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Isabelle makes a show of hefting the bag of gil in her hand.
Cid huffs an exaggerated sigh and clutches his chest. “You wound me, my lady. You think I’d dare to cheat you? Even if I wanted to, mind, I like my balls where they are right now just fine, thanks.”
She cocks her hip and shakes her head, but the small smile on her face gives her away. Even the Dame of Northreach, the Madam of the Veil, isn’t entirely immune to Cid’s charms. “Save your flattery, you old coxcomb.” The bag is tucked away into her brightly colored skirts. “Third floor, second door on the left. He’s expecting you.”
“He?” Cid startles. “Not that I’m complaining, mind, but what happened to – ?”
“Dear Emily’s young soldier decided to make an honest woman of her after all. They’re settling down in the capital. We’ll miss her, of course, but I couldn’t help but be happy for her.” Isabelle’s brown eyes go soft for a moment. Cid’s known her long enough to understand why. The Dame has a backbone of steel and a small, tender spot for young love, and it’s not a bruise of hers Cid would like to press.
“Good for her,” he says, not insincerely. Emily was a giggly blonde with a heart-shaped face and long hair that always tumbled temptingly around her shoulders and breasts. More importantly, she was a natural masochist, and thus she actually enjoyed entertaining Cid when came round the Veil every once in a great while. “And the boy. He, uh –”
“He’s expecting you,” Isabelle says again. “He’s still a little green, hasn’t been in the trade for too long, but he’s no wilting flower. You two will get along just fine.” The timbre of her voice sounds particularly smug.
Oh, she must really think she’s got someone Cid will like.
In all the brothels Cid has been in and out of in his rather expansive and adventurous life, there’s no madam better at her job than Isabelle. She learns what her clients like, and she knows what her own people like, too, and what it is they can take.
Bless her. It’s always worth going all the way to Northreach when there’s a visit to the Veil involved.
He starts up the stairs and ignores his bad knee. Third floor, second door on the left.
From the third floor landing, he can hear the faint sounds of fucking coming from further down the hall. Skin slapping, a woman moaning. Reminds Cid what he’s here for.
He knocks on the door.
The padding of feet. Then the door swings open.
Cid knows what male whores tend to look like. Waifish boys with long legs and delicate wrists and ankles with painted lips that make him ache to see them stretched around his cock.
That’s…not at all the sight that greets him.
The boy is young, but he clearly isn’t a teenager, and he doesn’t have enough of the qualities to even play at being one, either.
They stand eye to eye. He’s about the same height as Cid, with shoulders just as broad, as well. Black ribbons lace his muscular upper body into a corset-like vest of burgundy silk. The neckline dips into a deep v-neck between his pecs, and if that isn’t bad enough, the fabric clings to every ridge of his ridiculous abs, too.
The narrowness of his waist – fucking womanly, that, like the man was made to get held down and fucked –
Brawny thighs burst at the seams in snug breeches of quilted leather. Cid looks forward to learning just how fantastic his arse looks in them, too.
“You’re Isabelle’s friend?” the boy asks. His voice is deep and warm, coals scraping in the heat of a forge. He takes a step back to let Cid into the room before Cid even answers.
The dark hair shorn above his shoulders frames an undeniably masculine face, strong jaw, and the goddamn bluest eyes Cid has ever seen. His lips aren’t painted either – not that stops Cid from immediately imagining them around his cock, anyway.
And there, on the boy’s cheek, there’s a large scar right where a brand would be.
Now that’s interesting. A runaway or a deserter, no doubt. Not only was he employed here, then, but Isabelle was protecting him, too.
“Yeah, I’m Cid. Oi –” Cid’s eyes widen and he takes a step back, instinctively reaching for his sword. “Is that a fucking wolf on your bed?”
The wolf in question, a beautiful and terrifying creature of silvery and dark gray fur, was lying in the middle of the bed, looking particularly unconcerned.
“Torgal.”
That makes the wolf look up, suddenly alert.
