May 2006, Gongaga
Aerith the wedding planner is probably the most annoying version of Aerith.
Cloud hates this. He stands in front of a full-length mirror in a guest house in the middle of nowhere. He doesn't know why the fuck Aerith has him dressed like this. She's spent the last month conspiring with Tifa—which is fine. Cloud prefers that he's not involved. But she changed what he's supposed to wear every other day, the outfits gradually becoming stupider and stupider.
He sees the reflection of the room behind him—the white puffy sheet of the comforter folded over the corner of the bed, the beige carpet that's darkened beneath the imprint of his dress shoes. Creamy white walls and a golden light that shines in through the window—it embraces him, Cloud looks as stupid as he feels. He doesn't understand the theme, what Aerith was thinking.
The beach shirt she has him wear is white and nearly see-through. Grey slacks that are almost too tight on him. A conch shell necklace has him looking like a douchebag of yesteryear. Zack is crowding him, trying to fix his hair—it's hopeless. Still messy, but now stiff with pomade burning holes in his lungs.
"I'd say you clean up well—" Zack squints as he tries to push down a stubborn downy tendril of Cloud's hair with a thick glob of pomade. "—But you don't."
Cloud rolls his eyes and tries to do something to fix himself. He tucks his shirt in his pants. He hates it. Out looks even worse. He can't decide which looks less stupid, so he just stuffs in one side and leaves the other. He's sure Aerith will do something about it later.
Zack also looks like a douchebag—but that's a regular look for him, not too different than usual. Same work shirt, unbuttoned at the top, sleeves pulled up. He joins Cloud in solidarity by also wearing a conch shell necklace.
Cloud hates this. And he's having last minute jitters.
Because this whole thing—it's fucking crazy. He's about to get married, and even though he's convinced himself he's made peace with it, he feels his heart trying to claw its way out of his chest. Zack teases him, Cloud doesn't react. He just stares at himself in the mirror, at the outfit Aerith picked out for him, spellbound by his own blue eyes. He sees himself there—a never-ending loop of lifeless Clouds trapped in sapphires, and he's helpless to free them.
"Hey—"
Strong hands squeeze his shoulders, pulling him away from the glare of the mirror. Cloud has to blink a few times to refocus his vision. Instead of looking at the dread of his own gaze, he sees Zack. The same blue eyes, but his are animated, pupils constricted. The sun finds him, haloing him in an angelic rim, and Zack looks like he could be Cloud's savior, like he's about to offer him a way out—
"You okay?"
Cloud's lips squirm, his neck hurts from looking up at him. "I'm fine."
Zack tilts his head, shifts his jaw like he doesn't believe him. Cloud feels his grip tighten, grounding him in place. "If you're having second thoughts, it's not too late—"
He can't do that—not to Tifa. He won't hurt her. Whatever this is, Cloud will get over it. He'll manage. He keeps telling himself that he will never find another girl like her, never love anyone else as much. He'd die for her—but somehow this feels almost worse than dying.
"It's fine." Cloud pries his attention from Zack, looks to carpet for a distraction as he pulls on his collar. His watch slides up his wrist, the metal links pinching his skin. "I'll be fine."
He feels the burn of Zack's stare even as he avoids it. He's giving him a way out, but Cloud won't take it, resists the temptation to go back to his old life—living like nothing mattered to him, existing for small jolts of pleasure that left him feeling worse after the rush faded.
Cloud loves Tifa. He loves her more than he loves himself. He won't let her down.
He's so stuck in his head, he doesn't know where the time goes, what happens in between now and the next time he sees Tifa. Aerith has kept her away, he spent last night sleeping alone. It was weird without her—Cloud's gotten so used to Tifa next to him, that he struggled falling asleep. He hates being away from her—addicted to the pattern of her breath, the warm sleepy smell that coats his sheets. The feel of her body tucked against him.
He's here now—standing in a garden in the backyard of his stepdad's house. In the middle of nowhere. The sun makes its presence known, shines against the grass and stone pathways, feeding roses dyed crimson and pink. Cloud feels out of place, like he shouldn't be here. Aerith couldn't do it—she couldn't make him fit into this colorful picture she's drawn.
He's freaking out. It's so hot out here, he feels the stream of sweat on his stomach, skating along the firm creases of his skin. His heart pounds—it's so loud, everyone must hear it. Another countdown—to the end? The beginning?
Everyone is standing. Flashes of digital cameras stun his vision, white splotches blinding him as if he's stared directly at the sun. Cloud rubs his forehead, looks to the grass below. It glistens with dew, squishing beneath his shoes while the sky is painted blue, the clouds blending into a hazy fog.
Everything is perfect and beautiful. Perfect for Tifa. Even as Cloud is having a heart attack, taking careful breaths to pace himself, he tries to focus on her. She's not here yet—Zack's dad stands behind him, holds a book in his hands, watching Cloud—because everyone is watching him. Zack, Reno and his girlfriend. Zack's stepmom. Aerith is missing, she's with Tifa somewhere, hiding her. Cloud thinks he just needs to see Tifa. If he sees her, this fear and doubt will go away.
Cloud doesn't see his mom. He still thinks she might bust the wedding somehow, make more of a scene than she did at Zack and Aerith's ceremony. But so far, everything is peaceful. Serenity blankets him in pretty flowers and sweet scents, even though mentally Cloud is fucking losing it. The ticking in his chest won't stop, it leads to something. Something horrible or wonderful or both. He needs Tifa—where is Tifa?
His breath hitches—he struggles to release it. His chest feels so much lighter when he does, like the weight of a burden has suddenly disappeared. The ticking goes away, the countdown ends. It doesn't lead to his doom—it was a launch to her. Because all this—the countryside and the flowers and the fucking puka shells—it's all for her.
Tifa is so beautiful. She walks with her elbow linked to Aerith. The spike of their heels seep in the grass, coating them in wet dirt. The sun serenades them, highlighting them in its effulgence. Cloud understands that Zack isn't his savior today—it's Tifa.
Her dress is flowy and short, swaying with the twist of her hips as she walks. He sees the creamy expanse of her thighs, the sheen of lotion pressed to her skin. She radiates, the sun follows in step behind her. And Cloud is praying to her—he prays to the goddess who comes to bless him, desperate for her grace because he needs her, he needs her so badly.
Aerith brings Tifa to him. She wears a pink dress that's way too tight and way too short, has to keep pulling down the skirt as it climbs. Her hair falls forward in bouncy curls as she stretches herself to kiss Tifa's cheek, wiping the smudge her lips leave behind. She fixes the crown of flowers on Tifa's head, then looks to Cloud. She does as he expects—stuffs the rest of his shirt into his waist.
He's left with a sight so beautiful, he sees nothing else. The background blurs behind her. It's just Tifa and the sun—chasing her, worshipping her, bathing her in golden rays. She stands almost taller than him in her heels. They're face to face, aligned. His eyes dart to take her in, swallow the entirety of her.
