The Boy is Mine
—
At first, it doesn't affect her.
At least, Tifa thinks it doesn't. Anyone with eyes knows that Cloud Strife is handsome - beautiful even, like a carefully painted picture or a sculpture made of glass and diamonds. Her mother had been the first to say it, in fact, a coy remark made across the dinner table when Tifa was barely old enough to really understand what she had meant.
But now, Tifa definitely understands. She understands all too well, now.
Tifa hasn't been able to keep her eyes off of him since the moment they reunited, just a little over two years ago. And she hasn't been able to stop thinking about him in that time since, not through all the ups and downs they've shared, not in those moments when she was worried about his sanity and his health, when he'd shattered and she'd lost him twice, when she pieced him back together and helped him find his strength again.
In the time since they've been together, Tifa's never taken Cloud's beauty for granted. She's always appreciated it, just as she did when she was young, admiring him from afar. These feelings haven't changed since they've been together - in fact, they've expanded, Tifa finding that now that Cloud is hers, she's almost disbelieving that a man who looks like he does is on her arm. She hates to admit it, but deep inside, everything about Cloud's aesthetic perfection - his toned, muscular body, the way his clothes hang in smooth, tailored lines from his body, that soft, golden hair - and yes, that pretty face - has made her feel insecure about her relationship with him. It's a little bit intimidating to be with someone that beautiful, and it's only been since he finally defeated Sephiroth for good and the geostigma crisis has been mitigated has Tifa begun to look at both herself and their relationship with a little more confidence.
But that doesn't mean this doesn't affect her - in fact, now that she knows beyond all knowing that Cloud is hers, it affects even more than it did when their relationship was new and fresh, unsure on the cusp of a broken and apocalyptic world.
It's the looks, the stares, the comments and sometimes even the touches that affect her, that drive Tifa wild, that make her angry with feelings of unchecked possession that she's never really felt before, feelings she was always too guilty to let herself acknowledge or fall victim to.
Yet even though Tifa knows that Cloud attracts attention, she tries not to let it bother her. She's garnered unwanted attention herself for most of her life, so she's no stranger to the way a pretty face or an impressive physique can invite interest.
It's not until she arrives that it really starts to affect Tifa.
The first time, it is a Saturday night and Cloud is home, sitting at the bar on his favorite stool at the farthest end by the counter. It allows him a view of the entire establishment, his back against the wall as cobalt eyes scan the dining room in intervals. Ledgers and maps fill the space in front of him, work he does in planning his next round of deliveries. Cloud always comes home early on Saturdays, preparing for the following week at the bar while Tifa works, and he takes Sundays off fully, dedicating his full attention to the time he spends with Tifa and the kids.
That Saturday, the bar is busy, and Marlene is helping her pass out drinks and plates of food. Denzel is upstairs, steering clear of the excitement of the bar. Tifa shuffles between tables, smiling at patrons, pulling the summer sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist.
The woman walks in a little past eight, and nearly every head turns at her appearance. She's with two other girls, but both of them pale in comparison standing beside her. She is red-haired and green-eyed, statuesque with a slim but curvy figure. Her hair falls in waves around her shoulders, cut into layers that frame a perfectly formed oval face.
Tifa doesn't think much of any of these girls at first - she smiles jovially when they find seats at one of the tables across from the bar, and she brings them a menu, offering to take their drink orders.
The women sit and eat and drink just like every other patron in the bar does, and while Tifa - along with everyone else, it seems - takes note of the woman's sharp, stunning features, she gives her little thought after that and goes back to her work.
It isn't until later that night though, that the woman captures her attention again.
She's moved her seat, at some point abandoning her friends and finding a space at the bar. There aren't many patrons seated there by now as the crowd has begun to thin, but for whatever reason, the woman has chosen to seat herself near the end of the bar.
Right next to Cloud.
At first, Tifa thinks nothing of it - it's a bit strange, though, since whenever there are available seats at the bar, patrons tend to naturally space themselves apart. But she gives it a double take and nothing more, busying herself with making drinks and frying pans of house specials to serve as clients demand them.
"Tifa?"
Tifa turns away from the stove in the bar's kitchenette in one corner, turning to find Marlene standing behind her with a client's dirty plate in hand. Tifa takes it from her to place in the sink, but Marlene remains standing there after she's put it off to the side.
"Everything alright, Marlene?"
"Who is the lady talking to Cloud?" Marlene asks without letting a beat pass. "Is she one of your friends?"
Tifa wrinkles her brow, looking up and across the room to the bar. From her vantage point, she can see the back of the woman's head - long tumbles of deep auburn hair that reach the center of her back. Tifa can just barely see Cloud's face where he is sitting beside her, his back still to the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
Tifa drops the rag she is holding, feeling a sharp pain pang her in the center of her chest. She isn't sure what the feeling exactly is or where it is coming from, but she knows that she doesn't like the way that it makes her feel, the way it throws her off kilter. She thinks she is overreacting - there is no reason that her skin should suddenly feel so hot and that her heart should be racing the way that it is. But she can't stop this reaction, and she understands, deep inside, what it is fueled by.
