Mine
There were certain things in life Reno simply found no pleasure in, and the arts happened to be one of them.
Loveless became a year-round spectacle, providing a source of entertainment to the ever growing and restless populace of Edge. Whether it be from his good graces or desire to view the play in a more cultivated and refined atmosphere, Rufus Shinra sought to have the theater built to his tastes.
A cultured man would have appreciated the rich ambiance of warm burgundy walls and chairs, gold colored arches, and the high tiered ceiling checkered with incandescent chandeliers that bathed the venue in a tepid glow. A cultured man would have appreciated the laminate stage with its heavy, rippling ebony curtains and musical pit that lay before it like an open, shadowed chasm. A cultured man would have also enjoyed the musical accompaniment composed of strings, horns, and a grand piano that lent a powerful backdrop to the emotionally poignant poetic prose.
Reno was not a cultured man. In fact, he was far out of his element. In ditching the Turk suit for something slightly less intimidating, he fashioned a light blue blazer and white dress shirt tucked appropriately into gray trousers, all of which felt a little too normal for him.
Dates were also out of his element. He was a simple man with simple needs, yet he felt the distinct desire to go the extra mile for their first public outing together. Despite the trepidation that seized his throat like a choke-hold, he wanted to show her he was worth the effort.
It was quite the sacrifice, especially when his focus dissolved minutes after the opening act. His attention consistently pulled to the woman at his right throughout the performance, taking in the sight with unabashed salacity.
With dark hair swept into a tight bun, he found his eyes drawn to the curve of her neck, his lips tingling for a taste. Her dress of choice did his libido no favors either; a sleek, powdery white number hugging her hips and bust, a dangerously high slit splitting at her thigh, and a pair of red ankle-strap that added inches, elongating a pair of smooth, milky legs.
It took everything he had to keep his hands and mouth to himself.
Tifa, however, took an acute interest in the production as well as the musical interlude. Claret eyes fell wide and pink lips curled with the joviality of a child while they scanned the stage, trailing to each thespian as they spoke their verse with passionate eloquence.
Another time, Reno may have physically or verbally expressed his indifference on the spectacle, but the current company influenced a turn in behavior. Despite his disposition as an uncultured man, his desire to prove himself deserving of her company surpassed his desire to treat himself to her supple assets. Rather, he viewed the play through her glittering eyes that filled with the gleeful wonder of a caged bird suddenly free to take in the new world beyond the bars.
When she caught him staring, her enthusiastic smile only widened and brightened, her hand taking his own at the armrest where it hung curled and loose at its edge.
He could see it there, silent and unspoken, but he heard it all the same.
Thank you.
It didn't matter that he wasn't a cultured man, it only mattered that she knew he tried.
A play hadn't been his initial first thought when deciding where to take her after that late-night call, but he would have to thank his partner for the suggestion. As he viewed the raw delight reflecting through her features and the gentle rap of her fingers in tune with the melody of the ivories from the pit below, he felt himself swell with pride.
Tifa was happy, and he was responsible.
Applause resounded through the room upon the curtains' closure when the production finally ended, jolting Reno from his distant thoughts.
He found crowds to be a nuisance; the cluster of claustrophobia enough to turn a currently amiable if not slightly bored temperament into a snarling, cornered canine. There was also a certain type of attention he had a habit of attracting whether in or out of Turk attire; his bright crop of red hair and its unique style could be seen like a flaming torch through the mouth of a cave. For the sake of his temper and maintaining the ambient mood, he had a better idea.
Instead of wrestling through the mob he relaxed, propping his feet up on the back of the now vacant chair in front of him. Tifa seemed to take the hint and remained seated while the other spectators hurried out or dawdled on.
"I think that tonight," she said, hands clasping tightly to her knees, "I've realized just how much I've missed out on. The theater, music - just simple pleasures in life."
Reno smirked, lacing his fingers behind his head, eyes suddenly fixated on the glowing orb of crystal above them. "Pretty sure we covered this once. Gotta make more time for yourself, yo."
"I know, be selfish."
