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For better or worse, it isn’t often that Cid makes it out to Northreach. It’s a bit far from the Hideaway to be a too-frequent destination, but with sufficient motivation, he’ll take a chance to visit when an opportunity arises. This is all to say that it’s less than two months since his last trip, and he hasn’t stuck his dick in anyone since then, either. So when he gets a letter from the Dame about two Bearers out of Oriflamme in need of shelter, he decides he’ll handle the escort mission personally. It’s the sort of job he’d usually pass along to a few Cursebreakers, but they’re stretched thin enough as is of late, and Cid on his own doesn’t require the assistance of any additional men.
He uses Isabelle’s stolas to send word ahead, writing to her that he’ll be there as soon as he can, a week away at most. He’ll likely spend a night or so at the Veil before he heads back home with the Bearers. He doesn’t mention Wyvern by name, but he shouldn’t have to. Isabelle can read between the lines. No reason a man shouldn’t chase his pleasures while he still could, especially at Cid’s age.
Five days later, he arrives in Northreach after dark; with the Dame’s moon and stars sigil pinned to his jacket collar, talking his way through the gate is easy enough, even a few hours after curfew. Even among the most dedicated of soldiers, none are willing to risk winding up on the wrong side of the Veil’s madame and a potential ban from her establishment.
The customary bell jangles when he lets himself through the front door like any other client, sending Isabelle floating down the staircase to greet him. Her smile spreads to her eyes as she sees just who is darkening her doorstep, greeting him with a peck to either cheek.
“You arrived ahead of schedule. Eager to be back in Northreach?” Dearest Isabelle – the barest hint of insinuation in her tone would be easily missed by anyone who doesn’t know her as well as Cid does.
“Can’t get a thing past you, can I?” Cid holds his palms up as he continues. “Now I know I’m early, and my feelings won’t be hurt if you’ve no room -”
“It’s not a problem, Cid,” Isabelle doesn’t hesitate to interrupt, and her smile turns coy. “We’ve a room for you, assuming you don’t mind sharing.”
“Was rather hoping that would be the case,” he admits shamelessly, gaze straying to the staircase, already feeling eager.
Isabelle follows where Cid’s looking, and undoubtedly his current train of thought, as well. “He was in a better mood than usual after your last visit. I doubt he’ll mind you being earlier than expected.”
“Not with someone else tonight?” Always a gamble at a whorehouse, and Cid wrote ahead with the hope of improving his odds.
Her eyes glimmer in amusement. “After Wyvern learned you’d be coming, he decided to run errands instead of seeing customers to earn his keep the past few days. Long as he’s making himself useful, I let him do as he pleases.” Isabelle gives an elegant little shrug of one shoulder, but then her mood shifts and she presses her lips together in a somber line. “He’s been helping with the Bearers, too. They were in a bad way, but they’re well enough to travel now. Fetching their meals, supplies for their journey with you. Bit stilted when it comes to making conversation with them, but his heart is in the right place.”
They both can well imagine, too, the Brand across Wyvern’s cheek instead of the scar that adorns it now. He’s a natural fit for Isabelle’s operation – that he apparently doesn’t mind whoring is almost secondary.
Cid places a kind hand on Isabelle’s shoulder. “I’m not surprised. The Veil has always been a haven for good folk who need it.”
“As for the Bearers you’ll be escorting, I can introduce you in the morning. They’re likely asleep at this hour.” She pats his hand fondly. “Go on upstairs, and we can settle up tomorrow. I can promise you he won’t mind the surprise.”
And that earns Isabelle a gentlemanly kiss on the cheek before he makes for the stairs. If Cid were a younger man, he’d be practically bounding up them. “Third floor, second door on the left?” he seeks to confirm with a glance back at Isabelle over his shoulder.
“He made enough of a first impression that you remembered, naturally,” Cid hears her velvet chuckle behind him over the sound of his boots on the stairs as he heads for the third floor.
At Wyvern’s door, he knocks.
“Come in,” he hears through the door. No doubt the lad assumes it’s Isabelle or someone similar, so Cid knocks again to be polite and avoid letting himself in as an unexpected guest.
The door swings open, and Cid is greeted by blue eyes, startled and lovely. Wyvern’s mouth opens and closes and his brow furrows.
“Oh!” the lad exclaims in surprise. He hastily cards his fingers through his mass of dark hair. “I, uh, the Dame told me to expect you in a day or two. Didn’t mention you’d already arrived.” Still, he steps back out of the doorway to invite Cid inside. The wolf isn’t here today, Cid notes, taking a quick scan of the room. The bed is unmade, but it looks more slept in than fucked in, and next to the glowing lamp on the nightstand is a book laid open pages down and spine up. He’d interrupted the boy as he was reading it, Cid would guess.
