A/N: This is very long overdue, but I am cross posting the rest of Sky Blue Daydreams over here on ffnet! I apologize for not doing this sooner. It was such a headache for me before.
Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Happy reading!
VII.
When Tifa gets home that Friday evening, she's mostly recovered from having sex with Cloud Strife. She's continuing to pinch herself that she's had sex with Cloud Strife. She briefly thinks about what the girls will say before she runs her shower, keeping it lukewarm, and letting it run over her for twenty minutes.
Once dried and in her pajamas, Tifa sits on her bed and grabs her phone, the high from the office sex tumbling out of her and a somber pull creeping along her chest to take its place.
Every time she calls her dad, it feels like a heavier weight. Each week that passes, each time she feels as though she's failed him, the angrier she gets.
She steels herself and hits his name on her phone. He answers on the third ring.
"Hey, sweet pea," he answers.
"Hey dad," she says.
"How was work this week?"
She wants to laugh absurdly at the question.
"It was…fine. Busy like always, but we're making good headway with the merger."
"That's wonderful, Teef. I'm not surprised. You always work so hard. How's what's his name?"
What's his name is Cloud, of course. Her dad knows how much grief he's put her through. Sometimes he'll call him Clown or Claude or any other C name that isn't Cloud, mostly because it started out as a joke between them months ago. Now, it's his normal rib at him, and Tifa loves him dearly for it.
And she'll never tell him that she had sex with him on his office desk.
"He's…actually, he's a lot better. You know how I told you we came to an agreement? He's…stuck to it."
"Sounds like he's finally doing his job," her father says, a bit dryly. Tifa laughs.
"Yeah. He's surprised me."
"I always thought he was too young for the position."
"I did, too. Not…anymore," Tifa admits.
"That's good, Teef. I would still like to come up there and pull his head out of his ass and give him a piece of my mind."
Tifa shakes her head, smiling slightly. "I know you do, dad. How is everything in Nibelheim?"
"Oh, the same. Running well. My second in command is in charge while I go through chemo."
Her father is the mayor of the town. It's one of the reasons he cites when he tells her he can't come to Midgar, even though he's already deferring all responsibility to his assistant.
"How is the chemo? Are you maintaining any energy at all?"
"Some days are better than others," he says. "Overall, I can't complain."
Yes, you can, she thinks. It isn't fair it chose you.
She'll never understand it. As many advances that the planet has undergone, as much technology they make and engineer and create, they still haven't figured out a way to correct the malignancies of the human body.
As if hearing her thoughts, she hears him sigh. "Now, Tifa, don't be sad. The doctors are wonderful. They take good care of me."
"You'd get better treatment here in the bigger city," she argues.
It's a tired argument. Tifa's always angry at herself for bringing it up, but she can't help herself. She wants him near her. It isn't enough to hear his voice between her ear and the phone. She wants to hug him every day.
She doesn't want him to leave her.
"That is a debate for another day, darling. What will you do this weekend?"
They move on to the other topics—how the girlfriends are doing, how Aerith's business is thriving, how Yuffie is getting (or not getting) along with her father, and how Jessie is still finding her big breakthrough role.
She talks about Zack, whom Aerith adores. She talks about Jessie's tumultuous love life, because she vows she'll "never get married," and she discusses Yuffie's struggle to become her own person outside of her father's shadow.
When they finally end their conversation, he says, "I love you, Tifa. We will talk again, soon, okay?"
Every time they end this way, Tifa's eyes line with thin tears, feeling the skin around her eyes pucker.
"I love you, too, dad. We'll talk soon."
When they hang up, she runs her palm roughly across her eyes, then gets up from her bed to busy herself with the methodical process of dinner.
On Saturday afternoon, Tifa receives texts in her group message from her girlfriends. She's in the middle of working in her apartment office when she gets the first one from Aerith.
Aerith: Hello, ladies. Life update. How was the work week?
Yuffie responds first.
Yuffie: It was fine. Nothing to report besides Godo being an ass, what's new.
Jessie: Just a lot of rehearsals, but it all seems to be coming together. Only two more weeks until opening night!
Tifa responds last. She thinks about how she'll break the news. Her fingers hover over the letters before she decides.
Tifa: It was good. Asshole
Tifa feels strange typing out the name for him. It feels archaic, now, all of a sudden. It doesn't match. She backspaces.
Tifa: It was good. Strife has been
Tifa stops again, backspacing.
Tifa: Work has been really busy, but I would love to chat with all of you guys. There's too much to talk about over text.
It doesn't take long for them to bulldoze her with questions.
Yuffie: "Too much to talk about" Teef, what does that even MEAN?
Jessie: OMG. Does it mean what I want it to mean.
Aerith: Has Asshole kept his word? Has he been treating you well?
Tifa begins typing out her response, but Jessie beats her to it.
Jessie: If by "treating you well" you mean harassing her with suggestive looks and eye fucking, then I absolutely hope so.
Tifa nearly begins snorting, having to put down her phone for a moment.
Tifa: He's been showing me that he's a real human being. He cares about my work, and we've been getting along well. Really well, she wants to type, but she doesn't.
Jessie: If by "getting along well" you mean doing the dirty in the office…
Yuffie: LMAO JESSIE
Aerith: A real human being, you say? I knew it. Cloud Strife, aka no longer an asshole.
Tifa: I'm as shocked as you are.
