Entanglement

Chapter 4 — Wake-Up Call

By Crystal Snowflakes

The gentle breeze from the open window grazed against Reno's skin, and he felt himself floating in and out of consciousness as he slowly became aware of the gradually brightening sky. He thought he felt the weight of the bed shift, but when he couldn't hear anything else out of the ordinary, he chalked it up to his imagination and allowed sleep to pull him back. It would be hours until he needed to be up and about; he wasn't on the clock till noon.

His dreams were filled with twisting metal and burning fires, with collapsing plates and wispy smoke, with toxic fumes and whirling blades. The sudden sound of her unexpected chortles in his mind caused his brain to switch gears. Abruptly, he thought of beaming doe eyes and impish grins, of never-ending legs and high-cut shorts, of metal flashing dangerously through the air.

It wasn't an unwelcome change. Her fingers wriggled under the elastic of his boxers, and it was the first time his mind had managed to conjure up such realism; even her fingertips were cold to the touch—her hands and feet were always so damn cold. The recognizable scent of her wafted up to his nose faintly, and her touch felt so vivid that if hadn't known he was having a dream, he would have thought it was real.

He could feel the way his stomach muscles tightened as her fingers skimmed teasingly along his length before she pulled down his boxers. A husky groan escaped his lips as he felt her hand curled around him and his body jerked in response. The thought that he would wake up soon and find himself back in his own bed, alone, filled him with disappointment. His only hope was that dream would last a little longer; the last thing he wanted to do was to have to get up and relieve himself.

The muffled sound of her familiar girlish giggles made his pulse tingle before he felt her soft lips and wet mouth; he sucked in a breath. His fists clenched around the sheets as his eyes squeezed closed, and his teeth ground together tightly.

If only dreams like these could occur more often.

"Fuck," he cursed gruffly. "Yuff..."

"Hmm?" she hummed coyly, the vibrations in her throat causing him to let out an uncontrolled hiss of pleasure.

At that moment, he realized that there was no fucking way his mind was imagining all of that. Another swirl of her tongue caused him to groan deeply as his hand moved towards the back of her head, grateful that it wasn't a dream; his fingers tangled lazily in her silky strands.

His bleary eyes opened as he peered down to see Yuffie kneeling between his legs; her dark eyes gleamed with playful mirth as their gazes met. He snapped his eyes shut as he felt the back of her throat, and her nimble fingers tightened around him at the base. He felt himself unravelling at the seams as he tried to fight for control, although the idea that she had him at her mercy didn't bother him as much as he thought it would.

"Shit," he bit out, his breathing shallow.

The image of her with her mouth around him burned in his brain.

His thighs shook and his stomach was twisted so tightly from aching with need to be inside her, he felt like he could hardly breathe. His fingers grazed the bottom of her chin, and he studied the way her fine hair framed her face, the way her large eyes peered at him through her long lashes—the way that despite her mouth being occupied because of him, he could still see the shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

With a quiet 'pop', she freed her mouth before giving him another gentle nip. And then she slid up his body with catlike agility—the thin cotton of her top softly brushed against his skin—then she sat up, her long bare legs straddling him.

"Mornin', Turkey," she said with her trademark cheeky grin. Her hand dropped down to the hem of her shirt before she pulled the garment up and over her head in one swift movement; she tossed it carelessly behind her.

And while a part of him wanted to figure out how the hell she'd managed to get into his apartment, a large part of him didn't give a shit. At this point, he wasn't sure if he would even care if she detonated the front door to get inside.

"You should wake me up like this more often," he muttered, his voice raspy from the lack of use throughout the night. His eyes stared at the way her lacey black bra contrasted sharply against her pale, ivory skin—a patchwork of thin white battle scars marred her otherwise unblemished body.

If it was possible, the corners of her lips widened. "Wowowowwww... Are you inviting me into your humble abode, Carrot Top?" she asked with a teasing tone as she grazed her teeth against his earlobe, her warm breath causing him to shudder. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you missed me."

His fingers curled around her chin to force her face towards his before claiming her mouth, his teeth nipping roughly into her lips, causing her to let out a breathy sigh. The mischief in her eyes made him wary, but before he could even react, she shifted off of him. He missed the warmth of her touch, and before he could let out a complaint, she sank down on him without warning.

Letting out another hiss, he had to force his hands to unclench before he placed them on her hips and pulled her close, forcing her to hold still—the feeling of him being deep inside her drove him nearly insane.

And then she rocked slowly, grounding herself against him as he fought against a losing battle. Her hips rolled torturously slow, eliciting a guttural sound from deep in his chest as her expression darkened with need. His fingers dug deeper into her, and his calloused fingertips scraped against the smoothness of her skin. She bent down to brush her lips against his.

"Fuck," he repeated with a murmur, his breath catching in his throat as his body tensed.

Knowing he was about to lose all composure within minutes, he wrapped his hands against her slim waist and urged her to lift off. His lips curled up against hers; he looked her in the eyes. And then he pulled her back down, hips colliding as he thrust into her as hard and as deep as he could. He felt his smirk widen as he watched her eyes rolling back before fluttering shut.

Her mouth opened as a small gasp of his name escaped, her voice quivering. "R-Reno… Gawd..."

Her nails dug into his shoulders as she sped up, her eyes glazed before burying her face into the crook of his neck—her faint floral fragrance clung onto her sweat-dampened skin. His teeth sank into the tender curve at the base of her neck, and her soft moans shattered any control he had left—any snarky remarks he may have had dissipated from his thoughts.