And she doesn't like it, not one bit.
Tifa takes Marlene by the shoulders and gently nudges her back towards the dining room. "Just a customer, sweetheart," she tells her, despite the way that her blood is rushing in her ears. "I'm calling last call in a few minutes. Go ahead and finish clearing the tables, okay?"
"Okay."
Marlene skips off to do just that, but Tifa has already returned her attention to the back. She watches as the woman's head is tossed back, realizing that she is laughing. In that moment, Tifa catches Cloud's face, seeing his lips pulled straight in a line but his eyebrows raised in mild amusement.
Flames rise in the center of her chest, and Tifa pulls in a breath, trying to push them back as she backs away from the stove and crosses the room, curving behind the bar. Cloud turns away from the redhead when she approaches, his attention falling to her and their eyes briefly colliding before Tifa looks away.
"Last call!" she cries.
The woman sitting next to Cloud turns to her then, and she offers her a smile that is too charming. She then aims it at Cloud, who responds with a nod of his head but his facial expression unchanging.
Tifa watches with her hands on her hips as the woman slides off the barstool, making her way back to her friends. Even as she cleans up after her customers as they begin to vacate, Tifa finds that she can't keep from glancing over at her. She notices keenly that the woman doesn't shy away from aiming her stares in Cloud's direction, and Tifa watches with her lips agape when she leans in close to her friends and points at him, the other two erupting into giggles.
Tifa watches them so distractedly that she falls behind on her cleaning until they leave.
Eventually, the bar empties and Tifa manages to, for the most part, push the woman with the red hair and dark green eyes from her mind. She cleans up and then sends Marlene off to bed, the hour having grown late. Cloud has gotten up from his stool and is helping out, stacking the chairs on top of the clean tables and sweeping the floor once Tifa has cleared everything away.
They work together in peaceful quietude, the way they do every Saturday night or any other time that Cloud happens to be home early enough to help Tifa close the bar. She's counting the day's profits at the till behind the counter, and the concentration has helped dispel her intrusive thoughts about the woman who was talking to her boyfriend that night.
"You called last call kinda early," Cloud says when she sets a bundle of cash off to one side. She looks up to see that he is standing across from her, his hands resting on the countertop.
Tifa blinks, her earlier thoughts returning to her at that statement. "I'm just a little tired, is all," she lies, taking the gil earned from that night and zipping it away into a plastic bank bag. "Was starting to slow down, anyway."
Cloud just shrugs, not seeming to mind or care either way. He takes a look around, then turns back to Tifa.
"Well, looks like everything is done here," Cloud says, and he yawns as if to confirm. "Marlene went to bed?"
"She did," Tifa replies.
"Good," he responds. "I'm ready to go to bed, too."
He smiles, and Tifa sees the faint hint of color rise on his cheeks, and she knows what he is really thinking. But she is still anxious and stung by the red-haired woman who planted herself on the stool beside him, who laughed at something he said and had smiled so coyly at him. She feels silly for letting this nag at her so much, but Tifa has never seen a woman be so bold as to approach Cloud right there in the middle of her bar that way. Everyone who comes here knows that Cloud lives here and that he and Tifa are an item.
"Cloud," Tifa starts, her cheeks already overheating as she realizes almost horrifically what she is about to do. "That woman you were talking to earlier - you know her?"
Cloud wrinkles his nose, then shrugs lightly. "Who, Naomi? Nah, first time I've seen her. She said she's never been here before."
Naomi, Tifa thinks. She can't help the way that her heart fumbles in her chest. "What did she want?"
"What?" Cloud repeats cluelessly.
Tifa does her best not to roll her eyes. "She was talking to you," she says in as measured a tone as she can muster. "What did she want?"
Cloud shrugs again, but Tifa can see he is wearing a smirk now. He tips his head to one side.
"Nothing important. She just introduced herself, asked if she could leave her business card." He pulls it out of his pocket, and Tifa eyes it as he slides it towards her on the counter. "She runs a jewelry stand in the market district."
"Did you tell her you live here?" Tifa asks, tearing her eyes from the business card but making a mental note to send it straight into the trash.
Cloud's smirk deepens, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Tifa," he says gently. "Are you jealous?"
Tifa's cheeks brighten and she whirls away from him, taking the till with her. She busies herself rearranging it back into the register, her ears on fire and her heart pounding.
"No," she lies.
She hears Cloud chuckle lightly behind her, and then he is pushing through the little swinging door that leads behind the counter. He comes around and approaches her, and Tifa exhales when he stands behind her and wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in close to his strength and to his scent.
"You're the only girl I have eyes for, Tifa," he whispers against the shell of her ear, sending shivers straight to her knees. "Besides, I have to watch all these guys constantly drooling all over you all of the time. Now you know how I feel."
He turns her gently and meets eyes with her, and Tifa feels her senses begin to return. Cloud is pretty and well-built and she knows women like to rest their eyes on him. She doesn't need to be so sensitive.
