-1He had hoped to break the news of their marriage to her in a less surprising way, but like all good plans, it never turned out well. Vincent ignored the boiled kettle as he watched Tifa sit and stare at the wooden frame in her hand. It was almost as though she were trying to engrave it into her memory.
Suddenly, she looked to him and held up the certificate. Her face shone with desperate hope. "I'm guessing this isn't one of them novelty things, am I right?" She could hope. Oh God, what if they really married? What then? Save the world, buy a house with a white picket fence, and a couple of dogs? Two words. No and way.
"Yes." The gunslinger regarded her, only just fighting the urge to smile at her confused expression.
"Yes?" Tifa repeated slowly. "That's all you have to say? We got married Vincent. Married!"
"Again, yes." He flicked the kettle switch back on and waited until it reheated. "I would offer cream, but I am unable to find the tiny pots." Still, he had another glance for the cream but could only find milk. Strange. He had never used the cream.
Oh yes. Now he remembered.
"I believe it is your turn to choose dessert." Vincent purposely posed on the bed and his legs shifted to allow Tifa a perfect view of his erection. His eyes roamed over her svelte figure appreciatively and openly lingered on her chest.
"Mmm dessert…" Tifa hungrily ate up the sight of his toned stomach. A wave of heat burst between her thighs and she rubbed her legs together. She had the idea and the inspiration, now all she needed were the tools.
The gunslinger groaned as pressure built up and he purred at the feel of his own hand moving slowly up his arousal. "C'mere, Misshush Valentone. Put that smart mouth to good use."
"You said it was my turn." She pouted, twirled her hair, and pushed her full breasts out. At the sound of his lusty purr, she knew she'd won that little round. Tifa winked and giggled, tormenting him by popping a fingertip into her mouth and sucking lightly.
"Tease," Vincent growled, "Yes…" His hips bucked up into his fist, his digits flexed around his shaft. Hooded eyes watched as she raised her skirt high up her legs and gave him a very nice view.
Before he could speak his thoughts, his teasing little wife had dropped her skirt and turned away, sweetly giggling at her agonising form of torture. "Tifa…" The warning in his voice was crystal clear and perfectly understood, and also ignored.
"I'm bringing you dessert, remember?" The temptress moved so her skirt was taut over her firm and rounded ass.
That sight just made him want to do very bad and very dirty things to that luscious looking treat. A wickedly slow smile furled up and his eyes glinted diamond hard; she kept moving like that and he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.
"If I were a… Aha!" Vincent went from simply horny to curiously horny in a split second. What was she doing? His question remained unanswered as she turned to face him with a cheeky smile and hands hidden behind her back. "Close your eyes and no peeking."
He cautiously studied the vixen before obeying and closing his eyes, resisting temptation to open them when he heard the sound of clothing being removed. A little pop came next and then a low hum, but still Vincent resisted opening his eyes. The bed dipped under her weight and he felt her core hotly scrape down his shaft.
The next thing he knew, something cool was being dripped on his skin. Instantly, his eyes snapped wide open to see Tifa smiling innocently down at him. "I'm gonna enjoy this."
Tifa didn't see the way Vincent traced his mouth with his fingers, and nor did she see the way his expression screwed up in desire. He could still feel the creamy liquid being poured over him and the warmth of her mouth sliding to swallow him whole.
"We're married and you're talking about what I take in my tea?" She took a very deep and very noisy breath, held for five, then slowly exhaled. "Okay. This is probably just one of those novelty things. I doubt it's real." It was a long shot, but she was grabbing onto it like a lifeline.
"I imagine not." Vincent calmly stirred first her tea and then his, the banging in his head synchronised with the clatter of metal against ceramic. "We are married Tifa, you are my wife." It was quite simple really. They were married. Husband and wife. Ball and chain. However way it was said, they were legally bound to one another.
