Cid is rattled, genuinely, after that experience. While it may have been a memory, it was still incredibly real. And worse, the events only created a story that he was beginning to tell himself. One of ache, pain, loss… And regret.
“I… I need to dry off, I think. Go back to the room, have a drink.”
Cid rubs his temples as he shakes his head. That gnawing ache, the longing for something coupled with more longing and more somethings. It was maddening.
“I need to get out of this fucking heat before the last of my senses boil in my skull,” he stalks away from all of that, from the glimmer by the door, from Barnabas.
Though he hopes he follows. He peers over his shoulder and tips his hat.
Barnabas says nothing, he just allows his actions to speak for him. Which is to say that when Cid looks back to ask, Barnabas is right there tailing him, giving him a shallow nod. It really is a lot to take in, a lot to consider. There were mysteries seeing that scene and the ship before, but now Cidolfus has painted it in a new light altogether. One that tinges the scene with something grim.
Was Cidolfus on that ship? Had he sent him to his watery grave? Directly or indirectly? Did he part the sea to find him?
There are so many unanswered questions, and not enough evidence to say for certain one way or another. All he knows is that within the hollowed core of himself, there is an ache that can be felt, one more deeply than what he is otherwise vulnerable to. It worsens as he looks at Cid, that feeling of loss driving deeply within him.
He is silent as they make their way to the inn, for what words could he truly say in the wake of all of this? Barnabas has never been one in the ways of comfort.
That suits Cid. Chatty as he is, he feels something clinch around his heart when he thinks about what to say about all of this. Cid slips a bottle of liquor from the downstairs of the inn and tucks it into his jacket. He jogs up the stairs to their fourth floor room, feeling like he’s still seeking higher ground.
Cid places a hand on the door to Barnabas’ room as his eyes slowly meet the other man’s. He turns the handle to let them both in. He turns in the threshold, not even properly inside the room as he grabs the other man by the collar of his shirt and hauls him towards his mouth. Cid crushes his eyelids closed as he parts his lips, kissing aggressively into the other man’s mouth- as if he is already a ghost, and there is no time to waste.
There's plenty of ways this could have gone, and this is certainly one, yet that does not mean he expected it. The grim shift in Cid's demeanor left him uncertain of where he sat on the matter, and if perhaps learning of the circumstance meant a rejection or ire would be aimed at him.
Instead, it is lips upon his, hands grasping tightly at his shirt, and a firm hold keeping them connected. Barnabas returns the gesture, his lips pressing and parting, their breath mingling as tongue seeks tongue. Barnabas' hands grab at Cid's own clothes, pulling and unbuttoning them with pointed haste and desperate purpose. With care he takes control of them both, walking Cid back towards the bed as they kiss, though he does not yet push him upon the mattress.
He doesn't dare separate them yet.
His heart thrums in his chest, and his cock stirs in his pants. An ache blossoming within him, both of need and of grief. Oh, what providence! That which he had lost is now here with him, it fills him with a feeling that is nearly intoxicating. He wishes to drink deep of it, swallow every drop.
Cid moves naturally with Barnabas’ movement, allowing him to press him back to the bed. He groans into his mouth as Barnabas undresses him, noting how unevenly this process his going. His hands go to where his shirt cannot manage to button up any further, grasping one side in each hand as he pulls it all apart, baring his chest instantly.
Oh how he wishes he could just wantonly stare at it right now- but there would be time enough for that soon. He palms the front of his jeans and gives his quickly hardening prick a rough squeeze. A promise, really.
Cid breaks the kiss to breathe, to glance Barnabas over. He grabs the top button of his jeans and pulls it open, head swimming as the scent of his bare skin washes over him like the tide. He can’t wait, he can’t help himself- as he reaches in to fish out his cock.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
odinpusrex) wrote2014-06-03 04:12 pm
*christens your inbox with emotional pornography*
“I… I need to dry off, I think. Go back to the room, have a drink.”
Cid rubs his temples as he shakes his head. That gnawing ache, the longing for something coupled with more longing and more somethings. It was maddening.
“I need to get out of this fucking heat before the last of my senses boil in my skull,” he stalks away from all of that, from the glimmer by the door, from Barnabas.
Though he hopes he follows. He peers over his shoulder and tips his hat.
“… You’ll join me, won’t you?”
no subject
Was Cidolfus on that ship? Had he sent him to his watery grave? Directly or indirectly? Did he part the sea to find him?
There are so many unanswered questions, and not enough evidence to say for certain one way or another. All he knows is that within the hollowed core of himself, there is an ache that can be felt, one more deeply than what he is otherwise vulnerable to. It worsens as he looks at Cid, that feeling of loss driving deeply within him.
He is silent as they make their way to the inn, for what words could he truly say in the wake of all of this? Barnabas has never been one in the ways of comfort.
no subject
Cid places a hand on the door to Barnabas’ room as his eyes slowly meet the other man’s. He turns the handle to let them both in. He turns in the threshold, not even properly inside the room as he grabs the other man by the collar of his shirt and hauls him towards his mouth. Cid crushes his eyelids closed as he parts his lips, kissing aggressively into the other man’s mouth- as if he is already a ghost, and there is no time to waste.
no subject
Instead, it is lips upon his, hands grasping tightly at his shirt, and a firm hold keeping them connected. Barnabas returns the gesture, his lips pressing and parting, their breath mingling as tongue seeks tongue. Barnabas' hands grab at Cid's own clothes, pulling and unbuttoning them with pointed haste and desperate purpose. With care he takes control of them both, walking Cid back towards the bed as they kiss, though he does not yet push him upon the mattress.
He doesn't dare separate them yet.
His heart thrums in his chest, and his cock stirs in his pants. An ache blossoming within him, both of need and of grief. Oh, what providence! That which he had lost is now here with him, it fills him with a feeling that is nearly intoxicating. He wishes to drink deep of it, swallow every drop.
no subject
Oh how he wishes he could just wantonly stare at it right now- but there would be time enough for that soon. He palms the front of his jeans and gives his quickly hardening prick a rough squeeze. A promise, really.
Cid breaks the kiss to breathe, to glance Barnabas over. He grabs the top button of his jeans and pulls it open, head swimming as the scent of his bare skin washes over him like the tide. He can’t wait, he can’t help himself- as he reaches in to fish out his cock.