Wyvern closes the door behind him, chewing on his lower lip. The lad looks put out, and Cid worries that perhaps Isabelle had a rare moment of incorrect judgment when she sent him up here without informing Wyvern that he’d arrived first. He certainly doesn’t want to impose on or inconvenience the boy. “What’s wrong? The Dame said you’d be happy to see me.”
“Not really dressed for seeing a client,” Wyvern murmurs, gesturing to his attire. A simple white undershirt with undone drawstrings between his pecs and plain black trousers – these ones aren’t even especially snug. He blushes and averts his eyes from Cid’s, toying with the hem of his shirt. “I was going to wear something special for you.”
Cid gives a low, heated hum. He reaches for Wyvern and, when the boy doesn’t resist, Cid wraps his arms around that tight little waist and pulls him close, so Wyvern’s back is pressed against his front. “Did you want to make yourself pretty for me?” Cid asks, voice gravelly with want.
He feels rather than sees Wyvern nod.
And fuck, as much as Cid is dying to see the boy all tarted up and gorgeous for him, he’s not sure he has the patience for it tonight. Not when he has him already right where he wants him. Cid presses his nose into Wyvern’s neck and takes a deep inhale. The boy’s skin smells like plain soap, mostly, and only the faintest trace of smoke and hot coals. “You bathed tonight?”
Another nod. Cid can hear the boy’s heart beating just beside his ear.
“Was Isabelle right when she told me that you wouldn’t mind seeing me tonight? Use your words now, sweetheart.”
Wyvern twists in his arms to face him and reaches up to fist one hand in the collar of Cid’s jacket so he can drag him into a kiss. The boy’s mouth is hot and eager as he licks along the seam of Cid’s lips to slide their tongues together for a moment before pulling back to murmur against Cid’s jaw:
“Be a shame to make you wait after you came all this way.”
A delighted growl in Cid’s chest, like a wolf who’s just gotten the better of his prey. As he remembers what he has in his pocket, he smirks and pushes the boy back a step.
“Strip. I’ve got something pretty for you to wear. I think you’ll like them, but we can still have plenty of fun without them if you don’t.” As Cid reaches into his jacket, he watches Wyvern’s beautiful body flex and stretch when the lad slips out of his clothes. Naked now and already half-hard, Wyvern backs up a few steps and sprawls out on his bed, hooded eyes gone dark and fixed on Cid.
In the meantime, Cid starts getting undressed, though he loses all patience halfway through unlacing his trousers. He kneels on the bed next to Wyvern and shows him the something pretty he was talking about – a pair of silver nipple clamps, elegant and functional.
Wyvern is already nodding and licking his lips before Cid even opens his mouth to ask him what he thinks.
“You’re an absolute fucking treasure, you are,” Cid says instead. He reaches out to push a thumb into Wyvern’s mouth, getting it nice and wet before he tweaks one of the boy’s nipples.
Wordlessly, the boy arches his back and tilts his head up to stare at Cid. An invitation if there ever was one.
“Such pretty tits.” Cid leans down to bite Wyvern’s nipple, the one not already glinting with spit, and the boy gasps and shakes. “Sensitive, too.” He swirls his tongue around the peaked little nub and sucks. At the same time, he tangles a hand in Wyvern’s hair and pulls, forcing the boy’s back to arch even further, straining his muscles as they work to hold the position. From the corner of his eye, he can see Wyvern’s hard cock straining, too, against his sculpted stomach.
Wyvern’s nipple is peaked and red and shiny-wet with spit as Cid releases it with a pop. He raises one clamp in his hand this time, makes sure that Wyvern can see it, too, and Cid moves in slowly for the kill. He wants to give the lad a chance to back out, if it’s too much for him, but Wyvern doesn’t flinch - Cid only sees a tic in his jaw that leads to a pained, punched-out groan as he applies the first clamp.
When the boy settles again after a few moments, Cid flicks the clamp with his middle finger. It doesn’t produce another groan, but Wyvern squirms and his breathing comes just a bit faster.
“Good?” Cid asks. He smooths his hand soothingly down one broad thigh.
“Yeah.” Sapphire eyes haven’t gone glassy yet. Cid is looking forward to changing that. “Give me the other one.”
Cid makes as much of a to do about this nipple as the other, after a few teasing nips along the curve of Wyvern’s pec. Just hard enough to leave marks that will fade by morning. Then Cid nips Wyvern’s nipple, too, and toys with it between his teeth and his tongue as he curls an arm around the curve of the boy’s back to practically drape his body over him, pressing one leather-clad thigh against his cock and the scant tease of pressure and relief.
