Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Whether sharp with wit or rounded with affection, Clive's always known Cid to have a way with words.

His letters are usually the same, so when Clive starts to read the freshly opened parchment, he'd expected words of love, of how much he'd miss Clive after their weeks apart.

But this...

While I long for the day we are reunited, it's the night that I'm truly looking forward to. But maybe you can't wait that long, need something to take the edge off?

Clive shifts in his seat. It has been some time, but...

Perhaps I'll pull at those lovely locks of yours, drinking in the sounds you make.

Clive's scalp tingles from phantom fingers, memories from dalliances past painting kisses the shape of Cid's lips on his throat. A soft whimper escapes him.

I'd slide a hand down your trousers, feel your eagerness for myself.

Clive can no longer resist. His free hand scrambles to fist at his cock, just as eager as Cid writes it.

Would you try to hold back, Love? Are you even capable? Or could I just whisper the order and make you—

Clive moans through his orgasm, the letter crinkling in his spasming fingers.

Chapter Text

Cid stares out the window, sighing in delight.

He's in his favourite bakery, enjoying his favourite blend of tea, and...

The table creaks, accompanied by a shaky breath. Cid focuses back on the mess of a man across from him.

...and the view isn't half-bad either.

Clive moans quietly again. He's trembling, eyes glassy and dazed. Looks like Cid's gift is working, the barely-there buzzing of the vibrator the only clue to his predicament.

"I know what will lift your spirits," Cid says. Teapot in hand, he fills up Clive's untouched cup.

"You better not spill any. You remember what happened last time."

A jerk of Clive's hips tells him yes, he does remember. It's always fun seeing Clive's arse bloom red from under his crop...

"Drink."

It's an order Clive cannot disobey, and Cid takes great joy in watching him balance the cup to his lips.

Cid covertly reaches for the remote and—

Clive shakes apart, teacup quaking in his hands. He does well to contain himself, an almost impressive display after how long he's been waiting.

Almost.

Cid tuts, reaching over to dab a tiny spot of tea from Clive's shirt.

"Seems you'll need that punishment after all…”

Chapter Text

Clive sits atop a mountain of gold.

The crack above him sends light cascading down into the cave, highlighting the lustre of the jewels that lay across his bare skin. Clive shivers; he's wearing nothing but jewellery and delicate lace, but he doesn't dare move.

It may be dark beyond the light's boundary, but he isn't alone.

First, there's silence. Then, there's the sound of gold against scales, a flash of purple hide. Clive closes his eyes, only imagining the impossible length of the creature slithering towards him.

To witness a dragon's true form is to invite madness, after all.

He feels the burst of magic, the oppressive presence collapsing, and then...

"Pretty human, crown of my hoard," a voice purrs. Eyes that have seen empires rise and fall meet his once he dares to look, burning with Levin.

Hands run up the length of his torso, reverent, dragging along his chest. Clive jolts, first from the tiny flick of clawed fingers over his nipples, then the stronger, pinching pain of a clamp catching sensitive flesh. The dangling rubies glitter brilliantly.

Cid flicks the clamps again, smiling at how Clive whines.

"Hush, my treasure. I'm not done with you yet."

Chapter Text

"Ah, you must be Clive. Please, take a seat," a deep voice greets.

Clive sits on the hard, plastic chair, shoes toeing nervously at the plush carpet. Finally, he glances up to see green eyes and a friendly smile. Clive can’t help but offer a tiny smile back. He hopes this is worth the Gil.

"How can I help?"

Clive rattles off his symptoms like it's muscle memory. It practically is, with how many doctors he's been to who have closed the door on him in defeat. Dr. Telamon nods, writing all the while.

"I've treated this illness before," he declares and Clive perks up, hopeful. Cid steps closer, his frame quickly swallowing Clive's entire view. "I can help you. But to begin treatment, you'll need to be comfortable. Are you comfortable?"

Clive shakes his head. He doesn't want to lie to the doctor, to those trustworthy eyes.

"Relaxation is key, or you won't get better."

Clive wants to get better, more than anything—

His world shifts as he slides off the chair to kneel on the soft floor. He sighs, shoulders dropping. Comfortable, at last.

Cid's smile grows satisfied.

"Very good. Now, for the next step of your treatment..."

Chapter Text

The air hangs heavy with the smell of incense.