Tifa looks at him through her lashes—dipped in black ink, curled and long. Her mouth painted pink and drawn as a heart. Cloud sees the shimmer on her cheeks blended with her blush. Dark brown hair spills in waves as a coiled lock falls over her shoulder. Thin straps, a plunging neckline. The swells of her breasts touch in curves, clinched by her dress.
His lips part, his eyes too heavy to stay open as his heart races in renewed panic. Tifa is too beautiful and perfect for him—this can't be real, that if he could go back in time eight months ago after he had first seen her in her leotard, that he'd be here right now with her—Cloud wouldn't believe it.
But she's here—beside him, her left arm hidden in a nude sling stitched with jewels. She holds a rainbow of flowers. He wonders if she's as scared as he is, if she's had second thoughts, too.
But it's okay, whatever they are feeling. The doubts they share. Everything is cured by Tifa's smile. She bares her teeth, the corners of her mouth lift, and a dimple dots her cheek. His favorite one is there, nestled on her chin.
Her gaze burns amber, and he's taken by her bleeding eyes. There's no pain, no sadness—only life. It pulses within her, radiating around her. He sees life, she's so full of life. Tifa lives, Tifa is alive. Alive and breathing and smiling at him through pink stained lips and eyes so bright that they even revitalize the sun.
When the sun submits to her and transfers to her eyes, a shade cloaks them in its place. She is swarmed by a frenzy of camera flashes—Aerith gets way too close, won't stop taking pictures. Tifa holds her smile, doesn't let it go, won't let her gaze wander from his own. Her scent drifts to him in a warm current of sugar and cinnamon, and he wants her closer, pressed against him, his face to her neck so he can taste her.
Zack's dad is between them, dressed just as casually. He stands taller than Cloud, wears a grey buttoned shirt layered with a vest. He reads a passage from the book he holds. They echo his words, united by their vows.
He promises Tifa so much, replays each phrase in his head as he speaks it. She pledges the same as her smile endures. Her dress sways against a breeze that snakes between them, draws them closer, pushes them together—they weave their vows, their lives, their hearts. And once he says it, it's not so scary anymore.
He seals his fate by kissing her, feels the smudge of her lipstick on his mouth. She's warm, tastes so sweet. Their kiss doesn't break, but stretches through time as the world around them fades. All he hears is the hum in her throat, a sound so small and needy that it's reserved only for his ears. Her exhale mingles with his breath as they desperately drink the communion from each other's mouths to bless their union. And it is done. Cloud and Tifa are married.
Cloud is drinking.
They pour him drinks, and he accepts, downs each shot like it were a sacrament. They are inside the house, and Cloud is married now. It feels surreal, like nothing's changed even though everything has. The vows were said, the marriage license is signed. Cloud and Tifa belong to each other, and he can take care of her now.
She is teaching a Bulgarian line dance to Aerith, Elena, and Zack's stepmom in the living room. It's a disaster, Elena is the only one who catches on. They all wear short pink dresses like Aerith. Tifa is still in her high heels, gleaming silver as her shins are flexed and engaged. She points her toe with each kick and step she demonstrates. She can't lead the line, so it stalls, crashes like a car accident backed up in traffic.
Cloud sits at the bar with the men as they try to get him drunk. He's drooling, it's been a while since he's indulged this much. As he wipes his chin, his gaze fixates on Tifa, dancing for the first time since the incident.
The gloss of the marble counter reveals his disheveled appearance—shirt unbuttoned down his chest, the puka shells around his neck stabbing his collarbone. He can smell himself—his cologne mixed with the pomade stuck to his hair makes him feel nauseous, overwhelmed, like getting married isn't the worst part—this is.
Zack is taking pictures of him with Aerith's camera, grinning to himself and snickering. As the flash goes off, Cloud sits lost in the haze of alcohol. Everything is foggy, he feels delirious. Zack shoves his elbow into Cloud's ribs, that dickish smile still playing on his lips.
Laughter peppers his words. "Mom's gonna fucking murder you."
His spit is thick in his mouth, Cloud swallows to relieve the discomfort, but it only returns, makes it hard for him to speak. Reno is on the other side of him, leaning in, rubbing his shoulders. He wears the puka shells, too. Reeks of cologne and the stench of alcohol.
Cloud leans forward, elbows on the bar top to brace himself. Everything is spinning, how does he make it stop? In his search for relief, he looks at Tifa—she smiles. His heart rests, the world stops spiraling. There is only Tifa—shimmering against the strangled sunlight fighting the curtains at the window. She is serenity amidst the chaos.
"Dude, I can't believe it—" Cloud chokes on a drink. The shot glass nearly shatters in his grip as Reno tilts the stool in Cloud's direction, anchoring his weight on the bar. "—You're fucking married now. This is insane! Are you stoked or what?"
Cloud has no idea what he feels. He doesn't know if he's terrified or relieved, ecstatic or miserable. All he can feel is the warmth in his belly when he drinks, in his chest when he looks at Tifa.
"Son, you know I consider you as one of my own—" Zack's dad comes into view, though he's burry—Cloud can barely register the angled jawline and short grey hair, the way he clasps his hands together as he leans on the bar. "I'm worried about what your mom is going to have to say to all this once she finds out."
"We're all fucking goners," Zack announces, laughing in his own misery as he picks up the bottle of vodka and pours it in his glass.
They do another round, and Cloud is so far gone. He shouldn't be drinking this much, he's turned into a lightweight. As the alcohol consumes him and he's taken in a drunken stupor, everything blurs into a haze. He stares at his hand, fixates on the metal strangling his ring finger. It squeezes his skin, pulsing into his bone. He can't remove it, it's engraved on his body, tattooed in ink that won't wash off. It's permanent—he can't undo what he did.
Where is Tifa? He needs to see her, remind himself why he's here. But he fades in and out of consciousness, feels his cheek skid on the slick surface of the bar. He tries to stay awake, because it's only the afternoon and there's still a whole day to spend with Tifa—everything needs to be perfect for her.
Cloud's words slur into jumbled nonsense as he closes his eyes to shield himself from the dizzy chaos around him. He smells Zack's cologne—he holds Cloud, braces his shoulders, helps him stumble until he's thrown on a bed in the same room from earlier.
Cloud stares at the ceiling, lets his eyes play tricks on him as different colors spiral and blend together. His eyes are heavy, the warmth in his belly replaced by a raging heat as exhaustion sweeps over him. Cloud wants to find Tifa, he needs to apologize to her. He doesn't want to ruin this day, he hates himself for drinking so much.
But maybe he'll close his eyes for a second first.
The moment passes, and when he pries open his groggy gaze, the room is different. He's still in the guest house, but the sun no longer bangs at the window. The moon and starlight have taken its place.
Cloud feels heavy, his head is fucking killing him. But he's no longer obliterated. The white ceiling he had been staring at moments ago is now painted over with darkness. He blinks a few times, struggles to stabilize his vision. When he goes to sit up, he feels a weight pressed against him.
