Entanglement

Chapter 7 — Temptation

By Crystal Snowflakes

Her vision was increasingly blurry, her head was swimming, and she knew beyond reason that this was a terrible idea. Over the years, she had made plenty of awful choices, but even with her alcohol-muddled mind, she knew that she was about to do the worst thing she had ever decided to do.

There were so many things wrong with her plan. For one, the last time she had been here was two years ago; she wasn't even sure if he was still living in the same apartment. Secondly, she had told her husband she would go drinking at the bar and stay the night at Tifa's—she clearly wasn't at the bar anymore. Last of all, she had told Tifa she would be heading back to the hotel to her husband—she wasn't on her way back to the hotel. She couldn't imagine the repercussions if either of them managed to figure out each other's number and called to check up on her; lucky for her, they weren't close at all.

But even with the possible ramifications in mind, she wasn't dissuaded from her goal.

Yuffie cursed herself for her weakness; she had told herself that she had to be a good wife because she had chosen this route—had gone running back home because of expectations. Despite that, the moment she had caught sight of him at the WRO Headquarters standing next to Rufus Shinra with his body slouched and hands deep in his pockets, she knew she was going to make a gawdawful choice. She hadn't been able to forget the way he looked at her before he forced his gaze away—just that brief glance had sent her heart hammering in her chest, her stomach fluttering, her skin blazing warm. It was something that she hadn't felt for such a long time.

And yet, she knew without a doubt that she shouldn't be here—shouldn't even consider doing whatever she had planned on doing.

Standing in front of a familiar door—though she had rarely used it before since she always preferred his balcony door—she hesitated for a split second before pounding drunkenly on it. She was secretly thankful for the liquid courage that had been fueled by tequila, scotch, gin and probably whiskey—she could barely think straight.

The door unlocked within seemingly seconds.

If he was surprised at the sight of her, he didn't show it. His gaze on her was impassive; it reminded her of her wedding day when he stood at the changeroom, his face annoyingly indifferent before he had turned around and walked out of her life. The memory of that day sent a sharp pang in her chest unexpectedly, and she wondered, not for the first time, if she had made a mistake surrendering to her people's expectations.

They stared at each other for a few long moments, and she took the time to study him—his fiery locks, his chiselled jaw, his piercing gaze. She couldn't help but notice the way the bags under his eyes seemed bigger, darker, nor could she stop staring at the faint wrinkle lines on his brow. Had it really been that long since they had last seen each other up-close?

Part of her wondered if he was going to slam the door in her face; maybe at least one of them had their heads screwed on right. Because at best, she would enjoy a night of being herself again, of being free, but at worst, she could lose her reputation, her people's respect, everything she had worked so hard for in the past two years. And still, that wasn't enough to persuade her to abort her mission; she craved his touch—needed his touch. She wanted to be with someone who she could trust, who cared about her and knew her—Yuffie—not Lady Kisaragi.

Before her courage could vanish, she leaned up towards him as her hands grasped onto the lapels of his jacket and pulled him towards her; he resisted for a fraction of a second before lowering his face, and her fingers weaved into his rattail and tugged him closer in the same familiar way. Her lips brushed against his tentatively—they were warm, soft and tasted like nicotine and whiskey. Before she could deepen the kiss, he dragged her inside the apartment and slammed the door shut behind her with a loud bang.

Without pausing, she stumbled back against the wall for balance as her hand slid around his shoulders, yanking him down in the process; she pressed her damp mouth against his neck, the feeling of his pulsing heartbeat racing underneath her lips. The familiar scent of his skin—the faint aroma of coffee and spearmint—made her stomach clench and her heart pound. She couldn't stop the curling excitement and anticipation at the pit of her stomach as it began to unfurl.

His body stiffened as her teeth grazed his skin, her tongue flicking briefly against the smoothness of his throat; he let out a harsh breath before a deep, unrestrained groan escaped his lips.

