Here we are, finally at the final chapter Thanks for sticking with me throughout this multi-year story; your support of kudos comments has meant the world 🌸
And as always, big thank you to silver-doe287 for editing the chapter. Literally she's edited every single chapter starting in 2020, so please visit her page and read some of her amazing fics
Enjoy!
Cloud wasn't sure how long they had ridden for. Too long, really. When they finally found a small, ruined house and dismounted, his legs— no longer as accustomed to riding as he used to be— were stiff, sore, and trembled beneath him like jelly as he helped Tifa dismount too.
"We'll be safe here," he managed, his voice rasping from a month of disuse. A whole month. His mind skittered away from the realization, away from the month spent in the lonely dark, and yet that the month spent in the cell was a kindness compared to the many months prior. At least he hadn't been asked to kill anyone, and even if he was the one slotted to be killed, well– that was only justice, wasn't it?
A hand on his cheek startled him out of his thoughts, and he lowered his gaze to see Tifa looking up at him with a small furrow between her brows. "You okay?"
Cloud blinked down at her. "I'm," he started, but the rest of the sentence– I'm okay– snagged in his throat like barbed wire on a sleeve. The moment to respond came and went, leaving Tifa's expression tightening the longer he stayed silent. Finally, he turned away. "Let's just go inside."
There was a pause, then he heard Tifa sigh and murmur, "All right." Relieved, he led Rain to the nearby water trough— still full, likely from an underground spring— and rummaged up some feed for her from the nearby shack. Then, after running his hand down her flank in a strange, dissociated disbelief, he shook his head and joined Tifa inside.
The house was little more than a single room with a patched roof over it. Dust danced within the sunlight streaming in through cracked shingles and walls, while the floor was covered with a thick layer of sand, dirt, and dust. After digging through some of the broken cabinets, Cloud found a pile of ratty blankets and a bag half-full of dried oats, which he threw in a pot and added water to let them soak into something edible.
All the while, he was painfully aware of Tifa's gaze tracking him through the room, her eyes bright and far too knowing.
"Cloud," she said the moment he placed the pot on the counter. Not on the stove— the stove was rusted to hell and back, and considering the tangle of dried grass and chewed blanket in the firebox, he had a feeling it couldn't support the weight of a full pot of oats and water, anyway. "Cloud," Tifa said again, when Cloud froze by the counter, "come sit next to me."
Cloud forced himself to turn and join her. Now that the adrenaline from the trial— well, the hanging, rather— had faded, he felt far more jittery and nervous than he did before. His stomach was a knotted cord in his gut, twisting and turning in a nauseating way.
Yet despite whatever expression he was wearing, Tifa's expression was warm. Kind, even, as she patted the empty space on the blanket beside her. It was riddled with holes— likely from rats or other vermin— but he sat down anyway, drawing his legs up close against his chest.
He couldn't stop himself from flinching when Tifa laid a hand on his shoulder, and he tried to ignore the wounded sound Tifa made in response.
"Cloud, talk to me," Tifa murmured. "What are you thinking about?"
Cloud worked his jaw. "I just…" His voice trailed off. What could he say? How did he used to talk to her? He couldn't remember– his life before was a dreamscape blur, half remembered in the light of day. He closed his eyes and finally said, "How can you even look at me? After everything I've done, everything I was a part of, how… Why?" His hands, wedged against his torso, tightened into fists. "Why did you…"
His voice cracked as his throat closed painfully, and he turned towards the far wall so she couldn't see the tears burning his eyes.
"Oh, Cloud…" The hand on his shoulder squeezed, a faint motion. "Didn't I already tell you? I love you. Of course I'd come for you."
The ache in his chest spread. "You shouldn't."
"I shouldn't love you?"
" No! I…" With an impatient sound he drew out his hands and presented them to her, his palms facing up, creased and blackened with dirt. Tifa blinked down at them, startled. "The things I've done, the things I've had to do–" he drew them closer to her, all too easily imagining the scent of gunpowder clinging to them, the way blood collected beneath his nails in a rusty crescent– "you know now, all of it. Who I am. Where I came from."
"Who your brother was," Tifa added.
