His Jolly Sailor Bold

by Our Lady Muffin

What difference does one night make, with a woman he'll never see again? His secrets, his story, or even her secrets, her story - none of it matters here. There's a pleasure to take in that. - Navy Captain Cloud meets a woman dressed in moonlight in a smelly pub of a shanty town. An encounter - he thinks - that will last only the span of a night. Pirate AU. [Smut warning]

Old Junon is far from a town Cloud could call pleasant - what with the shouting and hollering, the permeating stench of sweat from drunks lining the dirt paths, their clothes grimy and sticky from the tropical heat. God - the heat. Even at night, it's oppressive. He'd shed his Navy captain uniform in the hopes of escaping both sticky sweat and stares. Where the former is concerned, dressing down to just a plain pair of dark brown trousers and a loose, linen shirt had helped. But its effects had lasted for all of three minutes.

He's beginning to wonder why he even left the ship. For want of solid ground beneath his feet? Of company? For want of rum, he recalls. No more of the watered down piss he and his men are forced to drink aboard the ship.

He sidesteps a group of men playing a raucous round of dice and spies a couple stumble out of a rickety wood building, ale sloshing from the tin mugs in their hands. They giggle and fall, leaning, against the empty barrels stacked just outside. The man spills half his pint as he snogs the woman.

Cloud averts his gaze.

As he steps into the pub, he can't help but wonder if he's really gotten so desperate. Though this is no pirate town, it's a shanty town nonetheless. Tucked away on the coast of an island forgotten by the Shinra Empire, Old Junon had been overshadowed by its brighter, shinier sister. While the upper echelons of the island colonies flocked to the luxuries of New Junon, the despondent, the workers, and everyone in between flocked to the leftovers.

He's only here because this is the closest pub to the docks. Glancing around the crowded space, thick with the sweet-salty smell of alcohol and the breath from several dozen unwashed mouths, Cloud decides he will only stay as long as it takes for him to feel a buzz. At which point, he will turn around and march right back to the ship instead of risk emptying his wages into such a sad place.

Laughter erupts somewhere off to his side as he approaches the bar.

In a place like this, he's glad to have his sword and pistol still strapped to his hips. Even if the belt with his effects is heavy and occasionally cumbersome, it would be unwise to mill about a shanty town without some form of defence.

The bartender is a grizzled man, tattoos crawl up his thick, triple-deckered neck, the images smudged and blurred by scruff. He narrows his eyes as Cloud draws closer, but says nothing.

"Rum. Your finest," Cloud says.

The man grunts and turns to fetch the order. Not much for small talk or questions, huh? It's one thing Cloud does appreciate about shanties like these. People don't ask questions. As long as he isn't in uniform, people don't care about him. He likes it better than the alternative, when he's wearing his uniform and his superiors can't be arsed to notice him or his efforts.

Cloud props an arm against the bar counter and looks around. There are people arm wrestling, people drinking and laughing by their lonesome. Women lean barely constrained breasts against the shoulders of men whose faces are red with alcohol and want. Others yet are playing dice, or cards, or simply chatting loudly.

Against the browns and greys, a white flash catches his attention.

A woman stands with both her elbows propped on the counter, her back to the world. Her dress nearly blinds him with its crisp colour, blindingly white - from the bodice that hugs the generous rise and dip of her waist, down to the long skirts that skim just high enough off the ground so to not collect much dust, and then up to the thin shawl draped over her shoulders. Her skin is pale, but not like that of nobility - not the shade that makes him think that she's never once spent longer than five minutes out under a hot sun.

He can't quite see her face though. Her head is dipped low, fingers wrapped around the body of a tin mug in her hand. Her shoulders are drawn up - tense.

A group of three men surrounds her. Two on her left, one on her right. They're all carrying tin mugs of their own, except the sides of theirs are slick and shiny from spilled ale, the metal catching the orange glimmer of the oil lamps that light the pub.

"Aw, come now, poppet," one of them slurs with a big grin that's missing a couple teeth. "Just one smile ain't gon' hurt ya'!"

"Fact it'll do the opposite," another laughs, "At leas' for us anyways! Won't you take a little pity on us now? Bless us with a little smile?"

The woman doesn't react much. Cloud sees her shoulders draw up closer together still. Her eyes are down on the drink in front of her, lips pressed thin, jaw set as though she has them clenched. He furrows his brow. Her knuckles are white from gripping her mug.

"Not like we're askin' for much. No kisses or anythin' like that. I mean, we're right ol' gentlemen, we are,'' the third chimes in before throwing his head back to laugh. "Not that I'd say 'no' to that if you were offerin'." He guffaws before taking a swig of ale, a bit of it sloshing over onto his collar. When he lowers his mug down, he reaches a hand out to the woman. "Don't be so difficult, eh?"

Before the man's grimy hand can make contact, Cloud grabs his wrist. It takes a second for the man's drunk mind to notice. When he does, the man lifts weighted eyes up to him frowning deeply. "Oy! Wha's this about?"

"Leave her be," Cloud says, dropping the man's hand so his own can casually rest against his hip. Right near the scabbard of his sword. "Go on, there's a dozen other women here to try your luck on."

The man's friends freeze and turn their attention to Cloud. He watches as their eyes drop to his hip. For a moment, he thinks they might try for a brawl after all, but the man finally makes an annoyed noise and waves him off with his mug, sending more ale splattering onto the floor.

"Pah! Like we coul' compete with some posh pretty boy anyways," he grumps and stomps off.

One of his friends scampers after him. The last lingers long enough to sneer, "Whoddaya' think you are, eh? Go back to New Junon, ya' sod." He ambles away, still grumbling under his breath. "God knows us here 'ave it 'ard enough as is."

Cloud lets out a short puff of breath, about to return to his spot at the counter when he sees the woman watching him out the corner of her eye. Their gaze meets and it's like someone dropped an anchor on him, punching the air out of his chest without letting up.