"Yuffie…" he muttered, his tone low. The way his voice called out her name sent tendrils of thrill down her spine, through her veins, into her bones; she rested her forehead against his collarbone.

"Reno," she breathed out, her lips brushing against his naked chest. "Gawd…"

He drew back, his hands at her waist as his gaze searched for something on her face. She was once again reminded of how beautiful his eyes were—speckles of cerulean in a sea of aquamarine.

"This is a fuckin' mistake, ya know that?" he asked, his voice rough.

Swallowing the guilt down, she mustered as much courage as she could to look at him—to meet his gaze.

"I know," she responded thickly after a moment of heavy silence as she studied the face she hadn't allowed herself to miss. "But I don't care," she retorted childishly. Her gaze flickered downwards where her fingers played with the opening of his shirt before it began sliding down, undoing the buttons nimbly as they lowered, the tips of her fingers caressing his bare skin.

She felt his eyes on her, and when she finally loosened the last button, he responded by pressing his mouth to hers roughly, pushing her and pinning her against the wall. It was intoxicating—she had forgotten how his kisses felt, how he made her head spin without trying, how he made her shudder with want. Her hands returned to his shoulders, pushing his jacket and dress shirt down his arms before they fell onto the ground.

His rough, calloused fingers grazed her hipbone as he bunched up the fabric of her top within his hands. With a gentle tug he yanked it upwards—a cool gust of air over her bare flesh caused her to shiver. Their lips meeting again, she began tugging at his belt, attempting to unbuckle it; she felt him smirk against her lips when she finally succeeded, his pants and belt dropping to the carpet with a muffled thud. His deft fingers snapped off her bra and unfastened the button of her shorts before pulling them down, and she stumbled to kick off her flats. She realized with sudden clarity that she was practically butt naked, and she had the audacity to not feel ashamed.

All she cared about was the way his body, taut with tension, was pressed up against hers. His ragged breath was hot against her neck, and her heart was pounding so fast, so strong that she felt she could hardly breathe—the air was so suffocatingly hot.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice husky, and she felt a flutter in her stomach at the consideration he was showing; she had a feeling it had taken all of his self-control to ask that question.

But she wasn't sure.

Because she wasn't sure if she was ready to face the consequences if she was caught. But what she did know was that she wanted him—had always wanted him. The way his heated gaze travelled down her lithe figure caused her heart to lurch forward in suspense; she didn't realize how much she craved his touch until that very moment.

Biting her lips, her eyes peered up at him; she looked at the way his eyes glowed in the dim lighting, and she wondered not for the first time why he hadn't kicked her ass to the curb yet. Was it possible he wanted her as much as she wanted him?

Deliberately, she brushed off his question, her hand sneaking between them and under his boxers before her fingers wrapped around him.

"Fuck," he hissed out, his breath caught in his throat. Feeling a grin come to her lips, she stroked him, teasing him with a feather-like touch before grabbing onto him firmly. His head fell against her shoulder as he ground his pelvis against her hand. "Fuck," he repeated in a lazy murmur, his voice so close to her ear she trembled.

His teeth pulled at the sensitive skin on her neck hard before smoothing over it with his tongue, and she could hear her own erratic breathing. And then his hand slid inside her panties, and she sucked a breath in as she felt his familiar touch. Without warning, he slipped a finger inside her, causing a moan to trickle out, her hips arching against him. His other hand cupped her breast, kneading gently and she felt him nibble at her earlobe; the scraping of his teeth against her ear, the heat of his mouth against her neck, along with the feeling of his fingers curling inside her made her knees shake, made her body writhe, and she let out a raspy sigh of his name.

"R-reno…."

The sound of his chuckles caused her heart to leap.

"That's it," he murmured encouragingly, his breath tickling her ears. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you forget—" He stopped abruptly before his teeth bit down hard against the the arch of her neck, causing her to let out a cry as his tongue soothed the skin.