Tifa is here—she lies on his chest, her legs entwined with his as her wet hair dampens his shirt. She's out of her dress, wears one of his tee shirts. It feels almost like home, as if nothing has changed. For a moment, Cloud nearly forgets that they just got married.
He begins to notice more details—the TV is on, blaring its light in the room, the volume so low he doesn't notice it right away. Tifa's scent caresses him. She's warm and sleepy and smells like soap. He sees her makeup is wiped clean off her face, traces of glitter still sticking to her skin.
He wants to get up, to shower and change and maybe throw up. He probably smells like rubbing alcohol. But he hesitates, doesn't want to bother Tifa as she sleeps. He tries to check his watch for the time, but the darkness makes it impossible.
She must sense his disturbance, because she shuffles beside him, lets out an airy sigh as he sees her eyes bat open. They're dark, tranquil, glitter in the image of the moon that searches for her. Tifa smiles, and it cures him of every sick feeling and thought, abandons all fear and doubt. She smiles, and all he feels is peace. Her eyes narrow, she nestles her cheek to his shirt as she fidgets, slides her legs through his to gather warmth.
Cloud rubs his eyes, tries to give her the same expression of comfort even though his head is heavy. He finds the small of her back, presses a flat palm and feels her curl against him. He moves higher, feels the ridges of her spine from beneath the shirt, until he cups her arm. She doesn't gasp or wince, her gaze is glassy, bleeding in her longing. The way her lips part, the tiny breath that whistles past her teeth.
"Tifa," he manages to get out, his voice low and hoarse. He traces the bone of her arm, feels the pucker of her patched skin. "I'm sorry. I really fucked up."
She shifts, rests her elbow on his chest so she can look down at him. Her hair falls over her shoulder like velvety ribbons, grazing his neck and chin. He feels her breath as a warm breeze caressing his face.
"It's okay," she says softly, looking at him before she leans in and presses a little kiss to his mouth. Cloud needs to move, clean himself up, even if Tifa doesn't mind, he does. He doesn't want her kissing him when he tastes and smells like a bottle of vodka.
"How long was I out for?" he asks, looking at his watch again as he squints to make out the time. But Tifa already knows, resting her chin on his shoulder as she answers him.
"Like six or seven hours."
Wow that's…pretty fucking bad. His arms furl around her, holding her close to him as she molds to his body. Cloud groans in his misery, presses a kiss to her head and tastes her damp hair. "I'm so sorry."
He keeps repeating his apology as if it will undo the damage, restore the hours stolen from the day. But Tifa silences him, dabs another sweet kiss to his cheek, her scent to completely flooding him.
"It's okay. I'm not mad," she assures him. A tiny smile cradles her lips as she releases an amused breath. "It was pretty funny when Zack had to carry you."
Cloud joins her in her hushed laughter, squirms with her on the bed. As their legs entwine and her back arches, the heel of her foot kneading his shin, he's not sure what's happening. But he has to stop it—he needs to clean up.
He stares at himself in the mirror as he strips his clothes in the bathroom. He finds himself lost in his own gaze once again. But this time, it isn't blank or glazed. His pupils are constricted by the glare of the bulbs framing the mirror. It's so bright in here, he can see every pore and line on his skin, the creases of his nipples as they pucker from the cool air.
Cloud's not sure why he feels a sense of panic. He wonders if he's good enough for Tifa. She's a virgin, and he feels an immense pressure put on him to satisfy her. He's naked in his reflection, he hasn't brought a change of clothes. He plans to go out there in his towel, let her decide where things go from there. He tries to shower away his glaring erection, but not even the burst of cold water alleviates him.
His body is rigid, he's worked up, nervous and so fucking hot that steam hisses from his ears. He dries his hair off with the towel, no longer stiff and sticky with hair product. Cloud grips the sink, feels the slick porcelain cool his hands as he looks at himself—really looks. His eyes are bright and aware, sharp crystals nestled on his face. Tawny brows thick and angled, a shade darker than the wet blonde mop on his head. Pieces of his hair fall, framing his face and tickling his eyes. His muscles flex, contracted in tension. He doesn't feel drunk anymore—not even so hungover. But anxiety gnaws at his gut, and he's terrified of what comes next.
Cloud leaves the bathroom with the towel slung over his hips, his skin glazed in the dew of his shower. Tifa isn't in bed anymore, she's perched at the windowsill, watches the splatter of starlight that paints the night. She's so beautiful, a portrait of serenity. She soothes his nerves, restoring the breath to his lungs.
He sits at the edge of the bed and watches her. Her shirt climbs higher, he sees the dimples pressed in her thigh as she leans against the window. She drags her toes in a circle on the carpet with a deeply arched foot. Her skin is dyed grey in the moonlight, and he's entranced by her side profile, the curl of her lashes, the pucker of her lips. The splash of her long, raven hair as it falls down her back. He could watch her like this for an eternity and never get bored.
When Tifa notices him, their gazes lock. She doesn't smile this time, a different expression takes hold of her. Her eyes are heavy, her lips separate. He sees the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. Cloud leans back on his palms, takes a wide stance as he feels the grip of the towel on his hip bones.
Tifa rises—walks with the grace of a dancer that blends with her shyness as she coils a lock of hair around her finger. She stands between his legs, looks down at him as her hand strays from her hair and goes lower, lower, grips the edge of her shirt as her fingers curl and wrinkle the fabric. Even in the darkness, the stone of her ring shimmers, securing the grey band she wears with it.
"Can you help me take this off?" she asks in a voice so low it becomes a whisper.
His heart races, each beat like a frantic drumroll as he feels himself begin to flatline. Cloud struggles to control his breath, but his chest pulses as he's near panting. He wants her so bad, shows it in the way he grabs her shirt, smashing the cotton in clenched fists. And he lifts, pulls it up and over her head in one swift, fluid motion before it's crumpled on the floor.
Tifa isn't naked. She doesn't wear her white panties. He sees the minty mesh of a teddy clinching her waist, dipping in the curve of her chest as her breasts almost spill out of it. And Cloud stares, feels his jaw lose sensation, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He stares like he's dumbstruck, his hands on the small of her waist, breathing so hard he's almost moaning. He glares at her navel, at the glimpse of skin peeking beneath the netting of her lingerie.
He can't pry his eyes to look at her, gawking at her belly button. "Where did you get this?"
Tifa squirms in his grasp when his fingers press into her skin, holding her tighter. She rolls her ankle, rubs the ball of her foot to the carpet. "I got it at the mall with Aerith." She pauses. "Do you like it?"
"Yea." He traces her shape, she's a slim hourglass with hips that jut out and a tiny waist. He salivates at the sight of her, and he snaps—fucking loses it. Turns her around with the flick of his wrist and sees the swell of her ass. "I like it a lot."
Her bodysuit dips into a thong, and her butt is bare, skin smooth and firm, colored in greyscale like the rest of her. He slaps her—sees the bounce of her flesh as she winces from the sudden impact. She holds herself with her arm, doesn't turn her head to try to look at him.
