Disclaimer: The world, nor characters of Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy do not belong to me.
Author's Note: Soooo... It's been years since I've uploaded any kind of fanfiction, even longer since I've written anything on Clerith, but the recent release of FFVII remake has reignited my love for this pair, so here's a lemon. I've also decided not to put this in the Kingdom Hearts category, because in case if I ever decide to extend this story, I already have some ideas on how to intertwine it with VII proper.
It was like nothing he' ever felt before—when he became a roaming stream of stardust. One minute he'd been wandering the bustling, hectic markets of Thebes, in search of anything to stop his muscles from aching after getting stomped on by a two-ton, three-headed dog; in the next minute, every last fiber of himself began to break apart, dissolving skyward—glowing like the porcelain luminescence of the Greek moon, and he wondered if everything was on the cusp of changing again. For a moment, he considered fighting the esthesis—to struggle against the pull threatening to lead him away; but the light had been victorious, sweeping Cloud from the world and time of the gods, goddesses, and multi-headed beasts. In the instances that followed, Cloud glimpsed the galaxy—his soul soaring through the supreme eternity of it all, as he flashed by the planets and their own moons, almost as if he was swimming through a current between midnight and light.
"They actually did it," said an astonished Cloud when his feet were once more planted firmly on the ground, while gratitude swelled in his heart.
Sora, Donald, and Goofy managed to return the lost hearts where they belonged.
Granted, his memories of Hollow Bastion place were edged in fuzziness. So much time had escaped between the days of his childhood, of fighting pretend monsters with his friends, and the years spent lurking in dank, darkness, and death while in Hades' servitude. It seemed like an entirely different person existed in the strained confines of his memories. Still, as he climbed, jumped, and ventured through the canyon, he heard the phantomesque echoes of his innocence, reminding him that he was indeed home.
"Look out, Cloud! There's a dragon coming right for you! It breathes fire!" a young girl shouted, her voice vibrating through the vast gorge a thousand times over. She flipped her long locks of onyx over her shoulders, balling up her fists as the 'dragon' approached.
"You guys! Why do I always have to be the bad guy?" another young boy whined, his voice slightly muffled behind a dragon mask.
"Come on, Cloud! We can take him!" Tifa exclaimed, ignoring their friend's complaint."Get ready to meet your maker!"
"This'll teach you not to mess with us!" Cloud expressed with excitement, moving himself to stand protectively in front of the group's fourth companion, another girl, who was the most precious to him.
Wincing, the former mercenary shook his head the moment the memory tinged to something more sinister.
Finally, he arrived at the castle, figuring there would at least be a couple of people around when he had seen puffs of smoke cough out from the chimney, he just wasn't anticipating that he would find any of the faces in his memories.
"Cl-Cloud! I can't believe it! You're actually here!" Tifa exclaimed, looking as if she was about to launch herself into the sky from the sheer joy of their reunion, as she stood next to Cid.
"Yeah. I'd recognize that sharp, spiky hair anywhere," Cid remarked, the toothpick betwixt his grinder teeth flopping up and down.
Remaining completely composed, the blond man nodded at the both of them, the ghost of a smile playing at the right-hand corner of his mouth. "It's good to see you again."
"Come on in. Everyone else is inside," Cid replied, casually gesturing at Tifa and Cloud to follow, more familiar with the layout of the castle than they were.
As three, different sets of footfalls made their way down the various hallways, Tifa walked closed to Cloud, her wine-red orbs fixated upon his somewhat unreadable expression as though he might vanish right in front of her. "So, where have you been all this time, Cloud? Did you finally become a hero?" she inquired.
"Not even close," he answered somberly, reluctant to open up about his years wasted on succumbing to the darkest recesses of his heart, especially within the first few hours of returning home. "I bumped into a few shady folks, bumped elbows with gods and demigods, and fought in a few tournaments. What about you?"
"I met up with a kid," Tifa started, smiling at herself in satisfaction. "He was quiet and brooding at first, a lot like you. His name was Jim. I'll miss him."
"You wouldn't believe the weird characters that pass through Traverse Town," Cid stated, his Southern draw spoken in a breathless mumble as they ascended the staircase, up toward the library.
Abruptly, Cloud's stride came to a troubled halt as soon as he glimpsed the back of her head, immediately recognizing the ruby-colored ribbon perched along the top of her braid. A breath hitched in the back of his throat, the sensation like a blade wedged against his tonsils, while stomach flip-flopped like a pancake. The world between them practically materialized out of existence as Cloud stood there, stricken with a new sense of fear, or perhaps amazement—remembering, somewhere deep down inside, he used to get the same feeling every single time he was near her.
Almost as if she could sense the weight of his cerulean eyes studying her from afar, the Flower Girl started to turn, even before Cid could introduce him and Tifa. "Look at what the cat dragged in," the older man said, indicating to Cloud, then to Tifa, who stood only a few feet behind either of them.