Cloud flinched, again. "Yeah. That, too." He drew his hands back. "You know now, so I don't… I don't understand. Why did you come for me? Why? "
The word dropped between them as heavy as an anchor, dragging her gaze back down to his hands now clasped together, filthy and white-knuckled. He clenched them tighter to keep them from trembling, but it was too late— Tifa's expression softened, heartbreak cracking across her face like broken glass, and her eyes flicked back up to his own.
And then she smiled.
"Silly boy." She lifted a hand and placed her palm against his cheek, thumbing the space beneath his eyes. He hardly dared to breathe. "I already told you. I love you."
She closed the space between them. Her lips were hot against his own, soft and warm in the same way his were dry and chapped after so many hard months. He couldn't help his soft whimper as her hand drifted behind his head, her fingers tangled in his hair, cradling him. When was the last time he had been touched gently? When was the last time he had allowed himself to be touched at all?
Another tear traced down Cloud's cheek, only to be caught by Tifa's thumb. "I love you," he murmured in the scant inches between them. He felt Tifa's lips pull back, could feel her smile against his skin as she wrapped her other arm around him, pulling him close. "I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sor–"
Tifa kissed him again, hard this time, swallowing his apologies before he could voice them. He instinctively stiffened before melting into it, unable to help the small sounds escaping him as she caught his lower lip between her teeth, licked into his mouth, shifted their bodies until she was practically seated on his lap and he could feel the damp heat of her even through her trousers.
It was then he became abruptly aware of his own erection, almost painfully stiff against the tight confines of his own trousers. The sudden awareness made him gasp. He hadn't been able to get hard in months— not that he had particularly wanted or needed to, considering all that had been going on, but he had thought… Well, he had thought that maybe he couldn't anymore, that the change Sephiroth had inflicted on him had affected even such a basic function as that. Clearly, that wasn't the case. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter as, still kissing him, Tifa began to rock her hips against his, a slow drag that had him groaning even with the fabric between them.
"T— Tifa, I'm—"
He choked as she unbuckled his belt with surprising ease considering she only used one hand, and then— with absolutely no forewarning or preamble— she slipped her hand into his trousers. He could feel her fingertips bump against the blunt head of his cock and, abruptly, the arousal that had been simmering warm in his belly was now suddenly burning, clenching with anticipation of the inevitable. Her clever fingers wrapped around his shaft, wet and sticky from how much he was leaking, liquid beading on the tip of his head.
When she began to move her hand, her lips still branding his own, he suddenly knew that he was going to come. That he was going come right—
"Tifa," he managed to gasp, a strangled warning, just as stars exploded across his vision, his awareness compressing to the heat of her hand against him, his muscles involuntarily clenching and relaxing in rhythmic spurts. The wet, sticky heat of his spend streaked his hips and the inner lining of his trousers, and all the while he could feel Tifa moaning against him, felt her grinding against his lifted knee—
When his orgasm faded, he was left staring at the cracked ceiling, weak and gasping from the intensity. He didn't think he had ever come that hard before in his life.
"Tifa?"
"I'm here," came her voice to his left, and he immediately turned to sweep her in another kiss.
"I," he began, but stopped himself and instead said, "Your turn," before he lost his nerve. He shoved his rolling dread and anxiety away to instead unbuckle her trousers. He couldn't manage to do it as effortlessly as she had, but he was quick enough, soon peeling away her pants to reveal her pale, delicate intimates, slick at the apex of her legs. His mouth went dry. He could feel himself filling back out, the blood draining from his head into his cock, leaving him breathless with it. He wanted . He couldn't believe how much he wanted.
He rolled them over so that he was on top of her, propped up on his elbows so he wouldn't crush her beneath his weight. She blinked up at him, her carmine eyes dark and— strangely— happy. Content, even. He knew that look. It was the look she wore when she sat on the front porch and watched the rain fall on the wheat with a cup of hot tea in her hands; when he had fixed the old picket fence the day she noticed it had broken; whenever he came back home after a trip into town went longer than expected. It was the look she wore when the world had rearranged itself back into her liking, and for her to be looking at him with that same look now…
He ducked his head so she didn't notice the way his eyes were burning, then ducked a little further when inspiration struck. "Up, up, up," he murmured, pushing her legs so that they draped over his shoulders. Then he paused. They had only tried this position in bed, on a comfortable mattress, not a hard floor. Glancing up, suddenly embarrassed, he began, "Are you—"
"Do it," Tifa ordered.
