Chapter 89, εуλ0016 (continuation continued, continued)
"Cloud, I'm tired," Tifa protested.
Cloud had been trying to coax her into an amorous moment, but he wasn't having much luck. She yawned, her mouth cavernous.
Next to her on the bed were piles of papers. She'd finally expressed interest in getting involved with the WRO – and this is what Reeve had sent back. A "welcome folder", along with an entire dossier, facts relating to schools, housing, business – all the facets of urban development.
Long strings of numbers crossed the page. No wonder Tifa was tired. He was getting sleepy just looking at all of it.
She undressed for bed, but before she could pull on her nightgown – one of the silk ones she still had, he was pleased to see, this time in pale blue – he stopped her. "Come over here a moment," he urged.
She looked like she was about to say something, but instead acquiesced, seating herself on the bed and leaning wearily against him.
He'd undressed himself, with no real desire to put on any sleepclothes. Sometimes he slept naked; sometimes not. But this time, he simply wanted to feel his skin against hers, their hot warmths colliding and comforting with other. "Can I at least touch you?" he asked.
He felt a wiggle where her head was slumped into his neck that was probably a yes.
He caressed down her shoulder, her arm. "You don't need to do anything. Just let me touch you slowly."
She nodded again, and he let his arm travel further across her naked form. Her hips; her thighs. Upward once again, softly cupping her breasts, stroking the nipple, nothing too hard. Too overt. Nevertheless, her nipples automatically stiffened at his touch, not unlike a part of himself that was starting to prove itself difficult.
He ran up and down her thighs, sneaking further inward until he could tickle her mound. "Spread your legs for me," he whispered, husky.
She did, and his hand slipped down; massaging the area in its entirety with this palm, before one finger focused its attention. Her little clit, so sensitive, and soon enough she was twisting under his attention.
"Shh," he told her. "Just relax."
She tried, but her growing wetness demanded more. Little cries squeaked out, and he took himself in hand, stroking in the same rhythmic time.
"Do you want something to come on, sweetheart," he murmured, and she mumbled assent. Thumb moving to his finger's position, he slid three fingers into her, muscles gripping him in thanks.
"Don't try, just let it happen," he told her. "I want to feel your juices coming all over my fingers."
He pussy spasmed, a silent cheer to his dirty word, and he continued his ministrations; slowly, languorously, no thought of how much time it would take. Just letting her enjoy the moment passively, even as his hands worked her automatically to the inevitable result. Still leaning against him, she suddenly twitched, and her muscles spasmed, then releasing her luscious fluids all over him just like he'd asked. His own orgasm crashed upon him, and he spurted – half over their bed, half splashed on her, but as she looked at him – her eyes still heavy-lidded, but now with satisfaction rather than fatigue – he realized she didn't actually care.
He pulled out his fingers, and right before her eyes, stuck them into his mouth, licking them off one by one. She eyed him, a twist of an amused smile crossing her face.
"Better, sweetheart?" he half-cooed.
"Yes," she sighed, but she was already drifting off, this time with a smile instead of stress on her face. He leaned her back, pulling the blankets back to tuck them both in as he did every night, sending her off into a sleep full and complete.
Paperwork was still scattered on the bed, though most had fallen to the floor. He winced, realizing some of his uh, discharge had splattered on the pages.
Oh well. They'd worry about that later.
Beneath him, Aerith gasped and yelped, a sound always so pleasing to his ears. Zack started out handling her with the greatest of care, but as their excitement built up, he was able to let himself go, love her fully and fiercely, every way he wanted to.
Here, in this place, pleasure seemed better than ever. Was it something of the Lifestream, he'd wondered? Or just the knowledge that there were no limits, that they could share each other and this experience, with nothing luring around the corner to steal their happiness?
At the moment, Zack really didn't care.
He'd started out the way she liked, deep rich kisses, his strong hands running over her body over the clothes she'd willed into place, solely so he could have the pleasure of taking it off. Pink. She always kept that promise, surprising him now with pink underthings, from simple negligees to elaborate constructions of garters and lace, complex mazes of clothing that he sometimes found his way through, otherwise heedlessly tore off, letting their memories dissipate as he dove for her body now naked before him.
