A/N: NO! I haven't forgotten this fic! ?

And I do apologize for the delay. I've been attempting to get it all finished before I posted another chapter. Fair warning, it's currently hovering at 56 chapters. However, it may be more since I'm considering splitting up some chapters to allow the emotional ones to stand alone. Now I'm working on the editing process, so they should come slow and steady. ?

Please let me know if I've made mistakes.

Chapter 35

Flavor

εγλLate August 0014

Vincent marked the pulse of corrupted cells that usually roused him from every sleep. The buzz had faded, almost waned to nothing in this serenity he'd discovered. Decades of sadness withdrew overnight, replaced with a happiness he thought forbidden to him.

He felt no impulse to dwell on the remnants of his tortured past. Not when he could enjoy the beauty of the present.

This moment he would memorize.

Her scent tickled his nose, and his yawn spread into an involuntary smile. Tifa laid on her side, skin aglow in the meager sunlight filtering through the curtains. The sheets had long been forgotten in the un-sleepful night. He took her in—every toned inch, every pale scar.

He committed a bare leg to memory in a slow recording as his eyes traveled the length of her finely muscled flesh. He thought of opening the window if only to glimpse that skin pebbling from a cool breeze. He could kiss the warmth back into her—and maybe earn a moan if he parted those thighs and nestled his tongue between them.

But he didn't want to wake her. Not just yet. He'd kept her awake most of the night, quenching his thirst from too long celibacy. She fell asleep on his chest, so exhausted she couldn't even claim a side of the bed as her own.

Tifa shifted and sleepily plunged a leg between his. Vincent considered himself a disciplined man, but this was too tempting.

He smoothed a hand down her thigh, circling fingertips from her hip to the back of her knee. Thought he might be salivating at the feeling of her silky skin. How did he have the strength to be near her in years past without falling into a shameful rut? Feeling her and looking at her had him on the brink of collapse.

Lips eventually replaced his fingertips, but the feathered kisses he trailed to her waist weren't enough. He wanted to claim more until her taste was all he knew. First with an innocent lick, then a light nip of his teeth.

A sleepy, muffled giggle erupted as she stirred. "You always wake up this early?"

"Mm," he hummed into the valley between her breasts, eyes shuttering when she threaded fingers through his hair. "Never to such a sight in my bed."

She tucked her thigh further between his legs and tilted her pelvis to rub her sex against him. Such sweet, blissful torture. He clutched her backside, drawing her nearer, taking the advantage to brush against her in a scandalous show of his first thoughts of the morning.

"We're not leaving this room."

"No objections from me," she said and dragged a foot against his hip, kindling his growing lust at the wide, inviting spread of her thighs. His groin throbbed. Tifa was all passion and softness and affection—all the feminine delights he'd denied himself for too long.

Vincent gathered her beneath him, her squeal eliciting a licentious growl from his belly. Gods, she couldn't know what she did to him. What this meant, how this felt to his starved, sexual appetite.

He wanted to christen the morning with lovemaking, worship her skin and hear blessings in her soft sighs. The long legs she wrapped around his waist felt like home. There wasn't a part of him unaffected when a shivered sigh tickled his collarbone and tingling goosepimples rose along his chest and sent shockwaves to his loins when she playfully nipped at his flesh.

It had to be now. He nestled into her. Finally. Bliss. Her warmth. Her slick. She furled around him, and sublime delight ripped at his senses.

Breaths mingled together in unhurried movements. And languid touches, gripping and kneading into every naked inch, heated skin against skin, covering them both in a thin sheen of sweat. Tifa's body responded with ever-increasing wriggling movements. She liked the leisure grind as much as the hard crash. He felt he could do no wrong in this shared, coital feast.

Clenching every muscle, he fought hard against that rising tidal wave time and again. It swelled low, burned hot, then ebbed until he thought it safe to press harder. And she danced those hips beneath him, circling with his deep slide, rolling against his hard thrusts.

And every time he heard her utter 'ooh,' it nearly broke him. He gnashed his teeth, strangling off that precipice before things ended too soon. His body quivered at the difficult control until they eased into a harmonious rhythm. She moaned again at the slow, measured friction.

Vincent could sense her mounting orgasm and ended his struggle. He let animalistic motion take control of his muscles to thrust and pull and drive and retreat over and over to the intensifying pressure. She coiled and uncoiled, writhing to his rhythm and driving him mad with want.

His name cried out from her lips. And when she fluttered around him, his body answered, hips jerking on instinct alone.

Vincent couldn't stop himself. His eyes widened when the corrupted cells gave a sudden jolt but receded as soon as the flare flashed in his sternum. It drove a shockwave of orgasmic intensity to his loins. The pleasure swallowed him whole. His entire body stiffened with the focused energy he felt himself spill into her. He let out an embarrassing groan, surprising even to his own ears, before he collapsed, closing his mouth over her neck to stop his voice from echoing through the room.

