, how he wanted to straddle him there and then, to pull out his manhood and seat himself upon it, take all that he’d dreamed about for himself. But there were still layers between them, and Vayne had dreamed as much about removing those as he had of the flesh that lay beneath them, so he went to his knees, hands framing Cid’s thighs.
“This is beginning to feel somewhat one-sided,” Cid murmured, though he did not stop Vayne from sliding the soft leather boots down his thighs, one by one. The very top of each boot was so high on Cid’s thigh that Vayne’s hands were but inches away from his crotch as he worked.
One boot came off, then the second, leaving purple-grey linen in their wake, most decidedly tented at the crotch from Vayne’s attentions.
“This is how I like it,” Vayne replied, hands working at the laces of Cid’s trousers. They fell open at his urging, and then he was finally, finally able to pull them down, to get a good look at the man he’d dreamt about for so long.
“And that is decidedly unfair!” Cid raised a hand to protest, but any further words were cut off as Vayne pressed his face to his thighs, nuzzling their creamy, gently furred expanse with his nose and lips.
That same hand came down to tangle into Vayne’s hair, fingers against his scalp sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. “My boy, if you- oh, if you continue with that, I cannot guarantee your night will end as you wish it to…”
Vayne paused, lips already wet and pressed to the base of Cid’s cock. He pulled away with a put-upon sigh, then went fluidly to his feet again. “As you will.”
Eyes fixed on Cid’s, Vayne held his gaze as he began to remove his own clothes, piece by piece. Gloves and long boots, coat and armoured gambeson, then, finally, belt and trousers and the loose, deep green shirt that Larsa always said flattered his skin tone exceptionally well.
“I think that quite evens the score, wouldn’t you say, Doctor?”
Cid swallowed, lifted himself on one elbow and his gaze wandered across the length of Vayne’s body. “Yes, I think I would agree.”
He looked as though he barely dare touch, so Vayne saved him the quandary and straddled his substantial thighs. “I’ve a mind to ride you,” he said, matter-of-fact, one finger trailing down Cid’s chest to his stomach. “And I have no stomach to wait for it. Do you think these new bodies require lubrication?”
Cid cocked his head, swallowed again. “There’s only one way to find out.” He licked his lips, eyes lidded as his gaze was drawn downwards to Vayne’s cock, hanging heavy and erect between them. “I’ve always been one for experimentation, as you well know.”
“Indeed.” Vayne smiled, then pushed Cid back down onto the bed with his hand spread, fingers nestled into his soft, greying chest hair. “Touch me, Cid. You are permitted.” He felt Cid’s cock jump against his thigh and smiled again. “Both hands, if you will. Wherever strikes your fancy.”
It was like those words unlocked whatever was frozen in Cid. He inhaled, soft and sharp, and then both hands went to Vayne’s thighs, tracing them with his palms from outside in. One slid further back to take hold of his arse, and the other took hold of Vayne’s cock almost reverently.
Vayne couldn’t stop the groan at that touch, and he bit down on his bottom lip as Cid pumped it a few times, slow then hard, all the while watching Vayne’s expressions with the same intensely calculating gaze Vayne had seen turned upon so many experiments and tinkerings over their years together.
Oh how good it felt to finally be the subject of that gaze. Vayne felt his cheeks flush, and he couldn’t hold himself back any further, urged on by Cid’s touch. He reached down behind him and took Cid’s cock in hand, lifting his hips only enough to get himself seated against the head of it. It pressed against his entrance, promising such a stretch and filling as he’d not enjoyed in so long, and then with a noise of surprise, he found his other hand occupied with a glass bottle.
“Oh.” He blinked down at it, the innards filled with a softly glowing golden oil. A gentle scent of herbs wafted from the cork when he brought it to his nose, and then he applied his teeth and yanked it out, deftly turning and pouring a goodly amount directly onto Cid’s cock and his hand.
Cid began to say something, but it was cut off by a long, low groan. “It feels warm,” he finally managed. “I think we need to do some more- ah! More testing in this place!”
Vayne smirked as he sunk down onto Cid’s cock, taking the head without any of the effort he’d expected. As he took more, any replies were driven from his thoughts until he was fully seated, and then all he could do was groan at the sensation of hot fullness that suffused his body.
A moment to get his bearings, catch his breath as much as he could, and then he was moving his hips. He leant forward, one oily hand on Cid’s chest and the other cupping his face for a kiss, sloppy and wet.
Then it was only movement, the pleasure rolling through Vayne’s body with each rise and fall of his hips. Cid’s moved in return, as best he could from his pinned position, his hands holding onto Vayne’s hip and waist, encouraging him in each roll of his hips until Vayne felt his pleasure rising to a crescendo.
Cid, sensing his tension, wrapped one hand about Vayne’s cock and stroked him to his climax, murmuring encouraging nonsense under his breath until Vayne spilled over his stomach and chest with a harsh sob, muffled by Cid’s lips as he kissed him through it.
For a brief moment, Vayne was aware of nothing but heavy pleasure seeping through his muscles, and then he became aware of Cid once more.
“That’s it,” Cid breathed against his lips, “that’s my boy.” His eyes flickered up to catch Vayne’s, his hips rolling in question. “Can you take it a little longer, Vayne? I’ll not be far behind, I promise you that.”
“Take me,” Vayne ground out into Cid’s mouth. “Take me until you are sated. I want your seed inside me, all of it.”
Cid gasped, then moaned softly as he began to move his hips in earnest this time. His hand at Vayne’s hip turned bruising, fingers digging in and dragging him up and then back down again for every jerk of his hips.
His other hand stayed on Vayne’s cock, which jumped and twitched with every seed-slick movement, until Vayne couldn’t take the overstimulation any longer. Cid’s cock seemed to drive into him harder and harder, the juddering, frantic motions forcing Vayne to collapse forward to bury his face in the meat of Cid’s shoulder.
The sounds coming from his mouth were obscene; little mewling gasps he would have been beyond embarrassed to be heard making any other time. But now? Now it felt right, with Cid’s voice in his ear praising him, and his insistent hand at Vayne’s cock and the even more insistent push and drag of Cid’s own cock against his aching insides.
Those words of praise lost all meaning, and Vayne felt Cid’s blunt fingernails digging into his hip as he thrust one last time, then stilled save for the shuddering of his hips as he spilled deep inside Vayne.
Though he’d hardly thought it possible, Vayne followed Cid and fell into another orgasm, mouthing at Cid’s skin, tasting him as he saw stars.
Cid collapsed back onto the bed with a great, shivery sigh, his hand gentling across Vayne’s back and hip then coming up to cup his face, underneath his hair. “I would say ‘don’t die on me’ but since that is no longer a factor, I find myself somewhat at a loss.”
Vayne huffed out a laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He lifted his head and rested his chin on Cid’s shoulder, eyes closing briefly at the gentle touch. “The great Doctor Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, lost for words? Highly implausible.”
“It happens, my boy. Although I don’t believe I can recall the last time…”
“Yes, I imagine not. It will be lost to the Mists of time, no doubt. Perhaps when you were fresh from the loins of your mother, unless you count the squalling of infants as words, in which case perhaps not even then.”
Cid barked out a laugh, his chest shaking with it. “Nay, I think not even then.” His fingers pushed through Vayne’s hair, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. “I apologise,” he murmured, “for failing to see what was in front of me all this time.”
“It is in the past.” Vayne tipped his head down and pressed a kiss to Cid’s shoulder. “And you have plenty of time to make it up to me, no?”
“All the time in the world.”