*****
The time's come again
It's nearing the end
But I feel no shame
Do you feel the same
Because I know I'll be all right
If I make it through tonight
Well I swear I'll try to change
Once again
Try to change
*****

Zidane tried to calm his breathing, tried to regain the composure that he was sure he’d once possessed.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, pulling his hand away from Kuja’s gentle grip. “I guess it seemed like the thing to do just then.”

When Kuja continued to stare at him as though he’d never seen him before, Zidane forced himself to smile and shrug.

“This is usually the point where I kiss the pretty girl,” he said lightly, and then for a moment he panicked when he saw the odd look that crossed Kuja’s eyes. Then Kuja glanced downward and Zidane blinked in amazement to see the slight smile that curved Kuja’s lips.

“Contrary to popular opinion, Zidane,” Kuja said evenly, looking up and quirking an eyebrow, “I am *not* a girl.”

“Okay, you got me,” Zidane said with a relieved grin. “I was messing with you.”

Kuja’s smile widened, and Zidane laughed, then reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“Boy, this is awkward,” Zidane said, trying not to sound as giddy as he suddenly felt.

“Yes, it is,” Kuja agreed softly, his eyes on the ground. He was still smiling, but his arms were crossed over his chest again.

“I’m sorry, Kuja,” Zidane said, smile fading as he tried to be serious. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“You trust me,” Kuja said quietly, lifting his eyes again, his piercing lapis gaze fixing Zidane in his place. Zidane squirmed uncomfortably under the look, his eyes widening in amazement.

“Sure I do,” he said, lifting his hands. “What…?”

“How can you trust me?” Kuja asked, brow creasing again. “Not only have I done a number of things in the past that leave me unworthy of your trust, but…you hardly know me.”

“All that past stuff is just that…in the *past*,” Zidane said firmly, folding his own arms over his chest now, trying to convey his conviction. “You’ve changed…I know you well enough to know that. Come on, Kuja, you don’t follow a guy around for nearly a year without learning a few things about him…I know you well enough to know that things are different now.”

“That still doesn’t explain why after only a week of my company, you consider me worthy of your trust,” Kuja said, frown deepening in obvious confusion.

“It sounds funny when you say it like that,” Zidane protested, finally smirking slightly when Kuja blinked. “Worthy of my trust? Come on, it doesn’t work that way…trust isn’t something you think about ‘bestowing’ or anything like that…at least, it isn’t for me. I trust someone or I don’t, and sure, I trust you. I think you’ve earned it.”

“But, a week…” Kuja began again, but Zidane sliced his hand through the air, startling him into silence.

“Nuh-uh,” Zidane said with a grin. “No arguments. Just accept that that’s how it is.”

“I’ve never been the type to simply accept things,” Kuja pointed out, both eyebrows lifted.

“I know,” Zidane said, quirking his own eyebrow in mild challenge. “That’s part of why I get you. You’re a lot like me, you know…you just don’t see it yet.”

Kuja was silent for a long moment, so long that Zidane began to wonder what he might have said wrong.

“Is that why you…?” Kuja began, and then he sighed quietly and turned away, unable to finish the thought.

“What? Why I touched you like that?” Zidane said, trying again to still the sudden jump of his heart in his chest. “Aw hell, I told you…I don’t know why I did that. But I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Honestly, that’s the last thing I wanna do.”

“I know,” Kuja said, and Zidane almost took a step back when Kuja lifted his eyes, and Zidane was hit with the full force of the emotion in Kuja’s gaze. He had never looked at Zidane so openly before, his soul bared entirely for the first time, and by his choice. “Zidane…”

He lifted his hand hesitantly, and Zidane let out a quick breath as he reached up both of his own hands and clasped Kuja’s between them.

“What about…?” Kuja began, as he took a step closer and breathed gently onto Zidane’s neck.

“What about…? Oh, Dagger?” Zidane said breathlessly, blinking as though to wake himself up as he pressed a bit closer. He found it strange, to suddenly feel hunger for the warmth of a fellow human being---Genome, he corrected himself with a slight wince at the old mistake---when just less than an hour before he had been so hot he was sure he could never stand warmth again. “Aw hell, we talked before all of this…she just wants to be friends.”

Kuja sighed, settling back against the wall.

“Can you believe that?” Zidane asked, smiling a bit as he reached up and brushed Kuja’s hair out of his face. “I always fall for the unavailable ones.”

“I am alone,” Kuja said quietly, and Zidane smiled at him gently before stepping closer and wrapping his arms protectively around Kuja’s slender waist.