His attention shifted to her then; the pads of her fingers thoughtlessly brushing the wisps of loose strands from her face as her lips turned upward with the motion. It was only then he began to take notice of the calming tranquility that brought respite to the restlessness that consumed him. Even when he felt the tendrils of shame and self-reproach threaten to take him under, to remind him how undeserving he was of an existence free of the turmoil that his past misdeeds and present remorse brought upon him, she provided a light that chased off the doubt which lurked in the far corners of his mind.
"Did you even watch the play? You seemed to be distracted..." It was clear by the gentle tease of her expression that she'd come to notice his observational skills were directed elsewhere throughout the production as well.
"I've seen it before."
Her head tilted to the side as she peered at him inquisitively, "Would you mind elaborating?"
"Aren't we curious?" Reno heaved a sigh before indulging her. "Guard duty with the President. He loves this kind of shit, and for some reason Tseng thought it a hoot to saddle me by his post. I got to witness this lovely play opening night and once more a week later."
"You don't sound too enthusiastic about the assignment."
"Eh, well, I was reassigned to chauffeur duty after the last one. Guess the President didn't take a liking to my recount of the performance." Which was sheer mockery of the drivel, but he wasn't about to tell her that.
"So... you didn't go willingly." She gave him a knowing smile.
Reno rolled his eyes and threw off his heels from the edge of the headrest. The crowd had noticeably thinned outside of a few stragglers who'd become caught in conversations or other couples who had also decided to linger behind to avoid the herd just as they had. "Is there a point to this interrogation?"
She gave a slight shrug, the crimson shawl shifting across her shoulders. "I just want to know why we're here."
Loathe to tell her the truth, that it was just for her, that he hoped to show her there was a bit of shine beneath the grime, he chose to skirt around it, "Figured you might like this classy shit."
Tifa looked thoughtful for time, "I enjoyed it. But…" a lopsided smile appeared as she glanced over at him, "I'd rather we do something we both enjoy next time."
Reno's thoughts quickly dropped into obscene territory. His barriers weren't much more than glass, cracking and fracturing throughout the night while within achingly close and tortuous proximity. By some miracle however, it remained intact.
He propped a forearm against the armrest and leaned in. "The nights' not over yet. Unless you're lookin' to get home in a hurry."
Shaking her head, she placed her hand on his arm, giving it a tight squeeze. "I have plenty of time. Where to?"
He fought against his default setting in suggesting the privacy of his pad, a suggestion driven by his second head. In keeping with classier, more sophisticated appearances, he pulled out a different idea that was less infused with sexual undertones. "Let's take a walk. There's a park not too far from here."
"A park?" she chuckled, a sound without mockery but mild bewilderment. "I didn't take you for the park type."
A much more lecherous comment began to form on his tongue before he swallowed it whole and went for something innocuous. "Yeah well, there's a lot you still don't know." He stood and offered his hand to her, "You coming?"
With a nod she took it, standing to meet him. No longer separated by the barricade, he felt the electric charge, the sharp crackle that coasted across his extremities. He steeled himself against the primal calling, one that was deafeningly thunderous, and simply led her out of the theater and onto the busy streets of Edge.
Night had completely fallen over the city, the velvet black above etched with the glow of starlight melding with the illumination that tall, steel-poled streetlamps had to offer. While Reno was not one to pay mind to the beauty of his surroundings, he found himself oddly enchanted by the peaceful atmosphere of the sparsely populated park and the company that joined him.
They strolled the path lined with white and yellow lilies on either side of the walkway that circled the area in a loop while newly planted saplings stood dotted along the small, open plain. They passed by other pedestrians who took the opposing direction, each lost within their own hushed conversations.
Reno realized he was enjoying the simplicity of the companionable silence between them, finding that it was far more comforting than filling it with needless words and phrases that held no meaning. Even the lewd and crude comments and jokes he was so apt to impart somehow climbed up his throat and died there before they found his voice. The mood was too genuine, too serene for even him to distort with depravity.