It’s as Wyvern’s mouth is opening around a moan that Cid pinches his nipple between the jaws of the second clamp – whatever pleased noise the boy was about to make turns into a yelp instead.
Cid can see Wyvern’s arms are shaking, still holding himself up with his back arched, held in that position by Cid’s hand in his hair. Now that the clamps are on, Cid urges him onto his back on the mattress and finally gets around to kicking off his trousers before he climbs back onto the bed to kneel between the boy’s spread legs. The silver jewelry on his chest naturally catches the light, as well as Cid’s eye.
He still can’t quite believe how lucky he is, that he’s got someone sprawled out beneath him this fucking beautiful and desperate for pain. Even if he is paying for it. The boy’s lips have a natural pout, and that combined with wide, wanting eyes and a blush that travels splotchy all the way down his chest – he’s clearly fucking hungry for it.
And Cid is all too happy to give him what he wants.
In calloused hands, he hefts Wyvern’s fantastic pecs and makes a show of kneading them, pushing them together roughly, a contrast to how gently he uses his thumbs to circle the reddened skin around the clamps. The stone stiffness and ache in the blighted side won’t thank him for it later, but fuck if it isn’t better than the insidious numbness, and well worth it besides.
“Roll over,” he says, with a smack to Wyvern’s thigh. Then a smack to one of his tits for good measure. “Show me your pretty hole. Did you remember what I asked you last time?”
Wyvern obeys with a grunt of discomfort as rolling over to lay on his front presses his abused chest down into the mattress. Though if the slight jerk of his hips is anything to go by, he doesn’t mind the pressure on his cock quite so much.
Perky arse rises up from the lad’s narrow waist, ripe as a peach, more than enough to make Cid’s mouth water. He considers leaning forward to take a bite right out of it when Wyvern reaches back to spread his cheeks open to Cid’s heavy gaze.
A barely-there furl, just a hint of pink. Cid’s cock pulses when he remembers how goddamn good it felt to be inside him last time.
“Told me not to prep myself next time I knew you’d be visiting,” Wyvern says, head tilted to one side.
“Good boy.” He nudges Wyvern’s hands away to replace them with his own, gripping hard enough to make the flesh beneath his fingertips go white.
Then, before he can think better of it – not with any real intent other than he can’t get out of his head just how fucking desperate this lovely creature is to be hurting and wrecked – he’s shifting his body over the boy to straddle his arse and rub the smooth underside of his cock along the boy’s dry hole. “Hmm, what if it was because I wanted to fuck you just like this,” Cid murmurs darkly, almost a growl, and he squeezes Wyvern’s cheeks harder and pushes them around his cock..
Wyvern’s dark head rears back and he looks to be fumbling for a response even as he’s struggling to keep himself from rutting too obviously against the bed. Over his shoulder, he shoots Cid an uncertain glance, and Cid responds with a small slight smile, crooked and reassuring. He’s never spat filth quite like this before, and of course he doesn’t mean it. But Wyvern doesn’t necessarily know that, and the lad seems torn between how fucking hot the fantasy makes him and the fear that Cid will actually go ahead and do it.
Cid leans away, reaching for the bedside table drawer where he just knows that slick of some kind must be kept. He doesn’t have to root for it, either – a half-full bottle of oil is the first thing he spots upon opening the drawer, and he tosses it to the bed next to Wyvern’s surprisingly delicate-looking ankle.
The boy’s eyes almost light up and he lays his head back down. “Please don’t,” he groans even as he pushes back against Cid’s cock and wiggles his hips as if he really does want Cid to shove into him dry, a sufficiently eager display that has precum drooling from the tip of Cid’s prick as he resumes teasing Wyvern’s dry pucker by rubbing his length against it.
Little slut missed his calling in the theater, Cid thinks, amused. The lad is almost laughably easy to read – it makes the performative cracks between the whore being paid to please him and the genuine sexual masochist all the more fascinating to parse, on top of the mystery that is Wyvern – or whatever the fuck his actual name is – himself.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Cid shuffles backwards on his knees and grabs the oil, brings the bottle to his mouth to tug the cork free with his teeth. “I’m rather keen to feel you stretching out around my fingers before I let you have my cock.” He spills it liberally over his open hand, rolls it between his fingers and thumb. It smells subtly of vanilla and lavender. Then he holds the bottle just above Wyvern’s hole and tips it over to dribble some directly onto him. Wyvern shudders. As an afterthought, Cid adds a generous last drizzle to his hand before setting the bottle aside and using slippery fingertips to tease Wyvern’s entrance, rubbing oil into his furl. “Going to get you nice and ready for me. How many fingers do you want before I fuck you?”