He's never seen eyes like hers before. Almost like rubies in the oil lamp's glow.

"You didn't have to do that," she says. Her hair is pulled into a braid that circles the crown of her head. She tilts her head to rest the full force of her gaze on him. Wisps of dark hair tickle the slant of her neck, dark against her skin and her dress - both of which are trying their damndest to blind him. "I could've handled them myself."

"Your drink," the bartender says. Cloud blinks and he's yanked back to the noisy pub. His attention darts over to the man, who's looking at him expectantly, a short glass of honey brown liquid on the counter in front of him. "One doubloon."

Cloud fishes into his pocket, finds the coin, and sends it flipping through the air towards the bartender. The man catches it and turns away without another glance.

Cloud reaches over to pick up his glass. The woman is still watching him, unsettling his stomach and making heat hum in his chest.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he replies finally, taking a sip of the rum in an effort to cool off. The rum is far from the finest he's had, but he's convinced that it is actually the best this pub has to offer.

The woman doesn't respond right away. She tilts her head at him and lifts her mug with one hand. "Those men were right about one thing though," she observes as she takes a long sip from her mug.

Cloud waits for her to continue, but when she only lowers her ale and looks away, he gets the feeling that she won't continue of her own accord. The bait is his to take. "That is?"

She hums, "Men like you don't belong in a place like this." She looks back at him again, lets her eyes wander down his form. Like a red-hot iron passing dangerously close over him, he feels heat follow the flow of her gaze. A moment later, they flicker back up to meet his. "So, where are you from, stranger?" she asks in a friendly enough tone.

"Not here," Cloud says. "And you?"

She smiles. "Not here."

It's enough to pull a half-smile out of him and he lifts his glass and takes a quick sip. "Aren't you worried about getting that pretty dress dirty, in a place like this?" he asks, glancing at her out the corner of his eye.

He sees her shrug. "Sometimes, life's a little too short to worry about that." She taps her fingertips idly against the side of her mug. "Sometimes, a girl just wants an excuse to wash up and dress up. No harm in that."

He hums even though he doesn't really get it. All that fuss for what? He's known enough men who are the same, who wear their uniform and preen under the gushing thrills of girls, in places where a uniform is far from necessary. "You're hardly just a girl though," he says idly.

The woman sets her mug down with a thump. He blinks and turns to look at her in surprise. She's turned halfway to face him now, one elbow on the counter, the other hand on her hip. "Excuse me?" she says with a brow quirked high. "Are you calling me old, sir?"

Shit. Is it the rum? How can he be so careless? "No! No, that's not what I meant," he backpedals quickly. Much to his horror, he feels warmth creep up his cheeks. Cloud looks away hastily. "You're just more...refined. More a lady than a girl. Nothing to do with age."

There's a beat of silence. Cloud doesn't dare look, partly for fear of digging himself a deeper grave, partly for fear she'll see him blush. Him, of all people, blushing. In a smelly pub, no less!

The woman laughs. It's a light sound, a little soft around the edges. "A lady, huh?" she repeats, sounding thoroughly amused by the sound of the word. "I suppose I could live with that. Lady. Sounds very posh."

Cloud hazards a look to find her smiling at him. He takes that as a good sign that he didn't seriously offend her. He lets his shoulders relax, turns his eyes back down to his drink before he can make more of a fool of himself. "A lady usually has a name," he says.

The woman hums in thought. "Lady Tifa," she says, laughing again as she shakes her head. "Heavens no, that's too much." She's still looking at him even though he's turned away, but he sees her smile out the corner of his eye anyways. Like so many things about her already, her smile is almost too dazzling to look head on, as though he's squinting up at a noontime sun. "Just Tifa is better."

"Tifa," he repeats in acknowledgement. The name rolls off his tongue nicely. He hesitates a moment before shifting to stand so he's facing her better, wondering whether he ought to...shake her hand or something. Proper etiquette would be horribly out of place here, and he's drawn enough attention to himself as is already. Maybe not. A nod would suffice. "I'm Cloud."

"Sir Cloud?"

Another half-smile tugs on his lips. "Just Cloud."

She laughs again and it makes something in his chest flutter. God have mercy - fluttering. This night is turning out to be a surprise at every turn. The next one comes when she holds a hand out to him. "Nice to know that we are both 'Just's, then," she says with an expectant look.

Cloud shakes her hand. More surprises still, her hands had seemed slim and small cradling her mug, but in his grip, they're soft and calloused. Warm. Her grip, firm. It takes him a moment or two too long to remember to let go.

"Can't complain about being a 'Just'," he says quickly, picking up his glass and downing the rest of its contents. The rum singes his throat and warms his chest.

Tifa's eyes follow his movements as he sets the emptied glass down and motions for the bartender to refill it. He fishes into his pocket for another coin, glad that he'd had the foresight to exchange it for local currency earlier.

"So if you're not from here," he begins as he sets the coin down on the counter beside his empty glass. "Are you going somewhere?"

The bartender picks up the coin and tops up his glass as Tifa replies, "Oh, aren't we all? Nobody in Old Junon stays for long."

Cloud gives the bartender a nod of thanks and picks up his refilled glass. "Mm, true enough." What he gathers is that he won't see her again, after tonight. Such is the truth of transient lives like his - and hers, apparently. It does mean that he feels a lot more at ease with her. What difference does one night make, with a woman he'll never see again? His secrets, his story, or even her secrets, her story - none of it matters here. There's a pleasure to take in that.

He lifts his glass up to her and cracks a slight smirk. "To 'Just's from nowhere and going everywhere, then."

She blinks at him a moment before her lips curl into a slow smile. Lifting up her mug, she taps the side of it against his glass. "Nicely said."

After that, they drain their vessels of their contents.