He digs into her hip bones, forces her closer to him—bites her cheek and immediately kisses the spot in an act that begs forgiveness. Her ass is perfect—heart-shaped, a generous curve that discerns from her thighs.
Tifa stifles a gasp when he forcefully spins her around to face him again. Her right arm cradles her chest, pushing up her breasts, the other is tucked to her side. She has that slutty look on her face—he likes the squint of her eyes, her furrowed brows. The way her tongue peeks from her mouth. And Cloud can't stop touching her, squeezing her thighs, pressing kisses to the mesh on her belly. She stains the fabric, he can see it between her legs, it's darker there. He dips inside to find the source of her warmth, hears her suppress a moan as her body tenses.
She's wet and dripping, but something's different. Something's changed. He pushes her thong to the side and stares at her cunt. His mouth is open, his lips stutter in a partial smile. There was hair here last time he checked. But tonight, it's bare—he sees her leathery skin that's tinted beige, the sheen of her essence on her slit. Her folds aren't all tucked in, some poke out. He wants to nip her, and he does—grabs her ass and pushes her to his face, her pelvis crushing his nose. He snags her mound with the lightest touch of his teeth, feels her skin grate his lips when he presses a damp kiss.
Tifa grunts, squirming in his grasp. Her hand delves in his hair like she wants to push him away, but holds him in place instead. She whines, weaves her fingers through thick ashen strands as her hips skew.
"Stop staring. I hate when you stare," she whimpers, but it only furthers him, makes him want to look at her shaved little pussy.
"When did you do this?" He wonders what more he'll discover as he unearths her, what else she's done for him. He wants to spread her apart, but she clenches her thighs like she's so shy, she doesn't want him to see her.
"Aerith took me the other day." Her voice is restrained, tinged with embarrassment. "It hurt really bad. They did my eyebrows, too."
Cloud feels like a goddamn pervert as he lengthens his neck to look at her face. She pouts, showing the fleshy inside of her lip. And he finally notices her eyebrows. They're shapelier, a little thinner. The stray hairs are gone.
He reels her in, buries his face in her navel as his arms envelope her. This might be the best day of his life. It's supposed to be—it should be. It almost felt like the worst. But Cloud decides right now, it's the best fucking day ever.
Tifa grunts as he drags her off her feet and throws her to the bed. She's splayed on her back, rolls her head against the pillow. Her body presses wrinkles to the snowy sheets. He wants to soil them—spill their fluids all over the bed. He kneels between her legs, watches her writhe beneath him, reaches to palm her breast over her teddy. Her nostrils flare when she exhales. He feels the heat of her body through the fabric, sees the imprint of her nipple, flicks it, feeds off her reaction.
He tugs the straps down her shoulders, pulls until her tits break free, released from captivity and falling to her sides. She's perfect. He can't look away from her. Her nipples are pointed and stiff, pleading for his touch. Made to fit so perfectly in his mouth, and he licks his lips in preparation as he cages her in his arms. He looms over her, and she's sketched as a silhouette in his shadow. Shades of black and grey carve out her face, etch the lift of her cheekbones, the line of her jaw. He realizes he hasn't kissed her yet, so enamored by her body—he lets his mouth fall to hers, sees her eyes drift close before his.
He rests on top of her, feels her nipples rub against his chest. The towel maintains its grip on his hips, even when Tifa hooks her legs around him. He wants to yank it off—he's so close to fucking her. But he paces himself, kisses her with a tenderness he knows she craves, slips his tongue in her mouth and searches for hers.
Her arm furls over his neck, finds the wing of his shoulder blade and dips in the crevice. He tilts his head to kiss her deeper, feels the murmur of her moan against his lips. His mouth still tingles with mint, it heightens his senses, makes the kiss feel so good, he breaks it up to experience the rush again and again. Short, staccato, wet—he likes the smack of their lips, the little sigh she releases when a kiss ends.
Cloud shifts—steers from her mouth and ventures lower, kisses her chin, drags his jaw down the line of her neck. His head bobs when he nips her throat, holds her down as her body reacts, her breathing intensifies. He wants to get her off, he knows the best way. And he moves lower, reaches the valley of her breasts, sees how her tip begs to be touched.
He kisses each nipple. One peck at a time. He absorbs the tremor of her shiver, hears the falter of her moan as she releases her song to the air. Squeezing her breasts, he squishes the fat, sucking a nipple into his mouth. Circles her peak with his tongue and tastes the sugar of her skin. Tifa writhes beneath him, panting shallow breaths, raking her nails along his back.
She won't stop moving, he tries to keep her still with his weight as he curls over her, but she fidgets. He feels her body heat climbing, her skin sweltering. He releases her nipple with a wet pop, now red and swollen and hyper sensitive. He licks the tip of her breast, watches it flicker as he brushes it with his tongue. A sharp gasp escapes her, and her hips buck and gnash against his pelvis.
His thumb replaces his mouth, and he pinches both her nipples, plays with them in circles as he kisses her neck. Cloud thinks she might be crying, drowning in ecstasy. Tifa won't stop moaning and moving. She slices into his back, and he feels his skin clump beneath her fingernails.
"Do you like that?" he asks her in a low voice, because he wants to hear her say it. He wants her to tell him he's getting her off.
Tifa whimpers, her eyes are shut, her lips trembling. He dabs his mouth on throat, feels her pulse on his tongue. And when he pinches her nipple, she yelps.
"Yes—!"
He kisses her mouth to quell her suffering and show her affection. Her neck lengthens, she moves with the motion of his kiss amorously. Tifa knows how to kiss—Cloud taught her. He teaches her everything. He wants her to feel good, to know what pleasure feels like.
He pulls the teddy down her body. It's stained with her slick, flowing with the musk of her arousal. Tifa is naked, thighs split open, and he sees everything. Her tender breasts, glistening stripped cunt. The sensual sneer of her face.
The room is hot, the fog of their lust making him delirious. He drags his tongue down her body, between her breasts, feels her flinch as he teases her belly. Lower, lower, until he's between her legs. He won't stare this time—he doesn't want to upset Tifa. Cloud just closes his eyes and lets her scent kindle his senses. His stomach churns, his chest feels light and hollow.
He presses down on her thighs and laps her cunt. One long graze of his tongue to taste her and feel her, another to find her clit as it distends and pleads for affection. Tifa jolts like she's been electrocuted, shoves her pelvis into his face. He nurtures her, pushes the backs of her thighs to spread her even further.
He finds a rhythm, goes at a gentle pace. She only needs the lightest touch. Cloud kisses her clit, swirls his tongue on the cluster of nerve endings. His face is drenched, he can't tell her slick apart from his spit. The room is a choir of Tifa's moans and pants, the squeak of the mattress as she fidgets and throws back her head. She's getting hotter, her body tenses—squeezing and ascending, straining for her peak until she can't reach anymore.
He knows what she needs to tip her over the edge. He knows what she likes, how to get her off. His hand ventures from her thigh, snakes his way up her belly until he catches her breast. He likes the sting of her gasp, how it cuts his ears. He presses divots against the swell as his thumb finds her nipple and skims it in the softest caress.
