Cloud » S T R I F E (
meteorrains) wrote in
destinyfell2016-05-07 01:43 am
» Action Two | Cloud and Tifa «
[Morning.
Bright streaks of yellow poured inwards through cracks in tightly closed curtains, dancing over pale, bare skin and stark, blond strands. Night's chill had vanished, traveling along with the looming darkness and silence, leaving behind a warmth and bustle of sound. Birds chirped rapidly, perched precariously atop the building. An engine roared to life, children laughed as they were awoken, meeting the fresh new day with joy and vigor.
Morning.
A new day. A new start. A new chance. A new opportunity.
Everything that would normally send him startling away fell away, lost in the peaceful haze of sleep. It was strange. Feeling this warm, this at peace, this content was strange. Not startling awake suddenly, not awaking long before anyone else could so he could slip away unnoticed without the burden of questions that had no answers.
And so he gave in. Gave in and relished in the gentle lull of rest, in the sounds of soft breathing, in the comfort of her pressed in snug against him, allowing the rest of the world to fall away.]
Bright streaks of yellow poured inwards through cracks in tightly closed curtains, dancing over pale, bare skin and stark, blond strands. Night's chill had vanished, traveling along with the looming darkness and silence, leaving behind a warmth and bustle of sound. Birds chirped rapidly, perched precariously atop the building. An engine roared to life, children laughed as they were awoken, meeting the fresh new day with joy and vigor.
Morning.
A new day. A new start. A new chance. A new opportunity.
Everything that would normally send him startling away fell away, lost in the peaceful haze of sleep. It was strange. Feeling this warm, this at peace, this content was strange. Not startling awake suddenly, not awaking long before anyone else could so he could slip away unnoticed without the burden of questions that had no answers.
And so he gave in. Gave in and relished in the gentle lull of rest, in the sounds of soft breathing, in the comfort of her pressed in snug against him, allowing the rest of the world to fall away.]

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And he had every right to feel smug. She suspected that she looked like a very well loved woman under him, with his marks on her skin and her hair a mess and her skin glowing if the way she felt was any indication. He'd thoroughly used and sated her and if she didn't act like the cat that had found the cream for the rest of the day in response, she'd be surprised.
The heat and pink did flush across her cheeks though at his challenge. Because - this was real, wasn't it? And the look in his fire blue eyes suggested her was already looking forward to tonight. It made her feel shy - and utterly delighted. And eager. But she could hardly let him get away with it unchallenged and so she shifted her hips, reminder that he was still inside her and hummed something soft and throaty.]
Depends. On how good you are at keeping your hands to yourself today.
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That smooth as silk and rich as warm honey voice and those molten lava infused eyes and those subtle, alluring curves that begged for his attention.
Once he'd fallen into her, he knew he'd never be able to claw his way back out.]
Depends. How good do you want me to be?
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They'd just finished - and already a part of her wanted it again. This - couldn't be the way it usually was. There was no way that people were normally like this when they finally fell into each other. No one would ever get anything done if this was the way it was supposed to be.
But his question had the tightening in her stomach, had her, body exhausted, still thrumming with deep satisfaction at the sound of his voice and the things he'd said.
The pink spilled back across her cheeks and a smile trembled on her lips.]
Just good enough not to get us in trouble with the kids?
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[Nothing ever quite got past Marlene and Denzel, but considering they had the added distraction of Barret, it was all too possible for them to be naughty in ways they normally couldn't be. For them to steal secret little touches and quick moment's of intimacy, each carrying along with it a promise of something deeper, of something more.
How long would it be like this? How long would they not be able to keep their hands from each other? How long would he simply see her and have desire so strong well up within him? Surely it couldn't last forever. Surely it would fade with time and things would settle into a new sense of normal.
One where they were together instead of one of them remaining steadfast and true while the other ran from what had always been there waiting.]
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We are in so much trouble.
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[He gives it less than forty eight hours until they all know, honestly.]
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After all, he's left some marks on her that her clothes aren't going to cover.
He gets a quick kiss and then her hands move to his shoulders. It's not a push. She hasn't got that much self-discipline but if they stay there maybe she won't reach for him if he tries to leave.]
We should probably head down to the kitchen.