Yuffie: I cannot WAIT for story time. Brunch? Tomorrow?
Jessie: Yes, please. I need a bloody mary. And all of you guys.
Aerith: Brunch! Yes! Would it be okay if Zack came, too? Tonight is date night, and he usually stays over, and he loves mimosas.
Tifa feels her stomach curl. If she declines Zack's presence, then they'll immediately know. They'll know everything. They're too in tune with her words and her habits. She sighs, waiting and contemplating for a moment, before finally texting the final words.
Tifa: Actually…I need it to be just you girls.
It takes three milliseconds for the replies to file in.
Aerith: OMG I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT.
Yuffie: Dear Leviathan you have sinned haven't you omg TEEF
Jessie: I need to know every single detail you sexy slut.
Tifa begins laughing.
Tifa: I still can't really believe what happened this week.
Yuffie: Omg I am so glad tomorrow is Sunday
Jessie: You're telling me
Aerith: Teeefaaaaaa. Zack will be DEVASTATED, but I think I'll be able to soothe him enough. ;)
Tifa: Aerith! Hahaha
They continue on for a little while longer before Tifa gets back to focusing on a few more work details, eventually breaking for the evening. She has a mind to wonder what Cloud's doing on a Saturday night—if he's home or if he goes out with other CEOs—or what CEOs even do in their free time—and is surprised to find that she would like to know.
The next morning, Tifa arrives at Seventh Heaven around 11:00 am. Yuffie is already there, and Jessie and Aerith arrive minutes later.
Once they get situated with their drinks, Tifa attempts to delicately confess what happened during the week.
"Tifa!" Yuffie screams, making a handful of the patrons startle or look over to their table. "He came to your office and told you he wanted you! You kissed in both of your offices! You call him Cloud!"
Aerith snickers, sipping at her mimosa. "I knew he'd lust after you like a dog. It took just one kiss, didn't it?"
Jessie is nearly sprawling across the table, reaching for Tifa. "I am in love with your life, right now. I knew he was going to want you so badly." She grins monstrously. "But that fact that he went to your office and confessed?" Jessie holds up her hands as if she's praising the creator above.
Tifa places her face in her hands, laughing with all of them. "I was channeling you guys the whole time."
Yuffie wraps her arms around Tifa's neck in a headlock. Aerith raises a hand to Jessie and high-fives her.
"You've done us proud, Lockhart," Jessie says.
"So after Rebecca or whatever her name interrupted, did he begin to send you endless emails full of adoration?" Aerith asks, giggling profusely.
Tifa elbows Yuffie in her sides, and she squeaks and relents, letting her go.
"Not adoration," Tifa says. "But he did start emailing me the next morning."
As Tifa begins to tip toe along with her story, they all fall over again.
"Shut up," Jessie says. "He wanted to dedicate ample time?"
"We know what that means," Aerith winks.
"Did he rip your clothes off later?" Yuffie asks wildly, half joking and half serious.
Tifa bites her lip, trying to hold back her grin. Their amusement and chaotic pleasure they're presenting at her story is infectious.
"No, he only ripped my stockings."
Jessie chokes on her bloody mary. Aerith nearly screams. Yuffie flings her arms around Tifa again.
"Every single detail. Spill it," Jessie says, all but staring her down.
"Sweet Minerva," Aerith breathes, grasping at the tail end of her braid. "First the contract, then kissing you, then your stockings? Cloud Strife is hooked on you, Tifa."
"And by every single detail, I mean everything. Clothes. Expressions. Looks. What did he say?" Jessie continues, both her and Aerith talking over one another. Jessie scoots closer to her, dragging her drink with her. Yuffie's eye glaze over in devilish glee.
"Those emails when he first started before must have been his foreplay," Yuffie snickers.
Tifa shakes her head, her face heating at all of their stares and comments. She runs her hands through her hair and grapples at the napkin rolled up with tape, plucking at it for something to do.
"I highly doubt that, Aerith, and Yuffie it was definitely not foreplay, and Jessie…um…"
Jessie cackles at the blush that blooms over her face. She reaches up to pinch her cheek, and Tifa tries to shove her arm away halfheartedly.
"You know it's good when Tifa's too embarrassed to say anything."
"Tifa, do you want me to tell you what Zack did to me last night? Would that help?" Aerith asks, smirking at her. Tifa rolls her eyes at all of them.
They spend the rest of the late morning roiling over Tifa's past few days, having sex on his desk, breaking his keyboard, fanning themselves and making Tifa curl up into herself with embarrassment, Jessie exclaiming that it wasn't mechanical sex at all, was it? And fantasizing inexplicable scenarios that the next four weeks will entail.
They don't leave until they're sure their waiter and other patrons hate them for their obnoxious voice levels. They walk out giggling and leaning on one another, day drunk and buzzed. Yuffie snickers and says, "Okay, you know what you should do? Send him an email and see if he responds."
"Ooooh," Aerith gushes, poking Tifa's stomach. "If he responds in the next five minutes, someone owes me a new ribbon."
"Just ask Zack to buy you some," Jessie says, beginning to laugh at Aerith's pout. "Okay, so Aerith says five minutes. I say two. Yuffie, what's your call?"
Tifa splutters. "I am not emailing him!"
"Whatever!" Yuffie shouts, grabbing Tifa's phone out of her hand. Tifa squeaks, reaching around Yuffie. Yuffie is too slippery, avoiding Tifa's buzzed attempts at grabbing.
