On Friday, she has her meeting with Cloud at 4:00 pm, mimicking the previous week. They talk about her progress, and her department's progress. She sits in her allotted chair. Cloud critiques when warranted. Tifa takes notes. She eases in the cushions, crossing her knees and leaning back. Cloud loosens his necktie and unbuttons his collar. He eventually rolls up his sleeves on his forearms. Tifa watches it happen—Cloud Strife becoming his own rendition of comfortable, right in front of her.
"So, if you make sure to add something that alludes to…progression or…hopefulness, then I think this one will be finished," he says, staring at the monitor. His words sound almost distant, like he's speaking his thoughts to himself. Tifa bites the end of her tablet pen, watching as he runs a hand along his neck.
"And the other one, you can tie in the theme there. Brighter colors. Something with the shading. You could ask Finn on that one. He's better at this than I am. I don't know if…"
He continues speaking his thoughts, as if lost in them. Tifa glances at the time on her tablet. 4:50. Close enough.
She stands, placing the tablet in her chair. It's only when she comes around to the side of his desk and leans against it does Cloud seem to snap out of his reverie. He looks up at her, his eyes widening slightly before he recovers.
"It's almost closing time, Mr. Strife," Tifa says, leaning forward and smiling. He stares at her before he begins smirking. "As much as I love to go over the details with you, I think we need to take a break."
His smirk widens as he places his hands on her hips. "Was I boring you?"
"No. I love listening to you talk about lights and shading," she says, teasingly, though she means it. Hearing Cloud Strife talk about art, in his rumbling, contemplative tone is…hot. Hearing him talk about it with his collar and tie undone, his sleeves rolled, is another thing altogether. "But I also love how comfortable you look," she continues, bringing her fingers to the divot above his chest and tugging at his necktie.
He follows her hand with his eyes. "I didn't realize I had…done that."
Tifa hums, already feeling the prologue of wanting. It crackles over her skin.
"Wednesday, you asked me what I liked," she says, stepping closer and standing between his legs. She's taller than him as he sits in his chair, and it's a strange kind of euphoria, with Cloud Strife looking up to her, completely at her mercy instead of the other way around. "Now, I want to know what you like."
He watches her, his eyes becoming a darker, murkier cobalt blue. "I like everything."
She smiles at his answer, shaking her head. "No, that's not what I mean. You know what I mean."
He runs his hands up her waist from her hips, cupping her ribs underneath the curve of her breasts. Tifa takes a deep breath, the pressure of his fingers merciless with their sensation. She rests her hands on his shoulders while he stares at her, thinking about it.
It takes him a few quiet moments to form an answer, and when he does he tilts his head up to look her in the eyes. They zap her, trapping her in their depths.
"I want you on top of me," he says slowly. "I like…watching you."
She's certain he can feel the drumming of her heart against where his thumb lies, right underneath her sternum. The air is pushed out of her lungs.
"Okay," she whispers, bringing her hands up to divest her shirt. "I'll be on top of you."
One of his hands leaves her side to take off her skirt. He stands from his chair, and she helps take off his shirt and pants. Every time she sees him undressed, something spikes inside of her belly. His heat radiates into her, and she's driven with an overwhelming need to touch him. That's what she does next—she places her palms on his chest, feels the skin and bones pressing back against her. She finds the grooves of his abdomen, feeling them tense underneath her fingers. She leans forward and kisses him underneath the curve of his collarbone. His breath hits her forehead as she glances up to him before she kisses down the line of his chest, the newness of this part of him against her lips warm and smooth and unblemished. His hands grip her hips again, but he is still in front of her, doing nothing more than holding onto her.
"Sit," she tells him softly, nudging him against the chair. He does as he's told, and she reaches behind her to pull off her bra.
"Black," he says, watching its descent to the floor beside them. "Are Fridays always black?"
She smiles. "Not always."
His chest rises and falls in a breath as he sits, gazing at her. He reaches forward to help her out of her underwear, and he plants a kiss underneath her bellybutton. She sharply inhales at the contact, running her hand through his hair. He makes a noise as her nails scrape his scalp.
"That's right," he says. "They were nude last time. Cream or tan or—"
"You remember," she says, and her stomach tightens up at the memory. He looks up at her through his lashes.
"Of course I do."
It's such an honest admission. How does he do it? She thinks. How does he make her insides twist and turn by merely uttering one simple phrase?
She crawls onto his lap in the chair, straddling his hips. The chair is large enough for her to rest her knees on either side of him. It gently rolls backward into the desk, and Clouds hands cup around her thighs. Tifa reaches down between them to hold his arousal, and his eyes grow half-lidded. He tips his head back to watch her face, a few inches above and away from his own. He exhales, his shoulders falling. He is at ease, completely, his face soft and bathed in pleasure. He raises a hand to her face, his palm cradling her jaw and his thumb tapping her bottom lip.
He groans faintly against her ministrations, his eyes closing briefly before continuing to watch her. She puts pressure against the tip of him, and he jerks a little, a sharp inhale rushing past his lips.
One of his hands makes a trail up her legs, and he reaches for her middle and she wants it—oh, she wants it—but she halts him, gripping his hand and placing it back against the arm rest.
"No," she says, grasping him more firmly in her palm. His breath shudders. "Not yet."
"Tifa," he says, weakly, halfheartedly pushing against her hand. She holds him down with little force.
"It's my turn," she says, leaning forward and kissing the skin below his ear. He reaches toward her again, fingertips finding her breast, his other finding purchase against her waist, and she moans in his ear. He bucks into her hand, and she feels him huff, saying, "I'm…I'm, uh…"
"You're what?" she asks.
