A Final Fantasy IV One-Shot by ChronicLegCramp-Since'99
*Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to SquareEnix, respectively*
Kain awoke gradually, to the sound of his name being murmured over and over again, into his right ear. As the sound grew more persistent and impatient, he let out a sleepy sigh and opened his eyes. Cornflower blue, ringed pupils stared into his own, powder blue eyes.
"Sire?" Kain sat up warily, rubbing his eyes. Cecil- his pale face framed by his wavy, pure-white hair- sat close, looking up at Kain. The latter lifted a hand to press the tips of his fingers, hesitantly, to the shadows under the other mans eyes. "You look tired; you need your rest, Sire."
"Can I not rest my head here tonight? Beside yours," Cecil whispered, tucking his best friend's long, pale blond hair behind his ears, before nudging his nose with his own. Kain felt his muscles tighten at the proximity of their faces, his hands clenching in his sheets.
"You are a King now, Sire. You do not ask permission. You issue orders. You command." he said, turning his face away and tried to swallow down the hard obstacle stuck in his throat. Unfortunately, that gave his King better access to his neck and his restraint was soon being tested by the warmth of Cecil's breath, lips and tongue on his skin. Kain's eyes rolled back as he desperately, attempted to keep his arms by his sides. He could feel a moan building up within him, as Cecil's soft hands ran down his bare torso, pushing him back down onto the bed.
"What if I desire your permission?" he whispered in Kain's ear, before climbing on top of him, legs either side of his Holy Dragoon.
"Rosa shall wonder where her husband is." Kain countered, though his hands- acting of their own accord- came up to rest on his Kings thighs.
"Right now, that concerns me not," Cecil breathed, lustful eyes resting on the man beneath him. Without warning, Kain rolled them over and pinned Cecil to the bed- none too gently. His hand gripped the younger mans throat, but it went ignored; Cecil sniffed at a lengthy, wisp of blond hair, that was tickling his cheek, fingers stroking the back of Kain's neck. Kain was breathing heavily, eyes trained on his best friend's delicate face. He could feel Cecil's body humming underneath him, as the white haired man curled his legs around the blond's waist.
"Has your satisfaction been fuelled enough for tonight, Sire?" Kain demanded scathingly, the hand that was at his Kings neck, was burning.
"Not nearly enough, Kain." The Paladin replied, eyes darkening with want. "If you wish me to treat you as a servant, I shall: Kiss me." For a fraction of a second, Kain's fingers dug into Cecil's milky flesh; he released his grip. He pressed his lips remotely, to the white haired mans once, and then pulled back.
"Have done with this, already, Cecil." The person in question was pouting, but it was clear to his counterpart, that it was only to mask his hurt. Kain sat back on his heels, still between his Kings legs. Cecil soon sat up straight, with him. Cupping his Dragoons face in the palm of his hands, he placed kiss after kiss on an unresponsive, yet ever-tempting, mouth. Kain didn't move, just waited for his Paladin to stop, although with every velvet butterfly kiss bestowed upon him, his resolve, slowly but surely, lost its strength.
The way his King was sighing his name against his lips, was maddening. Kain registered his body pushing Cecil down, lips blindly, seeking his. His body was shaking with the effort of trying to hold back, as his King took up stroking up and down his back.
It was like a chant, flowing out of Cecil's mouth and into Kain's mind, teasing him, manipulating him, controlling him. He felt himself groan as his best friends tongue ran along his lower lip and slid into his mouth. He sensed the Paladins lower body rubbing against his, as their embrace deepened and became urgent.
"We shouldn't-" Kain tried, even as he tugged on Cecil's top lip with his teeth.
"I love you, Kain." It was then that the Holy Dragoon succumbed and allowed himself to forget reason. He ripped at the silken linen, clinging to Cecil's body, discarding his own clothes, just as roughly. He felt his King chuckle as he nipped down his neck; Cecil was sucking on his ear. Kain's mouth moved back to Cecil's, aggressively, hands fisting in his shiny white locks. Cecil dragged his nails down his lovers sides, smiling at the choked moan, the action forced out of Kain's throat.
"I hate you…" the Dragoon whispered, feebly. Cecil ran his hands through Kain's hair, a tender look gracing his face.
"We both know that isn't true, my love,"
"How I wish it were…" Kain returned, leaning his forehead against Cecil's and closing his eyes on the cornflower blue irises that were imprinted on the back of his eyelids, anyway.
"Kain," the Paladin began, a note of desperation in his voice. "What if we fled from here- we could take an airship and fly to the worlds end…just you and I…" Kain opened his eyes again and gazed down at his best friend's lovely, hopeful, face; he felt his heart stutter before he exhaled a long breath.
"Cecil. You have chosen your path," the youthful King clutched his Holy Dragoon closer, his heart pounding uneasily, with fear. "You cannot run away from your responsibilities as King."
"But you shall never leave me? Not again…" Cecil sounded the most vulnerable Kain had ever heard him. "Promise me you will never leave again- that you will always be by my side…"
Heart pounding, Kain took an uneven breath. And lied. "You have my word."
The next morning, Kain Highwind stood atop a green hill, on the outskirts of Baron. He wore a hooded robe around his shoulders and held a cotton sack in his left hand. In his right, was a letter addressed to 'My Dearest Friend' from Cecil, which had been written during their adolescence, when Kain had been struck with a fever and isolated in his bedroom for a couple days. One afternoon, Cecil had crept through the corridors and slipped the letter under Kain's door. Now, Kain tucked the letter into his sack carefully, and turned to leave. He had left Cecil a note on his bedside table before leaving, along with a vase of freshly picked, blue tulips; he imagined Cecil reading it now, his face creasing in a terrible pain, only the blond could imagine. He glanced back, anguish marring his vision, so that he felt sick.
I cannot stay by your side. Where you used to be my source of oxygen, you have now made it impossible for me to breathe in your company. Not now that you are hers and hers alone. If you truly love me, as I love you, you shall not begrudge me this escape- for if I continued living here, as your closest friend by day and your lover by night, it would kill me. You are no longer mine and so it is impossible for me to be yours. Do not hate me.