Yuffie knows her passcode. Tifa immediately regrets ever trusting her with it. She taps around on it while Tifa whines and protests. "You guys! This is wrong! I can't send him an email from my phone about something not work related!"
"Like hell you can't, he emailed you to eat lunch," Jessie says.
"Yuffie, let Tifa send it. It should be Tifa's decision," Aerith says, and Tifa is grateful to have someone on her side.
Yuffie grumbles after a moment, grudgingly handing Tifa the phone back. "Fine. But this is gold. And it's nothing risqué. So if you don't send it, I'll be disappointed in you forever. Also, I say 3 minutes and fifteen seconds."
Jessie opens up the stopwatch app on her phone. "Okay, tell me when you hit send, Teef."
They all look at her expectantly. Tifa frowns at Aerith, and she smiles sheepishly. "I still want you to send it, too," she laughs.
Tifa opens her mouth to protest again, reading over what Yuffie typed.
Did you buy a new keyboard?
Tifa
She closes her mouth. It's not so bad. It's innocent in the grand scheme of things. She exhales through her nose.
"You are all the worst with peer pressure," Tifa says, hovering over the send button before she sighs. She hits it, and her phone whooshes with the message, sending her stomach along with it. "Okay. Sent."
Aerith claps. Yuffie whoops. Jessie nods knowingly as she hits the timer.
They begin walking toward their converging intersection, but they don't get far when Tifa hears her phone chime.
Her eyes widen with the notification, Cloud's name titling the message.
"He responded."
Jessie taps her phone, laughing hysterically. "One minute and forty-two seconds. I fucking win. Give me the trophy!"
Tifa reads over his response while they all giggle at one another. Aerith places her hands on Tifa's shoulder to read over her. Yuffie and Jessie come around to do the same.
Didn't I tell you not to worry?
I bought a few of them, just in case.
Cloud
Yuffie begins shrieking first. Jessie shakes Tifa's whole body. Aerith places a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.
"He bought more than one. This is better than a soap, I swear to Leviathan," Yuffie trills.
"Tifa, invite this man into your bed and never leave it," Jessie says, swooning. "My heart can't take this."
"Told you. He's hooked," Aerith says, elbowing Tifa's side with a wink. Tifa groans and tells them she's done with all of it for the day.
It's a lie they all let slide, and they regrettably break away from each other at the intersection. They force Tifa to keep them updated and to tell them every dirty detail or they'll be at her front door, forcing her hand. Tifa laughingly agrees.
By the time Tifa gets home, she sits on her bed and reads over his email again, still slightly buzzed and wondering if it's real.
I bought a few of them, just in case.
She throws her phone on her bed to keep herself from responding before she gets a better hold of herself. Then she crawls back to her mattress to grab it in a huff.
I wasn't worrying. Bring your ruined shirt to work, tomorrow. I'll sew it.
Tifa
Tifa gets up and leave her phone on her bed, only to dart back to it when she hears the ping of the responding email.
Alright, I will. Come to my office at lunch. I'll give it to you then.
Cloud
Tifa reads over the email three times until it doesn't sound sexually suggestive. It doesn't change. All she can read is I'll give it to you, and she lies on her bed and stares at the ceiling, never before wanting to go to work so badly.
The following day, Tifa decides not to wear stockings. Just in case. She's hyperaware of her outfit, but she tries not to let it bother her. She makes sure she's well-groomed. She runs her perfume along her wrists, and, trying not to think too much about it, runs a line in her cleavage. She shakes her head a little at herself in her bathroom mirror, but she can't will away the small smile that lingers.
She attempts to fall into the regular rhythm and tide of work, occasionally distracted, frequently finding her mind elsewhere. It is not as productive a morning as she would have liked, but all she can concentrate on is the tick of the clock, edging closer and closer to noon.
As soon as the time shifts from 11:59 to 12:00, Tifa saves her work and stands up. She bites her lip. She'll wait a few more minutes. She can't show up to his door so…immediately.
Yes you can, her mind says, betraying her. She sits back down and whittles away the next few minutes before she deems it a respectable time to venture toward the elevator, bringing a tote bag with her to hold his shirt.
When she arrives, it is 12:10. Scarlet is, blessedly, not present behind her desk. She must take lunch elsewhere—and Tifa wonders if Cloud planned it this way. Her heart scuttles beneath her ribs at the thought.
Tifa swallows, sighing. She takes another breath before rapping her knuckles against Cloud's office door, and it's a wonder why she continues to be so nervous before she steps into his room.
"Mr. Strife…Cloud?" she says once she steps through the threshold. "Are you busy?"
He's typing something at his computer, but he looks up at her when she enters. It's only been two days since she's seen him, so it surprises her how sharply blue his eyes are. How quickly she has forgotten, though they had been so vivid in her mind.
He stalks to the front of his desk, all the while loosening his tie. It's ochre, with threaded, darker brown chevrons. It lies atop a similarly colored suit vest and a white dress shirt. "No, not anymore. I brought my shirt for you."
He continues stalking forward to her. Uncertain of what to do, she waits for him to reach her, her hands tightening over the handle of her tote. "Oh. Good. I came by to take it."