His breath is becoming thick and heavy. His chest rises in uneven inhales. "I'm…really…" he says, unable to finish the thought.
"What do you need?" she says, taken over by his ecstasy. He can't hide it, the muscle bunching in his jaw as he presses his head into the chair. He squeezes her again and tries to bring her forward, but she holds back against him. He grunts in frustration.
"Tifa, I—"
In a burst of inspiration, remembering what he did their first time, she pulls her hand away from his arousal, and she drags her fingers against her tongue before reaching back down and running them along his length.
His eyes follow her every motion. When her wet fingers touch him, he all but hisses. "Fuck. Tifa. I can't—"
She presses her face against his neck, licking his adam's apple. He's breaking. She can feel him tremble from holding back, and she whispers, "Yes, you can."
She feels his stomach contracting, His muscles are strung tightly, like guitar strings about to pop.
He does his best to quell it. He clenches his teeth against it. He's a marvel as he attempts to cease the inevitable, as she sees every line of him strive for the impossible. His grip on her is almost painful, increasing and increasing as he finally unwinds. He comes in her hand with a low moan, and he is beautiful as the pinch in his brow slackens, and as his eyes glow with the impeccable wonder of release.
As he looks at her, his gaze is staggering, molten blue, melting sapphires. No longer ink stains. Have they ever truly been ink stains?
Tifa is surprised as his neck flushes the moment after, and he turns his face away from her.
"I—I don't usually…" he struggles, and like a flash of lightning, Tifa realizes he's embarrassed. Tifa hurries to lean forward and kiss him, holding his face in her sticky hands, assaulting his mouth with her tongue.
Not sure why she's compelled to comfort him, Tifa begins talking.
"No, Cloud. I don't care what you usually do." She kisses him again. "Do you want to know something?"
His eyes are dazed as she breaks away, his eyes chasing her lips.
"I…okay," he says.
She leans forward so that her cheek presses against his, her mouth on his ear, partially so she doesn't have to face his eyes when she confesses. "Last week, when you told me you wanted me…you had to leave, and I was so…I was so…"
"Turned on?" he tries, and she can hear his smirk emerging behind his words. She smiles.
"Yes. I was. I was so turned on I went to my bathroom, and I…" she hesitates for a moment. "I touched myself. I thought of you the whole time. I thought about…your tongue and fingers…and I…"
He grunts a little, his hands roaming until they knead her bottom. He pulls at her enough so that she can feel her skin shift, and she gasps quietly.
"I came in my bathroom at the thought of you," she says, her cheeks burning, her hands holding his shoulders.
"Tifa, goddamn it," he says, his breath shaky. "I've been thinking about you ever since you walked in here and threatened my reputation."
His response surprises a laugh out of her. "You have?"
"Do you know how sexy you looked, making me wish I had offered sexual favors long before?"
She laughs again, shaking her head. "Oh, Cloud. I can't believe…"
"And to know that you thought about me in your bathroom," he says, his voice dusky, spilling over her like fog. He pulls her hips closer to him, and she can feel his arousal beginning again. She moans.
"I had a dream about you," she says, rocking over him, thighs shaking from their position. "You asked me to waste time with you."
He brings her back and kisses her, biting her lip, their teeth clacking together from his urgency.
"And what did you say?" he asks against her.
Her hands come up and run through his hair. "I had an orgasm."
"Fucking Shiva," he breathes into her, his embarrassment long gone and pure wanting taking its place. Tifa rubs herself against him, and he groans, nipping at her shoulder, kissing her neck.
He grips behind her thighs and she shifts forward, pressing him into her. She doesn't realize how ready she is for it until it happens, and her body begins a rhythm, focusing on the feel of him, her clit hitting the edge of his lower abdomen with each jerk.
She's still a few inches above him as he watches her, his mouth slightly parted, his eyebrows pinching again with concentrated pleasure.
The chair rocks back and forth, tapping his desk with their force, but neither seem to care. The pressure between them builds like a slow and steady thing, rising and rising in a constant incline.
Tifa grips his arms and controls the pace, his hands merely clenching at her between his fingers as if he wants to break her skin apart. She huffs and pants, a moan growing from the resonant depths of her throat.
"Cloud," she whispers, catching his eye. His stare nearly unravels her like a spool of thread. She brings one of his hands to her breast, and she keens, gripping his hand with an iron fist. "Cloud."
She rolls again and then she loses it, pitching forward, one hand holding his and the other splayed across his chest. She feels him in a moment, clenching and releasing in a low sigh.
When she opens her eyes to find his face, he's watching her with a small smile. He reaches up to move her bangs from her eyes.
"I could watch you all day," he breathes, face glowing.
Tifa feels herself blush, shaking her head at him. "Sure you could."
She starts to untangle herself from him after another minute, straightening her legs against their soreness from her cramped position. She sighs at the sensation, not having realized the pain they were in before. Cloud comes up behind her and kisses her neck, wrapping his arms around her.
"That was really…something," he says.
She smiles at his words. "Yeah…something."
He releases her as she bends to pick up her clothes, automatically heading toward the bathroom. When she finishes, Cloud is doing up the last buttons in his shirt. He's foregone the suit vest, the jacket, and the necktie, and when he looks up at her, he hesitates.
"It's…almost 6:30," he starts, and Tifa blinks, shocked at how much time they had spent.
"Really?" she says, striding over to her tablet, reinforcing the information when she looks at the digital clock. "Oh."