Cupping her breasts, sucking nipples one after another to earn squeals and shudders; before diving between her legs to visit her lovely lips – the pinkest of all! – her welcoming opening, her tiny little nub, like the bud of a flower. Playing with her, with fingers, with tongue, before driving into her sweet moist canal, the place that always felt like home.
He thrust over and over, no longer afraid that her little body couldn't take his strength. She grabbed for him, wanting to feel the entirety of his heavy weight on her – until she took him by surprise and pushed him over, straddling him and riding hard, greedily reaching for her own climax as he just lay back and watched, letting her bring him along with her to the top.
When they'd once again peaked, and lay back together on imagined silk sheets, Aerith looked to the open sky above, a painting Zack had made for her. So like the real thing, she'd never know the difference – but then again, was there truly a difference?
Was this side of the Lifestream any less real than the other?
It was a question she'd wrestled with, without ever coming to an answer. In the end, she'd reached a decision that it didn't really matter. It didn't change what she had to do.
"Even if the morrow is barren of promises… nothing shall forestall my return," she said to the sky above.
"LOVELESS," Zack turned to her, an approving look on his face. "You actually read the thing? I never did get it."
"That's because it hasn't all happened yet," she told him.
Zack look puzzled. "I thought… it ended with Genesis."
"That's probably what Genesis thought," agreed Aerith. "And maybe, in one interpretation, he was right. But there's more than one story is happening here."
He pondered. Aerith had a point. "I remember Genesis saying, 'Angeal… the dream became real.' " Zack swallowed. "Was he right? He said it depended on the gift of the Goddess, and what he thought that was." He paused. "He also said… trying to figure out the mystery was itself a gift."
Aerith put a thumb to her lips, considering. "I think probably all of that was right. But I don't know the answers myself, not yet." Marlene isn't the only one, she thought. There are things I have yet to learn too.
The ending lines of LOVELESS echoed in her head. To become the dew that quenches the land… To spare the sand, the seas, the skies… I offer thee this silent sacrifice.
Was a sacrifice always a loss? She'd made her sacrifice. So had Zack. But they weren't the only ones. Who else would sacrifice, before the end?
And was it truly a sacrifice, if it paved the way for something more?
She turned to meet Zack's eyes. Like the sky. But not scary at all. Blue, blue she could lose herself in; but like her own now, not the glow of Mako, but rather of life.
Of love.
She explained her ideas to Zack. "I've never considered it that way before," he said, shrugging. At some point their sheets had become an open field; the brightness of day hung above, trees surrounded them, distant mountains behind. A tableau of life. "So what do you think is the gift of the Goddess, anyway?"
She said nothing, just pulled him close for yet another kiss of eternity. It was the answer for them both. Maybe, in some small way, the gift of the Goddess is right here.
Paperwork. When had his life become paperwork? Cloud Strife had started out wanting to be a hero. Nowhere in that dream had he imagined ending up spending his time at a desk.
Then again, Cloud supposed if this was the tradeoff for having a stable life, a wife he loved and two wonderful children, he supposed he could deal with it. Still. The stuff never seemed to end. No monster had ever been this persistent.
"Cloud – " came the voice from the doorway.
"Reeve – " Cloud mumbled back in the doorway's general direction. This was a requisition form for… what, exactly? Reeve had started out within Shinra, and it showed. This was like the army all over again, a piece of paper for ever bullet, every brick that went to build a school. Though Tifa would eventually be dealing with the latter, gradually getting her feet wet with the work that needed to be done –
"CLOUD." Reeve's velvet-smooth voice took the edge off of firm, but there it was, the tone of command, reminding Cloud that hey, world savior or no, technically he had a boss.
He looked up from the papers then. "What is it, Reeve? I'm trying to get through all this work – work that YOU'VE assigned me in the first place, and really – "
"Cloud, there's someone you need to meet." If a voice could have thrown up its hands, Reeve's did right then. "Someone for the army. I think this is someone you are going to want to meet personally."