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There's something very near a sigh as he shifts, carefully slipping from her and coming to rest next to her.]
You go first. It'll be easier to sneak out with you distracting them.
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Its hardly as if he can stay inside her that way all day though and so she doesn't try to hold on to him when he shifts next to her, even if her fingers do drag a little on him before she lets go entirely.
Getting out of bed has never seemed so unattractive. But she's never had anyone like Cloud in her bed before to make staying in it seem so tempting.]
Maybe we can get Barret to take the kids to the Saucer for a few days.
[She still doesn't get up right away. Of course she doesn't want to leave but - there's a small but stubborn part of her that worries. If she leaves - that breaks the magic spell doesn't it? It ends what they've done. And she knows he says he'll come back to her tonight but -
- but a part of her is afraid that's not going to be true.
Which isn't fair to him. Cloud always tries to keep his promises to her. ...and, even if it turns out not to be true, she can't stay in bed forever just to keep him there. Pressing her lips together, she shifts over and sits up. It steals his warmth from her, reminds her just how naked she is and she reaches for the sheet. Which seems silly considering what they've done - twice now but... being naked under him seems very different from wandering around the room naked in front of him. Somehow.]
How long do you think your deliveries will take today?
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But as much as he may want or desire to do otherwise, both of them have responsibilities, obligations that require and deserve their attention. She has the children and the bar to tend to, and he very much doubts his customers will like waiting while he goes off and has a sexual tryst.]
I'll be back tonight. [Glancing over at the clock, he realizes, somewhat belatedly, that he should have made his first already, and been well on the way to his second. It's a set back that's entirely and completely worth it, even if it does mean he won't be able to return to her quite as soon as he may like.]
Want me to text you again? [It's half tease, half suggestion, that knowing smirk firmly in place.]
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I'd like that. [Maybe she shouldn't admit it or maybe she should tease back and play coy but - well, the last text went so well...
She stands up, wrapping the sheet around herself and its only sheer will power that has her heading for her dresser to get some clothes to change into in the bathroom after a shower. Because what she really wants to do is crawl back into bed with him and onto him and - those kinds of thoughts keep her eartips red but also aren't helping.]
As long as you think you won't wreck the bike driving back when I answer.
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Beginning to push himself upright, thick blankets pooling low around his waist, hair falling haphazardly around his face and into his eyes, he watched each movement, each graceful pull and tug of muscle. It was difficult not to picture how each of them had moved so perfectly below him, above him, around him. Watching her was like some sort of treat, one that he had rarely allowed himself to indulge in, out of fear of being caught and desperation to hold those desires at bay, if even for another moment. Now, with everything revealed and everything promised, he could drink his fill, and those bright, shimmering eyes never left her.]
I think I can control myself. [It would be difficult, not to simply pull over to the side of the road each time his phone vibrated, each time a new message came through. But each moment he spent doing so would be a moment wasted, one that could be better spent with her. Each delivery was going to take time, and darkness would likely have long since fallen by the time he returned, leaving their precious time already limited.
Waiting patiently until she gathered everything needed, he only made to move once she had gone, quickly locating the discarded clothing from the night before. Each footstep was silent, careful and calculated as he left her room and entered his own. With luck, no one had noticed Fenrir still parked in it's usual spot out back, nor would they become suspicious when the tell tale sound of her engine roared to life.
Minutes later he was dressed, hair perfectly straightened out, googles hanging carefully around his neck, packages tucked under his arm, phone securely located in his back pocket. Sneaking out the back door was relatively easy, as was opening each compartment to stow away his current cargo. Double checking to ensure each piece of his sword was properly interested and at the ready, in case he happened to stumbled upon a particularly nasty group of monster.
And then he was gone, engine revving wildly as he pulled onto the road.]
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She doesn't. Because she's working and he's working and they're adults.
And also because she keeps unnerving out of the risque or teasing texts she thinks of before her fingers can actually type them. One day, soon she hopes, she'll be more comfortable with firing off things like that but - its still new and when he's gone its easier to feel unsure and second guess what they're doing. What she's doing. She doesn't regret it, she doesn't want to take a second of it back. It's just... its new and she's wanted it for so long and - and she's afraid of losing it before it even starts.