By the time he's standing in front of her, he's divested his tie. He drops it to the ground beside them. He reaches forward and plucks her bag out of her hands. He leans to the side and places it on the ground against the wall. She watches his movements like a hawk, and her heart begins to race at his proximity and how he always looks somehow so disheveled when without a tie.
"I wanted to thank you for doing this for me. And call me Cloud when we're alone," he says, then reaches toward her shoulders and tugs off her blazer. Tifa blinks, watching it happen, her skin heating up underneath her blouse.
"It's only been two days, but I've been…thinking about this," he continues, and he reaches up to the top button of her blouse. He undoes it, then he undoes the second and the third. Her chest expands with her inhale. "Have you?"
She feels the tension coiling in her stomach. He's slow and deliberate as her shirt opens under his fingers, and it is such a blunt action, so straightforward and no nonsense. It would be nothing more than a business transaction were it not for the way he's looking at her, eyes fastened to her own, falling to her lips occasionally, the deep pink of rushing blood shadowing his neck.
"Yes," she breathes. He has not started smirking until now, hearing her confirmation. He continues unbuttoning her shirt. When he reaches the end, he tugs it off her arms. Just like that, Tifa's in front of him in her bra and her skirt and heels.
His eyes rove over her, catching and hooking on her chest and her bra. "Purple?" he asks, and it holds the subtle lightness of his tease.
"It's…Monday," she says, weakly, her silly tradition suddenly exposed. She tries to push away her bashfulness and her nerves, mimicking him by pushing off his suit jacket. He lets her do it, and he lets her unbutton his suit vest, too. She tugs it down his arms, and she reaches for his dress shirt next, slowly untucking it from his slacks. He exhales lightly as she does, and when she looks away from his face and down to his pants, she stops briefly. He's standing at attention, already pushing at the seam of his pants. They haven't touched yet, and he's turned on and it makes her legs tremble at the sight.
Aerith's voice flits through her. Cloud Strife is hooked on you.
No, she thinks, beginning her slow trail of unbuttoning his dress shirt. He's just busy. The tabloids say he's too focused in his work for relationships. This is only an outlet for him.
And, perhaps, an outlet for her, too.
Half-way down unbuttoning, she realizes her heart is thudding harder against her sternum. Him watching her undress him feels like a different kind of pressure, and her fingers start to shake.
"You wear different colors every day?" he asks, his voice a deeper rumble. It's still raspy, like the sound of a shirt catching on a craggy rock. "Your bra? Your underwear?"
She puffs out a breathy laugh. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?"
His shirt finally fully unbuttoned, she pulls it down and off his arms. Her breath is becoming harder to manage. She curls her fingers before she relaxes them, bringing a finger forward to touch his chest. He is made up of hard lines and shadowed curves. When she looks back up at him, his smirk is gone. His jaw is clenching. The look, before all of this, would have given nothing away. Now that she knows more of his expressions, this one stabs straight into the deepest part of her abdomen. She shudders a breath and reaches her palm forward, pressing it into his hardened groin.
He exhales, his eyes flickering. He steps forward and crowds her against the wall, reaching to her sides and finding the zipper of her skirt. He must be a fast learner, because it's as though his fingers are magnetized to it. There's no hesitation or guessing. He tugs, and it opens, slipping down her legs and puddling on the floor. She steps out of them and kicks them to the side.
His eyes fall down to her hips, and his eyes darken further. His hands come up to press into the wall beside her, caging her in between them. "You're matching," he says.
"Yes," she says, and she wraps her hand around his arousal, squeezing. His throat bobs in a swallow, and suddenly all she wants is for him to moan for her. She squeezes again, but he doesn't relent.
Instead, he brings one hand away from the wall and trails it down her ribs. His knuckles are so feather soft, it's almost a tickle, and goosebumps prick up at the trail he leaves. He reaches her underwear and teases around the band of them.
She releases his length from her grip, finding the button of his trousers. She searches a second for the zipper, pulling it down slowly. She reaches into the opening, finding his length again against the stretched fabric of his briefs. He exhales, sharper this time, and he tugs up on her underwear. The fabric places pressure on her sensitized skin, and she has to press her back against the wall, a soft, quiet moan escaping her. She dips her hand past the waistband of his briefs, and he hisses when she palms against the silky skin of his erection. She strokes him, unhurried, and he pulls up on her underwear twice more before he plunges his fingers past it, one finger sliding against her wet skin, then another.
She's so ready for it that she moans louder, her head pushing back against the wall behind her. He presses closer, and his mouth finds her exposed neck. The hot circle of his mouth and his fingers caressing her clit make her tighten her hold on him, and he grunts softly. She almost smiles at the sound.
"Do that again."
"What?"
She tugs on him harder, and a deeper noise comes out of him. He gently bites her neck in retaliation.
"Make noise."
"Is that what you like?"
The question makes her blush, and his fingers press against her harder, circling, and her legs spread further apart like he's opening her up.
"I…um…"
She tries to concentrate on her rhythm, trying to match the one he's making on her, but her hand jerks from the pleasure he's creating in her. Her pace is forceful and messy. He doesn't seem to mind it as he brings his other hand up to try to take her bra off. She reaches behind to help, unlatching the clasp. As soon as it falls, he rips it off her arms and throws it to the side. He drops his head to her chest, and as soon as his teeth hit her nipple, she gasps and she squeezes him, harder than she means to.
"Fuck," he growls, and he slides a finger into her. The desperation in his voice, in the word, makes her insides collapse.