Cloud sighed. What was half of these things, anyway? He tossed a stack of paper to the side; it spilled in a neat waterfall on the floor. The last hour's worth of work organizing, undone in an instant. "Reeve, we have all kinds of people to do that sort of thing. Unless this is someone who really needs to see the top commander – "
"He does," Reeve's patient veneer was starting to fade. "Cloud, he claims to have been in SOLDIER. First, no less."
The room spun for a minute; Cloud was suddenly flooded with a whirl of emotions, too many to name, some he hadn't felt in so long that he wasn't sure he could remember the names for them. SOLDIER. A name he hadn't thought about in years, that had stopped to be a word he associated with himself or with anything he had ever been, even knowing he was as good as. More, in some ways.
There had been rumors over the years – they had to have all have gone SOMEWHERE after all – but most, it was agreed, took their mako enhancements, left Shinra behind, and tried to eke out some kind of new life for themselves, even the WRO being far too close to the former Shinra for their liking.
To have one just waltz through the front door like this – if he even had waltzed himself in, or if it was something that Reeve had facilitated – not that he would have expected Reeve to be dishonest of course, he was too old a friend for that, but sometimes Reeve had reasons only he was privy too and if he wanted to make it look spontaneous for whatever reason –
"Are you okay?" Reeve brough Cloud's vomit of thoughts to an abrupt halt. He realized he had risen to his feet, gripped the desk so much it hurt, and was now staring at the doorway as if he expected some kind of monster to come through it.
Maybe he was.
"I can have him come back – " Reeve started, but Cloud cut him off. "I'm alright, just… surprised. Go ahead, send him in," he urged. Those demons were so old, how could they have any power left over him? He could face this. He could.
Reeve looked summarily unconvinced, but just nodded, sweeping out the door.
A moment, and the man who swept through the door was.. not perhaps what Cloud would have expected. Definitely not in his days when he was a starstruck grunt, and SOLDIERs of any stripe, much less Firsts, seemed so much larger than life. That ended when they turned me into one of them by force, Cloud thought grimly, even after all this time a faint taste of bile at the thought of Hojo.
This man seemed just very… average. Average height, average features, though with a bit of the soft feminine cast Tifa told him that women found attractive. Brown hair, duller than Denzel's. The man's eyes carried some of the Mako glow that affirmed he had told the truth; the hazel shade, so unlike Cloud's brilliant blue, spoke of eyes that must have been fairly dark brown to start. Physically fit, but no more than for a fairly athletic man of his age, which Cloud estimated as two or three years older than himself, five at the absolute most. He wore ordinary working clothes, suitable for a guard or mercenary, and his blade, while perhaps a tough on the heavy side, wasn't anything that required superhuman strength to wield.
In fact, the only unusual thing was… the start of recognition he gave upon seeing Cloud, eyes wide and a visible flinch.
"I know you," he said.
"Yeah, right," Cloud said. "You probably saw me around when I was in the Shinra army. Lots of people probably think they knew me. It's the damn hair. Makes people remember me."
The other man swallowed. "No, that's not it – I did see you around, but not in the way that you think." He swallowed, itching nervousness. "I saw you… when you used to hang out with Zack." He straightened. "My name's Kunsel."
Author's Note: Whew! Four chapter bonanza. Didn't actually know it was going to be like this, but I chopped up the draft into segments that felt appropriate, so…
Some credits. The scene with Barret and Marlene in the church is inspired by one of the arts that pop up when you are asked to change discs in OG. It's Barret in the church with four-year-old Marlene on his shoulder, which, to the best of our knowledge, never actually happened. I think there's one for every character – Cloud facing Midgar, Aerith looking up to the Highwind…
The scene where he watches her sleeping is based on a lovely two-frame sketch of Cloud and Tifa, clearly in bed together. In the top frame, he has his eyes open and is smiling; on the bottom is Tifa asleep. He's clearly watching her.
And a shout out to bobbert from the Under the Stars Discord Server for pointing me in the direction of the text of Loveless I needed!
See you next chapter!