“Not anymore,” he said softly, nuzzling his nose into the bare skin of Kuja’s neck. He felt Kuja stiffen as he brushed his lips along the sunburned skin of Kuja’s throat, listening with delight to the hum of pleasure that involuntarily rippled underneath his lips. He felt Kuja’s hands hesitantly reach up to touch his arms, and he smiled. “Hey Kuja?”

“Zidane?” Kuja answered, dropping his chin so he could meet the younger man’s eyes.

Zidane didn’t answer; instead, taking the newfound opportunity, his hands clenching gently into the material of Kuja’s shirt to pull him closer as he kissed him. Kuja’s mouth opened to let out a quick, surprised breath as Zidane’s lips brushed over his, then pressed closer. Zidane’s hand stroked back through Kuja’s hair, gently taking hold of the back of his head to deepen the kiss. Kuja groaned restlessly into Zidane’s mouth, his hands tightening their grip on Zidane’s elbows.

“Mm,” Zidane murmured, closing his eyes as he pulled back, resting his head on Kuja’s chest. “Kuja?”

“Mmhm?” Kuja answered, unable just then to form words. He was breathing quickly, chest moving swiftly up and down beneath Zidane’s cheek.

“You sure you want to do this?” Zidane asked him, leaning back and opening his eyes. Kuja met his gaze easily enough, despite the fact that his eyes had glazed over slightly. “I don’t want you to feel…coerced or anything.”

He said this last awkwardly, placing his hand against Kuja’s heart, reassured by the strong beat he felt under his palm.

“I don’t feel coerced,” Kuja said quietly, and Zidane sighed as Kuja’s fingers nimbly worked at the tie in his hair, undoing it and letting the honey-gold strands tumble over his shoulders. “I don’t want you to feel like this is something you have to do, either.”

“Uh-uh,” Zidane said, grinning as he reached up to nuzzle his nose along the underside of Kuja’s jaw. Kuja sighed, tilting his head back to give Zidane greater access, and Zidane laughed when he felt Kuja’s tail wrap firmly around his thigh. “There’s a big difference between ‘have to’ and ‘want to’.”

“I should hope so,” Kuja said, smirking slightly as his hands rubbed lightly over Zidane’s arms.

“Mm…come on,” Zidane said, stepping back and taking hold of Kuja’s hand, gently tugging him towards the stairs.

“Ow,” Kuja complained, frowning, and Zidane laughed and quickly loosened his grip.

“Sorry…forgot,” Zidane said, and Kuja pouted slightly at him, making him laugh. He lifted the hand and placed a gentle kiss at the tip of the injured thumb, and Kuja hummed again, a low sound in his throat that made Zidane shiver. “C’mon.”

Kuja followed him without protest, chuckling quietly when Zidane almost fell down the stairs.

“What’s your hurry?” he teased gently, and Zidane huffed in annoyance and made a show of brushing himself off.

“Just get in the bedroom,” he said, feigning irritation. He pointed towards the open doorway at the bottom of the stairs.

“As you wish,” Kuja agreed, brushing past him and going into the sunlit room. He jumped when Zidane’s hands closed over his hips, guiding him gently towards the bed. “Zidane! And you call me impatient…”

“You *are* impatient. Don’t deny it,” Zidane said, laughing. Kuja turned around and quirked an eyebrow.

“All right,” Kuja admitted with a wry smile, reaching out to brush Zidane’s hair away from his face. “I admit it. I’m impatient. But so are you.”

“A perfect match,” Zidane teased, gently rubbing Kuja’s hips, grinning as Kuja pressed closer, responding to the contact.

“Mm…Zidane…” Kuja growled softly, leaning forward to bury his face in Zidane’s neck.

“Uh-huh?” Zidane said, and Kuja breathed out swiftly, surprised, as Zidane gently pushed him down to the bed and then climbed on, sliding his leg over Kuja’s hips to straddle his stomach.

“I forget,” Kuja said breathlessly, closing his eyes as Zidane leaned over him, fingers quickly working at the buttons of Kuja’s shirt. Kuja shuddered as Zidane chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter moving through Kuja’s entire body.

Zidane tilted his head, peering down at the lithe body beneath him, and musing yet again that Kuja looked truly ridiculous in the jeans he’d borrowed from Zidane, with the cuffs at the bottom rolled down to accommodate his greater height.