These changes surprised him. Dates were a non-existent part of his past, sooner to take a woman down a back alleyway and selfishly get his rocks off. Instead, he watched a play he hated and suggested a walk in the park. While his carnal desires were alive and well, screaming to be satisfied, he dug up a bit of uncharacteristic restraint to show her he was a bit more than a good lay.
It surprised him how much he needed her to know that.
His inner analysis was interrupted when Tifa's grip slacked and inevitably released its hold on him. With eyes downcast, he caught the nibble of her bottom lip. Her gait slowed its stride and her form took on a certain stiffness, all of which would have perhaps been missed by a passing glance. However, it was more than conspicuous to the hawkish observation of a Turk, even within the peripheral of his vision.
He had studied and observed her idiosyncrasies long enough to know the signs of silent panic, and while he didn't know the direct cause, he had a pretty reliable hunch.
Turning, he slowly approached her with a slightly narrowed gaze, "What's wrong?"
Several seconds ticked by before Tifa seemed to find the courage to speak. "I saw some people I know, from the school. They were talking."
He regarded her calmly as her words filtered through his mind. A pair began to take shape; a stare lingering a little too long as whispered chatter exchanged ears as they passed them by. Yet, he didn't seem to connect the two as a problem. "Yeah so? People talk."
Her expression twisted with regret, however she remained still, "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
It occurred to him then how naive he'd been. He should have known that despite her confidence on the call that she wasn't ready for a public outing. It should have been obvious to him this was bound to be a mistake, that she was going to crack under public scrutiny when those closest to her were still in the dark.
However, her effort hadn't gone unnoticed, and that alone warmed him even if uncertainty began to slither its way into the forefront of his mind.
"This city ain't that big, yo. This was bound to happen," he stated a bit more harshly than he'd intended.
"I'm not ashamed, if that's what you're wondering," she offered quickly, a hint of desperation lacing her tone as she took a step to close the distance.
Part of him didn't believe that either; the far more pessimistic side of his brain infested with doubt that soaked his subconscious. It was the part of him that remained ever so convincing he didn't deserve her, that it was far more merciful to shoot what they had between the eyes and put an end to any future suffering.
Eventually he would break her.
The space had narrowed further, Tifa standing not much more than a few inches away. A stubborn determination had seeped in, her lips set firm into a tight line, worry highlighting her features. He saw hope behind the fear, her conviction push through the hurdles and obstacles that stood in her way to reach him.
It came to him then, the currency he needed to pay to prove the risk to reward ratio was worth the gamble. He needed to show her he was worth the investment.
Reno sensed the air between them had turned tense and fragile, brought on by his prolonged silence and the uncertainty of their progression. He reached for her hand, testing the waters of her comfort level. To his surprise and relief, she waded through and accepted the gesture, holding to it firmly within her grasp.
"Why don't you come to my place then." He hesitated before resolving to move forward with the offer, "I'll show you something that you might be interested in."
Curiosity crossed over her countenance, along with a bit of amusement that curled at her mouth. "Are you going to tell me what it is?"
"Well it's not a sex dungeon, I can tell you that." When she huffed a laugh, he felt the last bit of the tension drain away. He grew somber as the gravity of his intentions weighed on him. The subject matter wasn't light-hearted, but one of the darkest blips of his past he fought to forget. "You'll see."
A brief moment passed before she nodded her agreement to go, and he was pulling his phone free to call a car.
The trek to his apartment was all a bit of a blur to Reno, from the moment they entered the cab to the moment they walked into the lift at his apartment, bound for the fifth floor. His mind roamed to visit the darkest corners of his thoughts, recreating the lost file of his early years, a file that only Shinra had any details on, a file even Rude knew nothing about.
Suddenly he wanted to renege the offer; to bury it, to lock it away and pretend it didn't exist. He was no longer sure he wanted to relive it, no longer certain he could recall the events without bile climbing the back of his throat and leaving behind a searing reminder that life sometimes was just shit and there was nothing you could ever hope to do about.
Tifa remained quiet but close, seemingly aware of the clouding aura that grew more and more palpable as they neared his home. A gentle touch to his arm as he leaned back against the stainless steel wall of the enclosure helped temporarily still the pitching ship that rocked within the pit of his gut. Regardless, he remained deeply unsettled by the thought of what he intended to reveal to her.