From above, another glob of hot wax lands on heated skin. Clive hisses out a moan, wrists twisting where they're tied above his head.

"Patience, Clive," a voice rumbles. "Or do you not want this to work?"

Clive shakes his head frantically, stilling. Of course he wants this, he's been begging for it for so long...

He only sees darkness underneath the blindfold, but his other senses expand to compensate. He feels the wax already drying, mapped across his body in ritualistic patterns. Anticipation builds despite the pain, his body alight with sensation.

Cool glass brushes his lips.

"Drink up."

Clive drinks, the potion like distilled magic flooding his veins. The glass disappears, and what liquid that escapes is quickly swept back into his mouth.

"Every last drop."

The noise Clive makes is obscene, sucking what's left from Cid's thumb. He doesn't stop there, fucking over Clive's tounge once, twice, then—

Clive writhes, the wax burning him anew as something within him snaps into place, an intangible bond formed.

When the blindfold slips off, Clive finds his world changed, Cid's smirk lighting up with once-unseen magic.

"Welcome to the coven, pet."

Chapter Text

Clive's going to regret coming.

He knows it the moment he spots Cid at the wedding reception, chatting with the happy couple.

"Ignore him," Jill says once his glance grows into a full-blown stare. "We're here for Gav and his wife, not your ex."

She's right, of course, so Clive tips his glass back just to ignore the feeling of Cid's eyes raking over him when he isn't looking.

Then another when Cid's hand slips around some guy's waist on the dance floor.

Another when Cid knocks his own drink back, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

Then another—

And another—

They spill into a bathroom stall, knocking over fancy soap bottles in their haste, their mouths and limbs locked in battle.

"Love—"

"Don't Love me," Clive snaps, but he shivers when drink-clumsy fingers rip open his shirt, Cid's lips following the trail down his chest. "You gave all that up, remember?"

"Aye." Cid kneels, slipping Clive's trousers down and mouthing at the burgeoning erection. "Seems like you missed me anyway—"

"Shut up." Clive silences him, his cock bucking over an eager tongue.

He'll regret coming in the morning but for now, there's no other place Clive would rather be.

Chapter Text

It's his eyes that draw Cid in.

Eyes that meet his for mere moments before disappearing behind crowds of sparkling dresses and glittering masks. Cid looks again, and sees no one.

And yet he knows he’s there, watching.

They attract each other like magnets, Cid and his stranger. Their anticipation rises, and all it takes is a meaningful look of beckoning before Cid follows.

They collide into a shadowy corner, all the night's yearning made real by the frantic seal of their lips. There are no words, only panting breaths as they explore one another like seasoned lovers, like the trail the stranger kisses down his jaw is one well-trodden.

Cid only sees a flash of eyes like twin flames before he's swept away in bliss, his body yielding with a drawn-out moan...

...only to catch himself against the wall, scanning the empty space. Cid idly rubs at his neck, puzzled. What is he doing alone in the dark?

A lively tune starts to play, knocking some sense into him. The masquerade is calling, and he doesn't hesitate to return.

But when Cid looks to the crowd, he's struck with a strange forlornness when he finds no one looking back.

Chapter Text

"State your business," King Barnabas demands.

Cid stands to attention, eyeing the newcomer to the courtroom in Stonehyrr Castle, or more importantly, the cloth-covered cage that's wheeled along behind him.

The man's smile drips with false deference. "I am but a humble ringmaster, looking to provide Your Majesty with quality entertainment from our prized attraction. Behold, the Half-Man, Half-Beast!"

The cloth falls away. Gasps roll through the court at the sight of the shackled man, his tail flicking in irritation, horns glowing as if made from brimstone. Cid approaches while the ringmaster rattles off the "tricks" his creature can do, moving to touch the bars—

Sharp teeth snap at him, wary eyes a burning orange.

It can't be...

A Dominant?

"Where did you get him?" he asks.

"He was wandering the wilderness, so I took pity on him and put him to good use."

"And so you bring him here, in direct violation of Waloed's anti-slavery laws?" Barnabas stands, blade materialising.

The ringmaster gulps.

Cid ignores the gruesome sounds of steel meeting flesh. He stares into the man's eyes, the fear, the instinct, the intelligence that they hold. An enigma waiting to be solved.