Cloud is hers, she reminds herself, staring up into those gorgeous sea-green eyes she loves so much.
He kisses her then, and they go upstairs where he makes love to her, soft and slow and sweet, just the way she likes.
Maybe, there isn't anything to worry about.
—
Naomi and her friends become regulars, and Naomi's eyes never seem to stop following Cloud when he is around, but it isn't until several weekends later that Tifa starts to worry.
It's far busier at Seventh Heaven that Saturday, and Tifa really isn't sure why the bar is so packed. All she knows is that it keeps her on her toes, shuffling back and forth with trays of drinks and plates of food, manning the bar and mixing cocktails while Marlene helps her serve and tally. Even Denzel helps out tonight, rinsing glasses and clearing tables so they can keep up with the demand. And Cloud is there, though this time he's not sitting at the bar, but instead leaning against the wall near the front door, next to the dart board. He's keeping an eye on the place, watching her patrons carefully from afar as they eat and laugh. So far, everyone has been on their best behavior, but Tifa knows it is the nights like these where fights break out and property gets damaged. She's grateful that he's home; knowing he's around with that massive Fusion sword just within reach makes her feel a little more at ease
She moves through the motions of the evening, letting the clamors of the music and voices and glasses clinking create the soundtrack of her work. Tifa is so engrossed in managing the bar that she doesn't even notice when Naomi arrives - this time by herself - finding a seat in a booth near the front door.
Right by where Cloud is standing.
Tifa turns around at the sound of the door chime, though, and catches Naomi as she slides into the booth. Tonight, she's straightened her wavy auburn hair and has pulled it high into a ponytail on the top of her head, and she is wearing a tight-fitting blue dress with a keyhole neckline that exposes a fair amount of cleavage. Her eyes are rimmed with winged eyeliner, and her lips are painted red, a sharp contrast to her pale, freckled skin.
Tifa bristles, staring at the woman from across the room. She hadn't thought about her again all week, pushing her previous flirtations with Cloud far from her mind. But now she is back and she is dolled up in a way that makes Tifa's heart crimp, and she hates the wild rush of angry heat that bubbles through her veins, especially when she glances down at herself in her white tank top and jeans and the messy aprons she wears over it.
Self-consciously, Tifa chances a look at the dart board where Cloud stands. He is still there, leaning against the wall with his arms across his chest. If he's noticed Naomi come in, he doesn't give any indication, his eyes scanning the room at intervals before he turns his attention back to his boots.
But Naomi, Tifa realizes quickly, is staring right at him.
Tifa sighs, finishing up with her current customer before she makes her way to the front of the room. She finds Naomi sitting there, plucking her fingers through the menu.
"Can I help you?" Tifa asks, a little more brusquely than necessary.
Naomi looks up and her eyes meet Tifa's, and they are more turquoise than green, she realizes. They are a beautiful shade, and for some reason, Tifa feels ill. All she can think about is Cloud staring into those eyes and falling mesmerized, and it makes the streaks of fury and envy that runs through her blood pulse dangerously.
Naomi looks up at her and smiles, sharing a line of broad, straight white teeth. "I'll just take a Cosmo Canyon for now," she says.
And then, audaciously, she turns away from Tifa and peers over at Cloud again, who is talking quietly with Denzel.
Tifa feels her anger flare at the woman's open admiration, but she bites it back and turns away, making towards the bar. She doesn't realize it, but she is slamming glasses and bottles down as she works, the sounds of the bar blurred out by the rage of her own spinning thoughts. She can't stop how she glances back and forth between Naomi and Cloud the entire time, Cloud oblivious to the way that Naomi stares as he chats with Denzel and then resumes watching over the bar. Tifa serves her drink, and Naomi doesn't even look at her when she thanks her, she is still so wrapped up in staring at Tifa's boyfriend.
Tifa slams the drink down so hard that it spills.
For the rest of the night, Tifa is so distracted that she can barely concentrate on her work of running the bar. More than once, Marlene asks her if she's okay. Naomi doesn't move from her seat, but she does sip and stare, her eyes never leaving Cloud while he continues to stand there and monitor the crowd wordlessly.
His obliviousness is the only respite that Tifa feels from this entire affair. That he is so cluelessly uninterested in the hot redhead who can't keep her eyes off of him placates Tifa a little bit, and even though she is still frustrated, she tries to push it from her mind so she can concentrate on her customers.
It isn't until Naomi gets up from her seat and makes her way in Cloud's direction that Tifa finally feels her resolve break.
She's standing behind the bar, mixing a round of cocktails for the clients in front of her when she sees the redhead rise. It is only then that Tifa notices how short her skirt really is, riding up along her thighs. She rounds the table and approaches Cloud, stopping right in front of him with her hands folded in front of her. She leans forward, and Tifa watches Cloud's eyes widen, his cheeks suddenly stained with pink.
Why is he blushing?
