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It should have been an easy mission. Nothing too big, but still warranting for Clive and Cid to team up for it - certainly not just an excuse to spend some more quality time with the lad, Cid would never.
In and out, quick as you like, no one the wiser, except for maybe a few bearer children missing.
And yet Cid finds himself hiding in this rickety old closet, dust tickling his nose as much as Clive's hair.
Clive, who is pressed against Cid, squeezed into this comparatively tiny closet.
The lad's head is tucked against Cid's neck, one hand braced right next to his head against the back of the closet, the other pressed between their slightly heaving chests.
Adrenaline pumped through them, after having to hurry into the closet to hide from sight.
This was a stealth mission after all, best to not be seen, to keep the children safe from any further harm.
Clive's breath puffed against Cid's neck, hot as if Cid was standing right at Blackthorne's furnace.
But that was all right. Normal, for situations like this. Cid had his fair share of hiding like this in his life. Nothing to it. Just stay still, keep your breath short and wait it out until it was safe to move on.
Right next to Cid's ear, Clive grunted, frustrated and then Cid could feel the lad's leg, already trapped between Cid's, sliding slightly forward. Rubbing right against Cid's front.
To keep Clive from moving any further, Cid grabs his waist, holding him still.
Cid barely heard the whispered apology against his ear, too mesmerized by how tiny Clive's waist was. And how well Cid's hand fit against it.
Shaking his head inwardly, Cid tried to refocus on their mission. That train of thought was wholly unprofessional and Cid knew better than this.
He wouldn't let this get to him, experienced as he was.
Even with the prettiest man in all of Valisthea pressed against him.
A perfect waist that fit right in his hand and a perfectly thick and strong thigh pressed against Cid's crotch.
It did not affect Cid. Not at all. He was completely professional about this. Any moment now, the coast would be clear and Clive would back up, none the wiser.
About what, you ask? Certainly not Cid's dick telling his owner otherwise by slowly stirring to life. Wherever did you get that idea?
Cid was perfectly fine. Cool and collected and focused on the mission. Not thinking about the gorgeous man pressed against him, or the damp spot developing on his neck from Clive's hot breath against it.
Definitely not thinking about the perfect waist, that he gently squeezed in reassurance, because the lad surely could use it in his inexperience. That's why the lad's leg slipped a little. Just nervous about the unusual situation. Right? Right. Made perfect sense to Cid.
Cid froze when Clive moved his other leg, trapping Cid's between those strong thighs.
He squeezed Clive's waist warningly now. The more they moved, the more likely they were to be found out.
But Clive just let out a stuttering breath against Cid's neck and pressed his hips slightly more against Cid's.
Then he whispered quiet and deep into Cid's ear: "It should be safe now."
But neither of them moved, Cid frozen, while Clive pressed further against Cid, instead of backing up.
Cid's heart was beating a mile a minute now, feeling a suspicious bulge against his hip.
With a sharp intake of breath, Cid tightened his grip on the lad's waist, adding his other hand to the other side of the waist, not even thinking about it, just pulling and pressing his own growing bulge against Clive in turn.
Cid had half a mind to sputter in indignation, when he felt Clive's lips stretch into a smirk against his neck.
"You little minx!" Cid hissed out between his teeth, still trying to stay quiet, whether the coast was clear or not.
"Are you complaining?" Clive had the cheek to whisper in turn.
And then ground his hips purposefully against Cid's thigh, simultaneously rubbing his thigh against Cid's bulge.
Cid bit his lower lip to try and stay quiet as he groaned, a hissed curse following right after.
In retaliation, Cid slid his hands around Clive's back and down to grab his ass, squeezing those cheeks.
Clive merely hummed a close lipped moan against Cid's neck, and bit into it right after.
Cid's breath stuttered, his already barely there control fraying more and more.
He gasped, when he felt Clive's tongue move over the bitten spot soothingly. Then Clive kissed the same spot followed by several tiny kisses wandering up, along Cid's jaw, before finally sealing over Cid's open, panting mouth.
This gorgeous minx was really going to drive Cid insane, wasn't he.
Cid barely managed to scramble what little sanity he had left, to suckle on the tongue that intruded his mouth, making Clive moan and grind against him even harder.
All thoughts about their mission were thrown out of their heads.
Did the children later give them weird looks for the awkward way Cid walked, trying is damnedest to hide a certain stain on his pants? Or for the way Clive tried and failed to hide that adorable satisfied little smirk of his?
Sure.
Did Cid care?
No.
Not even after Tarja's tongue-lashing for it.