The lift shuddered as it completed its ascension, the doors splitting wide to reveal a dimly lit hall. Even as he led the way to his apartment, his mind teetered on a seesaw of indecision. Maybe he just wasn't ready. Maybe this really was a mistake.
Maybe he needed to stop being a Goddamn pussy and just be a fucking man about it.
Reno fished through his coat pocket for his keys once they approached their destination. White, italicized numbers reading 503 stood against the dark, wooden backdrop of the door. Pulling the set free, a few seconds of clarity whipped through his mind and realized two things at once as he palmed the weight of them - he was about to let Tifa into his private home life and his place was a boxed-up disaster.
"I need to warn you," he said, slipping the key into the lock. Turning it, he was rewarded with a sharp click in reply, "it's a little chaotic in there."
"Should I be worried…?"
Reno didn't bother answering her verbally, intending to show her the evidence visually. Pushing open the door, he crossed the threshold and flipped a switch beside the door frame. A series of overhead light fixtures flickered on, filling the room with a soft illumination against whitewashed walls. She slipped in behind as he held the door and watched her as she took in the view.
On the surface, it appeared as though he had only just moved into the space, beginning to unpack what little life he had from unmarked cardboard boxes before giving up entirely to live in a disorganized mess. Several of them lay open around the living room they entered, various contents spilling out onto the hardwood floor which managed to stay mostly clear, light reflecting from its polished shine. A simple cherrywood coffee table stood in front of a black pleather couch that was positioned against the back wall to the left of them, each surface covered in either loose papers, bottles of various beers and liquors, or discarded clothing. There seemed to be a single, open area on the sofa at its center, clear enough for one person to sit comfortably.
Tifa cautiously moved further in, a tight, curious expression on her visage as she continued to survey the space. "When did you move in here…?"
Locking the door behind them, Reno approached the coffee table, his eye catching a piece of less than tasteful media and quickly flipped the magazine over. "Eh, six months? Give or take three."
Her shoulders shook with silent amusement as she motioned a few steps toward the island to the right of the entrance - equally cluttered with papers and trinkets - that separated the kitchen from the living area. Her fingers gingerly touched the gray granite countertops as she glanced to the two cushioned bar stools stood beneath the lip, appearing virtually unused. The kitchen itself was adequate in size, and generally clear of dishes and utensils minus a few stacked within the double sink by the refrigerator.
"And you're still living out of boxes?" She looked over her shoulder to him, a playful glimmer to her eyes.
He scoffed with an eye roll and gestured around them, "Excuse me, but this is a judge free zone here. The door is right over there if you can't follow the rules, sweetheart."
She gave a final once over before she smirked with a slight nod, "You're right. I'm sorry."
Rather quickly, Reno realized that he couldn't remember the last time he'd brought a woman home. Yet, while her scrutiny ruffled his feathers and made him defensive, he also found himself slightly ashamed at the state of his place.
Tifa deserved better than this.
"Look, I work a lot," he began to explain, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets with a look of slight guilt that fit better on a teenager who failed to clean their room, "I'm hardly ever here. Just hasn't been high on my list of priorities."
Tifa smiled, setting her clutch and shawl on one of the bar stools. "I get it. I'm just happy to be here with you."
As he watched her turn to the island and gather the various loose parchment scattered about the surface, he felt a lump begin to formulate in his throat, hands perspiring within his pockets. With her there, within his personal haven of solitude, it felt too right to make any sense to him. He felt his mind begin to sputter, phantom hands clutching at the edge of a precipice he was slipping from.
"You don't have to do that, you know."
"I know," she said, setting the stack to the corner of the counter, "but I want to. I'm just... paying it forward."
After hours at Seventh Heaven came to Reno's mind then; the times he'd helped her close, assisting in various chores, always of his own accord. At the time, he was sure he'd done so selfishly, to reap the rewards a bar owner would provide. But now as he watched her tidy his mess and do so with a smile, he knew he did it for another reason entirely, one that had been brewing for far longer than he'd given any mind to notice.