The boy leans down and pats his knees a few times. “C’mere boy.”
The wolf – Torgal – leaps from the bed and prances over, tongue lolling from his mouth. The boy scratches behind his ears, and Torgal noses at Cid’s hands, seeking pets from him, too.
Well, who is Cid to say no to that?
“So, uh, the fuck is up with your friend here?”
“This is Torgal.” Which explains absolutely nothing. Getting in a few final head scratches, the boy shoos Torgal out of the door, then closes it behind him.
The room isn’t particularly luxurious – this is still Northreach, after all. A large velvet four-poster bed, sturdy enough not to cause any particular ruckus against the walls. The bedside table has a drawer which, Cid knows from experience, offers a small selection of lubricants and toys.
Cid sits down on the bed and leans back on his hands. He’s paid for the whole night, so there’s no need to rush. The boy takes a step toward him, pauses, and then sinks to his knees. Cid feels his mouth go dry. From there, the boy begins to crawl on his hands and knees until he’s just between Cid’s spread thighs.
“What’s your name?” Cid asks. His voice is lower now with arousal than it was just a few moments ago. He reaches out and combs his fingers through the boy’s hair and out of his pretty face, his stunning blue eyes.
He’s going to break for Cid so beautifully.
He licks his lips and sits up on his knees. “Wyvern.”
Cid chuckles deep in his chest. “Dangerous, are you?”
Wyvern shrugs. “I can be, if that’s what you like.”
Shiva’s cunt, his voice sends shivers down Cid’s spine. He’s looking forward to hearing what he sounds like once he’s really been wrecked.
Cid hums consideringly and shakes his head. “I don’t think I want you dangerous with your teeth that close to my prick. What’s your safe word, Wyvern?”
“Morbol.”
“Good boy.” Now that makes Wyvern’s cheeks go pink. Something fucking exquisite about making an actual whore blush. “Use it if you need it, we’ll immediately stop – well, you’re the one who works here, I don’t need to tell you. Mine is chocobo.”
Then the hand he has in Wyvern’s hair turns to a fist, and he drags the boy’s head to press his face against the front of Cid’s trousers. “Go on, get me hard with your mouth.”
Wyvern’s hands make quick work of Cid’s belt and the buttons of his trousers. When Cid’s cock springs free, Cid takes another moment to just use the boy’s hair as a makeshift leash to drag his face, open-mouthed and tongue out, along his groin, half-hard erection, and down to his balls. Fuck, he can feel Wyvern’s stubble. That’s a new one even for Cid.
Finally, he releases his grip on Wyvern’s hair and leans back on his elbows to let the boy work. There’s no teasing, no preamble – in one fluid movement, Wyvern swallows his cock halfway to the root and takes the other half in his warm fist.
“Fuck,” Cid groans. Wyvern’s mouth is wet suction around him, burning inferno-hot. He can feel his cock quickly getting all the way to full hardness now. He loosens the ties of his shirt so it falls open. “Anyone ever told you how good you are at this?”
Wyvern doesn’t bother to deign that with a response. Cid thinks he might even see the boy roll his eyes – forgotten about as soon as Wyvern starts bobbing up and down on his cock, swirling his tongue around the length. On every downstroke, he gets lower and lower, until he’s taking just the tip of Cid into his throat. As Cid reaches full hardness, the boy’s lips and jaw have stretched wider and wider to accommodate the girth of him.
Fucking gorgeous.
His eyes are open and alert, gazing up at Cid like he’s trying to figure him out. So expressive even with his mouth stuffed.
Cid captures the boy’s chin in his hand and pulls his cock from his mouth. It slaps wetly against his belly. “Why do you have a look on your face like you’re just dying to ask me something?”
Wyvern blinks a few times and it’s almost like he’s batting his eyes. “Isabelle said you’d be meaner than this.
“Do you want me to be mean?” Cid asks, voice a low burr. He reaches out with one gloved hand and taps his palm against Wyvern’s cheek, the one without the scar.