"Did you…have other plans?" Cloud asks.
She usually calls her dad at 7:00 on Friday evenings, right before she makes dinner. It's a routine she's fallen into, along with the rest of her weekend. It isn't a big deal if it's a little later than usual. She'll send him a text to let him know.
"No," she says, shaking her head. "I'm just…surprised, that's all."
"Alright…well…" Cloud starts again, pausing. "It's almost dinner time, if you'd…"
At the words, Tifa darts her gaze back to him, waiting for him to finish.
"If you'd…like to grab something to eat," he says. He avoids looking at her, instead messing with the button of his sleeve cuffs.
Tifa feels her mouth fall open. "What?"
He shrugs. "Thought I'd offer. You can say no," he continues, face suddenly shuttered. She's astounded to find she notices it so immediately, because she hasn't seen it on his face in several days. Ever since he came to her office the week before, he's been much more…human.
She tilts her head at him, furrowing her brows. "You want to get dinner?"
He catches her eyes before he glances away again. "Sure."
It is a stiff answer. Neutral and apathetic. Tifa's brows soften.
"Okay. We can grab dinner. Let me grab a few things from my office and we can go," she says.
His gaze remains neutral. "I'll meet you in the garage."
Tifa nods, taking her leave to her office, and attempting to wrap her mind around the fact that she's going to dinner with Cloud Strife on a Friday night. And strangely enough, he had looked prepared for her rejection. Her heart churns at the thought. Had he believed it would have been her first choice to say no?
When she grabs her phone and her purse, locking her office door behind her, she immediately texts her dad.
Hey dad. I got held up at work tonight. Can I call you later or tomorrow morning?
He sends his reply when she's in the elevator, heading toward the garage.
Sure, honey. Just let me know when.
As the elevators open up to the bottom floor, Cloud is standing a few feet away near the entrance. He looks up at the elevator's ping of arrival.
"Hey," she says, walking up to him. She can't tell anything from his expression. He's sheltered again. What's happened in the time between sitting in his lap and asking her to dinner that has…changed things?
"Hey," he says, nodding toward a line of parked cars. "We can take my car, if you don't mind."
Tifa smiles, shaking her head. "Oh, that's perfect. I don't drive to work. I walk."
Cloud raises his brow at her. "You do?"
"I don't live far. Just a block away."
Cloud gestures in front of him, motioning for her to follow. "Stargazer Heights?"
"Yes, that's the one," she says. "They're nice. I've lived there so long, I feel like I've become really good friends with the landlord."
Cloud smiles a little at that. Tifa latches onto it, hoping it'll stay.
"Where do you live, if you don't mind me asking?" she says.
"I don't," he says. "I live on the edge of Sector 2."
Sector 2, Tifa thinks. Of course he lives there. That's the sector with all of the high rises, the condos, the mansions, the wealth.
"I've driven through there a few times on the tramway," Tifa says. "It's a pretty sector."
"It's okay," Cloud says, stopping in front of a sports car. Tifa stares at it, willing her face to remain stoic.
"This is one of our prototypes," she states, intimately familiar with its design. It is all curvaceous lines, leather, hand stitched interior, an ivory stick shift, mother of pearl lining the dashboard. It is a beautiful piece of machinery, well-maintained, efficient, and luxurious.
"Yeah. I got it for a bargain, being that it's manufactured by our company." Tifa glances up to him to see him smirking at her. She realizes he's joking again, and she smiles back.
"I've never ridden in one, before," she says, abruptly intimidated.
"Now you will," he says, walking to her side and opening the door.
Manners, she thinks walking to the car and slipping inside. "Thank you."
He nods and gently shuts the door, walking around and taking his seat behind the wheel.
"Don't worry. I won't drive too fast."
It doesn't surprise her at his allusion that he does, indeed, speed.
"You better not," she says lightly. He turns on the engine and curls out of the garage, heading onto the main highway of Midgar. Tifa sinks into the leather seat, the pulse of the engine roaring into her bloodstream.
A gentle stream of music filters out of his radio system, and he turns the volume down enough for it to be overtaken by the engine. The sun is not ready to set, lasting for a couple hours more in the summer evening. The sky is the color of a slow, hazy orange—sleepy and lugubrious, extending the day like a drawl of words.
Tifa never sees Midgar this way, through a window in the passenger seat of a car. She's only used to it on a manmade track, glancing out of a square, cloudy tram window, obscured by the metal buildings and hulking architecture. From her angle now, she can see the billboards and the smaller businesses, the lurid neon signs, the cafes, the restaurants with balconies and fancy glass railings.
She leans against the door, eyes absorbing everything that the city has to offer as they pass. They drive past areas on the looped highway that she never visits, nor has any time or reason to visit. In a flash, Tifa realizes all of the places she has yet to see and experience. I am a workaholic, she thinks. I've lived here five years and I don't know half of the city.
"What's your favorite sector?" Cloud asks.
Tifa settles away from the window, turning her head to glance at him.
"Oh, I hardly leave Sector 7. I can't say I have one."
"Why don't you leave?"
Tifa glances back out the window. "Sector 7 has everything I need. Everything is readily available and within walking distance. I guess…" she trails, sighing. "I guess I sometimes feel it's more trouble than it's worth."
She sees Cloud frowning out of the corner of her eye.
"That's not necessarily true."
He's probably right, she thinks. She could explore, if she felt so inclined. She could venture. Perhaps she's felt too…stuck.
"What's your favorite sector?" she asks.
"Don't have one."