Tifa tries to finish making the drinks that she is working on, but her movements are erratic and she's fumbling through the rest of the night with distraction. Marlene tries to help, sensing her preoccupation, but the little girl can only keep up so much and Tifa isn't really helping things, her vision turning red around the corners the longer she glances towards the front of the bar. Cloud is still leaning against the wall but his eyes are wide and there is very little space between him and this woman who Tifa is now so vengefully furious with that she has forgotten her name.
She can only watch in dismay when Naomi moves to the jukebox in the corner and changes the song. It switches to an upbeat, backwater tune, and the woman starts to dance in front of Cloud. Cloud doesn't move - and Tifa knows he hates this type of music - but nonetheless, he stares, his arms folded in front of him while Naomi blocks Tifa's line of sight by moving in front of him.
Just before she does, Tifa catches the helpless and pleading look that Cloud shoots her across the room.
For the rest of the night, Tifa moves without direction, her brain scattered and her thoughts disoriented. She bites off a few orders to Marlene before she sends her and Denzel both upstairs to get ready for bed, and once again, she finds herself calling last call early. Her usual smiles to her patrons as she bids them farewell and ushers them out have evaporated completely, and she finds herself short and clipped with them as she collects their gil and clears away their plates and glasses. Cloud, who has remained cornered by Naomi the entire time, finally slips away from the jukebox and starts to stack the chairs on the tables, his eyes avoiding Tifa's the entire time, his cheeks still the color of cherries.
The top row of Tifa's teeth slice menacingly into her tongue, but it is only when her eyes meet with Naomi's across the room that she feels her inner rage explode in her head. The last of her patrons slide out of the front door, but Naomi remains, a smile on her face as she leaves a pile of gil on her table.
Tifa is standing behind the bar and watching as Naomi turns, finding Cloud across the room where he has now picked up a broom and has begun to sweep. Disbelieving, she watches as Naomi saunters with a flip of her auburn ponytail over her shoulder to him, stopping his back and forth movements with a careful hand on his exposed bicep.
The jukebox is still playing some bawdy tune and Tifa can't hear what is said, but she can see the movement of Naomi's painted red lips. They curve up into a smile, and Cloud's cheeks suddenly match their shade as she whispers to him, mako-blue eyes widening with surprise. Naomi drops a long, painted fingernail in a line down Cloud's arm, and then she finally turns, making her way towards the exit.
It's enough to have Tifa dumping her dishrag into the sink with far more force than necessary, smoke burning its way out of her ears.
Cloud is still blinking in confusion, but Tifa has had enough. She swallows back the churn of anger and insecurity and resentment, rounding her way out from behind the counter as she wipes her hands together, clearing away the dampness left behind by her cleaning. Cloud ceases his sweeping and looks up when she emerges, watching her as she approaches.
"Tifa -"
"Go upstairs," she finds herself snapping, her voice sharper than she can remember hearing it in a long while. She closes her eyes and inhales a deep breath, willing steel into her lungs to calm herself down. "Please make sure the kids go to bed. I'll finish up here."
Cloud looks like he wants to say something else, but Tifa's attention is focused on the front door, just as Naomi passes through, out into the night. Cloud's shoulders sag and he passes Tifa, but the borders of red that have infected her vision blur him out and she finds herself crossing the bar, making her way outside.
Naomi is still standing on the front porch, about to make her way down the steps. When she hears the door creak open, she turns, her eyes widening as she spots Tifa in the threshold behind her, hands rooted to her hips. Tifa narrows her eyes when they face each other, and the woman gives her a confused but pointed stare before she moves to turn away again.
"Excuse me," Tifa hears herself spit, stopping Naomi as she lowers her foot a step.
She turns to face her again. "Yes?" she asks, her voice nauseatingly saccharine as she purses her lips. "Oh, I'm sorry - I left my cash right on the table."
"This isn't about that," Tifa bites out, feeling flames lick up her throat, the pain of anger slicing into the flesh there and straining her voice. This is about Cloud."
"Cloud?" Naomi repeats, tipping her head to one side and feigning surprise.
"Yes, Cloud," Tifa repeats, feeling her fuse grow short. "The man you were flirting with all night, who you flirt with every time you come in here. The man who lives here. What's your deal?"
Naomi barks a short laugh, and the sound is lustfully deep in a way that makes the hair on the back of Tifa's neck rise, just the thought of Cloud hearing that voice just inches from his ears all night sending razor blades through her veins.
"Deal?" Naomi repeats with a shrug, her nonchalant disinterest only further irritating Tifa. "There's no deal. He runs deliveries all over the world, and he's pretty well known for his work. In more ways than one, I should add."
Tifa grits her teeth.
"I was just hoping he could help get the word out about my shop," Naomi adds innocently.
Subconsciously, Tifa folds her hands together and flexes her fingers against one another, the urge to do something dangerous with her hands becoming overwhelming. She locks eyes with Naomi, ruby red orbs boiling over the way that her blood is as it bursts through every ventricle.
"That's not what it looks like to me," she responds in as measured a tone as she can control. "Listen. I want to be perfectly clear, Naomi. Cloud not only lives here, but he is taken."