“Two,” the boy purrs. He arches his arse up into Cid’s touch, watching him with lidded eyes over one shoulder.
Cid hums, then he leans forward and nips the back of the boy’s neck as he starts to ease one finger into him, slow and steady. “Want to feel the burn, do you? Want it to hurt when I take you?” Cid’s chuckle is a deep rumble of thunder in his chest. “No, I don’t think so. I think I want to be nice to your pretty hole tonight.”
He moves lower now, kissing the dimples in the lad’s lower back, then the top of his crease. Some other time he’ll eat the poor thing out properly, when he won’t end up with a mouthful of sweet-smelling oil for his efforts. At least Cid finally gets the bite of juicy arsecheek that had so enticed him earlier. All the while, he works Wyvern open on that one finger, adding more oil as he does so and pushing it into his hole with a squelch.
“ Oh. Give me another.”
“Greedy.” Cid fucks him with one finger for several moments longer now just to taunt the lad, even though his hole is oozing slick and eager for more. When he does begin to add a second finger, he’s as slow as he was with the first, and he keeps his other hand firm on Wyvern’s lower back, pinning him to the bed to stop the boy from rocking his hips back.
“Come on and fuck me already.” Wyvern squirms and clenches down as if to show Cid’s fingers what his cock is missing out on. Cid tsk s him as he pours another glug of oil over the boy’s hole, taking proper care to ensure he’s getting him thoroughly soaked before they continue.
Without dislodging his fingers, Cid drapes himself over the boy’s back and peppers a few gentle kisses behind his ear. “Brat.” The softness of his tone is at odds with the insult itself. He can’t fathom why he’s foisting this farce of tenderness on the lad other than because Wyvern is clearly just as desperate for it as he is to be taken apart and ruined – though less inclined to let himself have it.
When Cid finds his prostate, Wyvern’s entire body seizes with a whimper before he goes abruptly boneless, letting out breathy little punched-out ah noises with every deliberate nudge of Cid’s fingertips.
“Such a good boy, letting me get you ready to take me. You’re so fucking tight around my fingers, princess.” He readies a third finger at the boy’s entrance. “Got to get your cunt nice and open so I can fit my cock inside you.”
Wyvern kicks one foot into the mattress and groans as Cid’s ring finger stretches his rim, hands fisted in the sheets to either side of him, and Cid trails pacifying open-mouthed kisses down his neck and shoulder.
Once Wyvern has had some time to adjust, Cid’s hand half buried inside the boy starts up a slow fucking rhythm, and it’s not long before Cid’s rutting against the swell of his arse, frequent pauses interspersed for him to spread and twist his fingers within the lad’s scorching insides. He’s thinking it’s just about time that he sinks his cock into him when he remembers – the clamps. Wyvern’s been arse up for him long enough for Cid to have been almost entirely distracted from his plans with the jewelry.
He’s slow and careful as he finally pulls his fingers out of the boy, then heaves himself upright and urges Wyvern to roll onto his back beneath him, taking the time to admire how red and swollen the clamps have made his nipples as the boy spreads his legs so that Cid can kneel between them..
“So fucking pretty.” He tweaks one nipple just to hear the boy moan before leaning away to fumble for his trousers and pat through the pockets. It’s only a few moments before he finds what he’s seeking – a silver chain, too short to be a necklace and too long to be a bracelet – and he dangles it in front of bleary blue eyes with a devilish grin.
Wyvern is already almost too fucked out for coherent thought – he just stares up at Cid, bewildered and adorable.
“I have a game we could play while I fuck you.” As Cid explains, he begins attaching one end of the chain to one of the silver nipple clamps, then does the same with the other.
For a few moments, the chain glints tantalizingly where it hangs between Wyvern’s pecs. Then Cid picks it up with two fingers and pulls, watches the boy’s eyes squeeze shut as he lets out a whimper while his nipples are tugged taut. He’s biting his lower lip red, and the drooling head of his cock has already made a mess of his belly.
As an experiment, Cid keeps his eyes on Wyvern’s red and weeping cock and gives the chain another tug – and chuckles aloud when the pain and stimulation to the boy’s nipples makes his cock pulse and spurt precum.
“ Shiva’s cunt, you’re perfect,” Cid groans, leaning in to kiss him briefly. When he pulls back, he holds the chain up to Wyvern’s pretty pink mouth and puts it between his teeth. “There we go, princess. You keep that right there.”
Held in his mouth like this, there’s a constant tension in the chain attached to Wyvern’s nipples, pulling them painful and taut within the clamps.