"Cloud..." she murmured, the sound of her voice like a soft, rejuvenating gust of wind on a woefully hot day.
The two stared at each other for what must have felt like ages for everyone else in the library, the distance between them shrouded in shadows. Too dumbstruck and too mesmerized by the gravitational pull of her impressive irises of sparkling emerald, his mouth found it impossible to form syllables, let alone coherent words. And then, his heart came close to bursting out of his chest like fireworks when, in unison, an inexplicable, magnetic urge puppeteered them to step closer to one another.
"Hmm..." Aerith hummed inquisitively. She leaned in, examining her childhood protector as if she couldn't quite trust her eyes. "You definitely look a lot like my Cloud."
"I... I am?" he replied awkwardly, caught well off-guard by the heat of her scrutiny. He had never felt more nervous in his entire life; coming face-to-face with death couldn't even compare.
"You sound like Cloud, too," Aerith added, standing up straight. Those bow-shaped, rose-pink lips spread into a coy smile, then emitted a bubbly kind of giggle. "Didn't I tell you that everything would turn out alright?"
Nodding, he retorted, "You did."
"And did you ever doubt me?"
"Honestly, there was a moment I might have been skeptical."
"Just one moment?"
"Maybe two."
The pair laughed together, while the onlookers shook their heads back and forth, puzzled by their vague exchange of words.
"Do you have any clue what they're talking about?" Yuffie asked, leaning toward Leon, who seemed more impatient than perplexed. His only answer was an apathetic shrug.
Right in the middle of shrugging, the ex-mercenary felt a sharp pang at the side of his ribs. Wincing in pain, he emitted an exhausted, strangled moan, "Ow..."
"Are you okay?" Tifa questioned, immediately at his side.
"Y-Yeah," he replied—the sensation of every strained muscle returned in tenfold. "I took kind of a brutal beating earlier and the journey here was strenuous, but I'll be fine."
"Nothing some rest and relaxation can't cure," Aerith stated, turning to Leon, Yuffie, and Cid. "It's getting late anyway."
"But there's still so much to do," Leon protested anxiously, though the dark circles beneath his eyes agreed that perhaps the time for rest had finally arrived. "The castle needs a myriad of repairs, the heartless are still roaming around, we need-"
"All of that will have to wait until morning," Aerith replied firmly, offering Leon a patient smile. "Yuffie, please help Tifa find an empty bedroom, and the rest of you need to go to your own rooms. And you," she briefly paused, her attention purely on Cloud, "follow me."
Without another word exchanged between the group of friends, save for a few good night's, everyone did as they were instructed and retired to their bedrooms, while Cloud trailed behind Aerith.
"You really took on the role of the matriarch, huh?" Cloud nonchalantly commented.
"I had no choice. Yuffie is still a child herself, Leon is too stubborn to ever slow down, and Cid is, well, Cid. Someone has to make sure they're all cared for," the Flower Girl explained, opening the door to the infirmary. "The supplies here is a little low for now. I'll need to whip up some healing potions, but we can still get by with some more old-fashioned methods."
"Really, you don't have to. I'll be fine," he insisted, despite the cramps and tension in his muscles stating otherwise. As Aerith slightly tilted her head to the side, she gave him one of her signature smiles—one that was subtle and secret, yet warm and free, like a flower blooming in spring. Sighing, Cloud resigned himself to her medical prowess. "Okay, okay."
"I'm going to grab some bandages and alcohol. You should take off your armor," Aerith directed, a hint of bashfulness threaded her tone.
"Sure." When she turned away to gather some items, Cloud did exactly as he was told—stripping off the upper portion of his attire and setting his clothes elsewhere.
"Here is everything I'll need to-"
An audible gasp slipped passed Aerith's lips as she stood there like a marble statue between the closet, where all the supplies were kept, and the infirmary, where Cloud stood half-dressed. He didn't quite comprehend Aerith's sudden state of shock or why she gawked at him, unable to arrive at the conclusion that she had just realized that he was no longer the little boy she used to know. The years had no doubt taken a steep toll on his psyche, stealing his peace of mind, but physically? He was quite the specimen—his muscles had filled out rather nicely, gracing him with a physique that was somewhere between chiseled—defined—and unintimidating. Lanky, even.
"What?" Cloud inquired.
Snapped out of her daze, the florist's curious, forest-colored gaze strayed from the chasms of his abdominal region and landed on his perplexed expression. "It's just that...you weren't kidding before, when you spoke of taking a beating."
Glancing down at his torso, he had finally noticed the extent of abuse his body received. A large splotch of purple covered the right side of his torso, over his rib cage, and there was a long line of red and pink stretched over his stomach. "It feels worse than it looks," the blond jested halfheartedly, sitting back on the nurse's bench.