The ledge disappeared, and he was weightless with the revelation.
Reno made his decision.
Breaking himself from his reverie, it didn't take long for him to locate what he was looking for, the reason why he brought her there. Beneath the chaos of his coffee table lay a piece of his past that represented far too much pain that he kept hidden in the dark.
He crossed the room and dropped a plastic bag on the island in front of her. Within it lay a single bullet, not much more than a nub of coppery metal nestled within its plastic confinement. A name in bold, black text was printed across - a name he could never seem to drink away.
Tifa stopped her task and looked from the bag to him with soft empathy, her question ringing out into the air that blared against his eardrums like a siren. "Poppy? Your sister Poppy?"
Not long after he'd first brought her up to Tifa, he dug through boxes that contained his life to locate the only thing he had left of a family that was wiped from history. The memory burned him, and that night he drowned in a steady waterfall of the drink to wash away the regret of his loss he was forever doomed to repeat.
"I told you I'd tell you one day," he said solemnly.
Reno moved into the kitchen and pulled out two beers from his largely empty fridge. Clutching the bottles between his fingers, he screwed the caps from the necks and set one on a clear patch of the island as he held the other with a vacant stare. It had been years since he'd spoken of her in detail, but he dared to wonder if it was time to air the past and release a weight that bared down on him during the best and worst of days.
He dared to wonder if he was ready to stand in the blood of the memory.
Tifa approached him slowly, cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal. A tentative hand reached for his face only to be caught at the wrist. He found her eyes, uneasy and apprehensive, and pressed his lips against her palm to melt away any potential fear of him.
"I told you it's not pretty," he let her arm fall to her side.
She reached for the opened brew, holding the chilled bottle within both hands as she leaned a hip against the counter, "I'm ready."
With a deep sigh, he sagged against the refrigerator, "I was eighteen when I had my first official Turk assignment. They paired me with a seasoned Turk called Bones. Ironic name, because this fucker could literally shatter your bones with one punch. Think of Rude, but paler, taller, and an additional twenty-five lbs. of mass."
The picture of the past started as a blank canvas, and with each stroke of the proverbial brush, he illustrated the vision. "The assignment was pretty simple - hit up a dealer at their drug den for back payment from their profit margin. They were easy to find, holed up in an abandoned building in the Sector Four slums. Shinra used to have a three-strike rule; you failed to pay the full sum the third time, you were done, permanently."
Reno smirked, tossing a damp hand through his hair, "This fuck... he begged for more time. Said he'd get the rest of the payment at midnight, and all we needed to do was wait for it. I thought that maybe that's all it was. But Bones knew better, that the wait was a setup, and put a bullet in the guys' mouth. Orders were to terminate all targets within the den if it came to that. So, we did."
He spared a quick glance at Tifa, who watched him quietly, before he fixed his gaze to the bullet, "Bones did most of the killing. I only managed to take out a few - shot the ones spazzing out on whatever shit they were high on and didn't see my gun coming for 'em. After the third one, I got sick. By luck, or something more insidious, I found the toilet and hurled. And there she was…"
"Poppy," he heard Tifa whisper.
Mindlessly, he picked and peeled at the label of his bottle while the vision became clearer. "Yeah, Poppy. It'd been some years since I saw her, but it was impossible for me not to recognize her. She was high, track lines, hair matted. I could only see the whites of her eyes. Couldn't snap her out of it either - I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was there."
Reno felt his entire body stiffen, bits of the paper label in a small pile at his feet, "Bones came up behind me, and just like that... he shot her between the eyes over my shoulder. She was only fourteen, just a kid, but it didn't matter."
A look of horror washed over Tifa's face, but he couldn't quite bring himself to look at it. "I tried to kill him with my fists, completely forgetting about my gun. Mother fucker pistol whipped me till I was damn near unconscious. Needless to say, my first mission was a personal failure. But big Boss took pity on me, and I didn't fuck up a second time. But Bones hated my guts after that, and I wanted to burn that asshole with everything in me. However, outright killing your colleagues was kinda frowned upon back then."