Tifa laughs. "What? You don't? Why not?"
He shrugs, smirking. "Midgar is a fine place, but it's too busy and cluttered. I like…space."
She hums at his answer, taking note of it in her brain like she does annotations on her tablet.
"Favorite places, then?"
"I have a few," he says. "Do you like pizza?"
"Of course."
"Do you mind if I take you to one?"
Tifa begins to smile. "Not at all. I would love to go."
"Alright," he says quietly, curving off a highway exit into Sector 3.
They park in the lot besides a small restaurant entitled, Under the Rotting Pizza. Tifa's eyebrows quirk at the sign, the neon ball mimicking the moon—and cheese—held up above the words, lighting up the progression of it melting over the word Pizza.
"I've heard of this place," she says, waiting for him to step around the car. "I've seen a lot of advertisements for it."
They walk side by side toward the entrance, Cloud saying, "It's pretty popular, even though the name has rotting in it. It used to be a hole in the wall before word got out."
He's right. A lot of people are packed inside, with few customers scattered outside and holding a ticket for their orders.
The make their way into the line, and Tifa relaxes against the casual atmosphere, entrenched in the yeasty fumes of freshly baked bread and the indulgent aroma of cheeses. Small wooden tables fill the space, handfuls of families, young adults, and children crammed inside. She glances at Cloud and imagines him in his sharp suits and fine lines, being a customer to such an unrefined place and enjoying the universally fulfilling taste of pizza.
"What?" he asks, noticing her stare.
She shakes her head. "You just…look out of place."
His lips quirk. "I always look out of place."
Tifa takes a moment before responding, unprepared for his answering comment.
" What do you mean?" she asks.
He simply shrugs. "Always been that way."
She frowns, but he says nothing more.
By the time they order, a few tables open up as people take their leave. Cloud motions to one of them, and Tifa sits in one of the wooden chairs. It's a table for two, pressed up against the glass window looking out into the neighborhood street. Across from the pizza place is a bakery with an ice cream eatery attached. A few other restaurants line the street, multiple groups of people milling around the sidewalks, eating ice cream cones or dolled up and walking into different venues.
"Do you come here very often?" she asks him.
"If I'm in the area, I'll stop. I don't go out of my way," he says, following her gaze out the window. "I used to come here more before the promotion."
"Work strikes again," Tifa says, smiling at him. "Keeping you from wasting time."
He smirks at her. "It's not so bad. It's what I wanted."
"You mean being CEO?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says. "I knew what I wanted, and I knew life would continue to change if I achieved it. And..." he shrugs, glancing away from her stare. "Less free time wasn't much of a loss for me."
"What did you do in your free time before?" she asks.
"The same thing that I do now," Cloud admits. "I find different food places to try. I drive around the city. I..." he pauses, hesitating before continuing. "I, uh, tend to have a habit of driving out to the plains and fighting monsters."
Tifa straightens at that before leaning forward on her elbows against the table. "You fight monsters?"
"On the weekends. Sometimes after work."
Tifa stares at him for a while, linking her information of Cloud Strife together.
"How do you fight them?" she asks.
Cloud runs a hand along the back of his head. "I...sword fight."
Her eyes widen. It makes sense. The different styles and brands SOLDIER sells, equipping the masses, promoting sword fighting classes and education, along with different guns and staffs and spears, javelins and hooks.
"When did you learn?" she asks, unable to hide her interest.
His cheeks redden. "I was...pretty young. Early teens."
Tifa smiles. "You've practiced sword fighting for a while then."
"Seems like a comfort now, as...strange as that is to say."
"What swords do you use? Do you have a favorite?"
Cloud seems surprised at her questions. He opens his mouth. "Yeah, I do. I use SOLDIER's buster sword and a few of the fusion swords. Different swords for different monsters."
"Is that what made you work for SOLDIER? Because of the fighting?"
He shrugs a little. "The appeal was strong. I knew fighting was a hobby...I couldn't become a mercenary. Growing up..." he pauses, and his face becomes neutral again. Discomfort? She wonders. An uncomfortable topic?
"Growing up, I had that dream of becoming…uh, strong." He stares out the window, so she can't see the expression of his face, only the slight downturn of his frown. "Sword fighting was what I thought equated to strength. And when I found out about SOLDIER and the upstart company, I couldn't turn down the possibility."
"The marriage of the two," Tifa says, garnering back his attention.
"Yeah...it worked for me. Then I learned that no matter what I did, I would always—" he stops, cutting himself off. That neutral discomfort flickers over him again, and he's saved in the next moment when their order numbers are called. He stands up immediately. "I'll get it," he says, all but stalking away from the table.
Tifa watches him go up to the pizza stand, the people around him glancing at his figure. Some unconsciously shy away in intimidation. Tifa stifles a humored smile. She can relate.
When Cloud comes back with their tray, Tifa eases the conversation away from sword fighting and into other, lighter topics as they tuck into their food.
"It makes sense you fight monsters," she says.
"Why?"
"Because of how you...look," she says, beginning to blush, realizing what she's admitting. It connects with his physique. He doesn't go to a gym. He swings around massive swords for fun.
"How I look?" he says frowning, before the sudden acknowledgement dawns on him. His lips twitch into a smile. "Oh. How I look. How do I look to you?"
Trying to fight her blush, Tifa rolls her eyes and says, "You look like any other guy who I thought goes to the gym."
"I do that sometimes," he says, still smiling. "Not as much as the fields."