Tifa lets go and comes in his mouth. He feels the gush of her longing trickle in his throat, the spasm of her clit on his tongue. She erupts into a fit of ecstasy as she convulses on the bed, jerks her hips and fucks his face.
And he wants to fuck her now. Now—as she's submerged in the height of her pleasure. As her body is hot and wet and she's so beautifully spread apart for him. Her slick douses his chin when he lets go. He needs to prepare her, he has to open her up.
Tifa groans in her delirium like it's over, but it's not. Cloud is on top of her again, heaves a hot breath through his nose that blows her fringe when he kisses her. He cradles her cheek, encourages her to lift her neck.
His kisses grow lighter, his nose swipes hers as their eyes drift partially open. They share the same breath, he feels her breasts mold ito his chest. "You wanna go all the way?"
Tifa nods almost frantically. But he needs to be careful with her, he needs to be sure. His hand is between her thighs, skimming the ridges of her opening. He slips a finger inside, gliding in with ease. Tifa freezes, stifles a grunt. Her eyes grow ample and quaking.
"Are you sure?" he asks her, locks on her gaze in search of the truth. He slides another finger inside, feels her clench and squeeze his digits. Her face scrunches like she's in agony, he can't tell if she likes it or if it hurts her.
As Cloud curls his fingers, her back curls with him, lifting off the bed. She releases the grunt that she's caged away in her throat. It's amorous, makes him want to do it again. He moves his fingers inside her, feels the undulation of his hand, the roll of his wrist. Tifa melts in the sheets, her face covered in a sheen of sweat, her bangs stuck to her forehead. She reaches for the pillow, holds it as he fucks her with his hand. Her left arm untucks from her side as she moves it idly.
She finally remembers to answer him. It's breathy and adrift. "Y—yea."
Cloud tries going harder, touches her how he plans to fuck her. Tifa stiffens, traps him between her legs as tension squeezes her face. He stops, takes his fingers out of her. He's scared he'll see blood, but there isn't any, just the gloss of her desire coating his skin.
He presses a gentle kiss to her mouth to ease her, leaning his forehead against hers. He whispers the words against her lips. "Baby, you're so tense."
When Tifa gulps, he sees the shift in her throat, hears the sharpness of her breath. "I'm scared." She composes herself, lets her hand fall to his shoulder as her icy touch soothes his blistering skin. "I'm scared it's gonna hurt."
Cloud shifts his lips, lowering his brows. "It might. At first."
"Aerith said that, too."
Pecking more comforting kisses to her lips, Cloud weaves his hand through her hair, pushes stubborn strands away from her face. "It'll hurt more if you stay so tense." He pauses, lets his lips pucker at the corner of her mouth. "You wanna stop here for tonight?"
Her eyes narrow as she shakes her head, tries to get up from underneath him. "No—I wanna do it."
Cloud lifts his weight off her, lets Tifa sit up. Her breasts jiggle, and she cradles her chest to hide them, suddenly turning very shy. Her hair falling forward, she looks at him through her lashes with a low chin. Tifa is so cute right now, and he doesn't want to hurt her. She's experienced enough pain in her life.
"Then you need to relax," he tells her, rubbing her shoulders to get his point across. He tries to think of a way to do this, and the only idea he comes up with is a horrible one. "You wanna drink?"
She gives him a weird look like she's unsure. "I've never done that before."
It's fair, Tifa is nineteen, sheltered. Underage. Not a degenerate like Cloud who was getting demolished at fifteen. He sees her mentally juggle her choices, looking between him and her lap a few times before she nods. "Okay."
Cloud is desperate to take this towel off. His dick is solid, poking the fabric and eager for a release. But he takes his time, doesn't want to rush her as he looks for the alcohol packed somewhere in this room. He finds a few bottles, grabs the Sambuca because he thinks it might taste the least disgusting even though it's pretty revolting.
They sit facing each other on the bed, the tall clear bottle between them. Tifa is completely naked, and Cloud is almost there. When he twists the cap open, the thick scent of licorice oozes out of it.
Tifa tilts her head, her hand pressed to the blanket as she looks at it curiously. Cloud sighs because he just started feeling a little better from his earlier drinking binge. He's on an empty stomach. But he's going to teach Tifa how to drink, and get her tipsy so she can unwind.
"Okay, so just take a swig and try not to taste it." He cocks his head, lets the liquor splash his mouth before he pulls it away. His eyes shut as he winces, struggling to swallow as it's thick, though the finish is smooth. Cloud clears his throat, passing the bottle to her.
"How do I not taste it?" she asks.
"Just don't let it touch your tongue."
Tifa hesitates, brings the tip of the bottle to her nose. "It smells really sweet."
A faint smile spreads on her lips, like she's convinced herself it's not that bad. He watches her curiously, as she does nothing he told or showed her. She tips the bottle to her mouth, takes slow sips. Cloud knows it's all over her tongue. Pulling it back just as quickly, Tifa erupts into a couching fit as he takes the bottle from her.
"That's so gross!" she chokes, wiping the drool dripping down her chin with her shoulder.
Cloud chuckles, likes the way she recoils and twitches from the aftertaste. "I told you not to taste it."
He's about to close the bottle, but Tifa reaches for it eagerly, a determined look scouring her face. "Let me try again."
Cloud helps her hold it so she can drink quickly. Her eyes close shut, brows digging in her nose as her neck tilts back. When she takes a swift gulp, he pulls the bottle away. Tifa struggles to swallow, her body convulses as repulsion contorts her face. She groans, wipes her mouth with her hand as she shakes her head.
"Okay, that's probably enough," he says through his laughter, but a fit of giggles spills from her mouth as she leans forward, extending her arm for another taste.
"One more time," she promises with a goofy smile.
Tifa takes another swig. Cloud joins her in the final round. The bottle is closed, rolls on the bed. And Tifa is giggling, her eyes squinted, baring her teeth as little laughs trickle from her mouth. Cloud likes tipsy Tifa. He likes how she crawls on his lap and straddles him, the tremor of her laughter on his neck as he holds her.
"How do you feel?"
"My belly's really warm."
He fingers the bones of her spine, and she curves her back, presses herself closer to him. Tifa grinds against the bulge poking through the towel, throwing her arm over his shoulder as she pushes her chest to his collar bone. Cloud is worked up, so horny he's going to die if he doesn't do something about it soon. Tifa sighs, rolls her neck, enthusiastically humps his pelvis.
She's delirious, moans without reserve as she pokes her chest to him expectantly. "I like it when you kiss me here."
A grunt smothers his throat, and he takes a breast in each hand and squeezes, rolls his palms over her nipples just to drink in her reaction. His voice is hoarse. "When I play with your titties?"
He expects her to get embarrassed, pull away, grow timid as she does when he tries to talk dirty to her. But Tifa stays, works herself against him, nodding eagerly as her jaw unlaxes and her neck lengthens.