He pulled a swig from his beer, its contents having lost his cold bite. It moistened the thick dryness of his mouth and throat, but the taste was bitter and vile. "As per Shinra's way, we covered it up. Our investigation concluded it was a drug deal gone wrong. Forensics went in, collected the evidence, bagged it and tagged it. That right there," he gestured to the bag, "was a personal gift from Bones, a sweet reminder of our wonderful time together."
Silence dropped over them, and Reno simply didn't know what to expect from her. The picture was complete, a time in history that shaped him into who he was as a Turk. A man who buried his pain in booze and sex and never thought of the consequences of his actions. It was a moment that influenced his necessity to destroy his conscience and never look back.
She couldn't possibly understand.
"What happened to Bones?" Her voice was even and surprisingly calm, attention locked to the open neck of her beer. It remained within her tense grip, the drink within it untouched.
Reno considered telling her he played the long con with Bones, studied his habits to discover an isocaine addiction. He considered telling her they forged a lukewarm bond over the substance, one he never actually touched himself but kept the ruse to pull the wool over his targets' eyes. He could have told her during one night within a Wall Market strip club he gave Bones a gift, a bag filled with his powdery pleasure only to be laced heavily with fentaylcine. He could have told her Bones snorted all contents greedily within a private back room Reno personally paid handsomely for. He could have told her he watched merrily as the hulk of a man convulsed violently before his heart gave out and Death carried him off to the Lifestream.
He could have told her his revenge against his colleague did nothing to ease the pain of his loss and sought to numb it all with his liquid drug of choice to quell the nightmares that replayed the heinous events of his past in color quality.
Some nights, there never seemed to be enough of it.
Instead, he opted for something a bit more benign. "He had an accident."
Dark, burgundy eyes finally lifted and locked with his own, moisture hovering along the rim. There was a fire in them he'd only seen once before, a time he ached to forget - atop the pillar of Sector Seven.
"That's too bad."
Reno stared at her, her gaze unwavering beneath his scrutiny. The lack of sincerity in her voice was jarring - she was holding back. "You don't sound like you mean that."
"What they did, what they made him do..." Tifa set her beer on the island, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of him, a quiver to her lips. Her expression was strained with emotion. "Shinra manipulated you. You could have been something else. You could have been anything else."
Reno grinned ruefully, unmoving. "I made my choices."
"Because they led you to them," she insisted, her voice tense with it, "They forced your hand. He killed your family, knowingly. You see that, don't you?"
The thought had crossed his mind, and it certainly wouldn't have been the first time he and his colleagues had been manipulated into swearing fealty. "Don't matter. It's done, and he's dead."
Her brows drew together as an expression of repressed rage crowded her face, "And I'm really not sorry to hear that. Not in the least."
Reno saw it, he heard it - the raw, passionate protection, the anger that reared its head and wanted to roar in the face of his injustice.
It wanted to roar for him.
"You mean that?" he murmured, the air around them suddenly void of oxygen.
He watched her eyes soften considerably, her pursed lips easing into a small, sorrowful smile, "I do. She deserved better. You deserve better."
It hit him like a tidal wave, swallowing him whole and taking him out to sea. He let it, the feeling that engulfed him, freely caught in the riptide. He couldn't control it - he didn't bother. He didn't want to.
"Tifa…" he breathed, his hand rising to cup her face, thumb grazing her lips. Her eyes fluttered and he knew it wasn't long before his control crumbled to nothing.
The hammering of her heart seemed to beat in tandem with his own, and he realized she must have reached the peak of her restraint as well. He witnessed her expression transform from melancholy to a rare and mischievous display. When her mouth parted to take his thumb between her teeth, her tongue sweeping the tip, his mind short-circuited and his body took over.
Reno was on her like a feral beast, beer abandoned and tipped over on the island while they descended into a torrid whirlwind of deep kisses and greedy caresses, making quick work of the clothing that stood in their way. He selfishly pawed at her flesh, fingers seeking the zipper to unwrap her. He managed to clasp and drag it down before she broke away to handle the rest.