But she could finish what he had intended on saying in her head. How could she tell him that whenever her fingers were twisted into her husband's dark hair, or whenever her lips were brushing against her husband's full lips, or whenever her back was pressed down against the mattress by her husband's feeble figure, it was his name that was on the tip of her tongue? Somehow, without even trying, it was always him that lingered in the corners of her mind.

His thighs pushed her legs apart farther, and she had a feeling he was hoping she would forget his slip of the tongue. Her eyes closed, she pressed her hips forward and ground herself against his fingers shamelessly.

She was so close.

Abruptly, his touches went away; before she could realize what was happening, her underwear had slid down her legs. She felt the coarseness of his hands before he hoisted her up, her back firmly against the wall as he forced both of her legs to wrap around him. Without warning, his fingers dug into the skin of her thighs as he buried himself deep inside her, and she fought back the urge to cry out.

He didn't use a condom; she didn't care.

Her nails clawed at his shoulders as she leaned back against the wall, dazed. The look in his eyes made her heart jump to her throat, her toes curl and her heart race. She had a sudden realization at that moment, with her pressed between the wall of his apartment suite and his body buried deep inside hers.

She was in love with him.

"Oh gawd, Reno," she whimpered, her breathing swallow. "Oh fuck."

The languid smirk on his face made it hard to breathe. And then he pushed into her repeatedly, his head buried into the crook of her neck, and she felt his short stubbles graze against her sensitive skin. His ragged breathing could be heard as he continued to drive into her, and she clung onto him helplessly, her nails gripping at his back, her fingers tugging at his hair, her legs hooking tightly around him.

"Yuff—"

She cried out his name over and over again.

Her release came on hard and fast, and her head fell back, banging against the wall; she trembled as Reno continued to thrust into her. His body froze for a second before he pushed into her a few more times and finally shuddered against her as he came with a low groan inside of her.

All she could hear was the sound of their breathing; it was hard to be aware of anything else when her brain was so foggy.

Eventually, Reno pulled away with uncharacteristic quietness, and she felt the cold air on her skin as her feet touched the ground again. Part of her was tempted to throw on her clothes, turn around and run away because sometimes, it felt like that was all she was good at.

The other part of her…

Her eyes flickered up to his face, and the rare look of vulnerability in his gaze caused her chest to flutter—to ache.

"Can I stay the night?" she asked, a quiet whisper.

He bent down, brushing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Yeah," he mouthed against her hair.

When they finally untangled themselves and decided without a word that they'd take a shower, they made their way towards the washroom. As the sound of the water hit the tiles, his arms slipped around her shoulders and drew her closer to him; she laid her head against his chest and let the water run through her hair, down her body as she relaxed in his arms and imagined all her troubles being washed down the drain.

They showered in relative silence; Yuffie noted with sadness how much they had changed, and she couldn't stop her mind from drifting to the way they used to banter, laugh and fight together. She had known that whatever that had been between them would change—it would be naive to think that it wouldn't. Angrily, she cursed the invisible wedding ring on her finger for the awkwardness between them.

And yet, as they settled together in bed, their limbs tangled together like they used to. She felt a smile tugging on her lips when he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and wrapped his arm around her; she dug her toes underneath his leg.

Yuffie knew that they needed to talk.

But she also knew she was too much of a coward. Before the sun rose, she would be out of his bed and out of his life once again. For now, fatigued and with the alcohol still in her system, she would allow herself one night of selfishness.

She loved the warmth and comfort of being in his arms again, loved the familiar smell of him—it felt like coming home after a long day.

"I missed you," she mumbled faintly into his chest before sleep fully claimed her.

His arms tightened around her.

And that, in itself, spoke volumes—it was enough.

It had to be.

Author's Notes: I got jabbed midway through the week and finally managed to drag myself out of bed today; it's been an interesting two days of sores, aches and fevers, so apologies if you see any grammatical errors. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)

Completed: February 18, 2021