"Oh, Cloud, you've been through so much," Aerith said, her soft visage plastered in a crestfallen appearance.
He hated it. He couldn't stand to see her upset. "Hey, hey... Don't be sad. I'll be all better in no time. That's why you're helping me, right?"
"Right," the brunette concurred, nodding once. Momentarily, she glanced around the room, searching for anything to help her apply the alcohol to his wounds. Alas, there was nothing. "Hold these for me, will you?"
"Sure," Cloud obliged, taking the bottle and bandages into hi hands.
Raising the hem of her pink, button-up dress, the Flower Girl knitted her eyebrows together in concentration. Then, with all of her might, she tore a chunk right from the bottom. "This should do the trick."
"You didn't have to ruin your dress for me."
"I'd do anything for you."
The feeling inside of his chest was peculiar—not quite unfamiliar, but somehow stranger than what he recalled. As Aerith soaked the end of her makeshift rag into the alcohol and cautiously dabbed the liquid into the wide, pink streak Cerberus left, Cloud pondered how it had been so long since he last used his heart for anything worth while, even longer since he'd listened to it; but now, Aerith's compassionate words to him had sent the organ in an uproar. It quaked like a hydra's paws against the ground, burning like a stick of dynamite, and the disquiet only grew more intense when Aerith's healing hands paused, one finger slowly caressing the faded scar along his back. He prayed that she didn't notice him shiver.
"You're a lot less scrawny than I remember," she commented, continuing to idly stroke her digit to and from.
"You, too," Cloud replied, the majority of his mind distracted by the sweetness of her touch.
Then, before he could even comprehend the weight his actions, his electricity-blue pools flickered to the brunette woman's chest; the twin, medium-sized swells had jostled ever-so slightly when she went to stand in front of him. He had only glanced for a second, maybe even one-fourth of a second, but the damage was done. It was too late. The realization was irreversible—Aerith was a woman, an adult just as he was. An attractive, enticing one.
"Almost done," she announced, firmly wrapping a thick layer of bandages around his torso, just in case there were any fractured or broken bones she couldn't see. "Voila!"
"Thanks," Cloud muttered awkwardly, standing up. "I mean it."
"It's time we get ourselves to bed. You're going to have a long day tomorrow," Aerith answered, resting a hand upon his shoulder.
Confused, Cloud asked, "Why's that?"
"You're going to tell me everything about where you've been and what you've been up to."
. . .
"He seemed like he was a capable enough kid," Cloud concluded, regaling his friends in the castle's courtyard of his adventures elsewhere.
"The keyblade couldn't have chosen anyone better to get the job done," Leon agreed, dumping bits and pieces of broken glass into a trash bag. "He sure left behind a big mess for us to pick up, though."
"I'm bummed everyone got to meet Sora, except me. I feel so left out," Tifa expressed.
While the brave fist-fighter didn't appear very downtrodden by the fact over the missed opportunity, Aerith still reached out to the black-clad woman and laid a reassuring hand over her shoulder. "You'll get a chance to meet Sora someday. I just know it. All of our hearts are connected to his now."
"Mm-hmm," Tifa nodded, smiling. "So, Cloud what was meeting a real hero like?"
For the briefest of seconds, the ex-mercenary grimaced at his friend's ill choice of words, despite their echoing truth. It was plain—he wasn't a hero like Sora or Hercules, or even at all. Cloud just wasn't prepared for the fact to sting so much. Luckily, almost everyone blinked when Cloud's expression betrayed him. "Well, I..."
Shifting away from Tifa, Aerith came to his rescue. "Hey, I have an idea. We should have a party."
"A party?" Leon repeated cynically. "What for?"
"To celebrate coming home!" Yuffie answered enthusiastically. She hadn't really been paying attention to the conversations around her until her ears caught the word 'party.'
"Yes," the Flower Girl confirmed, just as giddily as the younger teenager. "There'll be music, decorations, food, and I'll even make invitations for everyone!"
"Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun!" Tifa exclaimed, already on board with the idea. "I think we all could use a night to just laugh."
"I don't know... There doesn't feel like there's anything real to celebrate," Leon rationalized, forever a stick in the mud. He glanced at Cid for support, who simply shrugged indifferently in response.
"Oh, lighten up, Squall," Yuffie playfully chided him like a younger sister to her older brother. "Like I said before, we're all home, we're all back together, and then there's Sora!" she yelled, listing off the reasons for the gang to throw a huge to-do. "Oh, and the puppies are reunited with Pongo and Perdita, remember?"
Struggling not to snort at the last tidbit of information, Cloud couldn't stifle himself from taunting Leon. "I had no idea you were so sentimental."
Scowling downward at the easily excitable ninja thief as if she gave away some big secret, Leon had to chomp on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything more. Instead, his eyelids closed, his jaw tensed, and he simply ignored Yuffie.
"What do you think?" Tifa questioned Cloud.