"Oh," she moans. "Oh."
She clenches around him. Her hand slides up and down more quickly, his length slick from his arousal. He tongues her breast, caressing it, wet and hot and sucking. Her thighs shake and tremble. She's not sure she can take much more of this.
"I think—I'm—"
As soon as she breathes out her words, he slips his fingers out of her, and he grasps her wrist, taking her hand off of him. She nearly whines at the sudden halt, but he pushes down his pants and his briefs, and he grips her hips, lifting her up against the wall and standing between her legs. He pushes into her without warning, burying his face into her breasts, biting at their flesh, and she curls her fingers around his shoulders and his neck as if he's going to fade and disappear.
His thrusts are eager and wild, and over and over and over again she feels the rise. Her clit hits right against him with every pounding, the friction merciless, a burn and a tease and a delicious tug inside of her. Her legs squeeze his waist until they're so tight she wonders if he can breath. He raises his mouth to her neck and licks her skin like she's an ice cream cone. She mewls and cries and she can't—she can't—
She curls harder, the pressure winding up. One thrust, two thrusts, and then he shudders as he comes, reaching down to touch her while he finishes. That's all it takes. She claws the skin of his back, exhaling one last cry as she feels herself reach the height of orgasm. She rides it out for a few moments, him continuing to hold her, before she unravels her legs from his waist. He carefully lowers her until her feet are touching the ground. He eases his way out of her, and he stays close, their chests colliding while they catch their breath.
She reaches up to bring him down into a kiss. It is only meant to be a chaste, thank you kiss, to relay her appreciation. But it lasts, and lasts, and lasts, long enough for Tifa to feel Cloud's arousal press into her stomach once more. She breaks away in a gasp, feeling herself now tightening up again with heated wanting.
"Wanna go again?" he asks, pressing his forehead against hers. "We have a good twenty minutes before we should get dressed."
Tifa huffs a laugh before sighing into him when he brings his head down to bite at her collarbone. His hands rove down to her bottom to squeeze it. Her leg is already coming up to wrap around his hip.
"I think we could manage that," she breathes, rolling her hip against his erection. He hisses and follows her pressure, and his length slides along her clit in one long stroke. The back of her head tips against the door, and the ecstasy muddles her vision. Her hands claw at his chest, and she loves the way it ripples under her palms. His skin is smooth, his muscles rigid, and his body twists under her touch.
Closing her eyes and smiling as he enters her again, she holds the back of his neck, and the protection from his gaze helps her admit, "Moaning is what I like."
He presses his face against her neck, and she can feel the growl he stamps into her skin with each thrust. Her hands clench his back, her fingers pressing into the lines of his shoulder blades. He grunts, and she squeezes him inside of her.
"Fuck, Tifa," he breathes, and it is so low, it must be pulled from the deep cavern of his stomach. The words crawl into her with undeniable pleasure, making their home against her bones. She relishes the moans that he allows, in time with his jerks and thrusts. She shutters and whimpers into his ear.
"Oh, Cloud," she moans, the rush of him overcoming her. She squeezes him so hard, she unravels completely, and she whispers. "Come for me."
One of his hands press into the wall behind her. In two thrusts, he releases, and she feels the arm beside her shake from the force.
"Goddamn it," he huffs, holding their position for a minute longer, basking in the release. He lowers her as best he can. She stands on wobbly legs in front of him, and they stare at each other. Their sweat combines with the heady musk of sex, and there is no better mixture than the one they make.
She reaches up to grasp his forearm, peeling it away from the wall. His fingers tremble as she holds his arm, and he lowers it to his side, coming forward to kiss her.
They truly break away after, grabbing their clothes from the floor. Cloud's timing is immaculate. Tifa cleans herself up in his bathroom, redresses, and by the time it's 12:55 pm, Cloud's handing her his green shirt with a few of the buttons he was able to corral from the floor of his office on Friday. Tifa pushes back a lock of her hair behind her ear, knowing the glow from her orgasms must be like a headlamp beaming into the night.
"Thank you, Tifa," he says, walking her to the door. He clears his throat. "Uh, no rush on that."
"Not a problem," she says, smiling at him as she takes her leave. She takes in his own glow, how it perches on his cheekbones and lines his eyes. It is a different pleasure knowing him this way—so specific and unadulterated.
"See you later," she waves.
"Yeah," he mutters, leaning against the doorjamb. "See you later."
When she reaches the elevator, it opens up and reveals Scarlet on the other side. Of course, Tifa thinks, but her mood is so high, buzzing in the aftermath of the midday soiree in Cloud's office, that she gives Scarlet the largest grin on the planet.
Scarlet blinks in surprise, then her mouth curls into a cross between a grimace and a smile.
"Spend lunch with the CEO?"
"Hm," Tifa says as they cross paths, Scarlet stepping out of the elevator while Tifa steps in. Their shoulders brush against each other. "Think what you want, Scarlet, but jealousy is such an ugly color on you."
The murderous look that evolves on Scarlet's face is the last thing Tifa sees as the elevator doors close. Tifa laughs all the way down the ride to her floor.
By the time Wednesday rolls around, Tifa hasn't seen Cloud since that Monday. When she walks into the board room for the departmental meeting, the sight of him rams into her chest like a ton of bricks. There's something about the time that passes between them, not seeing him, her memory of him as accurate and precise as she can make it, still utterly and woefully inadequate.