Tifa imagines, for one weak moment, the rippling of his chest when he grabs her hips, the shadows of his arms as he pounds into her. She blushes deeper, berating herself. "Hm," she hums, unable to say anything more.
"What about you?" he asks. "What do you do in your free time?"
She starts to tell him about her weekend routines. She tells him about Zangan's dojo. She tells him about her evening runs after work.
At the growing smile on his face, she pauses her talk. "What is it?"
"Just that it makes sense, now. How you look."
She begins to blush again. "What?"
He raises an eyebrow at her, his stare knowing. He doesn't say anything at all, and Tifa feels more embarrassed by that than his words.
"Ah…thank you."
Smile still on his lips, he asks, "Wasn't there a time where guys sent you flowers?"
Tifa blinks, pausing before biting her pizza. "I—um, yes. A long time ago." She puts her pizza down, giving him a quizzical stare. "How did you know about that?"
He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Rumors. It was right before I got promoted."
Tifa shifts in her seat. She had thought the flowers had been a distasteful prank. She kept receiving them twice a week for a month, from four different men in the company. They all worked in the IT department, so Tifa had thought it was a dare or a practical joke. Al, the main IT director, was a bit of a ladies' man, and that was his signature: sending flowers to the flavor of the month. Strangely, flowers came from a different man each week, but Tifa knew a trademark when she saw it.
She had called the IT department the second week, politely asking for Al and asking why they were all sending flowers—to which Al replied, "Because you're beautiful, Miss Lockhart." He said "miss" like "miz", his accent a backwater twang that did not sound like a man with high intellect for information technology. It was another reason for his easy charm that so many women fell for. "And beautiful women deserve flowers as pretty as they are."
To which Tifa then said, "…Thank you, Al. But I'm afraid this is against company policy. If this continues, I'm going to have to notify HR."
To which Al said, a knowing edge to his voice, "Oh, of course. Would you allow me to take you out on the town, instead? Buy you a drink? We can get to know each other better that way."
To which Tifa replied, "I'm not interested right now, but I really appreciate the thought."
Tifa never cared for thoughtless gestures of "romance", especially when Al had never been known for his genuine attention, nor when he was teaching his mentees how to go about wooing women working in the same company.
Aerith had apologized later, the flowers having originated from her shop.
"Sorry, Teef," she had said. "I thought you had a secret admirer! I mean, they did choose the best flowers. You should have just gone out and had them pay for your dinner!"
"Yeah," Tifa says presently, reminiscing and sighing. "That was weird."
"Weird?"
"I didn't know any of them," she explains. "They were all friends, and Al has always been the biggest flirt in the company. I thought it was a prank, and they were trying to see who would…get me to say yes."
Cloud frowns at that, averting his gaze. "Even though Al likes to rebel against company policy, he's too good at the job. I cut his pay rate, and he hasn't done anything out of line since. The other three don't work at SOLDIER, anymore."
"No," Tifa answers. "The purge got them."
Cloud's eyebrows quirk. "The purge?"
Tifa bites her lip, but it's too late for her to go back, now. "Oh, that's…what everyone called it when you became CEO. You…made a lot of cuts. People were scared for that next month."
Cloud leans back in his seat. "Ah. Right. That."
Tifa stares at him. She had kept up with who had been fired or let go that month, and she had felt both surprised and puzzled when Al maintained his position and the other three were terminated. While they must not have been essential enough to justify keeping, it was startling to see three of them snipped from the company, from the same department, like pulling petals off a flower.
One thing made evident, however, was that Al never bothered Tifa again and, as far as she knew, any other girl in the company.
"I didn't realize it was called something," Cloud says, his smirk turning a little wry.
"A lot of employees were intimidated by you, you know. They still are."
He makes a noncommittal noise but says nothing further.
Tifa takes another bite of her pizza, mulling over something he had said.
"You said rumors. Was there more than one?"
Cloud looks at her. His face is once more apathetic and stoic. It makes Tifa unsettled.
"There were more…" he starts, pausing for a moment. "They really don't have a basis in fact, so they don't matter."
Tifa smiles. "It's okay. You can tell me. I'm curious."
His stoicism pervades him deeper, somehow. "It's…not relevant."
"What rumors are relevant?"
Cloud's chest heaves in a sigh. "It's a bit…distasteful."
Tifa's eyebrows fall over her eyes in a pinch. "Now I really want to know."
Averting his eyes, Cloud finally says, "Some people said you were trying to see how many guys you could date in a month. Some said you instigated receiving flowers because you wanted…the attention. You wanted to stir up company drama. Others were just…name calling."
Tifa blinks, a sudden flare of defensiveness blanketing over her. "Really? But…I didn't do anything to even…I…"
"Like I said, they were underhanded. I think some women in the company were jealous of you for getting so much…friendly admiration."
Suddenly lacking appetite, Tifa pushes her plate away. She had always prided herself on being well liked among the masses. To know that some people perpetuated such ugly rumors, rumors with teeth that bit into her character, makes her feel very uncomfortable and blindsided. Of course, it shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter, being such a long time ago. But…
She suddenly wants to kick someone's ass. Or a weighted punching bag. She's glad it's so close to Saturday.
"I didn't even tell anyone about the whole thing," she says.
"Tifa, it was a year ago. It's okay."
She glares at her plate. "Still. They were just flowers." She shakes her head. "It's silly how much it bothers me, but…"
"They were idiots and not worth your time, Tifa," Cloud says, and when she looks up at him, she finds that he's smiling at her. "Put it out of your mind."
She crosses her arms, leaning against the window. "This is childish, but…I'm glad they don't work there, anymore."