The blazer at his shoulders disappeared in the chaos. His shirt hung loose and missed a few buttons, his fingers having given up the patient fight and simply tore the garment wide open. He snapped his focus to Tifa, absent her dress which now pooled at her feet, standing free of any inhibitions. All that remained were her ivory undergarments and red heels as she closed the gap between them, capturing his mouth and flooding his urgency with delicious agony. The hunger consumed him, scorching him tender, and he all but dragged her with him into the living room.
It was Tifa who suddenly took charge, playfully shoving him against the clear space of the sofa where he flopped and stared with dark, hooded excitement. He trailed her every move as she took to her knees and relieved him of his belt, sliding it out from the loops of his trousers and casting off his shoes. He reached for her then, desperate to touch her. She shoved his hands away without hesitation.
His pants and boxers were next, lifting his hips to assist in their removal, setting him free. It was torture, purely agonizing, as nails clawed at his thighs while she rose to stand over him with an air of cool confidence. He ached for her while watching her slow, deliberate movements, feeling his primal instincts beginning to rise again.
"Tifa…" he warned, his voice carefully controlled.
She ignored him. Wordlessly, she hooked her fingers through the sides of her panties, gliding them down her thighs and at her feet. Boldly, she let a single finger brush between her breasts, beyond her navel to disappear below her waist.
Desperation could no longer adequately describe it - he was delirious with it.
Completely out of patience, Reno lurched forward and yanked her to him by the wrist. She collapsed into his lap, straddling it with a gasp. Waves of her chocolate brown hair had spilled from her bun, brushing against the slick skin of his chest.
He plunged his hand into those silken tresses and held firm, leaning forward to press his lips to the shell of her ear, "I'm going to fuck you now. Is that what you want?"
Pulling back, he looked into a pair of glossy, blown out eyes that absolutely, silently begged for it.
Her cry of pleasure was immediate upon his entry, the whole of him disappearing in one sheathing motion. She clung to him, lips seeking him to muffle the rest of them, but Reno was having none of it. Hair still woven round his fingers, he pulled her head back to hear every single one of her moans.
They were alone, and he wanted to hear it all.
Tifa understood the silent request, and her ecstasy reverberated off the walls and echoed like a sonar. He joined her the moment her hips moved, grinding against him, losing herself within the rhythm.
Reno was too close already, hearing the blood pound in his ear, a resoundingly repetitive throb. A quick sweep of his arm sent the miscellaneous mess from the sofa flying and flipped her over to reposition. Instinctively, her thighs clamped around his waist and drove herself up to meet him.
Slowing the pace considerably, he gazed down into her face, eyes screwed shut and humming with his languid thrusts. His chest constricted at the sight of her, remembering his revelation, his new understanding of what had been created between them.
"Are you mine?" he whispered heatedly; his hips suspended.
The thrum of his heart heightened in its tempo at the inquiry, increasing its cadence with every second that passed as he awaited the answer with bated breath. It could have been dismissed as bedroom talk, under the spell of arousal, but it would have been a lie.
Tifa opened her eyes, aglow with mutual hunger. The smile that captured her lips spread wide across deeply flushed skin. Her fingers slid into his scarlet hair, the grip tight and almost painful, but he loved every second of it. "I'm yours, Reno," she breathed, "I'm yours."
He nearly lost all control then and there, taking her mouth in a bruising kiss, rewarding her handsomely for her reply. He heard his name, again and again, and he felt the coil begin to unravel, standing at the brink of the edge.
"You're mine," he declared with a growl, and it nearly came for him, the white-hot rapture. A slow convulsion began to overwhelm his body as her name fell from his tongue, his hips driving into her with a sudden ferocity he couldn't hold back.
Tifa mewled for him, latched onto him as she quaked and clenched tightly around him, overcome by the flood. Suddenly powerless to stop it, Reno followed only a mere few moments after, the searing brightness behind his eyes, the vibration rippling and rendering him useless as he collapsed above her in a boneless heap.