He stayed sheltered inside her. Vincent thought he'd never come down from this high, laying frozen atop her, unusually breathless, with no good reason to move. If death claimed him now, he'd find a willing victim, incapable of defense as a tranquil paralysis gripped his body.

Tifa stilled too, and he thought she might've fallen back asleep if not for the delicate fingers tracing random shapes over his dampened skin.

"I could wake up like this every morning," she moaned, stretching an arm overhead. Her stomach vibrated with an evil growl as she curled back around him.

"Hungry?" he asked, realizing she'd hardly touched her dinner last night. Guess this ecstasy would have to be short-lived.

"A little," she admitted. "But I don't want to move from this spot." She grazed her lips over his ear but groaned as he began to extricate himself. He grinned at the pout on her pretty face.

"Don't move." He kissed her shoulder as he rose from the bed. "I'll be back in 10 with breakfast."

Impatient for Vincent's breakfast-in-bed offer, Tifa headed downstairs, keen to the smell of burning food.

The sheet draped around her shoulders dragged across the floor, sweeping up minute dust left in her wake. She eyed Vincent at the stove, wary of whatever he stirred but equally distracted at his domestic state. Chest bare, feet bare, and dark leathers clinging to narrow hips, he tended a smoking frying pan with frenetic energy.

"Can I help?" she asked, scooting herself onto a barstool and adjusting her makeshift robe.

Vincent turned with the pan in hand. "The eggs are a loss," he said dolefully, showing her the charred remains of his scrambled efforts.

The tea kettle whistled, and Tifa brightened at the sound. "That sounds like a win! Seems like the water cooked fine," she teased, giving him a wink. He returned a mock scowl and tossed his pitiful meal into the sink.

He fished two cups from the cupboard, along with a small box printed with a picture of a tropical flower and the local language of the southern continent. Tifa didn't recognize the brand. "Where did you find this?"

"Mideel," he replied as he poured the hot water. The crushed leaves turned the liquid jade green as he passed her the drink but made no move to make one for himself.

Instead, Vincent reached into a drawer and grabbed a plain white box with no lettering or distinction and removed a strange tea from it. He dropped the packet into his cup and filled it to the brim. The water turned the same dark hue as brewed coffee, and, if she had to guess, it would taste just as bitter. A few silent minutes ticked by as Tifa steeped her own while Vincent did the same. Aromas permeated the air, his smelling more medicinal compared to the organic scent of hers. Her stomach growled again as she lifted the cup to her lips.

"How's your tea?" he asked.

She sipped and raised her eyes with thoughtful critique. "Mm—a little sweeter than my usual, but perfect for morning."

"What's your usual flavor?"

"Green or jasmine." Her mouth curled up one side, and she turned a coy shoulder. "But—now you're my flavor." She bit her lip as a crooked smile answered her. Teasing Vincent would never grow tiresome.

He leaned into her ear and pinched her waist. "Such a flirt," he murmured and claimed the stool beside her.

Tifa went for the small non-descript box with packets of Vincent's strange tea. "And what's this one?"

Vincent swiped it from her hands, startling her before she realized he'd moved and hid it inside the cupboard. He straightened, eyes rueful as he deflected her question. "I need something stronger. This—uh—is a non-traditional chai, specially made." He laced fingers through hers with one hand, rubbing his thumb along her wrist as he reached for his cup with the other. An apology for his abrupt action. "Was yours too sweet?"

"Not at all," she replied. The pharmaceutical aroma from his cup was distinctive, but now it triggered a distant, unpleasant memory.

Many years had passed since she last smelled the strong, fume-like odor. It reminded her of the remedy used to reduce the effects of Mako poisoning. A doctor had prescribed it to Cloud after they'd found him catatonic in a Mideel hospital following his tumble into the Lifestream.

Tifa pressed her lips to Vincent's palm, deciding not to pressure him to reveal whatever secret lay in his weird tea preference. No need to turn into a nag. But it was curious.

"Any plans for today?" he asked, taking a drink as she kissed his knuckles.

"Nothing particular." She shrugged. "The girls are scheduled to tend the bar this weekend. With school starting, they'll need the money. And—the kids are with Barret. So—"

"So? That means—" He leaned in for a kiss. "You're free to have dinner with me again? Maybe spend the whole day?" His deep, sultry voice turned her lady parts into butter.

"I am, indeed," she replied, kissing him back with her hands on his face. "Wait—" She pulled back, and he smiled into her eyes. "Don't you have to work? I thought WRO never took a day off."

"It's inadvisable, too much work, not enough time. But no one's tracking my hours." A lopsided grin danced across his face again.

"I'm surprised you and Pete haven't moved into Deepground yet." She wondered why he'd never asked her or Cloud to accompany them back into the underground. But she supposed Reeve didn't think the extra muscle necessary. "What about that scientist? Any leads where he might've disappeared?"

"Hm, Brukho." His face turned grim. "No traces so far. But it's one of my assignments." His eyes turned devious. "One of my—classified-assignments." He kissed her nose.