Cloud scoffs, and it almost sounds like a laugh. Has he ever laughed? "I think that's the meanest thing I've ever heard you say." He pauses. "Toward someone who isn't…me."
Tifa's face softens as she looks at him. His smile fades, and their stare becomes a contemplative one. His apathy has begun to wear away, his eyes opening their blinds again.
Tifa clears her throat. "Well…since we're on the topic of rumors…"
Cloud raises a brow. "There's another one?"
Tifa nods, spinning her plate absently. "Apparently, we're doing illicit things together."
Cloud makes a noise, leaning back in his chair. "I wonder how that rumor cropped up."
Tifa smiles uneasily, hearing his sarcasm but still hesitating. "I'm pretty sure it was…me."
At that, Cloud's face slackens with surprised amusement. His eyes almost sparkle, and that's a new thing altogether. "Tifa, I don't think anyone has heard your screams but me."
Tifa's mouth drops open, and a flare fills her cheeks. "I—I didn't mean that."
Still amused, Cloud asks, "Then what did you mean?"
"I…" she tries, annoyed at herself. "After our first meeting when I messed up my hair and my skirt, I made sure Scarlet saw me…"
If anything, Cloud's eyes alight even more. "Oh, so you started the rumor before any of this happened."
Tifa's cheeks continue flaming. She glances away from him, but her eyes keep darting up to find his, hooked on the emotion he's showing. The humor in his eyes is almost a novelty.
"I thought I was going to be fired, so I tried not to care," Tifa answers meekly. "I figured it was only a matter of time, so why would it have meant anything?"
Cloud crosses his arms over his chest. He tilts his head at her. "I wasn't ever going to fire you, Tifa."
She opens her mouth then closes it. "Did you not think about it?"
He leans to place his elbows on the table. "I think Reeve and Barret would have my head before that ever came to pass."
Tifa's lips quirk at the mention of her colleagues. "But what about you?"
"Wasn't an option," he answers. "Like I said before, you were too good."
Tifa shifts in her chair, feeling oddly put on the spot. It is a compliment and a fact all wrapped together coming out of his mouth. With his eyes as bright as they are, it almost feels like…flirting. Tifa dismisses the thought immediately.
"I guess Reeve and Barret would try to take your head. Or have a very aggressive meeting," Tifa teases.
Cloud mulls over something for a moment before he says, "So Scarlet knew about us before we did." He shakes his head. "That's tragic."
His words surprise a smile out of Tifa. "Pure coincidence for her."
"She's harmless. A declawed cat, even though she pretends she isn't."
Amused at the description, Tifa raises a brow. "I don't know. She can be intimidating. She could…" she pauses, thinking about Elena's words. "She could ruin your reputation."
"I guess she could. But she wouldn't," Cloud says, surety in his voice. "She just likes to talk. She's…dramatic. She wants to be superior. Unfortunately, she's a good secretary even though her character leaves her…wanting."
"So…you don't think she'll perpetuate the rumor to…outside sources?" she asks.
Cloud raises a brow. "I don't think she'd do anything to put her job on the line. Of course, rumors are rumors. She'd need…evidence, instead of hearsay, if she were to go that far. I just don't see her doing anything to harm the company's reputation during a merger. Her job's already on the verge of being absorbed into the company. She might be cut from it entirely."
Tifa sighs at that, feeling a little more at ease with the situation. Cloud certainly doesn't show any care about the potentially vile route the rumors can take. Still, it is in Tifa's nature to worry, so she continues to worry still.
She pushes it to the back of her mind, instead asking, "Has she ever tried to get on your good side?"
Cloud scoffs, glancing out the window again. "Sometimes, she stares at me for too long, but half the time I think it's because she's annoyed with doing her job."
Tifa snorts, covering her mouth. Cloud glances back to her with his glowing, amused eyes. "What's so funny?"
"I don't think she's annoyed, Cloud," she says, laughing lightly. "I think she wants to…um…you know."
At her unspoken suggestion, Cloud blinks before he begins shaking his head. "No. No, she definitely doesn't want that."
"I think she does. She doesn't like me at all, and I think it's because of the…rumors of us."
"I hardly think that she'd…" Cloud trails, his eyebrows knitting.
Tifa looks at him knowingly. "Cloud, half the staff would like to be illicit with you."
His cheeks pinken. "I…what?"
His shock is endearing. It brings youth into his face, and he looks almost sweet.
"That's the news I heard earlier this week. I'm sure it's true," she says.
"What makes you think it's true?"
"Because you're—" Tifa stops her automatic answer. Because you're handsome and intimidating and powerful and who wouldn't want to be underneath you? "Because you're…the CEO."
Cloud's lips turn up in his dry smirk. "Right, of course."
At his look, Tifa feels as though she answered incorrectly.
"Would you have ever asked Scarlet to…um…do what we do?" she ventures, grasping on to a question that would keep her from regretting the loss of humor.
Cloud looks affronted. "No. Never."
"Really? But…she's beautiful."
"Beauty's not the only thing I want," Cloud answers, staring Tifa down. Her chest begins to warm.
"Oh. Of course. Well…she certainly tries with her dresses."
Cloud smirks. "Not interested. She's not my type."
Tifa takes the bait. "What is your type?"
"I think you already know."
The breath expels from her, low and quiet. Flirting, her mind niggles at her. He's flirting with you.
"No, I don't think I do," she says. "Tell me."
"Long legs. Long hair," he answers, eyes glancing over her. "Red eyes."