He whines and humps the air, desperate for friction as the throbbing in his nipples undoubtedly goes straight to his cock, precious painslut that he is. Although Cid hasn’t given him any orders as to what to do with his hands, he keeps them pinned to the sides of his head like they’re bound there, and Cid isn’t inclined to instruct him otherwise as he manhandles the boy, pushing him up and backwards by a bruising grip on the back of a thigh, hitching one leg up and over his shoulder. The knee of his free leg is bent and splayed open to accommodate Cid’s hips.
Fucking Founder – he hasn’t stopped mewling and squirming since Cid put the chain in his mouth and it’s finally driving Cid to the brink of his patience. He grips his cock in one hand to guide it to Wyvern’s slippery hole, twitching and open.
The lad stares up at Cid with pupils blown, expression dazed and needy despite the tension in his jaw, looking for all the world like Cid’s hanging the damn moon in the sky instead of finally sticking his cock in him. It’s heady, to be looked at like that, and dangerous, too, especially when the one doing the looking is a mysterious, blue-eyed whore covered in scars that speak to the secrets he’s hiding.
Stupid old fool, Cid thinks, and abruptly pulls himself from that unnecessarily sentimental train of thought as he starts to ease the tip of his cock into the boy. He’s wet and loose enough that Cid could bury himself to the hilt in one thrust without doing either of them any harm, but he’s content to take his time, savor the slow sink of his prick into the fiery clutch of Wyvern’s insides..
“Please.” Wyvern tosses his head back against the mattress as he begs through teeth clamped down on the chain. “Fuck me. Please. Need you.” In this position, he’s helpless to control the speed or the force of their coupling, utterly at Cid’s mercy.
About halfway inside him now, Cid runs a soothing palm over Wyvern’s shuddering ab muscles, still deliberately avoiding any touch to his cock. Fuck, though it’s tempting to just let loose and rail the boy senseless – there’s still more fun to be had for both of them.
“Patience, sweetheart. I never finished explaining the game,” Cid croons with a wicked smirk. He pats the flank of the leg on his shoulder. “One hit for every time you drop the chain when I’m fucking you.” As a demonstration, he gives the boy’s thigh a slap just hard enough for them both to hear it – which is to say, not very hard at all, really, a tease.
Wyvern nods before belatedly realizing it only serves to tug the clamps on his nipples, and he whimpers. “ Yes. ”
A trickle of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth already, Cid observes, as he finally bottoms out in the boy. His own tightly leashed control is fraying, too – he slides almost but not quite entirely all the way out, only to fuck right back into the lad with a snarl in the most punishing thrust Cid can muster.
It’s hard and unexpected enough to send Wyvern’s head jerking back, a painful groan punched out of his chest when the clamps are yanked. And just as Cid was hoping to accomplish, the chain drops from his mouth with a clink. Though Wyvern, for the moment, appears too blissed out to realize it, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back.
Crack!
This time, it’s an actual, solid slap that Cid delivers to the boy’s flank, hard enough that the flesh jiggles in spite of the firm cords of muscle there, and so fucking satisfying that it pulls a loud, throaty moan from Wyvern’s chest. Cid lets out a low, pleased hum to echo it as he grinds his hips forward into that tight, all-consuming heat and reaches out to gently place the chain back between Wyvern’s parted lips. Blinking up at Cid and wincing through the sting in his nipples, the boy obediently closes his lips and teeth back over the chain.
Cid bares his teeth as he begins to move his hips in a rhythm more steady and sustainable but by no means merciful. “Knew you’d like it. Always make the prettiest little noises for me when I hurt you.”
Wyvern groans in assent, drooling just a bit more readily now, and the leg not currently on Cid’s shoulder hooks around his waist – reassurance that the lad is just as eager for what Cid is doling out as Cid is to give it, even if all he can do is lie there and take it.
Gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, Cid finally lets himself fuck into the boy with abandon, heedless of making Wyvern bounce and quake with every thrust as the chain jerked – savoring it, rather, especially his mewling.
When Wyvern drops the chain for the second time, Cid hits him harder because he knows the lad can take it. Wants it. The impact against the broad back of his thigh scalds even Cid’s hand, the skin of his palm redden and sting, and Wyvern shouts.
“Fire and flames, princess, I can feel you clench down on me every time I do that.” Cid reaches down to trail an admiring finger through the puddle of precum on the boy’s belly. His untouched cock is nearly as red as his nipples, and when Cid leans down over him to plant a kiss to his lips just before he slips the chain back between them, the boy is capable of little more than panting into his mouth.