Nervously, his sapphire-aquamarine irises fell upon Aerith, the great schemer behind the entire subject, but she glanced elsewhere in turn; she refused to allow the weight of yet another person's expectant gaze to burden his decision—as Leon stared at Cloud, silently pleading with him to reject the proposal, while Tifa and Yuffie hoped for the exact opposite. In all honestly, he wasn't much of a party person. The notion of boisterous music, fatty snacks, and colorful decorations didn't amuse him; there was plenty of clean up to get done between the shattered pots, leftover Heartless, and the aftermath of a party would only serve to add to the chaos.
"I'm with the girls." Cloud answered, upon taking everything into consideration. He could sacrifice a sliver more exertion and effort if it meant making them happy. "Just don't expect me to dance."
. . .
An entire week went by after the group's discussion, one packed with restoration and party planning. Cloud did his best to assist everyone with their tasks, which included completing normal, daily chores, in the hopes to capture the simple luxury of routine—that feeling like he was really home. But whenever he was settled in his room, taking a break from the hustle and bustle around Hollow Bastion, he was always left to wonder why he couldn't shake the restlessness from his arms and legs. Maybe he wasn't used to having friends anymore, having an actual bedroom,or even having time to relax; maybe it was weird to think, but he missed the Underworld's pandemonium.
At the sound of knocking on the opposite side of the door, his train of thought strayed off the track. Reluctantly, he removed himself from bed and opened the door.
"Hey," Tifa greeted him, waving one hand.
"Hi," he muttered back.
"The party is about to start soon and I was wondering if you wanted to walk down to the courtyard together?"
"Sure."
Closing the door behind him, Cloud began strolling along with Tifa, just as she'd hoped.
"You're looking pretty sharp," Tifa complimented him, indicating to his slightly wrinkled party attire, consisting of blue slacks, a matching vest, and a white button-up dress shirt."But the real question is: how do I look?"
Chuckling softly at her display of confidence, he quickly scanned her outfit up and down. It was hard for him to be impressed by any sort of fashion, but he thought she looked as she always did—nice. "Pretty. But you always look pretty."
Her steps faltered somewhat in reaction to his compliment. The nonchalant tone of his statement proved that he'd meant it, too. "Thanks. So, how are you adjusting to Hollow Bastion. It's weird to be back, right?"
"Yeah," the blond man agreed, expelling a frustrated sigh. "I know that I'm finally where I'm supposed to be, but I don't feel like I belong."
"Give it some time. It's only been a week," the raven-haired woman gently advised him, chipperly nudging him with her elbow. They continued their discussion while they ventured into the courtyard, with Cloud confiding in Tifa about his vague feelings of mild displacement and her attempting to rationalize his anxieties. "Don't rush yourself to figure out everything all at once. We're all feeling out of sorts, but..." She trailed off as soon as she realized the futility of finishing the sentence. About five seconds ago, Cloud had ceased listening.
Suddenly, his feet were stuck to one spot on the ground as if cemented, as his cyan gaze spotted Aerith amongst the rest of their friends. She was captivating in a pink-and-white checkered dress, her porcelain skin aglow in the alabaster fairy lights decorated over the surrounding balconies. Spellbound by her effortless beauty, Cloud was entranced by her, his attraction to her displayed all over his face—his jaw slightly ajar, his pupils dilated, his breath imprisoned in his lungs, and his stomach? It fluttered. Or maybe that was his heart.
Either way, Tifa figured it was pointless to demand his attention and she couldn't force herself to act out in offense, not when her best friend seemed happy.
"Hey, you two!" the maiden greeted them in a cheery disposition. However, her eyes seemed to exist on Cloud alone. For him alone. "Both of you look great."
"Thanks," Tifa replied, her discomfort exponentially increasing as the two continued to make gaga eyes at one another. "Well, I see a snack platter with my name on it. See ya." And with that, she'd made herself scarce.
"I can't believe you dressed up for the occasion," Aerith went on, indicating to Cloud's impressive ensemble. "You look very handsome, Cloud."
Compliment her back, he mentally scolded himself, though his tongue swelled in defiance. "I, uh... You look... I mean... Oh, boy."
With her cheeks pinkening, Aerith giggled at his speechlessness. "Thank you."
"Y-Yeah."
"Here. Come with me." Carefully, she took Cloud by the hand and guided him toward the center of the courtyard, away from the small crowd of party-goers and bright lights, but just within earshot of the music. Then, she linked both of his hands around her waist.
"Wh-Wh-What are you doing?" Cloud queried nervously, his heart on the verge of bursting out through his chest.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" she responded, encircling her arms above his shoulders.
"It looks like you're trying to get me to dance." And yet, despite his verbal protests, he made no moves to escape the decreasing proximity between them.
"I'm not exactly asking you to dance, just to sort of sway with me," Aerith quipped. "Is that really too much to ask for."