Her whole body trembled as she rode him. His hands roamed upwards to undo her bra before his fingers kneaded and tugged. Her eyes glowed with ecstasy as she leaned forward and he took one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue twirling, licking, flicking. And then she pulled away and mashed her lips against his almost desperately, her knees gripping his sides tightly as she panted his name while she cried out obscenities.

Without warning, she came as a loud moan erupted past her lips, her fingers still digging painfully into his shoulders. But she didn't ease up as she continued to match his thrusts, her legs quaking, her eyes gleaming wildly as her breathless gasps drove him on. And then he came with a grunt, shuddering, rasping—he felt his pulse hammering in his chest as he spun out of control.

Her body collapsed against his as she twisted her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck; he ran his fingers through her damp, tangled locks. His arms wrapped around her lithe figure as she looked up at him, her eyes shining brightly, her grin widening impishly, her face flushed with the afterglow.

She was breathtaking.

"Surprised?" she said breathlessly with a small cheeky giggle. "Does that mean I won't needa use my lockpicks on your balcony next time?"

He couldn't help the warm chuckles from escaping as she slid off his body to lay next to him, exhausted. "Text me."

"Wow," she quipped, grinning up at him gleefully. "You really miss me that much, huh?"

"My dick misses you," he retorted with a snort.

Her lips twisted into a scowl with the slightest hint of amusement in her eyes. "Gawd, you are so crude."

"How long you back for?" he asked before he brushed his lips against the side of her head. It wasn't often that she saw him—she wasn't in Edge often and even when she was in the city, they didn't see much of each other. Yuffie was young, wild and free—she was unpredictable and showed up whenever she wanted to show up. They were dissimilar people who led distinctively different lives, and it was only because of inevitable circumstances that had caused their lives to intertwine intricately.

She hesitated briefly before answering. "Till tonight."

"Already?" The word left his lips before he could take it back; he cursed himself for sounding almost disappointed.

Her grin wavered for a split second and when he blinked, whatever hint of hesitation that showed on her face was gone. For someone who barely shut up about anything, she was able to keep a tight lips when it was about her.

"I've been summoned by the old man," she said with practiced playfulness as she threw him a wink. "So of course, I've gotta drop everything and go back for a chat!"

And yet underneath it all, he could sense the bitterness in her voice. They had never talked about her duties, but over the months, he had been noticing that she'd been gone more and for a longer period each time. It was never a question of whether this, whatever this was between them would end, but rather when it would end. And while he was beyond curious, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know, nor did she ever seem to want to talk about it.

It was smarter not to ask—not to care.

"Shower?" he asked.

She beamed up at him, eyes twinkling, and his stomach clenched tight at the expression on her face. With another wink, she scrambled off of him; he almost laughed at the sight of her incredible legs flailing awkwardly off the bed.

"Last one to the shower is a rotten egg!" she called backwards with a giggle, her lithe and very naked figure bouncing away.

"You're a cheater, ya know that?"

Her loud cackles echoed through his apartment.

Half an hour later, when they finally stepped out of the steamy shower, he found that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. As she began drying her hair with his towel, he studied the way his threadbare shirt seemed to have swallowed her up and the way she looked so vulnerable even though he knew, subconsciously, that she'd be able to face whatever danger life threw at her.

With the excuse of having to make coffee, he ripped his gaze from her and turned towards the kitchen. By the time she finally exited the bathroom, he was already sitting on the couch in deep thought. Her gaze studied the two mugs of scorching coffee on the ottoman before landing on the phone that he was thumbing in his grasp.

"Work?" she asked as she sat next to him on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her.

He couldn't stop staring at the way his shirt lifted up, exposing her lengthy legs. "Yeah."

Her hands grabbed at the mug farther from him and brought it closer to her face before she closed her eyes, breathing in the aroma of the freshly brewed cup. "I'll get outta your hair once I chug this down."

He studied the way the corners of her lips lifted playfully, the way her eyelashes curled against her cheek, the way her dark curls framed her face, touched by the golden glow of the morning sun. Her eyes fluttered open, a questioning look on her face as he looked away, annoyed she caught him staring—her eyes were always so damn expressive and unapologetically animated.

He ignored the way his chest tightened or the way his pulse throbbed against his throat. "I called in sick," he muttered, making sure to school his features, a small mocking smirk gracing his face.

Eyes widening in disbelief, she set down the mug with a clank before leaning against him, moving her face closer to his until they were mere inches from each other. "No fricken way!"

"I'm sick." He faked a cough. "See?"

She giggled, but she continued to study him, her eyes round and golden like molten caramel under the hue. A moment passed before her gaze softened almost imperceptibly, and he felt something pass between them—something warm, foreign, and gentle. Something he didn't think he'd ever shared with anyone before—didn't think he'd ever share with the loudmouthed brat, of all people.

She reached out, her fingertips trailing his bare chest before leaning down and kissing him with a feather-soft touch. "I kinda like you, even though you're kind of an asshole," she murmured against his lips.

With a snort of amusement, he pulled her closer to him and settled her on his lap, his long fingers drawing lazy circles against her hip bone. "You're bearable, dipshit."

With laughing eyes and a lopsided grin, she deepened the kiss between them—no more words were shared.

When she left late in the evening with nothing but an awkward wave of her hands and a fleeting, almost shy kiss, he pushed away the feeling of the gaping emptiness in his chest—he would get over it just like all the other times she had left.

Author's Notes: Hope you enjoyed it? ;)

Completed: January 27, 2021