Sketchy Trials
Tifa thought about where she went wrong. Was it when she first heard about his greatness? Was it when she hung onto Cloud, even though he liked Aerith? Was it because she felt ignored, like she was worthless? Or was it simply because she was lonely?
Sephiroth ripped off her t-shirt like a rag. He assaulted her lips as he moved closer, an urgency in his kisses even though he really had all the time in the world. He bit hard at her lower lip, drawing blood and licking it off. He didn't have to repeat it again; Tifa parted her lips and let him in. The General explored her mouth with a raw hunger, burning her with his passion as well. She did the same, sliding her tongue under his and letting herself be taken to his mouth when he wanted to.
She ached for Sephiroth.
Cloud was so love-drunk after Aerith. No, Tifa wasn't bitter that Aerith was the one who got loved; she was bitter that Cloud never bothered to address her feeling at all. He avoided the topic with her when her best friend was alive, always switching it to the important tasks at hand or just excusing himself from anything that sounds remotely like a confession. Tifa hated it, but she was patient.
She wore no bra. Sephiroth played with her mounds, kissing her neck and bruising her, marking her as only his. He licked each mark, trailing hot kisses to her breasts. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, tugging it, nipping it until it was hard and swollen. Tifa moaned. His hand played with the other one while his free hand squeezed her bottom. He treated the other one until it was the same. She wanted to touch him. She unbuckled the shoulder guards and got frustrated by the time she unlatched his coat.
She was impatient.
Aerith died, Cloud's love for her didn't. He wouldn't stay near Tifa, no matter what happened. He took pains to avoid her, ignore her as much as he could. She wasn't an idiot; Tifa was in love but knew not to take advantage. He thought otherwise, it seemed. If Cloud felt the same way about her, he would come on his own. It was the only excuse that kept her from breaking down. It never happened, nor was it going to happen any time soon. She was dying anyways, wilting from the sadness.
Tifa wished it was her Sephiroth killed.
He was gyrating on her core, drawing soft moans every now and then. Oh, Tifa wanted him inside too, just as badly. Swiftly, the skirt was off her and the panties followed. She was utterly bare to him. She brushed her fingers across the bulge in his pants and he froze, a guttural noise escaping his throat. She liked that and wanted more. Tifa palmed him, rubbing him while the other hand went to work at the removing the belts of his leather pants. He groaned and grabbed her wrist, licking each digit and sucking on her thumb. A furnace bellowed in her abdomen, thinking about where she would want his mouth to be. Almost as if summoned by thought, he smirked and kissed her again, gentler this time. Sephiroth got her gasping for breath.
She was brought back to life.
For weeks she cried, not aware of the time as it flew by. Opening the bar, serving the drinks, closing the bar and going to sleep; it was the daily routine for Tifa. She ate only when hungry and didn't remember a time she was happy. Others visited, tried to cheer her up but it never worked. It never would. Cloud wouldn't come for days, weeks and finally months. Whatever it was, Tifa was slowly fading out of her puppy love and falling into the state of depression. Cloud coming home didn't make her happy anymore, it only left her bitter. She wanted nothing to do with him. She just wanted to be forgotten.
She just wanted to be left alone.
Her skin tingled from where he left his butterfly kisses. He sucked, bit, nipped, licked and bruised his way south. He kissed the scar he gave her. Sephiroth licked around her belly button, trailed towards the side of her hips and planted a kiss there. Tifa fisted his silvery mane and tugged at it, the silkiness drowning her. She guided him where she wanted him the most. He nuzzled her and kissed her core, shivers travelling up her spine. She felt him smile and gasped when a finger entered her. He pushed in and out, and moaned when a second and a third entered as well. Sephiroth was enthralled by her expression; he stretched her, filled her, thrust inside of her and with every push, her face would twist in agony. She moaned his name several times, urging him to go faster. One final time she moaned his name loud and was breathing hard from the orgasm. Tifa opened her eyes to watch him lick off her juices, his eyes half-lidded. And then he put his lips on her clit and sucked. A tongue darted into her core and she felt herself on the edge again. He thrust with his slick tongue, his thumb massaging her bundle of nerves. She squirmed and thrashed, his name a whisper from her lips. Sephiroth held her waist and continued his attack, merciless as always. She pulled his head closer and felt a dam break in her. Tifa felt him smile again and then he licked her clean.
She desperately wanted his presence.