"I guess not." No one was paying them any mind anyway.
"There you go," Aerith encouraged him, when he finally picked up his feet to sway to the orchestral music echoing in the distance. "I missed you, Cloud."
"I...missed you, too." The truth was difficult for him to admit, to lay his feelings out there so precariously.
"Good." Sighing absentmindedly to herself, the brunette's shell-pink lips curved into a smile so bright that it could have passed for Kingdom Hearts itself. "I was afraid you might have forgotten me after all these years."
Forgotten her? No. Never. In truth, not a single day had ever slipped by where he hadn't thought of her; he was never positive if that feeling was mutual. But actual words failed him. The best he could offer in subsequence was, "No. I never forgot about you, Aerith."
"I never forgot you," she confessed sincerely, almost as though there was nothing to lose or to gain by simply being honest. "I never lost hope either. I knew we'd see each other again."
Now that was a sentiment wasn't quite mutual. Up until the Keyblade Wielder arrived, he'd forgotten what it was like to feel any semblance of hope or expect anything good to happen. Every day prior served as torment— the kind of dehumanizing, debilitating turmoil that slowly ebbed away his ambitions, eclipsing the light at the end of the tunnel. The Underworld was a barbarous place, fore the stench of rot, despair, and indifference pervaded every nook, cranny, and crevice while the demon-like God of the Dead plotted his own nephew's demise—though Cloud decided it was better not to hold it again Hades, since he was more of a prisoner to this slice of Hell than anyone; the Coliseum, somehow, was even crueler. People jeered as weapons clashed, demanding that heroes fight strictly for their entertainment. Perhaps it was because Cloud possessed no personal comprehension of the subject, but he saw no heroism in that. Still, he played his role through and through, day after day, and showed no preferences for heroism or villainy. All he wanted was to survive; all he wanted was Hades to keep his end of the bargain. Well... There were few things Cloud actually wanted, but the audacity of holding out hope was another story. At some point in the past nine years, Cloud stopped optimistically dreaming about returning to Hollow Bastion and reuniting with the people who meant everything to him.
Even now, he was terrified to let it all sink in—to let any of it feel real.
"You'll eventually adjust, too," she stated reassuringly, deciphering the melancholy tone in his thoughts through his facial expressions—the glum and anxious way his cerulean irises shifted away in shame. "None of us are children anymore. Things will never be the same again, and we'll have to get used to a new normal. But even the worst of times can't be as bad as they feel—not as long as we have each other. That's what's most important, I think. It's not about the settings or backdrop. It's about the people we choose to let into our lives. We're not home, because this is where we were grew up. We're... I'm home, because the people I love are here. Because you're here, Cloud... I would never want you to feel like I take you for granted."
"Aerith," Cloud murmured, startled by the utter emotion twinkling in the depths of those emerald eyes.
Her passion resounded off the walls of his heart, accelerating the deliciously nervous pounding inside of his chest. In revolution of his mind's discrepancies, fears, and trauma, his heart believed Aerith's statement. They weren't empty platitudes to him, nor were they gentle words to merely soothe his worries. Aerith meant every last syllable she spoke. Maybe she was right... Maybe Cloud was wrong for trying to belong in a place, and not with his friends.
For a second—just one, measly, little second—he didn't feel like he was about to the wake up from a dream. A really good dream. In fact, even as his eyelids began to flutter closed—his lips aching to meet hers under the cloak of night—his body was more awake, aware, and energetic than ever. There was a faint whisper of certainty inside of his head, encouraging him to go for it, telling him that she was just as overtaken by the moment as he was; the sweet, cool sensation of her breath rolling against his breath was proof enough of that.
But then, the music stopped.
"Damn it. Stupid radio," Yuffie griped, clenching her teeth at the sound of the white noise blaring through the speakers. "Hey, Aerith! Can you... Where are you?"
Arching an eyebrow at her dance partner, Aerith gave his cheek a fleeting kiss before dashing off to assist the young ninja warrior. "Coming, Yuffie!"
. . .
The rest of the evening was spent fairly well, with the group of friends trading humorous stories of their days together, before the stars blinked out, and stories of their days apart. Even Squall was in higher spirits as they laughed into all hours of the night—taste-testing Scrooge McDuck's batches of sea salt ice cream, dancing, and enjoying each others company.
Is this what the new normal is going to feel like? The once proud gladiator wondered to himself much later that night when the soiree had drawn to a close and everyone had adjourned to their sleeping quarters, as the wee hours of tomorrow crept up on him. In spite of his trepidation, he managed to loosen up and get into the swing of the part. Still, he couldn't shake the worries, even now, though they'd eased since his conversation with Aerith—since gazing upon the contagious hope in her eyes.