If the kids suspect anything they don't let on, more than happy to chirp away before she sends them off to school and then when they get back and she settles them in with some snacks an their homework but Barret throws her pointed looks before he goes off on his own errands and every time she catches a glimpse of her reflection in something she sees the marks Cloud left on her throat that her hair only partially hides. There's no way Barret missed those, or what they meant and it didn't take any kind of genius at all to guess who she would have let leave them on her. Cloud's absence is just incrimination, not the opposite.
She catches herself touching them lightly with her fingertips throughout the day. Little reminders that it was all real.
As if the slight aches in a body that wasn't used to certain things yet weren't hint enough.
When night starts to fall she makes sure she and the kids have dinner and she opens the bar and she smiles and pours drinks and serves food and listens to people talk to her and - and a little bubble of excitement keeps slowly building inside her stomach. The longer the night goes on the more it shivers and bubbles like fizz in a soda, starting to work into her blood stream. The bar takes care of itself when she goes up and tucks the kids in for the night and if a couple of the regulars notice the bruises on her, they don't say anything when she calls closing a little bit early except smile and pay their tab and slip out the door. There's a bounce in her step she can't even pretend isn't there and the job of cleaning up and closing down for the night feels more effervescent than the usually mellow contentment she's used to. There's a plate of food warming for Cloud when he gets back and she polishes and wipes and sweeps and its just like every other night.
Except its not at all and the way she finds herself smiling gives her away.]
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And so nothing was ever sent, leaving them in relative radio silence as the light began to wane and time began to run short.
It was only once he neared the ruins of Midgar that his courage finally returned, Fenrir left to idle as he pulled the device out the device, memories of the previous night still fresh and vivid within his mind.]
Want some help again tonight?
[It was sent within the next heart beat, before his mind could truly contemplate the outcome, before he could begin to second guess each and every word, each and everything that had taken place. Before he could realize just how different this night was from every other that had come before it, save two.]
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She was being so - she was really too old to be acting like a school girl with her first crush.
Except he was her first crush. And her only one.
Though... he certainly didn't make her feel as young as a school girl when he touched her...
Blowing out a silent breath, she dug her phone out of her apron pocket and thumbed it on. Read his message. Felt the little weightless flip her stomach took and the heat that moved over her cheeks.
And the silly little smile that started at the edges of her lips and spread across her whole face. And then her lips pressed together as she tried to think of a good answer.]
I think I've needed help for most of the day.no subject
But then his phone chimed, vibrated within his hand and her message displayed upon the screen and he could feel the way the muscles in his stomach tightened and there was no way to ignore it. Only she would ever be able to fulfill that longing.]
Think they'd hear us in the shower?
[Because those images from his dream the night before were still vividly dancing within his mind, glimpses of her soaking wet, of her calling his name. She may not have been brave enough to give him the preview, but maybe she wouldn't mind if they both played a part in this fantasy.]
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He's not the only one that remembers his dream last night is what started this entire new turn of events rolling.
It has the heat melting down through her and she sits down on the nearest stool, thighs pressing together. It's suddenly much easier to imagine the feel of his hands on her while the water runs down over her body than it would have been just yesterday and she lets herself shiver and tuck in a little tight to herself, anticipation and jitters of nerves skittering through her. Its a new feeling. Not the longing. She's lived with the longing for years. But the anticipation. The anticipation is new. The excitement. She presses her lips together and answers and if there was a way to magically transport him there in the second, she would have.
She doesn't know whether the delay is going to make it better or worse.]
Only one way to find out.no subject
But there's sparks of electric light dancing across his skin, along his spine, fueling the fires that blaze deep within the pit of his stomach. There's his heart, pounding against his ribs, anticipation rising with each knocking thud.
Only yesterday he never would have dared to say anything like that to her, never would have dared to bring his fantasies to light. And now, he was eagerly awaiting the fulfillment of another.]
Twenty minutes. Think you can wait that long?
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Hurry. Or I may have to start without you.no subject
I won't stop you.
[That had been part of his fantasy, after all. Watching her touch herself in the shower, hearing her call his name as her fingers moved across her body. She may not have been brave enough before, but perhaps his attention had granted her a little more.]
As long as I get to watch when I get there.