Wyvern nods.
“Go on, tell me.”
That pink flush in his face returns. Adorable. But his eyes gleam with determination. “I want you to be fucking mean to me.”
Fuck, those words in Wyvern’s low voice, only halfway to wrecked – and Cid can tell he means what he’s saying, too. Now he knows why Isabelle – that blessed, brilliant woman – sent him to Wyvern tonight.
He doesn’t hesitate. Cid reaches out and slaps Wyvern’s cheek, and this time, he slaps him hard. Hard enough that his head turns with the blow. As Cid hits him, the boy groans, loud and unabashedly and Cid sees him begin to harden in his tight leather breeches.
Wyvern brings his head back up. This time, Cid slaps the other side of his face, and it earns him an even louder groan. He’s panting now, too.
“Snap your fingers for me,” Cid says.
He snaps them on command.
“Good boy. Do that if you need to safe word out and you can’t speak.”
Cid fists his hand in his hair again, and this time when he pulls on it he’s merciless. Wyvern’s eyes grow big and dark, and he opens his mouth. Cid isn’t gentle about it as he feeds the boy his cock, pushing into his throat until he’s gagging. For several seconds he holds him like that, listening to Wyvern’s low strangled moans while Cid feels the boy’s throat muscles clenching down on him. Then he tugs Wyvern off of him to let the boy cough and catch his breath. The corners of his lips and his chin are saliva-shiny, and his eyes are shiny, too.
As soon as the lad’s caught his breath, Cid pulls his mouth back onto him and repeats the process over again. Burying his cock over and over again in his throat, making the boy choke and slobber on himself. It feels fucking incredible, but it’s not enough friction to drive Cid anywhere too close to orgasm.
He presses the toe of one booted foot between Wyvern’s legs. Hard as steel. The pressure against his groin makes Wyvern’s hips twitch forward against Cid’s boot, and he closes his eyes and moans. Cid can feel the reverberation of it all the way through his prick and to his insides.
“Fucking beautiful, you are. Look at how pretty you look choking on me. Feels good, does it?”
Through the hold he still has in his hair, Cid feels Wyvern give a tiny nod. The boy presses his groin against Cid’s boot harder as he continues to let the man use his throat. His gags get louder as Cid gets rougher with his thrusts. The hand not knotted in Wyvern’s hair moves to the side of the boy’s face, right where his brand used to be, and digs his thumb into it.
That’s when Wyvern’s eyes start to water, and not long after, tears stream down his cheeks.
“You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Cid says. With his thumb, he wipes the tears from under Wyvern’s eyes. He pulls his cock free of his mouth, too, and then drags the boy up to heave him into his lap and then into a kiss. “Eager, greedy boy.”
The lad’s mouth and face are sticky with his own drool, so Cid’s face gets damp, with it, too. It’s a messy kiss, half-feral - Cid hadn’t realized up until now just how fucking badly he needed this. When he pulls away and wipes his face on the back of his glove, Wyvern’s eyes flutter open, half-lidded and blue. His lips are swollen and pink and lovely.
He looks absolutely fuck-drunk already and Cid has barely touched him.
Cid deposits Wyvern on the bed beneath him and, standing up, tosses his gloves and shirt to the floor and begins stripping out of his trousers. In his hurry, he almost forgot to kick off his boots first.
“Take your clothes off, too, lad. Show me those beautiful tits.”
Pinned to the bed by Cid’s gaze, Wyvern wiggles uselessly for a moment, glassy-eyed and desperate. Then he tugs at the laces on his corset, and rips the fragile thing open rather effortlessly, then shimmies out of his pants, too. Cid leers over him, devouring every inch of new skin and sinew discovered. The boy’s body is a finely-honed weapon, lean and lethal, spry and strong. He could even take him, Cid reckons, if he didn’t get his own little gift involved.