His breath had left him as he lay motionless, failing again and again to adequately catch it. He felt her arms slide around him, cradling him in the aftermath. He was drifting still, within the high that erased the pain and guilt that tormented him, the ill begotten memories he had never been able to shake away.
Reno would stay there for as long as he could.
They shifted on the sofa - his body spread across the length of it with a foot against the ground as Tifa lay splayed out on top of him. Slowly, their pulses returned to a steady beat as the sweltering heat around them cooled to a more agreeable climate.
"I want you to come back to the bar. If you want to." Tifa said after a time, her cheek to his chest, fingertips mindlessly toying with the tips of his ponytail.
Delicately, he grazed his fingers along her spine before settling his palm against the small of her back, "You sure?"
"Yeah. We still need to be careful of the kids, but I'll arrange a conversation with Barret. I have a feeling he'll be coming home soon."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"No, but something is going on with Shinra and W.R.O. and he'll need to be informed. I imagine a phone call won't go over well." She paused, "I know about Rude, too."
Reno's brows furrowed. As far as he knew, the information was supposed to be classified. "Yuffie spill the beans?"
There was a long lull of silence before she answered, "Please don't say anything."
He let out a small sound, something between a grunt and a cough, "Nothing to gain from telling anyone anyway."
She sighed in relief, her body further relaxing against his frame. "If you want to talk about Rude - "
"No offense babe," he interrupted, placing a kiss against the top of her head as if to soften the upcoming blow, "but can we not talk about him right now? I just fucked your brains out and you're asking about my best friend."
In truth, it was a subject he wasn't thrilled to broach then, if at all. Rude had been a long-standing fixture in his life, a pillar of stability and while he wasn't exactly dying or moving to Wutai, things would drastically change for the Turk. Reno preferred a bit more time before he was forced to face it.
"Are you jealous?" There was a playful note to her tone.
He grinned, happy to jump in and play the game, "Who wouldn't be? Shiny bald head, broad shoulders, hung like a Goddamn Behemoth. Maybe you should date him instead of me. Hell, maybe I should date him."
She laughed, and he found himself laughing with her. "I think I'm satisfied with what I have."
"Suit yourself. You're missing out on Grade A beefcake."
It surprised him just how comfortable he felt with her; during conversation, whimsical banter, or within the void of silence, he was enamored by the serenity of each moment they spent together.
Tifa stirred, rising from her position to sit between his legs. He noted how her hair was a wreck, her bra straps were misaligned at the shoulders, and the hefty smudges of mascara that aligned her eyelids.
He also noted how painfully gorgeous she was.
"So what now?"
Reno rose to his elbows, peering at her curiously, "You stayin'?"
A sudden flash of anxiety bloomed over her face, fidgeting with several strands of her hair, "Only if you want me to. I don't want to impose."
It occurred to him he'd never had a woman stay with him overnight, always quick to book it himself or usher the visitor out the door and into a cab before they got too comfortable.
This was, of course, different.
"What's your babysitter have to say about this?"
"I told her not to expect me."
A slow, toothy grin spread across his mouth, "Why you little minx…"
Tifa quickly shook her head, averting her eyes to the floor as her face flushed pink with obvious humiliation, "Sorry, I realize how assuming that was."
As much as he would have loved to tease her red about it, what he wanted much more than that was to keep her.
Sitting up, he curved a trail from her hairline to her jaw, "Stay. I ain't done with you yet, anyway."
The trepidation drained away in an instant, and shortly after he brought her to his bedroom where he brought them both to complete exhaustion.
Sleep brought her under first, resting soundlessly beside him, wrapped snugly in a bed sheet. Silently he watched her as the high dissolved, wondering if perhaps it was all too good to be true, that come morning the curtain would fall and the play of his good fortune would be over.
It felt too right and equally foreign. She wasn't supposed to fit into his life, into his existence so easily, but somehow, she did. Somehow, she managed to stand as another fixture in his life that steadied him, made him feel less like a Turk and more like a man.
Tifa deserved the best he had to give.
Eventually sleep found him too, and for the first time since he'd drawn his first blood, the nightmares that plagued his slumber were nowhere to be found.