“I have *got* to get you out of those pants…” he mused aloud, and he grinned at the warm sound of Kuja’s laughter, a sound that had become unbearably rare. Kuja was still laughing, tittering helplessly behind a hand, as Zidane set to work on doing just that, shifting off of Kuja so he could undo the jeans and then pull them down past Kuja’s hips. Kuja wriggled lightly against the bed, helping, until Zidane finally tossed the jeans across the room and then set to work on the shirt again, undoing the rest of the buttons. Kuja’s hands rested lightly on Zidane’s thighs, not moving.

After a while, Zidane realized that Kuja was still looking at him with some measure of anxiety, and that his palms were sweating enough that Zidane could feel it through the fabric of his own jeans.

“Hey Kuja,” he said with a gentle smile, lifting an eyebrow as he leaned back to meet Kuja’s eyes. “Do you mind helping me out here? I don’t want to do all the work.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Kuja murmured, looking a bit confused.

“That means touch me,” Zidane said with a quiet chuckle, leaning down to catch Kuja’s lips in another kiss. When he broke away, Kuja was looking up at him, breathing quickly again as he nodded. Zidane groaned as Kuja abruptly gripped his hips and pulled him closer. Kuja gasped when Zidane slid his leg between Kuja’s, denim scratching across bare skin, his knee pressing into Kuja’s erection through the light fabric of his underwear.

“Zidane…” Kuja moaned, using his grip on Zidane’s waist to pull him closer. Zidane groaned loudly into Kuja’s neck when their pelvises ground together.

“Jeez…” Zidane puffed out, his entire body trembling as he raised himself up to look at Kuja. “I guess it’s been a really long time for me. I mean, with a guy…”

Kuja just smiled, reaching up to tangle his hands in Zidane’s hair. Zidane grinned, lightly tweaking one of Kuja’s feathers before he leaned back to undress himself. Kuja struggled the rest of the way out of his shirt and tossed it over the side of the bed, sitting up to help Zidane with his own shirt. They laughed as their fingers slid together, and Zidane snorted when Kuja’s tail wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Hey, you,” he said lightly, patting the silvery fur before gently untangling himself from its grip.

“Sorry,” Kuja said a bit sheepishly, shoving his tail aside and leaning forward to kiss his way along Zidane’s neck, only to stop and chuckle when Zidane’s tail tightly gripped his thigh.

“Sorry,” Zidane said cheekily, and Kuja growled softly and bent to work on undoing Zidane’s pants. “Whoa, jeez…there’s that impatient streak again…”

“Hush and help me,” Kuja said, and Zidane laughed as he complied. A moment later, Zidane’s shirt and pants sailed across the room to join Kuja’s, and then Zidane’s hands were gently tugging away Kuja’s underwear. Kuja sighed, burying his face in Zidane’s neck as his full nudity was finally revealed. Zidane grinned, realizing that Kuja was awaiting his verdict, and let his eyes roam over the full length of the other man’s body.

“Damn,” Zidane whispered, running his hands lightly over the muscles of Kuja’s chest. “You’re…”

“What?” Kuja asked, almost teasing him, his hand stroking Zidane’s bare back.

“Beautiful, I guess,” Zidane said a touch hesitantly, as though unsure how this would go over.

“Thank you,” Kuja said simply, fluttering his eyelashes and giving Zidane a completely doe-eyed look. Zidane burst out laughing, collapsing against the bed. Kuja propped himself up on an elbow, smiling down at his younger lover. Zidane’s laughter cut off into an abrupt groan as Kuja lightly stroked his hand over Zidane’s erection through the fabric of his boxers. “I fail to see what’s so funny.”

“Funny?” Zidane gasped as Kuja’s hand closed over him and squeezed gently, making him jump. He turned, burying his face in Kuja’s neck. “What’s funny? I don’t see anything funny…”

“That’s what I thought,” Kuja said lightly, chuckling as he leaned down to close his mouth over a hardened nipple. Zidane gasped and arched towards him, hands clutching his shoulders.

“Mm…Kuja…” he groaned, and then he gasped, eyes flying open, as Kuja tugged off his boxers in one swift motion and then gripped onto him again, harder than before.

“Yes?” Kuja murmured against his skin.

“Mm…gods…” Zidane whispered, and then he placed his hands against Kuja and gave him a gentle shove. Kuja let out a soft sound of protest as he fell back against the bed, and he watched as Zidane scrambled for the door.

“Where are you going?” he pouted.

“Where the hell is that cream?” Zidane called back as an answer as he disappeared around the corner. Kuja stared after him silently for a moment before he burst out laughing, louder than Zidane had ever heard him, collapsing back on the bed and clutching his stomach as he guffawed.