Both naked now, Cid crawls over him on the bed and kneels between his legs. Wyvern’s cock is, naturally, as lovely as the rest of him, flushed red and surrounded by trimmed dark hair. Well-proportioned, too. Cid wouldn’t exactly be opposed to taking it - he can imagine the bitten-lipped look of concentration Wyvern would get on his face, fucking into a tight, wet hole. It’s not unappealing.
But Cid has a storm brewing in his blood that he wants to burn out tonight.
This close now, skin on skin, Wyvern’s skin smells like a campfire and is hot to the touch. Cid runs his palms along the curve of his waist and up to his chest. For as utterly gorgeous as he is, the scars he has everywhere tell an ugly story. Cid knows better than anyone how years on the battlefield write themselves in your flesh – his own skin, too, is full of bloody stories to tell. Wyvern’s scars are bad even by those standards.
Cid sees the moment Wyvern notices the calcification on his wrist and forearm, creeping up his bicep now, too. He’s either polite or uninterested enough not to pass comment.
Cid, meanwhile, has no such compunction. “Used to be a soldier, did you?” he asks, and for as rough as his voice is now, he keeps his tone light.
For the first time that evening, Wyvern’s eyes flicker with irritation. “Something like that.”
Cid reaches out with one hand to trace his finger along an especially nasty scar, this one in Wyvern’s side. The wound would’ve cut him open from ribcage to hip, and was clearly ill-tended to, based on how the scar was crooked and puckered. One of those scars where the ache would never really fade from.
“What made you leave and come here to Northreach of all places?”
Wyvern just rolls his eyes. “Because I prefer getting fucked for a living. Any day now, by the way.”
“Well then, I won’t be stopping you if you want to play the brat.” Cid fills his palms with Wyvern’s pecs and squeezes them until the boy winces. Then he moves to his nipples, twisting them to make him whine and squirm. “Are you that desperate to get fucked already? Does my slutty boy need his hole filled?”
He maneuvers Wyvern onto hands and knees and pushes his face into the bed. “ Please,” Wyvern begs. Cid lets his eyes linger greedily on the sinuous curve of his waist and back. He spreads the lad’s arsecheeks – finds his hole already well-stretched and slick-shiny with oil.
With a disappointed sigh, he gives the boy’s arse a firm spank. Not nearly as hard as he could, but he’s not gentle about it either. Then he spanks him thrice more.
“Next time the Dame tells you I’m coming for a visit, you don’t go getting yourself ready for me. I want to see what you look like when I stretch you out on my fingers myself.” He punctuates the sentence by shoving three thick fingers directly into Wyvern’s hole. They slide in easily enough, and Wyvern groans. “I guess a needy whore like you can’t wait to get your cunt stuffed, can you?”
That makes Wyvern clench around his fingers. Cid laughs darkly and slips his fingers out of the boy, watches his puffy rim ease near-closed again. He spits on it to watch Wyvern shudder and his hole twitch. Then he readies his cock at the boy’s entrance and starts to nudge it inside.
“Gorgeous cunt already wet for me, what a good girl.” He hits Wyvern’s arse again and again, aiming for as-of-yet unreddened skin, as he thrusts himself in deeper. “Can fuck right into you just how you like, princess. No wonder you’re a whore.”
Wyvern grunts with every blow, and after he’s been spanked about a dozen times, grunting turns to shouting, with every wordless noise being punched up through his insides through Cid’s dick shoving into him, grinding in as deep as he can go. His dark head is turned to the side, one cheek pressed into the velvet bedcovering and his mouth hanging open. Cid can see drool on the boy’s lower lip.
When Cid insults him, Wyvern’s entire body goes taut and his eyes roll back. He’s practically squealing now, naught but a needy bitch in heat. The boy almost just came, his body clamping down on Cid like a vice. It’s got Cid’s control fraying, too.
“Please, fuck, fuck, fuck me, fill me.”
“You’re such a slut you’re gonna be able to come without a touch to that worthless thing between your legs, aren’t you? Nothing but a pair of holes for filling with cock.”
Wyvern’s litany of moans fills the room.