He came close to shivering just then at the recollection of their lips nearing—almost, but not quite—just before he heard the soft knock at the door. Cloud got up to answer it, only to be left speechless for the second time that night. Aerith stood on the opposite side of the threshold in a seafoam-green nightgown, the fit not dissimilar to her usual, pink dress, though the material was more snug against her slim figure, especially around her hips. Her hair wasn't in its normal configuration of twin-braids and her signature red ribbon was nowhere to be found. Rather, Aerith's long, long tendrils of tawny and teak were loose around her shoulders, wild and free. He had never seen such an angelic vision in his entire life. But Cloud wasn't the only one who was tongue-tied suddenly. Aerith's visage held a look of plain determination a second ago, but her bravery melted into goo at the sight of him. Her own butterflies had finally caught up to her. Granted, the fact that his shirt was hung up in a closet and not currently on his person didn't help matters.
"I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, Cloud," Aerith apologized bashfully, her cheeks enveloped in a cherry flame. "I know you were probably sleeping, but I-"
"You're not disturbing me," Cloud stated, mentally thanking his vocal chords for actually cooperating. "Come on."
"Thank you." She waited no time in accepting his invitation, despite the onslaught of nerves trapped in the pit of her stomach.
"What's up? Is something wrong?" Cloud queried, his fair-haired eyebrows angled in concern.
"I missed you, Cloud, all those years you were gone. Now, you're right in front of me and I get to see you every day, but I still miss you," the Flower Girl elucidated, trembles, cracks, and aches littered through her words.
"I still miss you, too," he admitted, the volume of his voice scarcely audible over his heart's loud drumming.
"Right..."
At the exact, same instance Aerith opened her arms out wide and extended them for Cloud, he was mirroring her actions—engulfing her petite frame in the bittersweet tangibility of his warm and safe embrace. Simultaneously, Aerith threaded her fingers through the thick, corn-yellow terrain of Cloud's scalp, gently scratching the whites of nails over his scalp, while his greedy hands dug into her hips. No space was left betwixt their bodies, nor their lips. Just like magic, their mouths met over and over again, and Cloud's vexations dissipated—evaporated into thin air, until there was nothing left of his emotions, save for the starvation building inside of his innermost being and, perhaps, love. Suddenly encased in a sensation of the most dulcet heat when the mage emitted a melodic mewl, right as his curios tongue experimentally slithered past the entrance of her mouth. Their desires fed into each others, resonating back and forth, and eventually turned their gentle kisses into urgent, feverish ones.
It was only a matter of time before they ended up on his bed, with Aerith comfortably secured between Cloud and the mattress.
Inevitably, Cloud's lips departed from hers—feathering them down her right cheek, her jawline, and then the side of her neck, extracting a light hum from her dazed voice. Gingerly, with his teeth pinching her bare skin, he sucked at her neck, adoring the way she reacted so vocally, though there was an abundance of merit in her physical response as well—when she repeatedly attempted to grind her center against his. Aerith was making it quite difficult for Cloud to maintain his sanity; each time she rolled her hips and punctuated the gyrations with a sensation caress of her pussy, guarded only by a thin layer of easily shredded fabric, over his throbbing staff, he had to be careful not to grit his teeth against her skin, lest he wound the precious Flower Girl.
Pulling away before Cloud could topple over the edge of self-control, his sapphire orbs tried to subside their hunger and a pressed a solemn gaze upon her visage. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she answered, ready to take that step with him.
"Are you sure?" he questioned once more.
With her mocha-colored locks chaotically draped all over the surface of his pillow and her bright, jade irises warmly fixed on his face, Aerith delicately placed one hand against his cheek and swept her thumb to and from beneath his eyelashes. "I want to be close to you, Cloud, the closest I can possibly be," she confirmed. "Just... go slowly, okay? Let's take our time."
Nodding at her request, the hardened structure of Cloud's facial features liquefied into pure affection, when it finally registered to him what exactly Aerith wanted—or rather, why she wanted it.
Slowly, the two peeled off the rest of their clothing—Cloud with his blue boxers and Aerith with her nightgown and panties, everything ended up on the floor. Now, they were both naked, every inch of their flesh—every beauty mark, every blemish, every scar, every imperfection—exposed for the other to examine.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Cloud," Aerith whispered, roaming a tantalizing fingernail across the faded, beige scar along the left side of his hip. She giggled as his erection flexed in response, stating his pleasure for him.
"I was just thinking the same thing about you," Cloud replied, scanning his eyes down her body—mesmerized by the supple protrusions of her chest, how perky, yet soft her breasts looked without a stitch of clothing to shield them from his curious gaze, the hourglass shape of her midsection... Her beauty was artistic—each line, each color, each body part was sculpted from the most skilled hands. He could have easily spent eternity memorizing Aerith's gorgeous figure, but there were other things he wanted to try.
As he opened his mouth to ask, she was already giving him permission. "Touch me, Cloud... Please..."
And so, he did just that.