Naomi smiles, but its condescension is instantly grating to Tifa's nerves and she only finds herself growing further vexed. Instinctively, she pulls her shoulders back.
Naomi drops her eyes to Tifa's hands where they fidget anxiously in front of her body. "Funny," she remarks. "I don't see a ring on that finger. Or his, for that matter. Besides, he didn't say anything to me about being taken."
Tifa is not an easily angered or irrational person. She doesn't jump to snap judgments and she is clear-minded and even. In her young life, she's mediated her fair amount of arguments and has always considered herself level-headed and logical.
But when it comes to Cloud - for whatever multitude of reasons that stretch on in their endless history together - she is not so calm, and Tifa can feel herself snap, something ugly and threatening rising like bile inside of her.
Without a response, Tifa steps closer to Naomi, and she doesn't stop moving in her direction until the woman is forced to back up in response, towards the wall of Seventh Heaven's front facade that is sidled between the front door and the window to the left. Naomi's eyes widen as she realizes what is happening, but Tifa doesn't relent until she nearly has her pinned against the wall.
"Listen to me," Tifa is whispering now, but there is a harshness under her breath, as if it is riding on the twisted blade of a dagger. "Cloud is mine. He has always been mine, and he will always be mine. So back. Off."
Naomi is about to respond, her mouth dropping open, but Tifa sends her bare fist through the wall, right next to Naomi's head and her halo of fiery red hair. It splinters the wood into pieces, and Naomi winces, whipping her face out of the way as if she has been struck.
Tifa can feel all of the anger that has been riding wavelengths inside of her pulse and dull, and she pulls her hand back, instantly regretting her rashness. Her hand throbs, but she keeps her eyes focused and narrowed on Naomi's face as she steps away, lightly shaking the pain out of her hand behind her.
"You aren't welcome here anymore," Tifa finally manages, swallowing the sting that assaults her knuckles back.
Naomi is so stunned that she can only stare for a moment, but when the intensity in Tifa's crimson glare bellows again, she is finally spurred to move. She blinks and pushes away from the wall, carefully stepping around Tifa in an attempt to reach the stairs.
"Crazies," Tifa hears her mutter under her breath.
Naomi shoots her a final baleful look before she jogs down the bar's front steps and then disappears into the misty summer night. Tifa watches her go, and only when she has rounded the nearby bend of a corner does she realize how she's been holding her breath.
It's the last time Tifa sees the red-haired woman named Naomi.
—
It's a little later that night when Tifa is upstairs, locked inside of the bathroom, an open bottle of wine she's carried up from the bar with her sitting on the ledge of the sink. The kids are already asleep, tucked away in their beds. Tifa isn't sure where Cloud is - likely in their bedroom, waiting for her to join him - but she isn't ready to face him after the spectacle she found herself in downstairs. Instead, she sits on the closed toilet seat in her bra and underwear, staring down at her right hand and the way that her knuckles are torn open and blood has caked and dried all along her fingers and the back of her hands. She dabs carefully at it with a cotton ball that is soaked in a potion, hissing quietly as the healing liquid smarts her wounds and cursing silently at herself for pulling that stunt without putting her gloves on.
Despite that, the pain in her hand isn't what stings the most. It's Naomi's words that linger, piercing at Tifa's insecurities that have lived with her for as long as she can remember, but have simmered under the surface ever since she and Cloud have formed their relationship. She stares at the wolf head that is splattered with blood on the ring finger of her right hand, then glances at her bare ring finger on the left, and she sighs.
Despite her threats, is Cloud really hers the way she thinks, the way she's always hoped and dreamed and wished?
That thought burrows its way too deep inside, and Tifa tries to push it away by sipping the wine straight from the bottle. It is a dry white and it is a bitter rush of chalk going down her throat, and Tifa squints her eyes and purses her lips, letting the alcohol soothe the anxiety in her blood.
"Tifa?" she hears on the other side of the door after she's been brooding and drinking in darkness and silence for a while.
Tifa looks in its direction. It's Cloud, worry and strain etched across his voice. Its cadence is soft and mellow, and it melts Tifa where she sits. With the way the booze is blurring her thinking, combined with the frantic despondency of her own thoughts, she almost wants to cry.
"Yeah?" she manages in response, careful not to throw too much salt into her tone.
A pause, one that seems ponderous. "Everything alright?" Cloud asks. "I've been waiting for you to come to bed."
Tifa glances down at the bottle she still holds and realizes that she's almost drained it. She swirls the remaining liquid around, then glances at her naked left hand again.
"I'll be there in a bit," she manages, trying not to betray the way stones are blocking her throat. "I'm just going to take a quick shower. Been a long day."
Another pause, and then Tifa hears Cloud sigh.
"Okay," he responds softly. "Don't keep me waiting, okay?"
Tifa wants to respond, but she's too wrapped up in the sound of his voice. Before she can say anything, she hears him quietly pad back down the hall, leaving her alone.
Tifa glances back at her hands, shaking her head and sighing quietly.
She kills the wine and showers.