First it was a visit, just another customer sitting in a dark corner. A round of Banoran Cider was what set off minefields in her mind. But a customer was a customer, even if he was the richest one. He ordered two per round though, leaving her to question if he was meeting someone. A wineglass wasn't worthy enough for the cider she had. She had to dust it off and wipe it clean before presenting it. His face was hooded, all he wore was black, as if in mourning. He held himself proud, in posture and in form. But however Tifa tried to assure herself, he was lethal.
She was scared of the danger he posed.
Sephiroth rose above her, kissing her deep once more before swiftly stripping out of his pants. Tifa had to stare; she was scared whether he would even fit. A small smirk adorned his face, as if satisfied from the reaction. He rubbed her core with his head, and nibbled her ear meanwhile. He paused, reared his back and with one mighty thrust, he filled her up to the bone and she screamed in pain. She didn't think the first time would be so painful; she didn't think it would be that bad. Tifa felt tears escaping her eyes. Sephiroth stilled, letting her get used to his girth while kissing away her tears. When she was relaxed enough, he slid out of her, the friction caressing a gasp out of her. He paused on top of her, his straining face speaking volumes of his self-control. She kissed him, urging him to continue. His hot breath blew over her cheek and he moved again, slowly sliding in and out. His slick perfection caused her to moan low, his name a chant to the heavens. Tifa locked her legs around him and moved herself with his slow rhythm. His control was breaking her apart, maddening her as the pain receded and all she felt was small bursts of pleasure.
She was attracted to his hidden power.
He'd drink elegantly, leave more than needed gil on the table and disappear without a notice. Tifa never saw him leave; he just did it though. If it wasn't for the wineglasses, she would've thought him to be a hallucination. But he would always leave one glass filled, as if he was offering it for her. The brunette didn't know what to do with it; it was expensive and he always paid for both. She would stare at the glass well after closing hours, wondering whether it would go against her unwritten rules or whether she should really let the rare drink go to waste. Finally, succumbing to curiosity of never tasting it, she drank it in small sips, savoring the taste of it as it touched her lips and travelled down her throat. The after-taste was a bit sour; it left Tifa smacking her lips. But she would always enjoy the small token of appreciation. After a few days, he would call her over, inviting her to drink with him as well. They would chat about useless things, scary thoughts, paradoxes, cynical ideas, sad pasts and so much more. Somewhere deep inside, she knew who he was.
She thought he would go away.
Tifa scratched his back, her nails drawing blood, punishing him for continuing at his own pace. She was at her wit's end, almost over the edge, but not quite falling. Tifa bit his neck hard enough to break the skin and she felt his control shatter. From then on, animalistic instinct took over and she lost herself in white hot pit. He still continued with his thrusts, coating himself with her, giving her all the pleasure he could. She didn't know how many times she climaxed but when his orgasm came along, he slowed to a still and shouted her name, his seed burrowing deep within her. It spurred her orgasm one final time and then he kissed her before withdrawing. They panted for breath, oxygen being pulled in at large amounts. Sephiroth laid down beside her and pulled her to the top. She could feel that he was still very hard, just as she was more than ready for him. With a smile, she drew a finger up his length and watched his face contort with pleasure.
She knew he was never leaving.
Oh yes, he made it very sure Tifa knew who she was talking to. To a stranger, it would seem like a conversation strange, absurd and even incomprehensible. But to her, she was very much sure that it Sephiroth who visited her every evening and left with a round of Banoran cider shared by them. One night he decided to hang around his usual corner. Tifa had expected it; she always knew that Sephiroth would take what he wanted, forcefully or not. And tonight he stayed back, just for that. The brunette felt her fear resurface again; what if she died, what if she was never found, what if he tortured her? Silently she knew he could've done it a long time back, not caring for other lives.
But this was Sephiroth, the cold, calculating and cruelly merciless General.
It all lead to this. Tifa didn't know what exactly he planned, but she knew deep inside that this was some elaborate plan of his, that involved her and probably killing her after using her. But for once, she didn't fight back. Oh she was so sick of being the good little obedient girl, always caring and mindful of what others thought. For once, she wanted to have an inkling of what they thought about her instead. She might be using Sephiroth in her own twisting way, but whatever it was, she felt like she was the only one doing the using. She felt cared for as he played with her locks of hair. She felt loved as she heard his heartbeat.
Tifa could've prevented this.
But Lockhart wanted this.