His hands explored wherever they pleased—from the sublime, pliable mounds of her lily-white breasts, to the pink dollops sitting atop her areolae. Her skin was marble-smooth and petal-soft, and deliciously responsive. If Cloud dared to so much as brush his thumbs over Aerith's solidified nipples—to toy with their intriguing mass—his actions were met with soft whines of gratitude. It was clear to Cloud that Aerith, indeed, enjoyed the tender caress of his touch, but the surprising part came when Aerith mewled his name as he pressed his fingertips into her sensitive flesh just the tiniest bit harder. Granted, perhaps, the both of them should have been more considerate of the neighboring rooms—perhaps they should have feared possibly waking one of their friends up from a wonderful dream—but the thought never once crossed either of their minds. Rather, Cloud did everything in his power to earn Aerith's groans of approval—even vacuuming her left breast into the center of his mouth.
Allowing his tongue to delicately lick at the hardened nub of of her nipple, the ex-mercenary could almost taste the eccentric, yet delicate flavor of precious sunlight and earth from her skin, fore she had never been the type to deny a gorgeous day outside. Aerith's back arched upward, as though she was trying to sail her breast deeper into his mouth—no. Not deeper. Harder. Something in which Cloud was happy to oblige—pressing mouth around Aerith's lithesome bosom with a haphazard force, and pinched her nipple betwixt his teeth, before eventually switching to the right one and performing the same features all over again. Sweet Zeus, he absolutely adored the sounds streaming from Aerith's voice—from the titillating ring of his own name to the incomprehensible, desperate wails.
Then, his adept digits couldn't keep themselves from scaling down—wondering how go about intensifying the urgency of her body. After all, she was practically blanketed in a strawberry-colored blush, and her pupils came dangerously close to enveloping the emerald-green of her irises. How much more would it take to push her over the edge, far passed the point of merely wanting him? Was it possible for Cloud to elicit a reaction of need from Aerith? Did he even really have the heart to make Aerith beg for him...? To plead with him to finally fill her greedy, sopping center until she was brimming with love juices? To make her scream out something along the lines of, "Take me, Cloud! I'm all yours! Just take me!" Hmm... Cloud opted not to act like such a cruel lover. At least not for their first time.
All the while, the florist whimpered his name and continuously combed her fingers through his field of sand-colored hair with one hand, using her other hand to stroke his member. "Is-Is this okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?" she inquired in between mouse-like squeaks.
Lightheartedly chuckling, Cloud nodded. "No, you're not hurting me, but don't be afraid to squeeze a little harder."
Complying with his instructions, Aerith's grip around his erection narrowed—her ministrations vigorous, yet slow. It didn't take Aerith long at all to discover the perfect rhythm to make Cloud clench his teeth together in excitement. Repeatedly, she pumped her tight fist up and down the entire length of his cock. Moreover, she quickly figured out that whenever she swayed her thumb to and from against the frenulum, was what he enjoyed best. The stimulation was like nothing he had ever felt—though he was confident more sensations along those lines wouldn't take long become the best—somewhere between ticklish and... Well, amazing.
Every so often, his phallus flexed in response to the talented motions of Aerith's hands. Then, a colorless drop of liquid oozed from the very tip of Cloud's erection. The small droplet of pre-seed seemed to catch Aerith off-guard, as her jade-green orbs stared at it for the longest time. Cloud's own eyes of cyan widened when he saw Aerith's pink tongue snake between her lips, then experimentally swipe over the cockhead to clean him up. It lasted for less than a second, but he had felt the effulgent warmth of her breath and the vivid sensation of her tongue flicker like a flame against his sex. It was almost more than he could take. However, Aerith was determined to have things escalate from there—enveloping the corona of her lover's staff into her mouth, while continuing to stroke the rest of his length. Her tongue mimicked the prior motions of her thumb all over the swollen helmet of his genitalia—swirling it against his frenulum, until his glands spat out more lubricant over her taste buds.
"Like that?" Aerith queried, teasingly pealing her mouth away.
Biting back a groan, Cloud responded, "Y-Y-Yeah. Exactly like that."
Soon, it was his turn again to elicit more noises from the minx's sultry voice. Getting his head back in the game, the tips of Cloud's digits gingerly, yet methodically rubbed the beating button between her legs. With her chest arched high and air ballooning in her lungs, Aerith's fingernails dug into Cloud's bed sheets, as though to hang on for dear, sweet life. The sweet, addicting tension betwixt her legs doubled with each stroke of Cloud's fingers over her clitoris—her body beseechingly anticipating more. A proud, relieved semi-grin graced one side of his mouth as her hips jerked upward of their own freewill, as though she'd been electrocuted. Over and over, Cloud repeated the motions, causing Aerith to squeeze herself around his hand, her sex drooling with copious need. Each breath skipped built up inside of her lungs until they were practically sizzling from the heat, desperate for release. And while Cloud's exterior may have been course and rude, he was soft underneath, enslaved to her whims—gifting her release. Aerith's body writhed and trembled as his hand became soaked in slick.