Tifa laughed. "Only until Reeve begs me and Cloud to help again."

"He could have the whole of ShinRa's leftovers cleared in a week."

"Well," she dragged out the word. "How about I go with you on one of your searches?"

"Need a job?"

"Reeve would salivate if I hinted at that," she laughed.

"It's true."

Another thought occurred to her. "Why doesn't Yuffie go with you?" she asked. "I would think finding that guy was Reeve's highest priority."

"It's one of them," Vincent said. "We're culling ShinRa's research; that's one priority task. And Yuffie will soon be focused on solving the mystery behind the meds sent to the pregnant girl in Wutai. Her father insists."

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that." Tifa felt a little regretful. She'd focused all her worry on her friends, forgetting the women who'd paid the ultimate price for their abnormal pregnancy. "I'm surprised Reeve hasn't turned the place over solving that one. Or make everyone in the labs work 24/7 with everything hinging on them."

"Reeve isn't a slave driver, though I doubt Shalua or Shelke are enjoying any rest," he said, smirking as he shook his head. "They spend all their time in the labs."

"I wonder if it has something to do with Cloud," she mused.

He wrapped his hands around her arms. "Cloud doesn't mention it?" He canted his head, a look of mild concern etching into his brow.

"Hm—well," she started, shrugging as she considered what she knew. "He said they were studying the effects of mako poisoning. Why it hits some people so hard—like Cloud. Is that right?"

A nod answered her as he reached for his tea again. "Shalua is leading that research, though I don't know the details." He set his cup on the counter after a sip. "Her sister is on a different track. She's trying to cure herself."

Tifa's eyes widened. "Really?" Shelke had always seemed resigned to her situation. "Is she having any luck?"

"That's the hope," he said. He gave her an assessing look before continuing, "I'm following her progress. It—interests me to know the results." Vincent linked his fingers in hers again, a sad expression coming over his face as he turned contemplative.

Tifa let the silence hang. If Shelke could cure herself, the perpetually child-sized woman would start to age again. And if she could restart her biological clock after ShinRa's experiments permanently damaged her body's aging process—that means Vincent could possibly—

She didn't want to think of the possibility of Vincent and more science experiments. Still, she knew, no doubt, that he'd considered it, too. If they could help Shelke—

Vincent turned his eyes back to hers, and she saw the truth there, no other attempts from him to conceal what he knew she knew. Tifa swallowed and tried to mask her emotions, but it was too late. He saw her fear, so she cleared her throat. "Um—are you sure it's safe?"

He brought her fingers to his lips. "Don't worry. This isn't ShinRa."

"Right," she whispered. Shelke had nothing to fear; good hands were taking care of her with good intent. Reeve and Rayleigh were already doing everything possible to save women suffering from SOLDIER pregnancies. It would be no different for Shelke—or anyone else needing care and possible relief from their afflictions. "It's not ShinRa. "Shelke is in good hands." Tifa swallowed again. "Molly, too." ShinRa would have them all caged, eager to run tests and whisk babies away from their mothers for cruel intentions.

"I think your friend is doing better than most," he said, latching on to the slight subject change.

Her eyes met his. Whatever these new experiments were involving him, he didn't want to share with her just yet any more than the tea. She would have to wait until he was ready to tell her.

"That's true," Tifa agreed, letting a sigh drag. "And she thinks she'll have the baby soon. I think Cissnei won't be long after. Seems early, but I guess these aren't normal pregnancies."

"You're more worried than you need to be," he replied. "Rayleigh's team has plenty of research at their disposal. And I'll be going after more in a couple of days."

"Another mission? Are you taking Pete along?"

"More like an interview," he said. "I'll be heading to Wutai with the Turks to gather more information from one of the last scientists who worked in Nibelheim during the Jenova project. Just me going this time, with Elena."

Tifa sulked. Just when they'd started their relationship, he would leave for a few days. She felt cursed.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Vincent pulled it out and smirked. "Duty calls already," he said, answering his message with a few quick taps onto the screen.

Her shoulders drooped with immense disappointment. "Don't tell me you have to leave now." She grabbed his arms and pulled him closer, wanting to forget the depressing turn in their conversation and get back to romantic endeavors. He chuckled into her hair, and Tifa shivered at the tingles that flooded down her belly, settling low and reigniting her desire.

"No, not until the middle of the week."

"What a relief!" She let the sheet drop to the floor, ignoring her angry tummy when it grumbled again.

Vincent's eyes lit up as he scanned her naked form perched on the stool. He slid his hands under her knees, lifting her legs up as she tugged at the drawstring to his pants. When she freed him, he moaned into her mouth.

"Any objections to delaying brunch?" she asked, flexing her legs to guide him closer still.

He shook his head and lifted her, pressing her back into the counter. "None."

Tifa didn't go home that day. Or even later that night. She lost count of the number of times they seduced each other, desperate to make up for time spent in unrequited love.