Title: Step lightly
Author: Enide Dear
Rating: cute drabble, but slightly fetish…
Pairing: Valenwind

Summary: Cid has more unexpected talents…

Author's note: I don't have a foot-fetish, damn it, I have a hand-fetish! This is all ani_mama's fault for drawing such cutie-cutie feet on Vincent…but I wouldn't mind being in Vincent's shoes :D

**
"Shit Vince, why do ya do this ta yerself?" Cid shook his head and threw the cigarette-butt on the campfire. "Is it some kind of punishment? Yer torturing yerself fer past sins, or somethin'?"

Vincent didn't dignify Cid's questions with an answer as he staggered up to the fallen log that served as bench. Sitting down with a small sigh of relief he started to remove the heavy metal shoes, rubbing his sore feet vigorously to try to regain some feeling in them.

"My shoes are very practical," he mumbled as he saw Cid looking at him from the corner of his eyes.

"Really?" Cid said incredulous.

"If nothing else, they keep my toes from being trampled on by heavy-footed buffoons like you!" Vincent snapped.

Cid snorted, and made a show of checking his tea water in the kettle by the fire. It was steaming, but far from boiling. He poured some out on a rag.

"Here, give me yer feet." He patted his lap.

"What?" Vincent said, taken aback.

"Yer feet. Get 'em up here. We got a long way ta go tomorrow, and ya can't be limping all the way."

When Vincent hesitated, Cid simply took a foot in a firm grip and gently twisted it; Vincent had no choice but to either follow the motion or fall of the log.

"Hey!" he protested as he scrambled for purchase, being swung to the side. Cid took advantage by the gunman's sudden loss of balance to grab the other foot and place them both firmly in his lap. Holding the slender ankles with his left hand, he started to gently clean the soles with the warm, wet rag.

"Stop it," Vincent growled, but the sound soon turned into a giggle as he tried to pull his feet back. "That tickles!"

"No, it doesn't," Cid said, grinning, "yer jest tense. Relax. Yer not going anywhere."

Reluctantly Vincent resigned and lay down on the log, gathering up his cloak as a pillow and bending his knees to get in a more comfortable position, looking up at the night sky. The stars where tiny little diamonds far away, almost outshone by the sparks from the fire. The soreness and stiffness in his feet and calves when Cid abandoned the rag to rub his callused thumbs along the heels, the soles and toes of the slender feet, massaging the muscles and loosening the taut tendons. Small shivers of delight started to run up his body even as his mind started drifting away.

Vincent blushed a bit; he really shouldn't be enjoying this so much, it was his *feet* for Gaia's sake….but it felt so *good* with Cid's strong hands sliding up and down, finding little spots that seemed to have some sort of immediate connection to the rest of his body's nervous system. He found himself biting his lip to keep silent.

"Damn Vince, ya got pretty feet," Cid's voice was a bit thick. "Feels good, does it?"

"Mmmm…mhm…." Vincent managed with some effort. Comprehensive speak was no longer an available option.

"How 'bout this?" Cid mumbled and Vincent almost fell of the log as the captain put a now clean and soft toe in his mouth, licking it and gently sucking it. As the captain slowly gave attention to each toe, Vincent felt whatever conscious, logic, reasonable parts where left of his brain turn into putty.

Cid smiled as he saw the undone expression on the ex-Turk's face.

"Does this mean we're on good foot again?" he grinned.

"Oh, screw the bad puns and keep going…."