"Red eyes? That's very specific."
He begins smiling. "She also wears red on Wednesdays."
She takes another breath. "Oh, that's one point for Scarlet."
Cloud scoffs, and it is a laugh. She watches his jaw and his lips, waiting in wonder for what he'll say.
"Oh, sorry. She wears red underwear on Wednesdays. Big difference."
Tifa crosses her legs at her knees.
"The distinction is very important," Tifa says.
"She wears black on Fridays. Sometimes," he continues. "And purple on Mondays."
"Hm," Tifa hums. "Sounds like she has good taste. What does she wear on Tuesdays and Thursdays?"
"I still need to find out," he says. "Unless she'll tell me."
Tifa begins to feel the pressure of her clothes against her body. Every shift she makes is a burden.
"No, I think you'll have to find out on your own."
"What a tease."
"Can't give everything away all at once," she says, a smile growing on her face. Cloud watches it, and they both begin leaning forward on the table.
"Guess not," he says. "Wouldn't be as fun."
Tifa begins to feel a fullness building in her stomach as he looks at her. Her next words come out huskier than she means.
"Too bad it's still Friday."
"I don't mind. I wouldn't be opposed to seeing black, again."
She laughs a little. "My place or yours?"
Cloud's eyes gleam at her answer. "How about neither?" He stands up and offers her his hand. "Come on. We'll go somewhere else."
Intrigued and flushed and feeling that deep, settling sense of urgency, Tifa takes his hand and stands. She's surprised when he doesn't let go, instead shuttling her toward the door of the restaurant.
When they get to the passenger side of the car they stop their hurried strides, and Cloud turns her toward him and kisses her. She presses against him, gripping a hand around his loosened collar.
"Where are we going?" she asks quietly when they break apart.
"You'll see," he says, opening the door for her.
"Who's being a tease, now?" she says, smiling and slipping into the seat. He closes the door and walks around to the other side, taking his place behind the wheel.
"It'll be a few minutes," he says.
"I don't mind," she says, and she smiles at him. "Thank you for dinner."
He looks away from her, pulling out of the parking lot and turning onto the main road. "It was just pizza," he answers.
Hesitating for only a moment, she reaches and places her palm on his forearm, resting on the middle console.
"I know. I still appreciate it."
He shifts under her hand, but he doesn't move away. "Sure."
They drive for a while, and Tifa begins seeing the signs indicating departure from Midgar, littered with the metal announcements of Thank you for coming! Visit again soon!
Tifa wonders again where he's possibly taking her while he turns on a dirt road, skimming along a cresting hill. Tifa absently begins to run her fingers along the inside of his forearm. Cloud interweaves their fingers occasionally when she gets close enough to his palm. It is a lazy, almost thoughtless motion, happening by mere chance when their hands are near each other.
The engine hums in a low growl, running over the rhythm of the soft music dripping from the radio. The sun is setting, and the inside of the car has lights lining along the curves of the doors and the dashboard, creating a soft glimmer around them.
When Cloud eventually parks the car, they are overlooking a valley, the earth in a severe decline from the vantage point. Tifa looks out of the window, the deepening night causing too many dark shadows for her to see clearly into the valley.
"Where are we?" she asks.
"This is my favorite spot to fight," he answers. "I go other places, but…I like it here the most."
She looks back down into the pit with larger intent and curiosity. She wonders if it's her mind playing tricks on her when she sees movement among the grasses.
"What kind of monsters live here?"
"Wolves and wyverns. Sometimes a dragon if I'm lucky."
Tifa looks at him, bewildered. "If you're lucky?"
"I like the challenge," he says, shrugging a little. When he glances at her, the glow of the lights hit his eyes, creating a wondrous, shining blue stare. When their eyes catch, they don't want to let go. She absently runs her hand along his forearm again, and he leans forward to kiss her over the middle console. She brings a hand up behind his neck, and she deepens the kiss, tilting her head, moaning when his tongue slips between her lips.
He breaks away for a moment. "Wait," he says, and he turns toward the other side, hitting a button. There is a gentle whirr inside the car, and the ceiling unlatches, peeling apart in two perfect sections. The parts fold into smaller and smaller pieces until they sink into the back frame of the car. It evolves the vehicle into a convertible, the summer evening heavy and redolent with the residual heat of daytime. She hears the cicadas buzzing happily in the trees. The miscellaneous sounds of night fill up the broad space. Tifa looks up to admire the night sky for a moment, the stream of stars twinkling and brightening in a dizzying array.
"Let's move to the back," he says, earning her attention. At her look, he seems to falter. "I mean, if you want."
Tifa glances over to the backseats before giving him a smile. "Looks spacious." She leans over to slip off her heels. "I want to."
He slips off his shoes, unbuttoning his cuffs. "Good. Me too."
He surprises her when he goes to stand, easily stepping over the middle console to the floor of the backseats. He reaches out a hand to her. "I'll help you step over."
Tifa laughs a little, following his lead and standing. When she takes his hand and tries to step over, her skirt constricts her too much to make it. She steps back and immediately goes to resolve the issue. "Oh, let me just…"
She unzips her skirt and pushes it off, leaving herself in her underwear. The heat of the evening hardly gives her any pause with feeling bare or uncomfortable, and when she looks back up to Cloud and reaches to take his still extended hand, she immediately feels a blush crowd her cheeks. His stare is always so intense when he gazes at her, and as he carefully helps her over the console, he kisses her with that same, unending urgency, again. His hands fall to her bottom and pushes her against him. She moans into the line of his body.