Cloud was good at following orders, but this was the first time in a long while that he was so pleased to do so. He gripped her backside with his hands, holding her up even as he kneaded the soft flesh there with his fingers, helpless to do anything else, as he turned his attention to her folds, glossy and practically dripping between her legs.
His cock throbbed hard at the sight, so hard that for one brief, blinding moment, he thought he was coming in his pants all over again. He shifted his weight to ease the strain and, as a distraction against his own rapidly growing need, he pressed his face between her thighs, saliva pooling in his mouth. He licked, long and slow.
Tifa cursed, her thighs spasming around him, and then she parted her legs wider. Cloud took it for the invitation it was and he continued to lap at her folds, taking care to focus on the hard nub at its peak. She jerked when he gave a particularly hard suck and threw an arm over her face, breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed. He flicked his gaze up, not stopping, and could see sweat beading between her breasts like dew.
He wanted to bury his face between them. Then he closed his eyes and forced his thoughts back to the present moment— the tang of her slick on his tongue, her smooth thighs rubbing against his ears and cheekbones, the heady scent of her, sharp and intoxicating. He rolled his hips against the ground in small, thoughtless thrusts.
"Cloud," she managed to say, and then she was groaning, her inner walls fluttering around him as she ground down on his face, prolonging her own orgasm. Cloud moaned against her, causing her to jolt and make a throaty noise.
Just like that he was coming in his pants all over again. It was hot, sticky, and objectively a little disgusting, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
It was only when she relaxed against the floor, dazed and pleased, that he crawled back up so they could lay side-by-side once again. The air was chilly against the slick drying against his chin, and he self-consciously wiped it off with his sleeve. "Good?" he croaked, self-conscious.
She smiled at him. "More than good," she promised, and pulled him back into a searing kiss before resting her temple against his own, still smiling. Cloud closed his eyes and simply listened to her breathe.
He had done a lot of wrong in his life. Irrevocable wrong, the kind he could never hope to pay back, but this— this, he knew, was right.
"Hungry?" she asked after a time.
Cloud hummed, forcing his eyes to open. He had nearly dozed off, and found himself staring into Tifa's merlot eyes. He was aware that his trousers had gone cold and were objectively gross, and that he was caked in dirt and sweat, and yet he smiled without thinking. He simply couldn't help it. "Yeah," he murmured.
Tifa mirrored his expression. "Good," she replied, and got up to rummage through the saddlebags while he did his best to wipe himself off. After a time she managed to find a handful of spices and added them to the cold oatmeal, which had since soaked up the water. They ate, and after Tifa procured a few spare handkerchiefs and wet them in the trough outside. They wiped themselves down as best they could, Cloud looking politely away when she stripped in the sand, overheated, feeling like he was nineteen again and had just spotted her across the bar.
When they returned inside the shack once more, they made love properly, slow and sweet and unrushed. Tifa was just as tight and hot as he remembered— better, even— and Cloud came with his face buried in the crook of her neck and her name on his lips. After he fingered her to her own completion and they again cleaned themselves off, exhausted and sated, they laid side-by-side on the blankets, their heads pillowed on their arms, staring into each other's eyes.
Tifa's eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Hi."
"Hi," he murmured back, helpless to do anything else but mirror her expression. His gaze jumped down, then back up. "Are you…"
She placed a hand against his cheek, cutting him off. "I'm fine," she replied, correctly guessing what his question would be. "Better than fine. You're here. I should be asking if you're fine."
Cloud flicked his gaze to the blanket beneath them— faded, threadbare, a little ratty— and then back up to Tifa. "I'm okay," he said, and was surprised by the honesty of it. He was okay. More than okay, even. He felt like… "I'm home," he added, his voice cracking on the word. "Tifa, I'm home."
Tifa beamed, her eyes wet. "Welcome home," she whispered, and that was that.
Aaaand that's a wrap!
I already mentioned this in my opening comment, but once again, thank you so incredibly much for your support these past few years. Your comments kudos means the world- I literally cannot overstate how thrilled and happy I am knowing that there's people out there that actually enjoy reading what I wrote. What a dream! Life is so good.
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