Now that there's more to grease the stiff gears of his head, Cloud finds himself spending far more time in the smelly pub than he'd expected. As the night deepens, the crowd around them grows increasingly raucous, fueled by the same alcohol that's making it a hell of a lot easier for him to speak to the woman at his side. They wind up sidling closer to each other at the counter on the pretense of hearing each other better over the noise. But when the side of her arm brushes his, he realizes that there's really no need to stay so close. Just as there's no need for them to stay in this pub, with several rounds of drinks between them now. He'd tried to buy her a drink or two but each time she'd refused to let him.

By the time Tifa reaches up to put a hand on his arm, his head is feeling light and warm, but he's far from drunk. But the way she's smiling at him makes him think he might get drunk off just the look of it.

"Let's get some fresh air, yeah?"

He accepts readily.

As he follows her out of the pub, he can't help but wonder if they look anything like the drunk couple he'd first seen stumbling out of the same establishment. No, of course not. From the looks of it, they're both miles away from being proper drunk, and he's not so uncouth as to start kissing her right here against some empty barrels. Of course he isn't going to do anything like that. Just because she'd been chatting and drinking with him doesn't mean she intends to go any further. A drink can be just a drink.

The moon is large and bright on this night. Under its light, Tifa 's white dress casts her in a soft aura. A compliment nearly makes its way past his lips but he manages to bite it back in time.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out as a satisfied puff. Turning, she looks back at him with a raised brow. "How does a late night walk sound?" she asks, her lips curling into another smile.

He's reminded, again, of kisses. Suddenly, the empty barrels look a hell of a lot more tempting than he'd ever consider possible. His gaze flickers down to her lips but he wrenches his eyes back to hers. "Sure."

For a moment, he thinks he sees her teeth snag on her lower lip, but it's so quick that he's half convinced he might have imagined it. "Where to?"

Cloud forces himself to take a step back and calm down. Just a walk; nothing more. "The docks?" he suggests, moving up so he's standing beside her instead of behind her. The whole time, he feels her gaze track his movement. He looks down the path that he knows winds its way to the harbour. "Should be quiet this time of night. Usually a pleasant stroll."

"Good idea," she says, sounding quite pleased. Cloud freezes when he feels her reach up to pinch a bit of his sleeve. It's hardly a touch, but that this is intentional - rather than a maybe accidental brush like before...it yanks his attention back to her. But it's hard to tell what's behind her carmine gaze as she tugs him along by his sleeve. "Let's go then."

She lets go once they start moving.

Night never sleeps in Old Junon, so the town continues to bustle with activity - the drunk and the sleeping melding together under the same moonlight, laughing and snoring in tandem, draped over hay bales and crates. Not that he's paying much attention as they walk. He's too aware of the space between them - or more the lack thereof - and of the way her gaze wanders around the town with an affection he doesn't quite understand. With a pang, he realizes he's a little jealous of the stupid town. To be the subject to such a gaze. He wishes that it's on him instead.

Then he realizes he's being ridiculous. He's known this woman for all of two hours and he's already pining for her affections? Is it the rum? Or the knowledge that he'll never see her again? Isn't he just envious for something he can never have?

"You're quite the brooder, huh?"

Her words snap him out of his thoughts. "Pardon?" He looks back at her.

Tifa smiles and taps her temple, "You get stuck up in here a lot, am I right?"

Of course not, he wants to say, but doesn't. The lie sits too heavy on his tongue. He glances away, feeling his face warm slightly. "Bad habit, I suppose."

"Oh, hardly a bad habit," she huffs, reaching a hand up to give his back a pat. Her hand lingers and he's very distinctly aware of that fact. "Men who use their heads can be hard to come by these days."

Cloud isn't sure he's nearly as intellectual as she's making him seem. Especially not when his mind is still on the weight and heat of her hand against his back, so stark through the thin linen of his shirt. Nonetheless, he manages a little nod. "I see." If only he had the same gift of the gab that his friend and fellow captain, Zack, has. That man could talk himself into and out of trouble. It's little wonder that he finds such success with women.

"There you go again." Cloud blinks and realizes that Tifa is laughing at him. It's a muted sound, but a laugh nonetheless. "Brooding."

Her hand isn't on his back anymore, but the ghost of its presence still lingers. He glances away.

"How is brooding different from just thinking?"

Tifa hums thoughtfully. "The look in your eyes," she concludes after a pause. When he looks at her, she smiles. "There's more distance when a person is brooding. As if you're off somewhere far away."

He tilts his head a bit. They're still walking along the dirt path, but they're starting to approach the edge of town. "Really? So you've been paying close attention to my eyes, then? To be able to tell that?"

She slows. He follows. Their eyes are locked. "I suppose I have," she replies after a beat. "They are strange. Even now, they look like they glow."

They stop, facing each other. "I can assure you that they do not glow," he replies just low enough for her to hear above the din of the town. "I am quite human, Tifa."

She steps in a little closer and tilts her head. "I do not doubt that you're human," she tells him with the barest smile tugging on the corners of her lips. He does his best to not let his gaze flicker down, though he's very suddenly reminded of kisses again, especially as she leans in and reaches a hand up to brush her fingertips against his cheek, near his eye. The touch is a whisper. Frustratingly quiet. At risk of being drowned out by the town around them. "They look like jewels."

"And...do you like jewels?"

She smiles. "Who doesn't like jewels?"

Somewhere behind them, a donkey bleats. They both start and look up to see a donkey drawn cart trundle its way towards them, a haggard looking man wielding a crop trudging along ahead of it.

"Clear the way," he grunts, looking more miserable about his job than he is upset at them for blocking the path. "Cart comin' through."

They pull away quickly. His skin is left feeling cold in her absence. A strange thing to feel in the humid night. Nonetheless, he steps off to one side of the dirt path while Tifa moves to the other. The donkey clops past between them, the cart it pulls laden with burlap sacks. He catches her eye over the rattling cart. The donkey bleats again. The sound pulls a laugh from her just as the cart finishes passing by.

By time they reconvene back in the middle of the path, Tifa is still giggling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, unable to resist a faint smile of his own.