"Yea—it's my favorite."
She's breathless, uninhibited. He sees the sweat shimmer on her thighs, her knees locked at his hips. He holds her breasts, alternates kisses between her nipples. She moves faster, moans louder. It's the hottest thing he's ever seen. He drags his tongue, draws her peak in his mouth, sucks sensuously like he can't get enough of her. He can't.
"Yea—like that. Like that."
She's outspoken, begging for more. He loves it. Her voice shrill and frantic, he doesn't stop teasing her, stimulating her breasts. Doesn't let go until she gasps, delves her fingers in the cave of his shoulder as her hips stutter. Her body shivers, she's still working through it.
He drops his hands to her back so he can see her tits bounce in his face. Fuck—she's perfect. He can stare at her perfect tits all day. Shaking and rotating—he holds her, smothers himself in her breasts as she crashes through the waves of her orgasm.
Tifa pants through an open mouth, covered in sweat, her hair still damp. Cloud kisses her shoulder, her neck, reaches for her mouth until she accepts. They kiss sloppily. The taste of liquor lingers on her tongue. Tifa is so breathless she can hardly manage to pucker her lips.
"Can we have sex now?" she asks.
He loves hearing her talk like this, her cute little voice saying such daring things. Before Cloud can answer, she pushes him down, sits on top of him as his head lands at the end of the bed. She's a fucking vision, every little move she makes, her tits bounce. Her palm leans on his stomach, and she makes that slutty face that he adores. His hands sink into her waist to help balance her. He wants to fuck her so bad, he's so fucking close—they're a towel away from him being inside her.
As Tifa falls on top of him, her mouth plummets to his neck. His lustful sigh murmurs as he writhes below her. Her hand explores, touches him wherever she can. She's beautiful—highlighted in the moonlight and the flash of the TV. Long dark hair that shrouds his face as she presses her body to him, and ivory skin that sparkles with her perspiration. Tifa devours him, sucks on his skin with a ravenous mouth, moves lower until she licks the junction of his neck and shoulder as her hand traces the curves of his arm, clenches firm muscle plated over his flesh.
She moves lower, crawls lower. Kisses his chest, leaves a trail of her spit and sweat. It tickles when she sucks his nipple, plays with it from within her mouth. His hand is in her hair, clumping a fistful and pulling her scalp.
Her tongue follows the creases of his stomach, dipping in the divots of muscle as she traces each one. She moves so low she's almost out of his line of sight. All he sees is the mess of her hair, feels her spit stain his skin as she explores his body. She grips the tuck of his towel before she lifts her head, meeting his gaze. Her eyes are wide, insatiable. Her pupils have spread and engulfed them, and he's met with a purely black stare. She's entranced, hypnotized, just as horny as him.
"Can I kiss you here?" she asks, way too sweetly.
Cloud props himself on his elbows as he gives her a strained look. "You're not gonna like it."
"But I wanna." She whines, practically begs him. And as much as he'd like to see her pretty little mouth full of his dick, he'd rather be fucking her right now.
"Maybe later." Cloud sits up, positions Tifa so she lies on her back. He makes sure she's comfortable, her head rested on the pillow as her body melds against the sheets. He leans in to kiss her forehead, swipes his thumb over her cheekbone just to see her smile.
"I have to get a condom," he tells her, but before he can get off the bed, Tifa stops him, squeezes his bicep as her shyness returns to her.
"You don't have to."
Cloud quirks a brow as he sits on the edge of the bed. "I really do."
Tifa hesitates, bites her bottom lip as she squirms, still holding his arm. "Last month, Aerith took me to the doctor. I got a shot in my arm, and they said it's okay if I don't use a condom." She bats her lashes at him, her expression timid. "Aerith told me to tell you."
Goddamn, Aerith thought of everything. Cloud fucking loves her, promises himself he needs to hug her and express his gratitude the next time he sees her. He shifts his lips to hide the smile that wants to take over, shuffling a hand through his hair as he nods. "Okay."
She watches as he unfurls the towel, his erection unsheathed, and he's just as naked as her. Tifa stares the same way she tells him not to. Ample eyes and a quivering lip, he hears the shiver of her exhale as he crawls on the bed and gets between her legs. He's hard, pulsing, eager to bury himself inside her and experience her beauty for the first time.
The room is dark, his shadow cloaks her. He's on top of her, his dick wedged between her thighs, feeling her essence smear the tip. Their bodies align, heartbeats syncing as he presses his weight against her. It's a chaotic rhythm of clamoring hearts and airy breaths, but it's beautiful, a song their bodies create together.
Cloud palms her breast affectionately, lets his hand wander higher until he touches her cheek. Her skin is tacky and warm, his mouth grazes hers as he speaks. He feels her grip his arm tightly as her legs wrap around him.
"You alright?" he asks her gently. When Tifa bows her head in a nod, he swallows, doesn't let go of her face. "Just relax, okay? And tell me if it hurts, if you feel any pain."
"Okay."
He kisses her lips, inhales when she exhales. "I love you."
Her eyes turn glassy, but he sees a hint of a smile. "I love you, too."
Cloud pushes into her. He's gentle and careful, tries to slow down when she winces and grabs his neck. She's so wet, he glides inside her easily. She swarms him in her heat, squeezing him from within. He grunts against her neck because she feels so fucking good. Desperate to start moving, to fuck her with abandon. But he stays still, lets her get used to him, to the foreign feeling of fullness.
His heart stammers, she must feel it, how closely they are pressed against each other. She's so tight, her slick douses him, and every time she tenses, she squeezes him a little tighter. It's euphoric, has him panting in her ear like a dog in heat.
Cloud waits a little longer before he starts moving. He braces himself on his elbows so he doesn't crush her. Her foot digs in his spine as her nails claw his back. He feels the fresh sting of blood trickle from his skin. Tifa squirms beneath him, her eyes shut so taut, wrinkles crease her nose. Her jaw clenches, he sees the grit of her teeth when she snarls. With every gentle push into her body, she whimpers, swallowing back the sound.
When he stops, she opens her eyes in desperation. They're glazed in uncried tears. One escapes, skates down the slope of her cheek. He doesn't like this. His hand rests on her neck as he kisses her forehead.
"Are you okay?"
"It—" Her face is crushed in agony, her knees grating his ribs as she fidgets below him. "It hurts."
As he pulls out of her, she gasps in relief, elongates her neck and releases a painful sob. But almost just as quickly, she reaches for him, tries to lure him back inside her. "But I wanna—I wanna do it."
"We can still do it," he assures her, lifting his weight off her to kneel between her legs. His dick is covered in her slick, and he pumps himself to spread her juices. "We'll just find a way that doesn't hurt you."
Tifa watches him touch himself, transfixed at the sight as she presses her thighs together. Splayed on the bed, her body shines with her sweat, her cunts drips with her arousal. She looks so good waiting for her next instruction, so eager to please him.
"How many ways are there to do it?" she asks, bringing her fist to her mouth.
Cloud huffs a laugh. "So many ways."