Zidane padded quickly through the kitchen, glancing right and left to make sure there were no peeping toms, and then bent to his pack, retrieving the jar. Then he stood up, and jumped at the sound of a sharp gasp from off to his left.

“Holy shit!” a voice exclaimed, and he spun, nearly choking on his laughter when he saw the wide-eyed moogle face peeking in through the window.

“What is it?” a female voice asked, and another face appeared in the window. “Oh my God! Moco, Zidane’s completely naked!”

“Oh gee, thanks for telling me, Mocha,” Moco said irritably, obviously fighting the urge to smack her upside the head. “I didn’t notice that Zidane was buck naked.”

“Sorry guys,” Zidane said, making a half-hearted attempt to cover himself with his hands and blushing. “Can’t talk just now…later!”

And with that he disappeared back down the stairs, tripping down the last two again and nearly crashing into the wall.

“I’m okay, thanks for asking!” he called as he hurried into the room, slamming the door behind himself. Kuja lifted himself up on his elbows and raised both eyebrows. He was still grinning.

“Did I hear voices?”

“Yep. I just scared the bejesus out of Mocha and Moco,” Zidane answered, smirking as he tossed the jar to Kuja, who caught it easily. “I’m sure they’ll never speak to me again.”

“Will you ever get over the loss?” Kuja said dryly, and Zidane laughed as he climbed back onto the bed.

“Hey, they provide us with food and shelter…or at least they did, until now,” Zidane said with a slight smirk. Then his expression softened as his eyes ran over Kuja’s body again. Kuja sighed as Zidane settled over him, hands roaming lightly along his sides. Zidane’s mouth gently teased his nipples, making him arch towards the contact. His hands clasped into Zidane’s hair, keeping a gentle hold, though he didn’t attempt to guide Zidane’s actions, instead letting him do as he pleased. He gasped and arched into the touch when Zidane’s hand gently closed around his erection, sliding up and down the shaft.

“Kuja?” Zidane murmured against his skin. “Do you want me to…?”

“Yes,” Kuja hissed, his hands running down over Zidane’s shoulders. Zidane lifted himself, kissing Kuja gently and then gasping into his mouth when Kuja’s hands closed over his buttocks and pulled him closer, grinding against him. “Yes, I want you.”

“Oh…Kuja…” Zidane groaned, trembling as he tried to regain his focus. “Mm…where’s that…?”

Kuja lifted himself slightly and fumbled out across the bed, grabbing the jar and shoving it into Zidane’s waiting hand.

“Shit,” Zidane said laughingly as he fumbled the jar, nearly dropping it. “God, it’s been a long time. Hold on a second.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Kuja practically whimpered, and Zidane chuckled as he finally got the cap unscrewed and dipped his fingers in, coming out with a generous amount. He met Kuja’s eyes for a brief instant before his eyes dropped, and he focused on his task. Kuja gasped and stiffened when he felt Zidane’s fingers brush against his entrance, and then press forward.

“Relax,” Zidane murmured, glancing up towards Kuja’s face. Kuja nodded, taking a deep breath against the flash of pain that rippled through him as Zidane’s fingers pressed deep into him and twisted.

“Mm…” Kuja breathed, closing his eyes and tossing his arm over his face as he squirmed.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” Kuja answered, nodding and taking another quick breath. Zidane was breathing harshly as he watched the motions of his own hand, and he caught his breath at the same instant that Kuja stiffened as he pulled his fingers away. Kuja groaned and gripped Zidane’s arms as Zidane settled into place over him, replacing the touch of his hand with the touch of his erection.

“Still with me?” Zidane said breathlessly, and Kuja nodded, groaning as he glanced down to watch Zidane spreading some of the ointment over his own erection. “Right. Stay with me…”

Zidane pressed closer, and Kuja fought not to stiffen at the invasive touch, his fingernails biting into Zidane’s skin as Zidane let out a quick breath and then pressed forward. Kuja cried out softly at the penetration, and Zidane gasped sharply but forced himself to stop, holding himself still against Kuja.

“You okay?” he asked again, gentler this time.

“Yes. Don’t stop,” Kuja whispered, opening his eyes to meet Zidane’s concerned gaze. Zidane nodded and thrust forward again, and Kuja concentrated on keeping himself calm and relaxed, his hands still tightly gripping Zidane’s arms as Zidane shifted position slightly and with another gentle thrust pushed past the barrier and slid in deep. Kuja let out a long, sharp breath and Zidane stroked his hair back from his face.