She shakes her head. "Nothing." Before he can question her about it, she reaches out and finds his hand. The sudden contact catches him off guard and he forgets his question entirely. "Let's go, quickly."

Tifa starts down the path at a quicker pace than before. With his hand in hers, it's hard to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. "I did not know we were in a rush," he says as they hurry down closer to the shore. Now that they're outside the edges of town, the sea stretches out ahead of them - so dark and endless that it's difficult to tell where the water ends and the stars begin.

"Are you having trouble keeping up?" she asks instead. The edges of her shawl flutters with the wind of their movement, as do loose strands of her hair. She glances back at him a moment before turning ahead again. "I would have thought a Navy man such as yourself would fare well."

He blinks in surprise. "How did you know?"

She laughs as they finally alight onto the docks, wood planks creaking beneath their weight. Only then does she finally slow, letting go of his hand as she turns around to face him again. "No regular sailor carries as fine a sword and pistol as yours," she explains, motioning to his hip and letting her eyes drop down to it. They drop further still as she continues, "And your boots are polished to a mirror's shine. Classic giveaways," she concludes. As Tifa's gaze wander back up to his face, he notices that languid pace of them as they crawl up his form, and the heat they leave in their wake.

Cloud huffs, amused. "So you knew, yet you chose to spend your night with a government dog?"

She quirks a brow. "Harsh, ain't it?"

He shrugs. "Is it not what everyone thinks?"

Tifa tilts her head to the side, rolling her shoulders in something that looks vaguely like a shrug. "Well, my night is not over just yet."

Something lodges itself in his throat. She steps close enough that he can see her tilting her chin up ever so slightly to meet his gaze. That anchor from before returns in full force, crushing his chest while he forgets how to breathe. "And...why the rush over here?" he asks, barely audible over the waves crashing against piles underfoot.

She reaches up again, fingertips barely grazing his cheek. "Well… There are no donkeys here."

Cloud manages to wrestle a snorted laugh down into a smile instead. Lifting a hand of his own, he finds her waist and waits to see if she'll pull away or slap him. When nothing happens, he takes a small breath and leans in closer. "Good thinking," he adds in a murmur, able to see the curl of her eyelashes as they drop down lower.

Her hand cups his cheek properly now. "Much appreciated," she breathes, their lips close enough that he feels the heat of her words on his own.

Cloud doesn't wait any longer. He can't, not when she's right here, inviting him to come closer and closer still with everything but her words. Dipping in, he closes that scant inch or two of distance and catches her in a slow kiss.

They spend the first few moments getting acquainted. He kisses the ale off her lips and relishes in the soft, plushness of them shifting against his own. She's warm and sweet and it makes his head spin. He can't remember the last time he's kissed someone. Probably years, at this point. But he doesn't care to compare. All he cares to do is kiss her more. And as her fingers slide around to his hair, her other hand reaching up to grip the side of his neck, all he cares to do is kiss her harder.

It's only for want of air do they finally break apart; ragged, uneven breaths against a steady rhythm of crashing water underfoot.

Cloud doesn't pull away very far. His heart hammers in his ears as he cracks his eyes open and sees those carmine so near, holding the same depth and pull as the darkest seas. "I have a ship," he murmurs, free hand reaching to gently push stray strands of her hair behind her ear. "And a quarter on that ship."

This close, he almost feels it when she smiles. "Is that so?" Her words skim his lips - it sends a shiver crawling down his spine.

"Yes," he replies a little too quickly. "Nearby."

Tifa hums. Her hand on his shoulder trails down his chest. Her fingers find the inside hem of his collar and drags down the shallow slant of it, knuckles leaving heated trails in its wake. "I'll have to leave before sunrise."

"That's fine."

She smiles wider and then pulls away completely, leaving him feeling suddenly cold despite the tropical night. "Then let's go."

Cloud takes her hand and they're off.

As he'd said, the docks are quieter at this time of night. There is still some activity as sailors finish last minute restocking. Otherwise, there is little more than the crates and barrels crowding the sides of the dock. Ships of all sizes bob in the dark, some with their gangplanks still lowered, others without. All with their canvas drawn up like sleeping beasts.

Even now, Cloud is half certain that at least one or two of these ships have to belong to the pirates. After all, Old Junon flies mostly under the radar of the Empire, making it a decent place for pirates to stop off and resupply. It's part of the reason why he's in the area to begin with. But honestly, as they make their way down the dock, Cloud can hardly give a shit. The pirates occupy most of his life. Surely, he's allowed a scant moment or two to not think about them?

A desire to crack a bitter smile wells up but he tamps it down, refusing to let thoughts of those grimy bunch taint what is otherwise shaping up to be an excellent night.

It isn't long before they draw up to his ship, anchored at the very end of the dock. Like most other scouting ships in Shinra's Royal Navy, his is a fourth rate man of war, complete with the red and golden stripes along the hull, each demarcating a level containing anything from supplies, to the men's sleeping quarters, to the canons. The Shinra Empire's flag drapes loosely from its staff, jutting out from the very front of the ship's fore.

They draw to a stop at the base of the gangplank. Looking back, Cloud sees Tifa staring up at the ship, eyes following the line of the broadside and up towards the flag. The ship draws a veil over her face with its shadow.

"Everything alright?" he asks. He gives her hand a small squeeze and steps in a little closer. "We don't have to do this," he says in a murmur, dipping his head down a bit to try and catch her eye.

It's as if she had to blink out of her thoughts. Tifa eventually looks back at him and shakes her head. "No, I'm alright," she says before letting out a small, slightly nervous sounding chuckle. "I've just...never seen a Navy ship up close before. You said it's yours?"

That, at least, is understandable. Regular civilians don't usually get very close to Navy ships, especially if they live far from the ocean. At her question, he nods. "Yes, I'm the Captain." It's a little embarrassing to admit it now. He doesn't want it to sound as though he's lording his title over her, especially when it hardly means anything. He has command of the one ship - but it is one ship among many.

"Oh? Should I be addressing you as Captain Cloud then?"