He's on her again, trying something else this time. Grips her waist, flips her on her stomach. "Turn around."
Her cheek presses to the pillow, and he sees the canvas of her back, the curve of her spine pushed in her skin. Her ass pokes up as her knee bends and her toes curl. Tifa looks at him curiously, she doesn't seem so scared anymore. She just lies there like a good girl and waits for him, rests her hand on the pillow as her hair fans around her.
Their bodies bond together from the stickiness of their sweat. He lies on top of her, eases his weight gently so he doesn't crush her. Tifa is warm, her skin is soft. She smells so good, he buries his face in her hair, nudges her thighs apart with his knee. She sighs against his touch, writhes in pleasure when he kisses the jut of her shoulder blade.
She's comfortable, relaxed. His hand snakes between her and the bed, clasps her belly so he can raise her hips. It's enough for him to slip inside her, feeling himself stretch her out as she pushes back against him and gasps at the sudden intrusion.
And he moves. It's sensual and tender the way he holds her, presses kisses on her neck and shoulder as he pushes into her. Tifa doesn't wince, doesn't tense up or restrain tears. She moans, smothers the noise in her pillow. She rolls her hips against him, lets him fuck her slowly and deeply. She feels different in this position, puts a pressure on his dick that's so delicious, he'll come fast if he doesn't pace himself.
Nipping her skin, Cloud groans into her shoulder. Her butt bounces off his hips, her toes curl and point as she continues to writhe in ecstasy.
"Does it still hurt?" His voice is rough, he can hardly get the words out between grunts.
Tifa moans as she reaches her hand to grip the headboard. "No—it feels so good. It feels—" Her hum interrupts her thought, and she bites the pillow to stifle a moan. She looks so good being fucked by him, takes him so well. He can feel her clench whenever he hits a spot that she likes.
He varies the position, pushes his weight off her as he cages her between erect arms. She sighs at the loss of his heat, but she curves her back, lifts her hips to meet him. He fucks her a little harder and faster, likes the way she bends her knees and points her toes as she scoops her arm beneath the pillow and hugs it to her face. She grunts each time he shoves back inside her, and he hears the sloshing of their cores from how dripping wet she is.
"Shit—you feel fucking amazing."
Tifa whimpers into the pillow, stifles her erotic cries the faster he moves. He's soaked in her slick, glides right into her, slipping in and out of her with perfect ease.
His forehead touches her shoulder—he's desperate to touch her anyway he can, lets his tongue hang so he can lick her skin, shifts his hand on the bed until he finds the stub of her arm and grasps it. He loves her—loves every part of her, touches her arm in adoration, skims his fingers up and down her flesh, and she lets him. She lets him worship her. She's not afraid, she isn't scared, doesn't try to hide her arm from him.
He's getting hot—so fucking hot. And this pace isn't doing it for him anymore. He's so fucking horny, he wants to rut into her, take her like an animal. His hands slide on her skin when he grapples her waist, pulls her to her knees and changes their stance. She supports herself on her arm, and he helps keep her balanced, holds her steady.
The backs of her thighs meld into the front of his. Cloud kneels behind her as she's bent forward like an animal. Tifa doesn't have the pillow to mute her voice anymore. Her hair is thrown forward, her tits hang, her body jerks with the motion of his hips as he fucks her, thrusting into her cunt desperately, almost angrily. The tenderness dissipates, all there's left is desire. A chase for pleasure.
"Arch your back," he tells her through gritted teeth, presses his palm in the dip of her spine and sees her curve herself for him. Tifa is screaming—but not in pain or agony. In ecstasy. Screams through the hysteria of her euphoria. Heaves a grunt with every shove of his hips, each time his dick greets her dripping warmth. She's manic, he likes this side of her, unbridled and led by her lust, controlled by her desire. The room fills with the sounds of their panting and her sobs of pleasure. Of the union of their bodies as he fucks her into oblivion.
"Oh my god—oh my god—" She won't stop saying it, her voice high-pitched, frantic. She clenches his dick and he watches himself disappear inside her. Her hair is everywhere, he grabs a thick chunk and pulls—sees her neck lengthen, pushing a deeper curve into her spine. He watches the plane of her beautiful back, the way she perches her perfect ass for him.
Cloud loses control—the feel of her, the sight of her is overwhelming. Overstimulated, he can't hang on, feels himself surrender to his climax. Curling forward, he holds her in an embrace, his cheek to her shoulder as his arms envelope her waist, fingers digging in the splices of her ribcage. The world spins—a deep quake rattles his entire being. Her skin is wet and warm, bonds to him as he hugs her and comes inside her. He gasps through every jerk of his dick, spouts the mark of his lust. His knees sink into the mattress, creasing the sheets. Tifa croaks a sob as she falls to her elbow.
And he's kissing her—everywhere, all over. Her shoulder, her back, up and down her arm. Kisses her until there's nothing else left inside him, when he crashes from his high and slumps to the bed beside her.
Tifa is on her back, trying to catch up to her breath. Her chest lifts and falls with each attempt. Her legs are open, her cunt spread, and he sees his spend drip from between her thighs. She's beautiful, she's perfect. This is the best day of his life. Cloud loves her, he can't live without her. Doesn't feel the pressure of his ring anymore, finds happiness in the ones that grace her finger, snagging the sheets.
Tifa is everything to him. She is the sunlight streaming through the window pane, the moon and stars illuminating the night. She is everything good and beautiful in this world. And Tifa is his wife.
Cloud draws her in, pulls her against him, holds her the way he does every night before they fall asleep. It's just like home. Tifa is home. And a sense of joy fills him, a feeling that's unfamiliar.
That life has meaning, he has purpose. He loves his family. Cloud loves Tifa.
~oOo~
Tifa has a bad dream.
She wakes up wrapped in sheets that are unfamiliar to her, in a bed that's not her own. But she recognizes the warmth that nurtures her body, the feel of firm skin hoisted to her back. She feels Cloud's hand below her breasts, his arm curled around her. She remembers where she is, what's happened. How her life has changed again.
But she's not scared this time. She doesn't know how long this feeling will last, it might be gone by tomorrow as she lives on the constant edge of uncertainty. But there is one constant, and that is Cloud. He loves her and protects her. He's there when she wakes up from a bad dream.
She looks at her hand, sees the pair of rings that mark her as his wife. Tifa is happy, she always wanted to be married. She's so happy she found Cloud.
He seems to sense her distress, shifting beside her as he presses a warm kiss on her shoulder. "You okay?"
The room is dark, the TV flickers in random flashes and all she sees is the wall she faces.
"Yea," she answers him in a whisper. "I had a bad dream."
Cloud hugs her tighter, releases a breath though his nose that warms her skin. "Wanna tell me about it?"
Tifa shifts, rolls her shoulders back as she shakes her head. The memory of her dream already fades, she doesn't want to drag it back to life. "No. It's okay."
Silence consumes for a while, Tifa is not sure how long. She can't go back to sleep, trying to keep still as she grows restless.