Cid starts fucking him again, alternating between slow, languid rolls of his hips and grinding his pelvis in filthy circles, grazing Wyvern’s prostate over and over again and forcing desperate gasps to fall from the boy’s kiss-swollen lips.
“ Ah, ah, ah.”
He’d be a goner in less than a second, Cid thinks, if he so much as stroked a finger down the underside of his leaking, untouched cock.
Wyvern’s eyelids stop their fluttering as he fixes his hungry gaze on Cid. His chin tilts up, deliberately baring the long line of his throat – and then the chain drops once more.
An approving rumble in Cid’s chest. He leans in again, licks the boy’s neck and nips his Adam’s apple. Wyvern tastes like soot and salt, and with his nose pressed right up against his skin, Cid is so intoxicated that for a moment he forgets what he’s meant to do next. When he remembers, his back straightens, and he brings his hand back at the same time that he withdraws his cock nearly all the way before slamming back in another earth-shattering thrust. The smack of their hips together is barely audible over the sound of his open palm colliding with the sensitive curve where Wyvern’s arse meets his rear, the cry that follows.
“Greagor’s gash, you are a little pain slut, aren’t you? Desperate to be abused,” Cid groans through teeth gritted against how damn good Wyvern’s guts feel around him as the lad clenches and thrashes, pain blurring into pleasure. Cid is close, but fuck if he isn’t determined to drive Wyvern over the edge first.
Though he’s close, too, by the sound of it, the stream of hoarse and half-slurred nonsense –
“Yes, fuck, oh yes, please, more, more, fucking, please, want –”
It’s only a few seconds after Cid has returned the chain to his panting mouth that Wyvern, the brat, spits it back out, his jaw ticking, looking up at Cid, wild-eyed and somehow beseeching.
“Fucking –” Cid loses his ability to form words after that, something inside of him flaring so bright and hot, he can only grunt as he ruts forward like a beast.
His vision flashes violet and the air crackles with sudden static – before Cid realizes what the fuck exactly is happening, he’s bringing his hand down on Wyvern’s gorgeous flame-red arse in his fiercest strike yet with a splash of lavender sparks.
Cid is halfway to stopping everything right there in horrified apology, but then Wyvern is throwing his head back, yowling and coming all over himself, untouched cock twitching and spurting milky white streaks across his chest and belly.
It takes willpower Cid didn’t even know he had not to keep fucking into that hot vice and chase his own climax. Instead, he admires Wyvern’s – the arch of his back, the slow release of tension from the muscles of his thighs and calves, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. He’s flushed from his cheeks to his nipples, throbbing and angry red, still in their clamps.
Cid brushes one hand gingerly along the skin of his arse and thigh, feeling for genuine injury - and breathes a sigh of relief upon finding none. Though the flesh is hot to the touch, that’s to be expected regardless of a stray burst of electricity.
About a minute passes in silence, save for their own warm, shallow breaths. Then a twitch of Wyvern’s eyebrows is the only sign of the undercurrent of confusion beneath his bliss.
“You’re not finished.” To punctuate his statement, Wyvern gives a slight wiggle beneath him, wincing a little as he does so.
“Just want to be sure you’re alright, lad.” Cid’s burr is softer now, kinder.
“Fucking perfect.” He wiggles again, and this time his wince is accompanied by one of those delightful clenches that makes Cid see stars. “No one has ever done that to me before.”
“Made you come untouched or the bit with the lightning? Which I’m sorry about, by the way,” Cid says earnestly. Though it’s clear he did the lad no major harm, his heart is racing from the fear that he had. He would’ve never forgiven himself. “I’ve never done that before, and I certainly didn’t intend to.” His hand moves in soothing circles across Wyvern’s abused skin.
“Both. Either. I was mostly talking about the first one, though the lightning was an interesting surprise.” He’s more relaxed and unguarded now in the wake of his orgasm than he was the first night he and Cid spent together, even with his nipples clamped and Cid still sheathed in him. “Let me make you come.” He squeezes Cid’s cock with his insides once more, and Cid’s hands on his hips tighten accordingly. “Please.”
And fuck, maybe Cid is a damned old fool for being swayed by those big blue eyes into thinking that the boy means it, that he’s eager for Cid’s pleasure for its own sake instead of just trying to please a customer – but as Cid tentatively rocks his hips, Wyvern whines and his mouth goes slack from the overstimulation, and the sight and the sound of him make Cid’s cock ache.
Cid’s gentler with him now than he was before, fucks him slow and sweet. The chain stays where it is on Wyvern’s cum-splattered stomach, and the boy closes his eyes, squirming, with a half-dreamy, half-needy sigh, and it isn’t long before Cid notices his cock start to thicken once more where it rests in the crease of his thigh.