"No. We're both 'Just's, remember? I should prefer that you use my name," he replies quickly, giving her hand another light squeeze before he turns and steps up onto the gangplank. "Come now, if we're fast, the night watch isn't likely to notice us."

"And we're trying to be sneaky because…?"

Cloud can't help but feel a little pulse of relief when he feels Tifa follow his lead up the plank without any resistance. Had he sensed any protest, he would have turned right back around and walked her back to wherever she came from but...he's pleased with the way things are going so far and would hate to see it end prematurely. In response to her question, he shrugs. "To shield your honour as a lady."

Tifa laughs quietly as they creep up the gangplank. "Whatever happened to 'Just's?"

Cloud doesn't respond as he reaches the top first, stepping off onto the ship's deck. He can see the glow of an oil lamp further up the fore of the ship - likely belonging to the night watch. The plank and his quarters are closer to the aft, so there is still time before the watch makes his rounds to this side of the ship.

Tifa is still half-crouched at the top of the plank. Stepping up, he grips her hand and reaches out to hold her waist. "Just come off now," he urges gently. Tifa nods and moves off the plank. He catches her readily and eases her down onto the deck. His grip necessitates him pulling her close against him - until they're nearly flush. It's close enough that he feels her chest press slightly against his.

It takes conscious effort to remind himself of his place, especially when he can see her smile up at him again now that they're back out under the moon. She's so damn close, tantalizing him like a sweet drop of rum.

Cloud lets go of her hand and guides them towards his quarters. They hurry up the steps onto the quarterdeck, and then past a set of windowed doors situated right between more stairs that would have led up to the highest deck. After that, it's down the hall and around a corner before they arrive at the quarter.

They'd been silent the whole time, but something about sneaking under the cover of night to get to the privacy of his quarters...no words could convey the tension pulling tighter and tighter between them - like a rope so taut that it's beginning to fray. Is bringing a woman aboard the ship against policy? Yes. Does he care? No. The Shinra Navy's already kicked him down into the dirt more than he can count. He couldn't care less about breaking one measly rule.

Cloud opens the door to his quarters. The inside is utterly standard for a Navy captain's quarters. Everything, from the floors up to the walls, is made of smooth, even planks of dark wood. There's a heavy-set desk in the middle of it, covered in writing implements and charts. Two chairs sit on either side of it. Navigational tools are strewn about the room, tucked in corners, sitting on shelves on the wall. One wall is lined with maps of the area's waters. There's a narrow bed in one corner, and a closet beside it. An oil lamp hangs on a hook by the door. Across from it, large bay windows overlook the open ocean, from which moonlight pools into the room.

Clouds lets Tifa in before he shuts the door, but not without making sure that the hallway outside is dark and empty. Once he's certain that they're alone, he lets the door close and turns back to see Tifa wander closer over to his desk, her eyes cast all over the room. "It's not much," he says as he reaches up to light the oil lamp by the door, letting its warm glow fill the dark.

Tifa scoffs lowly. "Not for you, maybe."

He watches as she trails her fingertips over the edge of his desk, head tilted down at the charts sprawled over the surface. Quietly, he approaches her until he's standing beside her again. He hesitates a second before reaching up to brush the backs of his knuckles over her temple, sweeping her hair back over her ear, and then trailing his knuckles down along to the soft curve of her jaw.

"What are these?" she asks softly, leaning lightly into his touch.

"Just charts for our next course," he explains nonchalantly, unfurling his fingers gently to cradle her chin, silently requesting that she turn to face him instead.

Tifa hums. She doesn't move for a moment, eyes still flitting over the maps. Before he can question it, she finally follows his guide and turns back to him. "Looks complicated," she says in a murmur.

He shrugs, dips in closer. "It's work anyone can do," he says, tilting his head slightly as he sees her lashes drop again. "But I'm not particularly keen on talking about work right now, I must admit."

She hums again, closes her eyes fully, and waits.

Cloud doesn't have her wait long before he leans in the rest of the way and finds her lips again. This time though, the kiss has less courtesy in it and more want. Now with their privacy assured, Tifa opens up against him more. Kissing harder, lips parting to coax him to delve deeper - an invitation he gladly accepts. The ale on her tongue is the sweetest he's ever had. More than the rum, it makes his head spin and his body flush with pleasant warmth.

Her hands snake up his chest. One pushes under his collar to grip his bare shoulder while the other finds purchase in his hair. The heat of her palm against his shoulder draws a low hum. He reaches out and grips her hips, urging her closer first before he pushes his hand up her sides to savour every swell and curve.

His hands eventually find her shawl and give it an experimental tug, feeling it loosen. Tifa responds by drawing his lower lip in her mouth for a slow suck. He murmurs a groan and tugs her shawl the rest of the way off, blindly balling it up and setting it down on his desk.

Cloud pulls back with a short rasp. Blinking open his eyes, he looks down, breath immediately snagging at the sight of Tifa's bare neck, and the long slant of her shoulders. His eyes follow her newly exposed skin down past her collar...and then down the dark valley between her breasts. Her breathing is a little ragged. He's mesmerized by the rhythm of her chest, how soft they look, spilling slightly over the edge of her collar, straining against it with each rise and fall.

Her laugh pulls his eyes back up to her face. She tugs him down closer by his hair. "Don't just stare now...I'll get shy," she says with a smile.

He swallows thickly and nods. His trousers are starting to feel uncomfortable, but he couldn't care less about that right now. Instead, he dips his head down further to kiss at the junction of her jaw and neck. This time, it's her breath that catches. The sound lights something in his gut. His hands skim rougher, quicker, down her sides until they find the laces of her bodice. "God - why do women wear these...pesky things…?" he mutters against her skin, hardly letting his lips leave her as he kisses further down still, lavishing her neck with attention.

Tifa's laugh mixes with a moan. Her fingers curl tighter in his hair as he gives her neck an experimental nip. "Need help?" she asks in a husk.