—
After dressing the wounds on her hand with light bandaging and washing her body and her hair of the day's filth, Tifa wraps a towel around herself and makes her way to their bedroom. It is late and the house is silent, and as Tifa passes the kids' room, she can hear their gentle snores from beyond the door.
Her hair is still hanging in thick damp clumps around her shoulders when Tifa pushes the door open and slips inside, her head still swimming in pinot grigio. She finds Cloud laying back on their bed with his arms crossed behind his head, his chest bare and his sweatpants slung low on his hips. Pale periwinkle streamers of moonlight shine in between the slats of their blinds, washing his skin in a luminate blue glow and highlighting diamond shimmers in his hair. His eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful and content, and Tifa understands deep inside why Naomi and so many other women want him.
How hard is it going to be to hold onto him forever?
As if hearing her thoughts, Cloud's eyes pop open. Ultramarine that glows with the pulse of mako sends flares across the room at her, and Cloud uncrosses his arms and sets them at his sides, rising up slightly on his elbows. The movement causes the muscles of his abdomen to ripple, and Tifa can't stop the way that it distracts her.
"There you are," Cloud says, his voice so low and soft that she is powerless to look back up to his eyes. "Been waiting for you, Tifa. Everything okay?"
Tifa isn't sure how to answer that, especially when Cloud's eyes trail her body from top to bottom where she stands. There is something in his look that beckons her, and she finds herself crossing the room, coming over to the bed and sitting beside him, still holding her towel closed around her body.
"Everything is fine," she fibs.
"You sure?" Cloud asks, tilting his head to one side. It makes his hair drift around his face, fluffy and soft like a chocobo's feathers, and the thought warms Tifa's cheeks. "You shut the bar down early again, and you've been acting weird all night."
His eyes bore into hers like lasers, and for the first time in months, Tifa thinks again about how much they have changed, now a sea-green blue and no longer the royal sapphire of their youth.
"It's nothing," she deflects, looking away from him.
Cloud's eyes drop then, and he sits up, leaning forward as he takes her damaged hand in his. Lightly, he brushes his thumb across her bandaged knuckles.
"Tifa," he breathes, his voice serious now. "What happened? You're hurt."
Tifa bites into her lip, thinking again of the red-haired woman who cornered Cloud and danced in front of him until his face was hot. She wonders if that image is still burned somewhere in his brain, if he's thought of her at all in the space between the moment that she first walked into the bar weeks ago and the moment that Tifa finally banned her from ever returning.
"Cut myself while cleaning up," she lies nonchalantly.
She looks away from Cloud, already reading in his expression that he isn't buying her words, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he brings her hand up to his lips, kisses it lightly, and then lays back on his pillow.
"Be careful," he scolds her gently.
For whatever reason, this sets something off in Tifa. She leans forward, dropping her hands from her towel so that the material falls open and the curve of her breast is exposed.
"Cloud," she cants softly, her thoughts still muddled by the alcohol. "Do you… do you…?"
Cloud's eyes are instantly wide again and his head has lifted from the pillow. "What?" he responds, his voice creaking.
Her cowardice prevailing, Tifa drops it, her memory of the last time she sprung that question on him returning and burning her with brand new aches. Tifa realizes that she's a bit too tipsy and still too inflamed from her encounter downstairs and that she is letting herself run into dangerous territory. Even though her cheeks burn, she drops her hand to his chest, running her fingers in a gentle line down the muscles she finds there, through the dips of his abdominal muscles and all the way to the waistband of his sweats.
"Tifa," he whispers when he realizes what she is doing, his voice barely a breath from his lungs. His lips, pink and full and so very kissable, part, and Tifa can just hear the tiny pants of air he releases. She tugs at his waistband, and instinctively, Cloud lifts his hips.
"Tifa, I -" he puffs out in a harried breath, but Tifa has his pants and his underwear around the center of his thighs and his already hard cock is free, pointing right in her direction. She turns her glance up at him one more time before she gently wraps her good hand around the base of his shaft.
"Do you love me?" she finally finds the courage to ask him, pumping him gently, something devilish snaking forth from the back of her mind. Beads of precum crest from his tip, and she takes her thumb, swiping them in swirling circles around the crown of his head. He bucks in her hand, unable to control himself, and Tifa hears a soft, guttural moan escape the back of his throat in response as he nods his head eagerly.
"If you did," she continues, squeezing his length before she tugs it again, "You wouldn't let other women flirt with you so boldly right in front of me."
Cloud's eyes widen even further, but any protest he tries to leverage is snuffed out when Tifa ducks her head and wraps her lips around his tip. Her hair, still slightly damn but silky and smooth as it dries in the summer night air, falls around her cheeks and curtains her face. Cloud sucks in a sharp breath, and he leans forward, his palm finding her cheek and his fingers weaving into her hair.
"Tifa, I wasn't -"
His words come out as growls, especially as Tifa lowers her mouth with every suck that she pulls out of his length. His taste is both salty and sweet, the clean masculinity that is uniquely Cloud, reminding her that he really is hers. Her anger and her jealousy isn't warranted, but it's revealed itself and now it is caged in a bottle of white wine and her fervent desire for him, a cauldron that is coming dangerously close to spilling over.