It seems he begins to look better and better every time she sees him.
Their eyes catch across the table. She stops walking to her seat for a moment before she blinks out of the stare, taking a seat safely and regrettably far away from him.
Reeve takes the seat beside her, Barret taking the seat next to Reeve. Vincent sits across from them. Genesis sprawls into the chair to Vincent's right. Cait takes the seat on Vincent's other side, and Elena sits to Tifa's left. Tifa situates her tablet in front of her, an open document ready to take notes.
Cloud stands once everyone is present, taking his place at the head of the table beside the projector. He begins without flourish, delving immediately into the structural changes of the company, what it will entail for the employees, and how he and Shinra are attempting to make the transition as smooth as possible.
When he finishes, he takes his seat away from everyone down the table and allows Vincent to step up and take over, running over the details of financing and the proposed change and growth they expect.
Tifa types a few summaries, noting keywords and the basic idea of what Vincent is saying, but whenever she glances up, her eyes keep catching on Cloud. He occasionally locks eyes with her, and she tries to tame her blush, feeling ridiculous, but also feeling a hot streak run up her back every time they look at each other.
When Reeve takes his place up at the front, Tifa tries her best to hide her gasp with a cough when she sees the bannered notification flash on her tablet.
Her eyes dart up immediately and find Cloud, who is smirking at her.
She brings her tablet up, changing the angle and trying to discreetly open her email.
Ms. Lockhart,
I have a question to ask after this meeting, if you're available.
Cloud Strife
Tifa tries to keep a neutral expression, typing out a quick reply.
Mr. Strife,
As we are in the middle of a meeting, you may ask the question out loud, as I'm sure it would benefit everyone.
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
Tifa tries to settle back into her seat, listening to Reeve talk about everything she already knows. She bites her lip and glances to Cloud, who is observing something on his phone.
It takes another minute before she sees the banner cross the top of her tablet with his reply.
Ms. Lockhart,
Unfortunately, this question does not pertain to this meeting's discussion, therefore I will not broach the topic during the meeting.
I also see you are taking notes. If you have any other concerns after today, I would be happy to address them.
Cloud Strife
Tifa's eyebrow twitches at his answer. He's not even putting forth the effort to keep his signature. When she looks up, he catches her eye briefly, smiling before looking away.
Tifa takes a breath and responds.
Mr. Strife,
If that is the case, then I am free after the meeting to answer your question to the best of my abilities.
Tifa Lockhart
Senior Executive Marketing Specialist
SOLDIER CORP
She sees him run a hand along his jaw when he glances at his phone again.
He doesn't send her another email for the rest of the meeting, but Tifa can't concentrate, regardless of how hard she tries. Suddenly, she doesn't care much about any of the information. She stares at the powerpoint, but the details are in one ear and out the other.
When the meeting comes to its conclusion, everyone begins to disperse. Tifa takes her time entering the hallway. She's surprised when a hand taps her shoulder, and she comes face to face with Elena.
Elena smiles at her. "Hey, Tifa. We haven't talked in a while, and now I know why. You guys have been busy."
Tifa smiles at her. She and Elena have always gotten along well when they cross paths. Since Elena's in the engineering department, they don't see each other very often. They are little more than acquaintances, but Tifa's always liked her.
"Yes, we have. So have you!"
Elena shrugs. "It's been a hectic time. Genesis can be a nightmare, sometimes," she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And I wanted to ask you...I know this is a personal question but...have you heard the rumors?"
Tifa's stomach drops. "Rumors?"
Elena begins to frown, but she shrugs a little. "I wanted you to know about them if you hadn't, but...it's been going around that you and the CEO are...close."
Tifa blinks. That's a nicer rumor than she had expected. She was ready for Elena to say something about blatant disrespect of professionalism and the word fucking.
"Oh," Tifa tries, unsure of what to say. "I...I've been having more meetings with him. I think it's probably stemmed from Scarlet, his secretary."
Elena nods, her frown turning into a smirk. "Of course. I wasn't sure how much stake to put in the rumor. Especially if it was from her. She's...questionable, and she loves drama."
Tifa chuckles a little. "Yes, I've begun to realize that."
"Still," Elena says, her eyes beginning to sparkle. "It's not a bad rumor to be a part of. I think half the staff would love to be thought of as having illicit encounters with the boss." She winks.
Tifa blushes, and her stutter isn't an act. "I—um—well—I guess that's true."
Elena laughs, shaking her head. "Just wanted you to know, Tifa, before it came as too much of a shock."
"Thank you, Elena. That's really nice of you."
She shrugs. "Us girls have gotta look out for each other in the corporate world, full of all these men."
Tifa grins. "Agreed."
Elena bids her farewell, taking a turn down the opposite hallway back to the engineering department. Tifa meanders toward another set of elevators, her pace slow with her thoughts.
The rumor wasn't as bad as she thought. Knowing Scarlet, she'll probably add more exaggerated and outlandish details—which may not even be far from the mark. Tifa's surprised Elena hadn't said the word slut or whore.
Maybe she was being nice.
When she arrives at the elevator, she taps the down button. As she waits, her mind lingers on the rumors. Cloud being CEO or not, it doesn't matter—if it truly gets out, it won't look good on him. It won't shed him in a good light with the other chief officers—what would Reeve say? He'd be more disappointed in her than he would forming an opinion of Cloud. If Barret ever found out…Tifa doesn't even want to think about it.