"Please." By then, she's already pushing his hands away, which suits him just fine. He grips her hip with one hand and pushes the other up the back of her head, coaxing her to tilt it so he can finally lean down and let his lips find purchase on the crook of her shoulder. He presses his lips longingly at the junction there, and then moves on to pepper her shoulder with kisses next. A moment later, he feels her bodice slip off and drop onto the ground somewhere.

Cloud pulls back to see Tifa half-leaned against his desk. Her neck and shoulder are slick from his kisses, her eyes burning red. Her dress is loose now, barely hanging onto her shoulders. She's a far cry from the prim and clean lady at the pub, which stirs something deeply satisfying in his gut - almost a primal sense of pride, and hunger above all. Even so, his gaze is trapped in hers, unable to tear free even as she slips the sleeves of her dress off her arms - first her left, then her right, and then down, down, down; along her sides, hands still half-gripping the dress as they move. They pause at her hips, hook into her undergarments there.

He can't breathe. God, he can't breathe.

Neither of them says a word. His eyes flicker up and lock with hers. They stay entangled even as Tifa continues moving, pushing her hands further down until...everything crumples.

It isn't until she gives him a molten smile that he finally wrench his gaze away, enough to let them rove down her body, tracing every curve. For a second, he thinks that them still being at his desk is improper. That maybe he should take her to his bed instead. But then Tifa steps forward and her arms are on his shoulders, and it's like he forgets how to think at all.

"Everything alright?" she asks.

Cloud reaches up to hold her sides and lets out a harsh little breath at her softness and heat beneath his palms. "Why...why ask questions you already know the answer to?" he says, rubbing his hands all along her sides, shifting in closer, pushing her back onto the desk.

Tifa steps back until she's leaned against the edge of his desk and smiles at him. "Only to be certain." The moon behind her hugs her silhouette. He follows the margin of moonlight with his mouth, kissing all along her shoulders while he feels her hands reach up to undo his belt buckle. Pretty soon, he hears the thump and clatter of his effects dropping onto the wood below but he doesn't care if he's being reckless and noisy. He's too drunk off the sweet taste of her skin.

His thumbs skim the undersides of her breasts. "Stop me-" he says between slow, open mouthed kisses along her neck now, tending up to her ear "-if it's too much."

Tifa tugs his shirt out from where it'd been tucked in his trousers. She pushes her hands up his sides and just that - just her fingertips pressing into his sides - elicits a harsh husk from him. The sound washes over her ear. She tugs him closer and he follows like a sick puppy. "Don't stop," she murmurs, tilting her head up over his shoulder to kiss into his hair.

He wonders if she's a siren in disguise. Maybe. Probably not. But if she was, he'd gladly join the ranks of fools who have sunk to their deaths at the hands of one.

Cloud swallows thickly. "Yes ma'am." It's partly a tease. Partly serious. How much of which - he can't be arsed to find out. He pushes his hands up to cup over her breasts and damn near groans at the feeling of them. Her lips find the side of his neck, prompting him to sink his fingers into the soft heft of her tits. Against his palms, he feels hardened nipples press up against his callouses.

Her breath hitches against his neck. She pushes her hands up higher along his sides and then over his back, nails skimming his skin as she tugs him closer still. He tips in towards her, nudging his way between her legs. Half of him is worried that if he thinks too hard about what's spread beneath him now, he might combust.

Cloud takes his time palming her tits, cradling them and then rubbing his fingers over her nipples - gently at first, testing the waters. Tifa's gasp is more than enough of an answer, so he starts pinching her nipples between his fingers as he kneads at her tits. He stays nuzzled into the side of her head, each breath drowning rationality in sweet wood and sea salt.

One of Tifa's hands pushes up the back of his neck and curls into his hair. She tugs back slightly, urging him to lift his head. When he does, she leans right up and steals a hard kiss. It lasts only a beat but it's enough to snatch his breath away. And just as his head is starting to spin wildly out of control, Tifa pulls away. "More, Captain," she asks in a whisper that lights a fuse in his gut. Normally, he loathes the title. But from her lips? So sticky with heat that washes against his skin? Gods above, he's at her mercy.

Cloud drops his head down to kiss her collar. Tifa sidles right up onto his desk, knocking some of his tools and charts further along the surface. But he pays that little mind as his mouth travels down the valley between her breasts. His hands drop to her hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh there. Much to his surprise, he can feel strong muscle beneath her softness. It seems there are secrets that her lips won't tell, but which cannot hide from his touch.

But to ask why she's built so sturdy like this would be wholly inappropriate.

So he doesn't. Instead, he revels in the sweet salt of her skin as he kisses his way up and over one breast. Her grip on his hair tightens and she arches up into him when he finds her nipple and greets it with a languid suck.

"C-Cloud-" His name is a moan. He's never heard it said so beautifully before.

He parts his lips and draws more of her into his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against the hardened peak. It wrenches another soft noise from her, so he does it again and again, until he's lapping and sucking at her like a man starved.

Her thighs press into either side of his hips, reminding him that there's still more to explore. Reaching down, he trails his fingers along the inside of her knee first, right near his hip, then pushes up towards the apex. With a gasp, he pulls back just as he starts feeling something hot skim his knuckles, wondering if this is really okay - if this is really happening.

Glancing up, he sees that Tifa's propped a hand out on his desk behind her, fingers stretching over islands and seas. Her lips are drawn into her mouth, snagging on her teeth. Complaint flickers in her eyes. It's all the answer he needs. He dives in again, drawing her other nipple into his mouth.

She arches up into him again with another stifled cry.

He keeps his gaze on her this time, watching as he lavishes her nipple with his tongue. His hand creeps up higher - first, to brush against her heat, and then to press more fully over her pussy, until he's cupping her in his hand. She's hot against his palm. Tifa spreads her legs wider for him, allowing him to dip his fingers down and slip them between slick folds.

At his touch, she sighs.