"You're still awake," Cloud mumbles against the pillow.
Tifa pouts. "I'm sorry."
He pulls her until she's turned to face him. They share his pillow, and she's met by the sleepiness of his gaze. His jaw relaxed, his hair messily framing his face. Even in the darkness, his eyes glow an intense blue, sharp and piercing like ice, as deep and mesmerizing as the ocean. Tifa wants to sink into the realm of his eyes for all eternity.
Cloud reaches to pet her, moves her hair to tuck it behind her ear. He smiles at her. It's soft, a gentle lift of his mouth. Tifa returns the gesture as she feels herself melt in the sheets.
"Giving you the floor," he tells her as he plays with her hair. "What do you wanna talk about?"
Tifa lets her eyes wander as she thinks of something. Their late-night talks are always so serious, she doesn't want to bring the mood down. His thumb trickles over her temple in a gentle caress.
"What did you think about me when you first met me?"
She's surprised when Cloud huffs a laugh. "I thought you were hot as hell."
Tifa bites back a smile into the pillow. "Really?"
"Yea. Why do you think I kept following you around all the time?"
Cloud leans in to kiss her, pecks her lips affectionately as she smiles against his mouth. "What about you?" he adds, lifting a keen brow in interest as he tickles her ribs to get the smile out of her. "What'd you think of me?"
Tifa is shy, smothering her smile in the pillow again as she squirms beside him. Giggles pepper her words to the point it's hard to understand what she says. "I thought you were so handsome, like a movie star."
But Cloud hears her, a grin eats his face as he coils his arm around her, palming her low back. "Seriously?"
Tifa nods, lowers her chin so her hair veils her. "I was like oh my god, I can't believe he's talking to me."
Cloud laughs at her bashfulness, tugs her to him so he can hug her. "Stop fucking with me."
"I'm not—" She can't stop giggling, feeling silly for relieving these thoughts, and it makes her so shy to tell him how attractive she thinks he is. "I think you're so handsome. And—" She hesitates, tries to quell her giggles but is unsuccessful as she fidgets against him. "You have a really nice body."
Their laughter blends, creates a melody of girly giggles and deep chuckles. Cloud nips her neck, pulls back so he can settle on her gaze. "You're gonna give me a big head."
He looks inviting, stares at her with such a fondness, it's hard for her to resist him. She pecks his mouth, does it again and again until their kisses linger, their eyes drifting close as they make-out beneath the sheets.
Tifa moans into his mouth, she likes the feel of his lips, the sound they make whenever they begin a new kiss. His scent is warm, she smells the cologne he wore earlier. It's doused in the sheets, in the pillow she rests her cheek against. It inflames her nostrils and makes her hungry for more of him.
"You're so thirsty," he teases her between kisses. She feels the curve of his mouth as he speaks.
Her brows furrow, but she doesn't stop kissing him. "No—that's you."
Cloud chuckles, slides his palm along the ridges of her spine. "You're the one who's all over me."
Cloud is right, Tifa is thirsty. She wants to have sex again. She liked it, it was fun. It felt really good. Is it okay to do it more than once in a day? She's too shy to ask him, tries to show him instead as she scoots up against him. Cloud catches on as he rolls on top of her. They're still naked, it would be so easy for them to do it again.
He kisses her as he fondles her breasts. It feels so good, makes her feel funny. A pull that starts from her belly and stretches lower. He's aroused, too—he's tucked between her legs. Tifa likes this feeling, the desire that makes her so warm and bothered, the press of his body against hers as their sweat slips together.
She likes how the pattern of his breath changes when he's turned on, the way he glides his lips on her skin and leaves a trail of spit as evidence. He kisses her nipple, swirls his tongue as he squeezes her breast. Tifa through into the motion, elongates her neck as her hand traces the muscles of his back. He's so firm and solid, she likes touching him, likes looking at him. Cloud is really sexy.
"You said this is your favorite," he taunts her, switches to her other nipple as he laps her peak, drawing it in his mouth before he starts sucking. Tifa sighs, feels herself leak between her legs. Cloud is taking too long—she wants to have sex right now. She's desperate to feel the stretch of longing as he slips inside her, she doesn't want to wait anymore.
"Cloud—" Her nipple still in his mouth, he continues enticing her as he hums his acknowledgement. Tifa doesn't finish her thought right away, she's lost in the delirium of him playing with her breasts, teasing her nipples. It feels so good, she wants him more than ever. "Can we do it the same way we did the last time?"
He spits out her nipple, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he elevates his gaze to meet hers. A hint of a smile curves his lips as he lifts a brow. "You want it from the back?"
She doesn't like the way he phrases it. It sounds too dirty. Tifa gets embarrassed, turns her neck to hide the tint of her blush. But Cloud likes her reaction, already sitting up as he urges her to bend over on her knees. She gets a glimpse of him before she turns around and faces the headboard. She likes how the darkness drapes his body in shadows, carves out every muscle on his stomach, shapes his arms in luscious curves. She follows the v-line of his hips. Lower, sees his blatant arousal, and it makes her want to stare. The tops of his thighs are strong and plated. Tifa really likes Cloud's body.
But she can't see him now. She's on her knees, just the way she asked. He looms behind her, presses an arch to her back, holds her waist affectionately. The anticipation feels almost just as good, it sweeps in her gut while she drips between her thighs. Tifa knows what this feeling is—Tifa is horny. She wants Cloud inside her.
She moans as he fills her, stretches her out, buries deep in her core. She molds to the shape of him, only he can fit her so perfectly. Tifa feels so good, every inch of her body becomes sensitive. Her neck, her thighs, the tips of her breasts. She's so turned on, can't stop the slew of cries that erupt from her mouth when he moves within her.
Her breasts swing forward from each thrust. She has tunnel vision, sees only the headboard—but more than that. She's already coming, the pleasure so intense that it washes over her body in a sweet current that doesn't end as long as he keeps making love to her. She sees sounds, hears colors. Her senses are enhanced. She's never felt so wonderful in her life.
Tifa supports herself on one arm, but it's okay, because Cloud holds her protectively, he doesn't let go. Her knees burrow to the bed, her thighs are spread apart, her spine so curved it's almost painful. She likes the way he holds her, how small she feels in his grip, the way he pushes himself into her. It's forceful, eager—he goes faster and harder. The faster he goes, the better it feels, the harder he pounds into her, the more intense the pleasure becomes.
Her breasts keep bouncing, the bed starts to creak. Tifa feels so good, she won't stop coming—her climax is long and endless. It won't end because he doesn't stop. He rattles her from the inside, reaches into a place deep inside her and sets her aflame. Tifa love Cloud, she loves sex, she loves being married.
This day was perfect. She hopes life will always feel this way—maybe after today Tifa will be happier. Now that they're married, life will get better. She feels so good, she forgets all about her arm, only focuses on the pleasure that erupts from her body, of the intense love she feels for Cloud.
Maybe life will be better. The pain won't hurt as bad. If only she could dance again, then life could be perfect.