Breakfast part one

Vincent wasn't entirely sure it was supposed to be like this. He held his good hand up, the cloud filtered sunset catching on his pale skin. Cid snored next to him, doing his damndest to suck the paint off the walls. The ex-gunman smirked and let his hand drop, making a light thump on the sheets. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. He sat up slowly, the quilt on the bed slipped down to his waist. It was soft, a fleecy comfort on his nude form. Comfort. That's what made this so wrong. Things like this weren't supposed to be a comfort. He looked over at the pilot, brow knitting..
***
"Gods Vin yer' fuckin' beautiful.."
Vincent gasped as the pilot drove his hips forward again. It had been three months and two days since the final battle with Sephiroth and only a few hours less than than that since Cid had followed him to what was supposed to be the site of another attempted suicide. The Death Penalty only had one shell left in cartridge, and it had been reserved for the back of his skull. A stuttered moan escaped from his lips and his arms shook. It was becoming impossible to keep himself upright as the "Cap'n" pounded deep. Vincent fell forward, forehead buried in the sheets. His whimpers were muffled as he struggled to find a grip. This was an entirely different Cid from the one who had nearly drove his airship into the ground right before his finger curled around the trigger. Vincent could still remember the swearing as he was dragged into the cockpit by his hair. Cid had backhanded him then, and used what was left of his cloak to give him a good shake. Cid had cried then too. After the shaking of course. The pilot then pulled him close, burly arms squeezing a very confused Valentine into his chest. Sweat began to drip down his back as Cid's hands slid under and over his abdomen, stopping at his chest to run pointer fingers over hardening nipples. Vincent moaned again, louder this time, unable to think clearly anymore.
***
Cid's kindness frightened him, more than his overactive sex drive. Vincent moved out of the bed slowly, wincing the whole way. Once he got to his feet he gave the room a quick scan. He carefully pulled on the nearest shred of clothing to cover his lower half. Cid was going to be upset again to find his jeans missing. They hung low on his hips. The tapered "v" of bone jutted over the waist of the pants and Vincent sighed. His clothes were probably under the still snoring pilot. Things shouldn't be this comfortable. Vincent limped his way to the kitchen, stopping on his way to stare out of one of the wide panels of glass coating the airship. There was no escape, unless a freefall counted as escape. Cid had been nothing but kind. It was more than he deserved. Vincent crouched in front of some cabinets and produced a skillet. He still felt awkward about using Cid's things. He laid it on the stove, feeling albeit guilty. A quick shake of the head later he found himself sitting in a chair, staring at his hands. He shouldn't be using Cid's things. He shouldn't be on this ship. And he sure as hell shouldn't be letting the pilot take him to bed. But maybe that was the payment Cid truly wanted to compensate for his daring rescue and hospitality. Vincent sighed. If that were so then why did he allow it to be so comfortable? There were no undertones of subservience, no hints about obligation. Vincent was too battered mentally to believe that the pilot could truly, or rather that he shouldn't waste romantic feelings on his monstrosities. He stared at his hand again. It was shaking. He sighed. To hell with it. He was hungry.

oooh. I likey! good job so far!

I do have the rest of this on my Y! if you want to look at it before I post it here