He touches her gently at first, fingers delving deep and exploring these new depths while watching her expression carefully, quickly picking out what to do just from the way she bites her lip, or winces an eye shut, or grips tighter on his hair. When he finds what he's looking for, he lets go of her nipple with a wet sound, thick strand of saliva clinging to his tongue. He laves it up, cleans \the mess he's left on her breast before lifting his head.

"Here?" he murmurs, once he's at eye level again and able to move his hand into a better position. His fingers skim her clit. Tifa's breath snags audibly. It's enough of an answer, but he feels a flare of pride nonetheless when she responds with a tight nod.

"More?" he asks, even though he knows the answer.

"Yes-" Her voice breaks as he rubs over her clit again and doesn't stop, only continues rubbing slow, concentrated circles against her. "-Captain."

He's never thought his title to be anything near to delicious before now. The way she says it leaves him starved for more. Cloud dips in to draw her earlobe into his mouth, teeth grazing over the skin as he circles her clit harder, quicker - more, as she'd asked.

Tifa whines her approval. He lets her lobe spring free and kisses over her ear instead, tracing the ridges, nibbling the shell. Mostly, he listens to the soft, strained noises she's making as he continues to work her. Against his hand, he can feel her hips twitch. Against his fingertips, he can feel her pulse. Can practically feel her ache, leaving him to wonder if it's the same ache that's twisting itself harder, harder in his own gut.

She's gripping his hair so tightly that she's all but pulling on it, soft noises gradually building to a point where he can scarcely call them soft anymore. Her hand snakes up his side to grip onto his back, nails digging into his skin. "Cloud- Cloud, God," she moans, barely muffled, "I...I'm…!"

She doesn't finish her sentence but Cloud can fill in the gaps quite easily. It feels as though he's cradling fire in his palm. He doesn't really know her - not really - but something deep in his chest is telling him what he can sense: she's close.

He pulls his hand away.

Tifa gasps. "Wha-!"

He doesn't let her finish before he's pushing her back onto his desk. One hand flies up to hold her head to ease her downward fall, while the other sweeps whatever bits and bobs on his desk out of the way. They clatter on the floor. He doesn't care. There's nothing there that can't be replaced later.

Only once he's certain she's properly on her back does he finally pull back, sliding his hand out from beneath her head. He straightens up to look down at her, sprawled across his maps, skin awash in silky moonlight, her hair fraying from what were once neat and proper braids. He drags his eyes up to meet hers and immediately sees impatience behind her gaze.

He only responds with a small, almost boyish smile. Reaching down, he grabs the bottom hem of his shirt. Right now, the thin linen is stiflingly hot when he tears it up and over his head, tossing it aside without a second thought. He makes quick work of undoing his trousers next, releasing the uncomfortable pressure that had persisted behind them. He steps out of them quickly, then reaches both hands up to grip her thighs, pressing them apart.

Looking up, he catches Tifa's gaze roving over his bare form. He wonders what she sees, what she thinks. But when she lifts her eyes up to meet his again and cracks a crooked, molten smile, he figures that whatever she thinks can't be bad.

He's heavy and hot as he steps forwards and lets the underside of his cock rest against her. The contact has him sucking in a sharp breath at the way she sears against his skin. He wants to pounce on her. Wants to plunge forward and finally sink into those molten depths. But he doesn't. Not yet.

Instead, he pushes his hands up from her thighs to grip her hips, his palms and fingers leaving harsh shadows following the divots in her skin. He leans over her slightly and swallows thickly as her eyes follow his every movement. He draws a breath to ask-

"Yes," she says before he can so much as utter a syllable. Cloud blinks down at her, then feels his head start to steam as Tifa slips her hands up his sides, looping her arms over his back to grip his shoulders from behind. She drags him down closer, until he has to shoot both hands up to prop himself against the desk, palms spread on either side of her head. Now that he's closer, Tifa leans up just to nip his lower lip. "Yes."

He chooses not to question her.

Cloud shifts and finds her centre. He's not breathing - he can't - all he can focus on is the feeling as he pushes forward; the feeling as she opens to him, the stretch, the resistance, the heat. God, the heat.

Briefly, he considers pausing to let her adjust.

By the time that thought registers though, his hips are nestled against hers.

The realization nearly makes his head spin. Suddenly, he's glad he's braced on the table top. He doesn't manage to swallow back a groan as his hips twitch up into hers of their own accord. He can feel her fingers digging deeper into his shoulders, and one glance down at her is enough for him to know what she wants.

Cloud draws his hips back, and then plunges forward again.

With both of their patience having truly worn down to nothing, Cloud quickly finds a shallow, brisk rhythm. One of his hands moves up to cup the top of Tifa's head, as he leans down closer over her. Every inward thrust of his hips pulling a harsh little rasp from both of them, the sounds melding together as he dips in closer. Cloud pauses only a moment to take a breath before dropping down the rest of the way to catch her in another kiss.

The desperation and hunger is clear in this one as Tifa keens up into him. He swallows her moan. Beside her head, his hand curls into a fist as he fucks her down into the desk. Something else falls off with a clatter. The wood creaks. He's half worried that someone is going to hear the commotion, but God, he doesn't care. If this is what gets him dismissed from the Navy, then fuck the Navy and fuck Shinra along with it.

Her nails dig deeper crescents into his skin, and then leave hot tracks as she drags them down his back. Tifa hooks her legs around his hips, thighs pressing into his sides as she pulls and pulls. And he sinks into her, again, again, again - leaving creaky groans on her lips, his head drunk with everything to do with her.

They break with a sharp husk when Tifa yanks him in against her. She pitches up into him, bucking off the desk, forehead bumping up into his. "Cloud-!" His name is a cry caught in her throat. She's clamping down in and around him, fingertips scouring his skin, pulling heady gasps from his lips with a cadence like stormy seas crashing against the shore. Harder, harder, harder-

It's too much. He snaps.