Cid drapes his chest over Wyvern’s back and shoves three fingers into his mouth, pressing them back to the top of his throat. “Yeah, I know, my greedy girl. One cock’s not enough for you, is it? Maybe I’ll bring a friend to share you with next time.”
Wyvern’s jaw tics, and Cid can feel teeth digging into the skin of his knuckles. The boy fists his hands in velvet and his belly goes tense. His shouting is muffled around Cid’s fingers.
Wyvern’s hips buck and twist – his body can’t decide if it wants to chase the sensation or squirm away from it. Cid, of course, decides for him, taking the boy’s hip in a bruising grip, holding him in place and fucking him into coming milky white all over himself and the bed below him. Fucking him through it until Wyvern is crying and undoubtedly trying to wriggle away.
That just makes Cid move his hand from his mouth to the side of the boy’s neck. He runs a thumb along the column of his throat, pressing lightly. More of a threat than anything else.
“Use me – fuck me – fill up my cunt,” Wyvern groans.
Founder, the things Cid wants to do to the lad. They’ve the entire night ahead of them, at least. He can take some pleasure of his own, for now, before he finds another dozen ways to make Wyvern cry and beg tonight.
Cid comes with a dark growl in a surge of deep-seated bliss. In the aftershocks he feels Wyvern shudder around him as he’s filled warm with spend. In the aftermath of his climax, Cid lingers where he’s draped atop Wyvern and takes his time to catch his breath. In a playful gesture, he leans forward and nips the lad’s neck. He only gets a grunt in response. Slowly, he lowers himself to the bed beside Wyvern before gathering him up in his arms.
Before he can think better of it, he leans in to kiss the boy’s temple, damp with sweat and tears. Cid considers tucking them under the covers, too, but fuck, Wyvern radiates heat like a damn furnace, blankets be damned.
Wyvern has a solemn tilt to his mouth even though his eyes look dreamy. “You don’t have to baby me after,” he murmurs, voice like sandpaper on Cid’s bare skin. His words are belied by his hands clinging to Cid’s chest and shoulders, their legs lying tangled together..
It’s fucking adorable, is what it is, seeing him so blissed out and content despite himself.
“Maybe it’s not you that needs the babying, it’s me. Nothing wrong with a good cuddle.” This time, Cid gives him a kiss on the cheek. Wyvern blushes and tries to hide his face in Cid’s chest.
Without moving far, Cid gropes along the floor for his pack, sighs in relief when he finds it without having to get out of bed.
“Smoke?”
“Hm, no thanks.” Wyvern’s eyes go half-lidded, and he’s beginning to resemble a particularly well-sated couerl curled up at Cid’s side.
Cid lights the end of his smoke with a spark of purple lightning.
“You’re a bearer, too,” Wyvern says. It’s not a question. He doesn’t even sound surprised. Of course, the calcification scars on Cid’s arm are an easy enough clue, and it’s not a secret that needs to be kept from anyone that Isabelle trusts, Cid knows.
“Aye, in a manner of speaking,” Cid says on an exhale in a puff of smoke. “Branded?”
“Yeah.”
A long, comfortable silence stretches out between them.
“Isabelle told me you’ve traveled just about everywhere, and you know everything about everyone,” Wyvern begins tentatively. “Have you ever heard any stories about a Dominant of Fire – a second one, besides the Phoenix?”
Cid keeps his face unreadable upon hearing the word Dominant, but it surprises him nonetheless. “Only wild rumors. Nothing better than conspiracy theories.” He lets the sweet tobacco roll over his tongue as he thinks. “What’s got you interested in something like that?”
Wyvern shrugs. “Just making conversation.”
The boy is a fucking terrible liar, which makes Cid feel a little smug, since it means Wyvern couldn’t have been faking his pleasure. And thinking about giving this gorgeous creature a night full of more pleasure – and pain, too – sent a jolt of fresh desire straight through Cid’s lower body. He could do his research on Wyvern in the morning.