“Kuja…”

“Mm…Zidane…” Kuja murmured, turning his face into the side of Zidane’s neck as Zidane moved again, gently shifting further until he was buried as far as he could go.

“Gods,” Zidane whispered again, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Kuja’s shoulder. “It’s been so long since I…mm…”

“Zidane,” Kuja said somewhat urgently, and Zidane chuckled before lifting himself up again, gently meeting Kuja’s pleading eyes.

“Okay. Hold tight,” Zidane said warmly, gripping the sheets tightly for leverage before he started to move, gently pulling back and then thrusting forward. Kuja groaned at the first few jerky movements, then moaned as Zidane found his rhythm and Kuja struggled to move in counterpoint. His tail was wrapped tightly around Zidane’s thigh, encouraging him forward, and he felt Zidane’s tail lightly stroking along the inside of his own thigh, increasing the sensation between his legs.

“Oh God,” Zidane whispered roughly against Kuja’s neck, and then he tossed his head back, hair flying, and chuckled softly. “Damn…that feels good…”

“You have no idea…” Kuja murmured, wrapping his legs around Zidane’s waist to draw him closer. Zidane moaned and bent to claim a kiss, and Kuja sighed into his mouth as he felt the familiar sensations of pleasure building at the base of his spine.

“Zidane…I…” he struggled, hands clamping tightly onto Zidane’s shoulders as he thrust into Zidane’s motions. “Oh gods…”

Zidane could only respond with a quiet moan halfway towards a whimper as he buried his face in Kuja’s neck and quickened his pace, unable to hold back any longer. Kuja cried out again as Zidane finally hit his prostate, and he imagined he saw fireworks behind his eyes as he clenched tightly around Zidane. Zidane groaned in response to this and opened his eyes, meeting Kuja’s hazed-over gaze, trying to hold his eyes through the last of it.

“Zidane!” Kuja whispered sharply, hands gripping Zidane almost painfully as the orgasm rippled through him, growing in intensity until he almost screamed, burying his face against Zidane’s shoulder to muffle the sound.

“Kuja…” Zidane murmured in his ear, and then he caught his breath sharply as Kuja’s muscles clenched down again, sending him over the edge. He shouted something incoherent and thrust deeply, then went stiff for a moment as he came. Kuja groaned as Zidane finished within him and then caught himself just before he collapsed.

“Oh…my…God,” Zidane whispered, dropping his head to rest against Kuja’s shoulder.

“Let go,” Kuja said softly, stroking Zidane’s back. “I can take the weight.”

Zidane only had time to nod before his arms gave out and he collapsed over his former enemy. Kuja’s arms gently surrounded him, hands stroking through his hair as he fought to catch his breath. Kuja’s legs slowly relaxed from where they’d been holding tightly to Zidane’s waist, coming to rest on either side of Zidane’s hips.

“Hey Kuja?” Zidane murmured after several long minutes of trying to catch his breath and for the most part failing.

“Yes?” Kuja murmured, lazily stroking a hand along Zidane’s back.

“I don’t want you to…say you’re useless anymore,” Zidane whispered, gently kissing Kuja’s neck. “It isn’t true. I hope I can prove to you that I…”

“I know,” Kuja said, closing his eyes against the sudden, shocking sting of tears. “I know. Thank you, Zidane.”

“Hey,” Zidane said, and Kuja opened his eyes, surprised to hear the sound of Zidane’s chuckle. “It was no big deal.”

For a moment Kuja sputtered in silence.

“Why, you…” he said finally, grinning as he pushed upwards abruptly, flipping Zidane underneath him and straddling him. “I think I may have to teach you a lesson…”

“Please do…” Zidane murmured, still chuckling as he stroked Kuja’s back. “I don’t mind.”

They both chuckled, and then their laughter echoed hard against the walls as Kuja lost his balance and tumbled into Zidane, unable to get up again because he was laughing too hard.

*****

“Holy shit,” Morrison said, standing just outside the door and staring at Moco wide-eyed. “You’re kidding!”

“What the hell does that sound like to you?” Moco pointed out with a wry grin.

“Holy shit…” Morrison said, shaking his head again and rubbing the sweat out of his eyes. “I think I need a drink.”

*****
Innocence is a face that always lies
Innocence is a wish for some
But it's something I can't buy
What are you trying to prove
So many mountains to move
And all your demons are heaven sent
My lost cathartik friend
Try to change
Try to change…
*****