As his back was to her, he didn't the incredulity marring her face. "Okay, now I know you didn't mean that the way it sounded." The way he spoke implied he would be happy to leave it at that. "Look. Perhaps we didn't actually go all the way, but…"
Vincent faced her with a smirk riding on his lips. "We did," she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Three times," and each time, he'd made her scream his name over and over.
"Maybe, oh I don't know, that was wishful thinking on your part. Or maybe you dreamt it." It seemed so weird to be accepting a cup of tea off the man she'd had sex with, but never mind. After everything else this morning brought, the normality of a cup of tea was just what she needed.
A dark eyebrow reached his hairline. The feeling in his groin clearly stated it was definitely not a dream or wishful thinking. Since he couldn't describe the sensation, Vincent placed his cup beside the kettle and went to stand in front of her. He gazed down at the panicked girl and licked his lips just once.
The only part of Tifa not frozen was the shaking hand holding her cup. She was entranced by brilliant crimson orbs as they bent down to her level. Traitorous breasts ached with pleasure she didn't remember and her stomach tightened, responding to unknown stimulation.
"Your body is no stranger to mine," Vincent murmured and purposely scanned her chest, pointedly glancing at her. He didn't need to do or say anymore for Tifa to get the idea, but that didn't stop him from continuing. "I kissed your lips with my mouth and…"
She gasped and her cheeks burned bright red. She prevented him from saying anything more by placing a trembling hand over his mouth. "Sssh!"
Vincent removed her hand, his lips pressing dry and warm smooches up her palm before kissing each one of her fingertips. If only she recalled some of the things she'd said to him last night. Any shyness would be replaced by complete mortification. "You've no need to be embarrassed or ashamed."
He certainly wasn't embarrassed and definitely not ashamed. If anything, he was rather proud. Tifa Lockheart was a beautiful woman, not to mention well endowed. Oh yes, he recalled those full breasts vividly.
"Of course not, I mean we've already done God knows what." Tifa snatched her hand away and clenched her fist in an effort to ignore the tingles she got from his touch. "It's supposed to go the other way round. Ya know. Date for a while, get to know each other, have sex, and then get married."
He couldn't argue with that. However, drunken logic must have argued and wiped the floor with common sense. "Perhaps," Vincent agreed, "It does not mean to say the proper way is best." He studied her for a few moments as she contemplated his words. "What is really bothering you?"
Surprised, the brunette could only gape at the gunslinger, who merely gave a secret smile. How did he know there was something other than the morning's discoveries playing on her mind?
"Last night was not just about intoxicated sex," he stated, mildly amused. "I learned a little about the workings of your incredibly perplexing mind."
Tifa scowled at him. "My mind is not perplexing. I'm simply complicated." She didn't care to read his expression, instead focusing on the steam rising from her cup for a second before returning her attention to him. "You're much older than me, have more experience." God, this was humiliating. "Was I okay?"
Vincent wondered at her meaning. "Did you…" She cleared her throat and tried again. "Was I able to please you?"
Ah. Had she pleased him? It feels like a vice squeezed thirty years worth of orgasms out of me in the matter of minutes, yet she is asking if I was satisfied? He didn't say that to her, of course, he too sensitive to her currently delicate sensibilities. Neither did he tell her he was getting hard just thinking about it.
She laughed humourlessly, taking his silence as a gentle let down. "You haven't had a woman for decades. How could I not satisfy you? Anyone could have done that." Now Tifa did feel like an idiot.
He stood and stared down at her, smirking when he noticed they were in the exact spot where she'd sucked him into oblivion. Vincent's smirk grew into a lecherous grin at the widening eyes now focused solely on the evidence of renewed hunger, visible beneath the sheet. "It was not nearly enough."
"Finish your tea." the gunslinger left her side after touching her cheek. "I believe your clothes are in the closet."
"Amazing," she exclaimed in exaggerated humour that came equipped with a cuttingly sarcastic smile. "He gets trashed, but still remembers to hang clothes in the closet. Tell me Mr. Valentone, what kind of man are you?"