If Rufus Shinra found out…what would happen? Would he blast Cloud's character to the tabloids and newsfeeds? Would Cloud's reputation become truly slandered? Sure, a relationship or affair with an employee isn't necessarily the shock of the century, but it would be what Cloud wouldn't want—more attention. Even worse, it would be negative attention. It's certainly something to think about…and Tifa's not sure how to feel. The ramifications are bigger than she's allowed herself to mull over. That day when she told him she wanted him too, she had meant it completely. She threw caution to the wind.
What makes it any different now?
Lost in her thoughts, she misses Cloud's presence beside her until his hand lands on her shoulder. She jumps, glancing up to her side. Cloud is looking at her, and he takes his hand away quickly when she startles.
"Hi," she breathes. "Sorry, I didn't hear you."
"Hi," he answers. "It's alright. I didn't mean to scare you." He glances over her for a moment. "Are you okay?"
"Never better," she says, glancing away from him toward the elevator doors. She sees their reflection, their coloring so different. Him blonde and swathed in black. Her dark brown and bright in pastels. When she meets his eyes again, he's smirking at her. She feels the desperate burn fly up her back, as it always does when he smirks at her like that. Her body straightens. Everything wants to stand at attention.
When the elevator doors slide open, the entrance wide and empty, Tifa ventures to say, "What question did you want to ask me?"
They step into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, Cloud glances sideways at her. "I've been wondering since Monday," he starts. "What else do you like?"
Tifa crosses her arms, the question's meaning raining down on her like a leaden sheet.
"Cloud..." she whispers.
"I have nothing to do for an hour," he says. "If you're free."
Her entire being shifts. She can feel the buzz between them, crossing the space of their bodies like an electrical charge. Her insides inflame, and she is puckering up, swollen and aching and full.
She glances up to him. He looks down at her. The rumors toy around her head like an annoying bug. She internally swats them away, because his eyes are so…so…
The elevator doors open on her floor, and the rush of fresh air helps to declutter her suddenly foggy, frantic mind.
"I'm free," she says, and she makes purposeful strides to her office. He follows right behind her.
When they get to the office, Cloud shuts and locks the door behind him. He stands there staring at her, and Tifa can feel her breasts ache against her shirt. It's a deep itch in her, something she can't reach, flaring up like a storm. She turns and faces him, her hand finding her collar. She begins to unbutton her shirt.
It takes him eight steps to reach her. On the way, he begins to loosen his tie. He manages to get it to hang on his neck like a stretched rope, and she manages to unbutton half her shirt by the time he begins to kiss her. He reaches for the opening in her shirt, undoing the rest while he bites her lip.
She slides her hands to the silky cloth of his tie. Sleek and black, today, she thinks, as it hangs against his chest like ribbons.
"What do you like? Tell me," he mutters, pushing off her shirt while she unclothes his torso and chest. They break enough to allow their frenzied undressing. Why does it always feel this way? She thinks. So urgent and imperative, as if they'll stop existing if they don't hurry.
"Um, I don't know," she says, tugging at his belt buckle. As her shirt falls off, he makes a noise in the back of his throat.
"Red. Like your eyes. Are Wednesdays red?"
The look he gives her is electrifying, his pupils as black and endless as his tie. His jaw is loosened and soft in its realization.
She blushes, but she feels another wave of fire hit her, and her stomach clenches. "Yes. Red Wednesdays."
"Had I known that last week, I'd've—" he starts, but he cuts himself off by kissing her, reaching behind her to undo the bra. When it falls away, he places his mouth on her breasts immediately, and she grasps the back of his head to hold him there, moaning hot puffs of air. It feels like she can't breathe.
"Touching me," she says. "I like—touching."
"What kind?" he whispers against her skin. When he sucks at her nipple, the words fall out of her.
"Your mouth. Your mouth touching me."
His fingers rake against her skirt, professionally unzipping her on the side. It slides down her legs like it's melting from their heat.
He groans against her at her confession. She undoes his zipper and pants, pushing them down as he plunges his hand into her underwear.
"Oh. Shiva. Cloud," she hisses, her hips rocking with his hand. "How you touch me—"
"I'll use my mouth," he promises, skimming his teeth on her shoulder. His words echo against her, jamming up her throat. She can only attempt to breathe when he turns her away from her desk. "I'm fine with the floor if you are," he says.
She's kissing him so desperately, she can only utter, "I don't care."
She sits and leans back against the floor, against the rug that cushions the tile. What a good purchase, she thinks madly.
He follows her, hovering above her as he continues kissing her skin. He blazes his own trail, long and arduous over her, from each breast to her ribs to her navel, biting the tender skin of her lower abdomen. Her back arches in impatience and anticipation. When his tongue hits the juncture of her hip, she gasps sharply.
"Cloud, just because I—" she begins, her voice strangling from the pressure of his fingers on her inner thigh. "Just because I like—"
He pays her no mind, continuing his trail. He is unearthing something deeply buried inside of her. She reaches for his hair, her other hand grasping at the tight coils of the rug. Her body squirms underneath him. When his mouth lands in the juncture of her legs, she spreads them without conscious thought. When his hot breath hits the middle of her, she almost bucks up to his mouth.