Again, his mouth latched onto the side of her neck before gliding two fingers deep into her squirming opening. Admittedly, Cloud was completely unrehearsed for this sort of thing—just as much as Aerith was—but he was careful not to idly stab at her insides all willy nilly, and utilized her first orgasm as a means to stretch and ease the natural resistance within her body.
"How does that feel?" Cloud asked, curiously hooking his fingers just-so, on a quest to locate that elusive, mysterious g-spot.
"Good," Aerith retorted eagerly, at last able to catch her breath as her climax subsided, "but I want more. I want to feel you, Cloud."
"It's going to hurt," the would-be gladiator sullenly cautioned. "It's still not to late to change-."
"My mind has already been made up," she interjected. Albeit nervously, Aerith invitingly parted her legs and brushed away his hand.
Affectionately, Cloud's lips gave Aerith's forehead a kiss, before he slightly shifted himself up so that he was kneeling in front of her on the bed. Then,he aligned his rock-hard wood against the erotic gushing of her center—collecting the warm, wet dew of her sex upon himself in order to safely lubricate his inevitable entry. From Aerith's clitoris, all the way down to the pucker of her channel, Cloud dragged his staff along her opal-pink folds—accidentally teasing himself in the process. The liquid heat caked over her snatch was undeniably alluring, the slippery friction making his rod pulsate and spill with precum. And then, Cloud finally started by inserting himself inside of her—with the utmost care and precision, as if he was attempting to diffuse a bomb. Although neither of them realized it, they both had begun to hold their breaths—as Aerith draped her ankles over Cloud's shoulders. It felt like an eternity had gone by before Cloud had sunk every last inch of his member within her tight confines, piercing through the barrier leading to her cervix. God, every fiber of his being was set ablaze in wonderment at the narrow caress of Aerith's pink tunnel. No other sensation could ever compare; no other means of pleasure could ever surpass this.
Of course, Aerith proved that thought wrong mere seconds later. At last expelling an inaudible breath, she slowly and methodically raised her pelvis to grind her walls around him—overcoming any pain she might have experienced. Cloud's hips started moving in sync with hers—his thrusts deep, hard, and powerful, yet rhythmic and paced. The pair moaned out loud together—Aerith whimpering and mewling, and Cloud grunting and sighing at a slightly lower volume—as they enjoyment increased with every single thrust.
"Fuck!" the sweet and innocent Flower Girl scream, digging her fingertips into the supple, plump flesh of Cloud's buttocks as though she meant to hold on for dear life. "Cloud, Cloud! Right there!Yes, that feels so fucking amazing!"
Cloud came dangerously close to faltering at the breathy shrieks of Aerith's profanity, flabbergasted how someone so angelic could utter a word so brash. It was sexy... The extremism of her statements encouraged him to move even faster, just so he could hear her say more. His body understood and empathized with the brunette woman's verbal desperation, his skin radiating with a euphoric need. Then, the Flower Girl's hand reached out for Cloud's; instinctively, his fingers splayed, then intertwined through hers, their tangled hands dangling off the side of the bed. It was a mystery to him how something so simple, something as wholesome as hand-holding, could be so simultaneously, unbelievably erotic. As an electric shiver speared down Cloud's spine, goosebumps forming along his arms and legs, as he kissed Aerith again. All sense of time and reason was lost to the both of them—while the sky just outside the blond man's window went from indigo to tangerine.
At last, every image converged, blurring together, as the two reached climax; Aerith, however, was the first one to reach the pinnacle of their consummation, the sensational stirring of her hips as galaxies exploded inside of her head. Granted, Cloud was mere seconds behind her—the insistent coaxing of her vaginal walls tempting him into sweet oblivion. Fortunately, he was tactful enough to extract his cock from Aerith's quivering honeyhole in the nick of time, and spilled the contents of his elation all over her slim, naked stomach. Still, Aerith didn't seem too appreciative over the loss of physical contact, her lower body jolting in protest.
Chuckling softly, Cloud shook his head and examined the sight in front of him—white ropes messily splattered all over her belly. "Was that okay?"
"Mmm," Aerith hummed in reply, stricken by a bolt of sudden exhaustion. "Yeah... Much, much, much better than okay."
"Shouldn't we get you cleaned up?" questioned Cloud upon glimpsing the gruesome scene coated against her inner thighs. "Are you in pain?"
Refusing to open her eyelids, Aerith tiredly shook her head from side-to-side. "It stings a little, but just a little."
"Are you sure?"
"Mm-hmm."
And with that, Cloud helped Aerith clean herself up—running a warm, wet cloth between the tender core of her legs—and the two slept the rest of the day away. Her heart is my home.