Cid sure loves a good project.

Chapter Text

Everyone knows the myths, the mystical specks of light that appear to the blessed and lead them to their destiny. Load of bollocks, Cid would've said if there wasn't a glowing trail of them on the forest floor, beckoning him into the night.

Eventually, the motes' light shines brighter. He's close. Cid pushes back the foliage, freezing in place.

He sees a man on a stump, skin aglow with the swirl of motes around him.

...a lot of skin.

"Thank the Founder," the man sighs once he spots Cid. He shifts in the ropes currently binding him, crisscrossing over his very naked body. "You mind cutting me free?"

"Quite the predicament you're in," Cid remarks, approaching with his pocket knife, the rope easily sliced away.

"I'd followed the wisps out here. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded. They tore my clothes clean off and tied me up."

"Mischievous shits." Cid offers his jacket which is gratefully taken.

"Indeed. I'm Clive."

"Cid," he replies. "My place isn't far from here, maybe you can stay the night, get home in the morning?"

"I'd like that." Clive's smile is small yet mesmerising.

Destiny, huh? Maybe the wisps were onto something after all.

Chapter Text

Cid wakes up to the feeling of lips against his chest.

His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft glow of early light. He still hasn't gotten used to it after weeks of a sick, purpled sky. He'd missed the way the sun shined through Clive's hair, how it made sleep-heavy eyes light up like sapphires.

Those eyes sparkle especially bright today, burning with affection.

"What are you doing?"

"Admiring you," Clive says, proving it with a peck to his cursed arm. The sensation is dulled but stronger than yesterday; just like the Blight, time has been the best medicine for healing the hole that aether left.

Clive goes on a familiar journey down his body, each scar and healing patch of Crystals’ Curse a landmark that he acknowledges with a kiss. He travels down to the jut of his hip, then lower still. This isn't the usual detour Clive makes, but the growing erection Cid had woken up with seemingly makes for a fine destination.

"We should get dressed," Clive says once Cid's spent, trembling through the aftershocks.

"Not yet," he replies, switching their positions. It's his turn to return the favour.

The world can wait a little longer.

Chapter Text

"Your hands are freezing."

"Then warm them up for me, love."

Clive jerks when ice-cold fingers slip between his clothes. He'd complain more if it wasn't for Cid's distracting lips on his, and similarly distracting weight pressed close by their shared sleeping bag. They'd hiked hard today, evidenced by the night quickly descending and the waves of exhaustion that sweep through him.

"I'll probably fall asleep," Clive says once Cid's intentions become obvious.

"Even better."

Clive's breath picks up once Cid's hips move, friction catching just right between their clothed cocks.

"You'll get us dirty," Clive says with a sleepy moan, eyes already closing.

"There's a perfectly good stream nearby."

His protests dry up once the heat starts to build, rolling in like waves at the sea. His orgasm is much the same, gently coaxing him into a blissful sleep...

They wake up as dawn breaks, the sunrise casting a romantic light throughout their tent.

It's a lot less romantic once Clive shifts, unsticking himself from the dried come in his underwear.

Cid smiles sheepishly.

"Oops?"

Clive enjoys the rest of his morning with a mug of tea, and the satisfying sight of Cid scrubbing their clothes by the stream.

Chapter Text

"Ramuh, I take it?" a haughty voice echoes along with slow footsteps. "Without the fur, no less."

Cid doesn't answer, doesn't rise to the taunt. He'd expected it, but knows better than to react.

He's come for a reason, after all.

"Rumour has it that you need a place to settle." The vampire approaches, yet Cid keeps his head bowed low.

Respectful. Submissive.

"There's an abandoned ruin in the forest that will suit my pack's needs," Cid replies.

"And what will you give House Rosfield in return for this generous favour?"

Cid steels himself in the silence, then drops onto his knees. His eyes stay trained to the ground.

"...An intriguing offer." Footsteps fall again. "A wolf's loyalty is rare indeed. But—"

A hand wrenches his head back, and Cid barely smothers the snarl. "You better not step out of line. One false move, and I promise you'll regret it."

Their eyes meet. He's pretty like all vampires are, but there's something particularly striking how these cold blue eyes sear into his.

From now on, you answer to me. You won't even breathe without my say-so." His fingers tighten. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," Cid grits between his teeth.