"Easy," he says, his voice a husk. His eyes lock with hers, and the position of him, of how his lips are turned up in a smirk, how he gazes at her with a dark readiness—cuts to her soul.
"Gaia, Cloud, you haven't even—and I'm—" she tries, unable to be embarrassed at how tightly coiled she is, at how needy her voice sounds even to her.
"Hang on, Tifa. Let me touch you."
He presses his tongue against her, and her hands reach above her head, her stomach tensing severely. She digs her fingers fiercely into the rug. He presses his tongue over her again and again, and she arches, hitting him, finding his slow rhythm with smooth lifts of her hips.
She feels the sharp clip of his teeth, and she shutters and stiffens.
"Fuck," she breathes, suddenly not herself. She's not herself. She feels the vibration of his groan into her, and she shifts in agony. "Cloud, I can't anymore."
"What do you want?" he asks, and she's not sure how his voice isn't cracking or trembling, so steady and level and calm. She's losing her mind. She's on unstable footing. Her thoughts are tilting and slipping.
"Fuck me," she demands, her heart racing and clawing at her throat. "Lose control and fuck me."
She finds his eyes again, and there's a flutter through his expression. It looks like it did when she thumbed his upper lip, marking him with her lipstick, and her thighs clench, and she sees him swallow, his lips shining with her arousal, and she wants his mouth—wants his tongue in her mouth, wants to eat him alive, consume him with her body.
"Okay," he breathes, throat taut and crawling so he's on top of her, holding himself above her. He drops his hips, and she glides along his erection. One of her hands slips into her hair, the other pressing into his chest. He continues gliding against her, like a tease, and she growls and keens underneath him.
"Cloud, I need you," she orders, grasping at his shoulder.
The heady look he gives her folds around her like a straightjacket. It twists around her unrelentingly, and as soon as he thrusts inside of her, she gasps. Her eyes flutter shut from the force of him. He rocks her with how rough he's being, and she cries out every time he plunges into her, again, and again. She sees the future. She sees the past. She sees nothing at all, spiraling into white.
"Don't stop, please," she exhales. She hangs onto whatever she can reach. His arms, his shoulders, his neck, his hair. She wants to scream.
And as soon as she breaks, she pulls her body into him, losing her voice as it floats away from her into another dimension. She shakes, her grip merciless, and she almost doesn't want to let go of him, afraid if she does, one breath will make her disintegrate into nothing.
"Tifa," Cloud says, one arm coming around her shoulders to hold her. "Are you okay?"
She realizes she's still holding onto him, her legs around him, keeping him inside of her.
She struggles to catch her breath, filled up with his sunny cologne. She nods against his neck.
"Yes. Yes, I'm…"
She's not okay. She's…wonderful. Extraordinary.
As she relaxes back against the rug, he's staring at her. She slowly releases her legs from around his waist, but he stays where he is.
"Are you?" she asks, blinking the haze away. She can't see straight, but he's close enough to where it doesn't matter. She smiles at him. One of his hands comes up and intertwines in hers, and he leans into her for a kiss. Her fingers wrap around his, and her other hand comes up behind his head.
"I'm…" he starts, breaking away fully to look at her. "I'm…yeah. I'm okay."
They catch their breath, staring at each other with their chests heaving.
"You're…uh…" Cloud begins, eying around her. It must be her hair. It's in a wild, tangled disaster, she can almost already feel it.
"I'm a mess, I know," she says, scooting to sit up. Cloud moves back and leaves her, sitting up, too.
"I was going to say…" he starts, but something stops him from finishing. He stands up and offers her his hand. She takes it and is pulled up beside him.
"What were you going to say?" she asks, trying to find her footing in her heels. They never manage to take them off. She uses his arm as a steadying post before she gets a handle on her balance, walking toward the pile of their clothes. She runs a hand through her hair and winces when she hits a heavy tangle of knots.
"Nothing," he says quickly. "Just that it was…"
When he trails, she smiles in understanding, glad she isn't the only one without words for it.
"Yeah. It was."
He leans over to pick up his clothes, and Tifa admires him before she heads to the bathroom, again.
What a routine to have, she thinks, cleaning herself up. She leaves the bathroom door open, this time, uncaring of what he sees. When she glances up as she's putting on her underwear, she has a thrill shirk all around her to see he's watching her dress. When she finishes, he's about to put his necktie back on.
"Want help with that?" she asks, still feeling almost high enough to be dizzy. She holds out her hand.
"I…sure," he says. He gently places the tie into her palm. As she curls the it into his collar and knots it, she feels compelled to say, "My father taught me how. He'd always let me do his ties in the morning before work."
When Cloud says nothing, she glances up to see he's watching her again. She smiles a little at him. His look is so absorbing and serene, it reminds her of the beginning of the day, with the sunlight peaking through the curtains.
When she finishes, she runs her hand along the tie, pressing it down against his suit vest. Cloud leans forward to kiss her, and while there is a heat to it, something deep and dark and unsteady, it also feels like an anchor, keeping her from losing her mind completely.
"Thank you, Tifa," he says, looking at her one more time.
"You're welcome," she whispers. Cloud looks to the side after a moment, shaking his head.
"I'll see you soon."
"Okay," she nods. "Have…a good day."
"You too," he says, turning away from her, unlocking her door, and leaving.
Tifa stares at the door. Then she glances to the rug on her floor. Then she looks at her desk and wonders how she's supposed to get back to work after that.