Like a rope pulled too tight, his orgasm whips through him, lashing against his senses. His hips twitch and shudder up into her, pressing as deep as he can. He grits his teeth against heavy groans that threaten to break free, but some of it seeps through anyways. He shudders and shudders - riding each, visceral wave as it rocks through him and he floods her with his release.

Until finally, after moments that feel like minutes, he's left to hang over her, chest heaving slightly with ragged breaths as sweat dapples his forehead.

Cloud watches Tifa open her eyes. They look like rubies as they catch the glint of moonlight. He's never understood a pirate's thirst for treasure. Until now.

He swallows thickly but says nothing. Tifa's hands unfurl against his back to press flat against his skin, sticky with sweat. She drags her hands down and they leave residual heat prickling across his skin, until her hands slip free of his shirt entirely. She grips his shoulders instead and uses them as leverage to pull herself up a bit, just enough to press a kiss to his lips.

What difference does one night make, with a woman he'll never see again? The question that had brought him such solace just a few hours earlier, now sits as an ache in his chest. To have become so enamoured so quickly is foolish, he's well aware. But her lips are so sweet, and as she pulls back to laugh softly, he thinks that he's happy to be a fool.

"Sorry about your things," Tifa says, sounding quite amused. He pulls back enough to look down to see her smiling up at him. She glances aside, to where he'd swept aside some books and tools to make space. "We made a mess."

"Mess be damned," he huffs, dipping back down to press languid kisses along the slant of her neck just because he wants to savour her, while she's still here. "They can be cleaned later," he adds, breath hitching slightly as Tifa unwinds her legs from around his hips. Taking that as his cue, he draws his hips back, hearing her breath shiver just a bit as he slips free.

Even then, he remains lingering at the crook of her shoulder, still kissing along its curve even as Tifa lifts a hand up to rub her fingers through his hair. "I should go," she murmurs.

"Must you?"

She laughs again, so gently that it feels like a caress. "Mmhm, I have everywhere to go, remember? As do you."

Cloud bites back a sigh. Instead, he leaves one, last kiss to her shoulder before he straightens up to look down at her again. "Alright," he says, however much he loathes the taste of the word.

He steps back after that and helps her back up onto her feet.

"Shall I stay to help you clean up?" Tifa asks as they're getting dressed again. She eyes his desk with slightly crumpled charts and books teetering precariously on the edge.

"No. What kind of a host would I be?" he replies, tucking his shirt back into his trousers, and then stooping to pick up his belt from off the ground. He leaves it hanging over the back of a chair, before stepping over to start picking up some of the other items that had fallen off the table completely. "I'll be done cleaning up before you're done getting dressed."

She huffs, "I suppose so. I do wish that dresses were easier to put on."

"And take off," he adds helpfully.

Tifa's laugh makes that ache in his chest sink deeper.

A beat of silence passes as Tifa slips her dress back on. She hums idly, watching as he rearranges his things on his desk. "Will you entertain a question I have?" she asks lightly.

Cloud pauses then glances up at her. "Depends."

She smiles, like his answer had pleased her somehow. "Oh, I imagine you must get it often. I was only wondering why you chose to become a Navy captain," she says, adjusting the folds and sleeves of her dress.

Cloud considers the question a moment, wondering if there's anything in it that he wouldn't want to tell a stranger. But even if there was, did it really matter? What could she do with information like that? He shrugs and drops his eyes back down to his desk and all the work piled on it. "Honour, I suppose. Like most anyone else. And maybe a boyhood wish to be a man of courage. Do something good in this world."

Tifa hums. "You must've had many opportunities then, seeing as you are a captain now."

He doesn't know what compels him to crack a bitter smile. Maybe it's her lull. The sense of comfort that she seems to stir in him, even though they've only known each other for a beat. "If only," he says and leaves it at that.

Thankfully, Tifa keeps to the agreement of one question only.

It isn't long before his desk is tidied and Tifa's presentable again. He walks her back out onto the deck, where the night feels older and colder. They sneak past the night watch and then slink down the gangplank and back onto the deck below. Only then does Cloud let go of her hand.

"I can walk you home," he says.

Tifa smiles up at him. "It's alright. I know my way around."

He purses his lips. "It's not that I'm concerned that you'll get lost. But the night is not a good time for a lady to be out on her own."

She raises a brow at him. "I'm no lady, remember? I can handle myself just fine, Captain." This time though, he nearly winces at the use of his title.

"Don't call me that."

"What - Captain?"

He shrugs. "I prefer being just Cloud." Tifa doesn't say anything after that, but he can see something that's difficult to parse behind her eyes. He thinks again about this town, and how he'll never see her again. His secrets, his story, hadn't mattered when he'd first met her. Doesn't matter now. But he finds himself wishing it did. Finds himself wishing that he could know hers too. He glances aside, up at the Shinra Empire flag fluttering limply in the breeze. "I have no authority over you."

When he looks back to her, he finds her smirking. "You didn't seem to mind so much, back in your quarters."

He almost blushes, but clears his throat a little instead. "That's different."

She laughs again and reaches up to give his arm a pat. Her hand lingers though, as she smiles up at him. "Alright then, Cloud. I should really get going."

Cloud nods. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

She lifts her hand away from his arm to cradle his cheek instead. The gesture catches him by surprise, but he doesn't complain - only waits as she steps in closer. "The pleasure is mine," she says before pushing up to press her lips to his. The kiss is soft - the sweetest he's ever tasted.

When Tifa lets go, her absence pulls the words out of him. "Will I see you again?" He blinks his eyes open slowly.

Tifa's smile doesn't answer his question. "Goodbye."

He doesn't press further. Doesn't want to overstay his welcome. Cloud nods numbly. "Goodbye...Tifa."

Her hand drops from his cheek and he watches as she turns away from him. He continues to watch as she makes her way down the long line of dock, footsteps light on the old wood, until he can't hear them over the sound of the sea. Dressed in white, she's the moonlight on a clear night but the dawn is near so it's time to go.

Cloud turns away and returns to his ship.