"I'll…take this off…" he says, unbuttoning her shirt.
"And I'll undo this…" she says, unbuckling his slacks and pushing them down his hips. He slips her top off when he's finished. She begins to relieve him of his dress shirt. He sighs as she does, bending forward to kiss her neck. She hums against him, sliding his shirt down his back and off his chest. It falls to the floor with a few easy tugs. He steps out of his slacks and unhooks her bra. She presses her palms along the band of his boxer briefs, pushing them down his thighs and exposing his arousal. He grunts once he's freed, and she fondles him without pause. His hands roam over her wildly, one hand cupping her breast and running his thumb over her tightened nipple, the other still squeezing her bottom.
"Mm, Cloud," she says, her whisper coming out like a purr. He presses against her more forcefully, and the impact makes her keen. He kisses her mouth greedily while she palms him, and she wonders an absent wonder—how many girls have been here, before?
It is a strange thought to pass through her in the heat of the moment. It is so sudden and abrupt, like the buzzing of a fly across her ear. It startles her for a second, and then his tongue is in her mouth, and it is forgotten just as quickly as he pulls her with him onto the leather seats.
She lies on top of him, her thighs opening up around him in a hug while she continues kissing him. Her hands come around the sides of his face and her forearms press into his chest. Their hips run together, her underwear wet and thin rubbing against his bare length. Cloud moans when she rolls her hips against him with harder pressure, his hands moving down her sides and to her bottom, using her ass like handholds. He squeezes and presses her into him, and she groans into his mouth.
The friction they build is almost as wonderful and teasing as the way he was looking at her in the pizza shop—humored and gleaming, allowing her to witness a laugh and a smile.
She thinks of it while she kisses him, while her arousal slides over his own, as she feels the vibration of his pleasure hum from his chest like the growl of the car engine.
His hands find the band of her underwear, and he curls it down over her bottom. "We don't need this," he tells her, his voice rough and as deep and rich as molasses.
She complies, lifting her hips enough for her underwear to slip down her thighs. "Hang on," she says, pushing herself up to detangle it all the way off her legs. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but when she manages to slide them down and drop them on the floor of the backseat, she nearly moans at how Cloud is watching her, sprawled underneath her against the leather seat, his eyes a glowing lustrous blue from the light of the car.
"Come here," he tells her, gripping her hips and bringing her forward. When their wet skin hits, Tifa has to grab onto the headrest beside her to keep from collapsing forward.
"Oh," she mewls. "Cloud."
She rocks and he keeps control of the pace, edging her over him again and again while one hand continues holding the leather headrest and the other claws into his chest.
Their heat is so warm and wet and gliding and euphoric. When he enters her it is smooth and delicate, increasing the level right when she needs it, hitting her deeper and curling up like a fist in her abdomen.
"Oh, Tifa," he groans, uttering her name the same way he says fuck. It thunders in her bloodstream, her heart pounding so ponderously it feels like her veins are shaking. "Shit. Tifa."
His eyes close briefly, weighed down by the burning bliss between them. They open again to find her, and when their eyes lock, her breath shudders in her chest.
"Gaia, you're beautiful," he confesses in a sigh.
The word scuttles past her ribcage. It pushes into her like he is, over and over and over again.
His eyes are vivid and bright with streaks of pleasure. Her hand presses deeply into his chest. Her other hand leaves the headrest to clench at his shoulder.
"Oh—oh, I'm going to..."
At her words, he rolls her across him faster and harder, the rush manic and desperate.
"Cloud—" she cries, and she wants to watch him but she has to close her eyes because of the pressure, the build up, the quaking.
In the next moment, she comes so hard she has to bend forward, gripping him anywhere and everywhere, digging her nails into his skin like hooks.
She feels him come after her, warmth spreading through her belly up to her throat. Her ear presses into his chest underneath his chin, and she can hear the blazing rampage of his heart.
They lie there for a while, their skin meshing together in dewy content, her hands resting around him, his across her lower back, another idly beginning to run fingers through her sweaty, tangled hair.
In her hazy, postcoital wonder, she smiles against his chest.
"You called me beautiful," she whispers.
His fingers snag against a tangle. "I'm sure a lot of guys tell you that."
Her smile grows at the sound of his hesitation. "Not really."
"I don't believe you."
She laughs. "Why not?"
"Because," he says. "That's what you are."
So matter of fact. So forthright. There's no argument to be made with his statement.
She runs her hands up his chest, a sudden tumult of affection running through her. She lifts her head slowly, looking down on him. He has a mollified expression on his face, the line of his lips soft and satisfied. She leans close to kiss him. He immediately reciprocates.
"Thank you," she says.
His automatic attempt at shrugging is downplayed by his position underneath her. He averts his eyes.
"Al told you the same thing."
She furrows her brows at his answer. "Al tells every woman she's beautiful. It doesn't mean they are."
He makes a noise. "At least I didn't say it to get in your pants."
"Considering you're already in them," she says, lightly laughing. He smiles at her.
"Right," he says, running his fingers along her back. "Speaking of..." he trails, leaning forward to kiss her. He kisses her again and again until finally he says, "Let's stay a while longer."
Tifa hums, kissing him back. She brings her hand up through his hair and buries her nails into his skull. He moans when she does, and she loves the way it sounds—how vocal he's become just because she told him she liked it.
In the end, they do stay a while longer, long enough for Cloud to grow inside of her, long enough for her legs to cramp with soreness, for her to softly scream into his ear while he edges her ever closer to infinity underneath the blue swirls of heaven.