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Clive let the tears he's been holding back flow freely down his cheeks. It wasn't because of injury or abuse but was the sweetest and softest words that Cid is whispering into his ear. Words of how good he is, how wonderful and kind of a man he is to everyone while Cid took him apart bit by bit. Fingers trailed all over Clive's body, tracing each white raised skin of scars.
A sob broke free from his mouth and Cid kissed his tears away. The first time Clive wanted someone to hold his hand was this man who reached for his hand above his head to slip his fingers between Clive's. Clive let out a shiver and a soft whine. He tried to pull his hand away, unused to this feeling of touching. Of gentle fingers slipping into his. Of feeling needed.
Cid held his hand gently but firm. To hold and show him that it was okay to touch. He leaned down to kiss him deep while his free hand traced Clive's body from his neck down to his hip. The sweet moans that left Clive's mouth was music to Cid's ears. He wanted to coax more out of him; to hear more.
When Cid entered him, he held his hand. Pulling Clive's hand close to his lips, he kissed each fingertip in time with his thrust. Each kiss was laid from tip to knuckles and a murmur of "it's okay", "easy", "breathe Clive, breathe" and "good. You're okay".
And for each kiss to his fingers, tears fell from those blue eyes and they closed when lips kissed each eyelid. Soaking in the warmth and gentleness to chase away the starving ache that settled in his bones. For so long he knew nothing but pain, harshness and helplessness from a hand that was meant to hurt. From there, he grew numb to all of it till he craved for someone to show him what a gentle touch really means without being hurt.
Cid showed him that. Showed him love when he took him to bed, showed him how gentle a light touch could be instead of a heavy slap, showed him that under all of the heaviness and toughness he covered himself with, is just someone wanting to be loved all over again.
And Cid held his hand throughout the entire time he spilled his seed into Clive. Pressing praising kisses to his body and Clive came undone from it, coating their bellies in ropes of white. They shared a gentle kiss, one that spoke of love and promises to one another, a kiss that didn't need words to be said among them.
~~~
Clive used to avoid being touched. When he and Cid were discussing something with Otto or Gav, Clive would carefully hook his pinky around Cid's. Neither said anything and Cid would return the gesture with a tightening to the hold with his pinky.
Sometimes Cid would offer his hand to Clive to take, to pull him up from a kneeling crouch. That warm strong hold would wrap around his hand, making him feel reassured and safe. Cid would clap his shoulder after some hard work, green eyes speaking more volumes that words could and Clive would nod in answer.
When they were on missions or Cid would drag Clive to stretch his legs, Cid would hold his hand throughout the entire journey with only Torgal as their witness. Cid would jokingly say they were on a date but Clive secretly loves those moments of hand holding in the woods. Just their fingers entangled with one another to pull or direct them to safety or to hold one another at night where soft kisses were placed under the moon and stars.
At night, when both were alone in Cid's solar, were the ones where Clive would slip his entire hand into Cid's and fingers would entangle with his. Those nights would be led to bed and held throughout the entire session of moans and pleasure. It would be those nights where Clive would ride Cid, unsure of what to do and Cid would guide him with a gentle hand.
Clive who never reaches for anyone's hand, reaches for the one man who saved him and showed him what it is worth living for. A hand that would never let go of him and vice versa.