[If it wasn’t weird or if Clive was a bit drunker, he might have taken one more deep inhale, but it was weird and he would need at least two more shots before he had the confidence to close the distance between them and take Cid in fully. The thought sends a thrill through him and he has to force himself to maintain eye contact. He could not afford to be even a little bit hard in these clothes. It was difficult enough to stay in them as it was.

Clive sighs and reluctantly lets Cid go, hand dragging along his waist until only his fingertips remained and then those were gone, too. Clive doesn’t look away, gaze familiarly intense, not until he feels the chair at his vanity bump lightly against his calves.]

I’d need a pay increase for that. And more alcohol.

[It’s Clive’s turn to shimmy into the skin tight suit and spend a stupid amount of time adjusting and readjusting his junk, grumbling about space the whole time. As much as he wants Cid to touch him again, he knows it would be dangerous so he spends the extra time looking at himself in the mirror to adjust the suit. Once he is as satisfied as he is going to get, he turns to face Cid again.]

I’m going to break my neck in these things.

[Clive sits to put the collar and wrist cuffs on before slipping his feet into the bright red pumps, marveling at how all of this seems almost tailored to his size. He looks back at Cid.]

Show me how to walk in these. Then I can work on dancing.