Wanting nothing more than to be nice to Wyvern now, Cid reaches out to wrap a hand around him. Jerks him as slow as he’s fucking him. As the lad bites his lip and moans, he finally opens his eyes, and Cid can see them shining with unshed tears.
“Please. Want you to hurt me,” he urges in a whispery moan. Cid can hear what sounds like a sob threatening at the back of his throat as he arches his back, presenting his chest and protruding nipples for more abuse.
And, well, who is Cid to say no to such a pretty, desperate plea?
In one fluid motion that’s nothing short of showing off for an old bastard like him, Cid rolls them so that he’s on his back with Wyvern straddled atop him and still perched on his cock. The lad blinks, expression dazed until Cid plucks the chain with two of his fingers and gives the nipple clamps a firm tug. In the same moment, he thrusts upwards to give Wyvern a bounce in his lap. The hand not pulling the chain resumes stroking the boy’s cock, now back to full hardness.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Cid purrs. He pulls the chain again, and this time he holds the tension steadily. Wyvern gasps and his abs contract, and Cid gives him another encouraging buck of his hips. “Make me come and I’ll give you what you need.”
A determined little line forms between Wyvern’s dark brows. Somehow he finds a way to sink down just a tiny bit further where he’s already impaled on Cid’s cock, and then hips start to roll. Slow at first so that Cid is forced to appreciate just every minute shift in the grip of his insides as he jerks Wyvern’s cock in the same rhythm he’s being ridden.
“ Ngh.” Wyvern’s head dips forward with another pull to his nipples, and he rocks harder, picking up enough speed that soon Cid doesn’t even have to stroke him at all, just let the lad fuck back and forth into his fist, occasionally slicking the way with fresh droplets of precum.
“Fucking beautiful. Think you can come on my cock again?” Cid keeps his hips still, lets Wyvern go at his own pace, too fucking mesmerized by eyes with tears welling at their corners looking down at him helplessly to mind staving off his own orgasm for just a little longer.
“ Uh-huh.” He licks his lips and nods. Hips snap faster, breathing shallow and high-pitched. Cid tightens his fist, making a tighter channel for the lad to fuck into.
Cid closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It’s getting more and more difficult for him to hang on to those last few threads of self-control. As he opens them, he gives the chain another yank, the cruelest one yet.
“ Ah! ” Wyvern yelps and tightens so hard around Cid that it damn near feels like his cock is about to be snapped off –
And that’s when, in one hard wrench of the chain, Cid rips the clamps from his nipples and Wyvern shrieks and writhes above him, tears finally spilling from his eyes as a second climax is dragged out of him with a devastating combination of pleasurable pain.
In his rush to get his arms around the boy, Cid throws the chain with the clamps still attached off to the side somewhere and hears them clatter to the floor. Then he takes a firm grasp of Wyvern’s arsecheeks, one in each hand, holding the lad against him as Cid thrusts up once, twice more – and then he’s coming with a thunderous groan.
In the end, it’s the dual feeling of Wyvern coming around his cock for the second time that night, gasping and pressing his tear-streaked face into his neck that drives him over the edge.
They tremble together, in the aftermath. It’s only then Cid notices the room smells like levin and smoke, and the bedsheets cling to their skin with static. That’s new, rather like the lightning-charged strike he’d accidentally landed earlier in the evening.
Wyvern is slumped over his chest, face still tucked into Cid’s neck, back occasionally rising and falling with a hitching little sob or two but otherwise utterly boneless. Cid’s cock softens and starts to slip out of him. Their chests and bellies are both covered in spend – they can’t stay like this for long if they don’t want to wind up dried and stuck together.
Since there doesn’t happen to be a towel within reach and Cid would be hard-pressed to pull himself away from the bed at this very moment, he snatches his own undershirt off the floor, carefully eases Wyvern off of him and onto his back, and uses the shirt to wipe away the majority of the tacky mess between them.
When Cid lies back down beside him, Wyvern doesn’t hesitate to shift even closer, back to practically curling up atop Cid’s chest like a large, contented coeurl. Cid runs a hand down his spine, over his rear and flank, still rosy red and warm to the touch, and he wouldn’t have be surprised to feel the lad purr like a coeurl, too, even as he’s wiping damp cheeks with the heel of his hand.
“Sorry,” Wyvern murmurs. He doesn’t actually sound very sorry, to Cid’s relief. Nothing wrong with needing that kind of release sometimes, and Cid was more than happy to be the one to provide it.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” With an arm slung around his waist, Cid gives him a squeeze.