Vincent drained his tea in seconds. "A married one it seems." He walked towards the bathroom, dropping his sheet as he moved only for a loud yell to pierce his ears. That noise didn't help his tap dancing brain. Forgetting about his nakedness, he spun to face the brunette and saw a look of horror etched on her face.
Tifa was too shocked to explain the sudden outburst. His shoulder blades and back were covered in red welts, marring the flawless expanse of pale flesh. Her cheeks exploded in colour and a squeak escaped her quivering lips. "Please tell me you use your gauntlet as a back scratcher."
"Uh?" He opened the bathroom door and stood in front of the mirror, craning his neck too see the state of his skin. No wonder the sheet had felt so uncomfortable. Just more proof he'd performed well last night.
Black writing decorating his right ass cheek quickly distracted her from her damage. Her already wide eyes turned to saucers as the words became clear under her intense study. She really hoped that black writing was caused by a Sharpie, or body paint, or something other than what her instincts told her it was.
Tifa grasped onto the calming techniques Zanagan had taught her in order to preserve her sanity, but she couldn't look away. Right there, scrawled across the firm muscle of Vincent Valentine's butt was the name Tofu. Beside it, a cheesy picture of a heart with a gold lock lay in all its colourful glory.
Her heart, blessedly still working, began to thump madly in her chest as she continued to stare silently at the image.
On hearing her fall stone cold quiet, Vincent gave his attention to Tifa and raised both eyebrows at the unreadable expression on her face. His question was silent and the only thing she could do was point to his left ass cheek.
"Oh. That." If she dropped her sheet, he'd be able to see the tattoo adorning her right cheek. Perhaps he should let her discover that one on her own.
"What do you mean, oh that?" Her voice cranked up a notch, almost becoming unbearable. "That's a tattoo, Vincent! It's for life. You're gonna have my name, complete with lock and heart, forever on your ass."
"Your point?" The gunslinger saw no need to cover back up and lazily leaned against the bathroom door frame, seemingly content to watch as she worked herself up.
Tifa took a steadying breath and continued to explain in a way that might their situation to sink into that skull of his. "My point being this entire morning is…" It wasn't often she found herself speechless, but it wasn't often she found herself in positions like this. Hell, this was her first post-drunken marriage position.
First? It was the first and last post-drunken marriage position she'd be in.
Vincent just looked at her, a smirk tugged at his lips as he watched the brunette attempt to control her hyperventilating. "Tifa," her attention was immediately on him and he kept it as he pushed away from his post, sauntering back to where she sat.
She averted her gaze from his crotch and nearly jumped a mile when she felt him next to her. She tensed at the first touch of his hand on her bare shoulder and slowly looked at him.
Perhaps he should give her fair warning of her own tattoo after all. "If my memory serves me well, then you also have a tattoo."
The brunette blinked and tried to assimilate the information he'd just divulged. Then she shot up off the bed, dropped the empty tea cup, and began fighting with her sheet. Tifa tugged it right up, turning her neck this way and that, trying desperately to see if he was telling the truth.
Just then, she caught a glimpse of dark writing curving across her right buttock and she struggled to see more. As she couldn't Tifa scurried to the bathroom in order to use the mirror for the purpose of seeing what was now decorating her ass. The words Vincent Valentone appeared to have grey smoke clouding round while there seemed to be the start of a picture.
"What is it?" She dreaded the answer.
Vincent used his elbows for support, shamelessly exposing himself to his wife. "A smoking gun." Her tattoo was artistically done in shades of black and grey, and if he was honest, he found it incredibly attractive.
He studied the curves on display with unabashed appreciation and traced his teeth with his tongue, wondering if he should confess to the love bite on the opposite cheek. Biteable.
"Oh God!" Tifa groaned as she let the blanket fall down, blocking his view. "What are we gonna tell the others?" She was all up for keeping this a secret, but that would be impossible since they all lived in such close quarters on the Highwind.
Vincent kept silent as he contemplated telling her the others probably knew by now, since Cait Sith had witnessed their intoxicated wedding.