She lowers her lips carefully inch by inch, working to take as much of him into her mouth as she can, slick rivers of her saliva coating his skin. Cloud never asks her to do this and whenever she does, it is always by her choice. She's usually too shy for such an act, not to mention she never feels like she can do quite a good enough job to please him. But the more that Cloud moans and squirms and tightens his fist in her hair, the more that Tifa burns with want for him and the harder she works until she can feel the tip of him press against the back of her throat.
"Tifa…"
He is pulsing between her lips, her tongue sliding over the throb in his veins when she realizes he is close. She flickers her eyes up at him, finding his low-lidded and hooded, thin slits of blue peering down at her and shadowed by the moonlight. He growls low in his throat, arching his back as he readies himself to erupt right onto her tongue.
Tifa pulls back.
She hears him gasp in frustration when she backs away, and he sits up savagely, reaching at once for her with both hands. She moves completely away from him, spinning back on the bed and rearing herself up on her knees so quickly that the bed creaks and groans. Her towel, which has fallen to her hips, is suddenly in the way, and Tifa grabs it and tosses it across the room so that she is naked in front of him.
"Tifa," Cloud rasps again, the sound coming out almost like a sob.
Tifa feels a thrill wash over her, blended with her intoxication and her adrenaline and her steadily rising arousal. The sight of him so flushed and stagnated, so wanting and disabused, has her nipples painfully stiff and a slickness growing alongside the pulse between her thighs.
"Tifa," she mocks the way he says her name, crawling over him and shoving him back down to the bed by his shoulders. "Tifa, Tifa, Tifa, Tifa. Is that all you can say? You are going to have to do better than that, Strife."
Cloud watches helplessly as Tifa leverages herself above him, her hand finding its way around his aching cock that is leaking fresh rivers over his stomach. She works it slowly in front of her, balancing herself on her knees with her thighs on either side of his hips. He leans up and keeps his eyes centered on the way she touches him, and something about the manner in which his lips part in wanton need has her lit on fire.
"Please," Cloud pleads when she suddenly stops working his length in the back and forth of her grip again. "Please, baby. Anything you want, you can have."
She knows she's got him in a good place when he breaks out those kinds of words, the sex-high she's embroiled him in breaking him down to the point that he's begging. Tifa smiles at him sweetly before she leans forward, her breasts brushing against the solid warmth of his chest until they are pressed firmly against one another and her nipples send tingles throughout her body at the delicious friction that crawls across her skin.
She says nothing, just presses her lips against his, capturing him in the first long, heated kiss of the night. Cloud lays back and accepts her, letting her take the lead as she dances her tongue across his, skirting over his teeth and nipping at his lips. Another soft moan escapes his throat, winding itself right into her mouth, and Tifa feels herself drip over his lap.
Moments pass before she pulls away and she realizes that they are both squirming and grinding against one another, fluids being exchanged. Tifa takes his length in hand again and squeezes it, offering him several long, slow pumps before she rubs her palm over his leaky tip. Cloud winces and arches, his hands coming up to hold her waist, guiding her center closer to where she is holding him tight.
"Tifa," he says again, her name a warning this time.
She is heady with lust and she wants him just as badly as he wants her, probably even more so, and this thought blows up inside of her when she thinks again of the redhead who saw fit to challenge her for him right there in the middle of her bar. She glances at her left hand and the absence of a ring, then glances at her right, where the wolf he'd given her almost two years ago peeks out above the injury she brought upon herself in her envious rage.
Without another thought, Tifa lowers herself onto him with one swift drop of her hips, letting him plunge as far into her heated depths as he will go.
She lets out a sharp whine as he fills her, and Cloud leans back with a groan, curling his toes as he stretches his legs out in front of him. He tries to buck his hips up at her, but Tifa leans forward and pushes her palms into his chest, keeping him as unbalanced and uncoordinated as she possibly can. She uses all of the strength in her upper body to keep him still, locking her eyes with his as she slowly begins to roll her hips.
"Don't… move…" she orders between heavy breaths, her insides clenching and contracting over the hardness that she envelops, feeling him burrow into that soft spot inside of her that sends stars into the corners of her vision. Cloud murmurs an assent, but he's incoherent, and Tifa watches with her heart aflutter and her desperation for him erupting when his face contorts in absolute, ardent pleasure at the way that she works him.
She moves slowly despite the hazy impulse inside of her that yearns to rotate faster and to rock herself towards a fiery completion over the way he pierces her deep. But she resists it, concentrating instead on his pleasure, on the way every turn and twirl of her hips pulls him closer to the edge, the way her swaying breasts captivate his eyes and his hands, the way her kisses send him into space when she leans forward and blesses his lips once again. She focuses on the way that he purrs and moans when she slides her hands over the muscles of his torso or when she reaches up and cards her fingers through his soft hair, the cords in his neck pulling taut. When he whines her name and takes her injured hand in the clasp of his, squeezing her tightly before he presses kisses to the bloodied and bandaged joints, she leans forward and bears down her hips, squeezing her walls tight around him.
