Who said romance was dead? He'd only just met Cid about ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago and they were having a go-around. He planned on making it memorable on the off-chance that they ran across each other again and it came to a scenario where they might want to poke fun at each other about the whole affair. Though, Cid was rather comfortable with this, so he doubted this was the first dalliance of this sort.

As much as he wanted to take his time and explore, there was a heated eagerness to the drag of his fingers down those scars. They felt... strange, rather tactile under his calloused finger tips, though he made a point to drag his palm over one pec then the other, catching and pinching a nipple between his fore and middle fingers.

How Cid managed to be that drunk and remove his pants was a feat even Vander was impressed by; most inebriated folks weren't quite so coordinated in the balance department. He made a point to pull Cid back into his lap and slid both of his hands up the back of shirt and jacket that still hung off his muscular torso.

He pointedly dug his blunt nails into Cid's back for the praise, a shudder shaking his frame at the stimulation and he bit his lip to prevent from making too loud of a moan. "At my age? My pants come down and you're calling me old? I liked you better when I was biting your lips." He was teasing of course. He took no offense, given he estimated they might be around the same age.

One hand came around to grope Cid's balls, rolling them in his palm and fingers. Two could play that game.