He hears the pounding of Wyvern’s heartbeat slow, his breathing steady. Then, a low grumble. “My nipples are going to hurt for a week.”
That comment catches Cid so off guard he almost chokes on a laugh. “Aye, and half your pretty arse sore for that long, too. Can pinch your stinging, swollen nipples as you stroke your cock and think of me, hm?”
And fuck, Cid’s body does not have the energy to deliver on the heat promised in those words for at least several more minutes. Perhaps even as long as an hour. Now he’s just needlessly torturing them both.
Then –
“Yes,” Wyvern says, to Cid’s immense surprise, having not expected an answer at all, let alone one so brazen. The boy even has the gall to look sullen about his admission, like he’s embarrassed than Cid somehow guessed it of him, even though Cid was only teasing, for fuck’s sake.
Cid is very stupidly, helplessly enamored.
He strokes a thumb over the wet trails on the boy’s cheeks. “I didn’t hurt you too badly?”
Wyvern hums. “Mm’fine. Really. This was even better than last time.”
That gets another throaty chuckle out of Cid, and then a comfortable silence falls between them, as Cid rubs soothing circles over his back, brushes fingers through sweat-damp black hair.
“You asked me what if I knew anything about a Dominant, last time we met,” Cid began, finally, voice quiet and thoughtful. “Dominant of Fire. Since you mentioned it, I figured I’d keep an ear out, see if I could learn anything of interest.”
Wyvern peers up at Cid in consternation. “Really? Why?”
“Just seemed like it could be interesting.” Cid shrugs casually. “Anyway, I did learn something new, actually, beyond the vaguest of Rosarian rumors.”
Blue eyes widen for a moment before narrowing in suspicion. “Are you trying to trick me?” The coeurl hisses and readies its claws.
“No, no.” Cid strokes a thumb over the nape of his neck to settle him. “Contact in Stonhyrr happened to let me know that the Kingdom of Waloed is sending soldiers into Storm, and they’re specifically looking for a Dominant of Fire. But the details on where they’re searching for them and why…” He trails off with a small shrug, then adds, “And I remembered you’d asked me about it, so I wanted to be sure to let you know what I’d heard.”
Wyvern is still blinking in surprise at what he’s just been told, and Cid suddenly feels rather guilty about having sprung this on him. He hadn’t realized the subject would so affect the lad – otherwise he would’ve waited until they weren’t in quite such a vulnerable state. Fuck, Cid doesn’t know how to offer his help without offending him or sounding like an arrogant prick.
“I know that Isabelle has told you about some of the work I do with her,” Cid says carefully. “If whatever it is you’re after with this Dominant of Fire hunt takes you out of Northreach, my people might be able to help you.”
Wyvern shakes his head, and Cid immediately notices the stubborn set to his jaw. “I didn’t ask for help. Not helpless just because I’m a whore.”
Prickly thing, like Cid suspected. Not a surprise in his line of work, he supposes, though he’s gratified at least that Wyvern doesn’t move or tense where he’s still draped languidly over Cid’s upper body. Now Cid’s hand moves up to cup Wyvern’s face in one hand, brush his thumb over the scar on his cheek. Whatever it was he’d been through to get the brand in the first place, and then the scar after. It’s a rare and dangerous procedure, and Cid doesn’t know anyone outside of his own Cursebreakers to have survived it.
As intrigued as he is, he knows better than push himself unwanted into someone else’s business. He’s busy enough as it is.
“Shall I not keep you informed, then, should I learn anything else? Such as where this Dominant of Fire might be found or what it is?” Cid raises one eyebrow.
That pretty pink mouth softens into something that might almost be called a pout. “Well…no. I mean. Yes. Tell me if you learn anything else. Please.”
As if Cid could deny this boy anything. Fuck.
“Not sure when I’ll be back around. But I can write to you if I hear something new,” he offers. Then, worried that he’s already overstepped and wanting to be clear that his assistance isn’t contingent on Wyvern having to pretend like he wants to receive letters from one of his clients, he adds, “Or I can have Isabelle pass word along to you if that’s easier.”
For some reason, Wyvern’s cheeks are turning pink and flustered again. “You can write to me,” he mumbles.
In the meantime, Cid will do some more digging of his own. Barnabas wouldn’t have sent Benedikta and her men to another continent to chase after rumors on nothing but a whim. And, well, Cid wants to know what the hell it is they’re doing. He’ll figure out how Wyvern is connected eventually, too.
For now, Cid tumbles him onto his back, sweeps his tongue sweetly over one abused nipple and then the other, blowing cool air on each afterward to make them harden and sting with Wyvern panting and eager beneath him.