"Fuck," he murmurs. His hand on her hip pulls her, and he bucks up again, trying to speed their movements together. But Tifa vices her thighs, locking him down.
"You want to come, baby?" Tifa asks, interlocking their fingers together where they hold hands.
"Please," he begs, his expression pinched and strained, sweat lining and dripping from his brow. "Go faster, baby. Please."
Hearing an adonis like Cloud - a man who has defeated Sephiroth three times and been through every manner of personal hells - beg like this is enough to have Tifa shatter right then and there. But as the shiver of anticipation runs through her, she rocks her hips forward one more time, feeling his dull throb against her walls.
She needs to hear him say it.
"Then tell me how you feel," she trills above him.
"Hmm?" Cloud strains, wincing again, lifting his hips in an attempt to get more. But Tifa simply fights him, forcing him back down again.
"Tell me how you feel about me," she sighs in clarification, her voice floating over a moan that seeps out when he rolls his hips and cleverly brushes against her spot again. "Please… I want to hear…"
Cloud finally stops resisting, and his eyes seem to widen as he stills. His face remains stilted by rapidly escalating ecstasy, but it has found a crest and it sits there as he stares at her. Tifa finds that she can't tear her eyes away, especially as she sees a look of pure understanding and maybe even something deeper that she can't quite name cross his features.
"Tifa," he rumbles, his breath coming out in heavy pants, spikes of golden blond hair sticking to the sides of his face now. "I… you're everything to me. My best friend… the prettiest girl I've ever seen…"
Tifa closes her eyes, letting the sound of his voice serenade her as she finally resumes the steady rock and grind of her hips over his. One hand still holds his but the other presses into his chest, nails digging into his flesh and leaving pale, crescent moon-shaped marks.
"Go on…"
"You're my whole world," Cloud hums under his breath, the sound masked by another moan of pleasure, every word interspersed by a raspy inhale. "You're the reason I'm still here. You know how much I need you to live, Tifa? Every day, I can't go five minutes without thinking about you. Please, baby, make love to me, Tifa, I need you -"
"Keep going," Tifa demands, increasing the pace of her hips just a bit, rolling her neck as she feels the tip of his cock grind blissfully into that euphoric spot inside of her.
"Please," Cloud begs again. "Please, Tifa. I'll do anything. I love you -"
It's as if fireworks are suddenly exploding outside of their window, and hearing those words seems to unlock something inside of her. Tifa lays forward, crushing her body to his as she finds his mouth. Her hips twirl and lift and plunge, soaking his length in the torrents of the desires he unleashes from her. But it is nothing compared to the tears of elation that flow from her eyes, coating her cheeks and staining his lips.
Cloud breaks their kiss and follows up with a sudden surge of strength, lifting his upper body and shifting both their bodies so he is sitting up and they are facing one another, Tifa settled now in his lap and her legs wrapped around his waist. He still holds her hand, but his free one takes her hips and he pushes up into her.
"I love you," he tells her again. "You, and only you. I've always loved you, Tifa. You know that, don't you?"
Maybe she does.
Instead of responding, Tifa wraps her arms tight around his shoulders, holding onto him while she squeezes his hand again. She relinquishes herself to him, letting him take control so that he is soon thrusting hard and fast up into her, drawing sharp cries from her throat. The white-hot feelings of bliss are doubled when his free hand drifts between them and finds her clit, frantically stroking her in that way that he and only he has ever known how to or ever tried. Before Tifa can stumble her way through another thought, she is bursting all around him, crying his name while he lets go and fills her.
Her brain is so flooded by endorphins that Tifa barely realizes when they are both so spent that they collapse together into the pillows, holding one another tight. Cloud carefully releases her hand so that he can cradle her, and while his twitching cock is just beginning to soften, it is still nestled inside of her. Tifa savors this intimate feeling, locking her thighs around him as they fall towards the restful winds of sleep.
"I love you," Cloud says again, and after years of waiting to hear those words, she realizes she's losing count of the number of times he's uttered it tonight.
"I love you too," she whispers back, that damaged hand reaching up to find his cheek and caressing it softly as he closes those beautiful cerulean blue eyes.
They lay there in silence, and Tifa feels herself drifting off when Cloud's eyes pop open again. He glances at her hand that is clutching his cheek, and she watches the corner of his lips curve up into a lazy smile.
"Kind of think it's time to move that ring to the other hand," he tells her. "At least, until I can get you something prettier. Don't want anyone getting the wrong idea."
Tifa opens her mouth to respond, but Cloud closes his eyes again, still smiling.
Her heart pitter-pattering into a wild race as she ponders the implications of what he has said, she soothes herself by stroking just below his eyes, right over his cheekbone, until she is sure he has fallen asleep.
"You're mine," Tifa whispers, happily kissing him on the nose.
And the next day - when Cloud asks her what happened to the wall outside of Seventh Heaven - Tifa can only smile.
FIN