[Phone snapping shut, Fenrir's engine roared to life, thick spinning rapidly as he pulled away from the abandoned building he had stopped in front of, intent on reaching her before his allotted time had passed.]
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His answer had the full body shiver moving through her and, alone, she didn't even try to stop it. She didn't answer his text either. Not if it might slow him down even a second or two extra. She'd much rather have him there with her instead.
Pressing her thighs together, she glanced at the clock above the counter. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes or less. She should finish setting up for tomorrow.
Except the mental image of him stepping into the shower full dressed because he'd caught her in there was a hot thick roll inside of her. The wet fabric of his shirt would feel so strange, so erotic against her bare chest and his gloved hands would slip in between her thighs and -
the exhale shook as she opened and eyes and laughed, weakly, at herself. She had never considered herself very sexual no matter what her body looked like. Years with Cloud and nothing physical happening had just honed that impression of herself. Finding herself with such thick, heavy fantasies springing up - she probably shouldn't be as happy about it as she was. But she was.
She'd use up all the hot water if she started before him.
He still hadn't eaten dinner yet either and maybe she should make sure he did that first when he got home.
Fifteen minutes later, she was standing in the doorway, watching the road, arms around herself as she leaned on the doorframe. Maybe she should be setting the stage, getting the bathroom ready but - oh but she needed his mouth, hard and heavy over hers and she couldn't concentrate enough on anything but the need for the reality of him. It was silly that she was so impatient for him - and she couldn't even care if it was. She'd haul him up to the shower as soon as he got here.
She just needed him to get here.]
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Twenty minutes had never passed by so slowly, nor had there ever seemed to be quite so many things hindering his progress. Despite how hard he pushed Fenrir, how fast the illuminated dials said he was going, it didn't quite feel hard or fast enough. Roads that were normally clear were busy, trucks rattling down cobbled streets, taking up so much room he was forced to pull off to the side. People coming from late nights at establishments that had long since closed their doors. Each minute that passed by seemed to drag on forever, into hours, days, until he was no long certain just how much time had passed.
Until finally, blessedly, blissfully, Fenrir was pulling into her spot behind Seventh Heaven, engine dying with a soft purr as he slipped off, each piece of his sword safely store inside a locked compartment.
Not that anyone would actually mess with it. Everyone knew exactly who that particular bike belonged to.
Part of him hoped, desperately, that she would be waiting in the shower for him. Hot water cascading down over glistening skin, hugging and accentuating curves. Slicking lips and flesh and masking the sound of her voice as she called out for him. As his fingers replaced hers and his mouth found her neck and left fresh bruises in it's wake.
But she was there, framed by soft, glowing light, like an earth bound angel sent to him by some higher power to lead him away from the darkness that had haunted so much of his life. Every thought except for her fell away, except for the blazing desire to sink into her heat, into her heart, and never let go.
They had never needed words, had never needed to speak, and enough time had been wasted upon them already. Lips were much better put to use finding hers, attaching to them without warning, deep and intense and longing. Hands slipped downwards, over defined strength and dangerous curves, cupping her upper thighs and squeezing before lifting.
Hopefully no one would chose this moment to come downstairs, because chances were they weren't going to make it up them anytime soon.]
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And then he was there and her mouth went dry. The look in his electric blue eyes was - it was incredible. Her stomach took a sharp, hot dive. She'd never thought she'd ever want a man to look at her that predatory but -
then he was up the stairs, so fast, and his mouth was crashing down over hers and she was already reaching for him. The sound that tore out of her throat was a sob, all relief and need and welcome and her body melted into the hard, hot heat of his, arms wrapping tight, fingers clenching hard on the fabric of his shirt against his back, up to curl like desperation in his golden hair. Her mouth parted for his, needing, asking, begging, offering and the shudder that came out of her when his hands caressed, squeezed was right from her bones.
How could she have been so long without him? Why did a mere day feel like forever? Surely this couldn't be the way it usually was. They'd lived together for years. But her legs shifted, wrapped around him when he lifted her and deep in her soul she pulsed. So - happy. Happy he touched her as if he had every right to. So happy he needed her the way she needed him. So happy she wasn't the only one desperate and clawing and trying to get closer. Later on, she might remember to worry that they were still out in public, that even on a quiet empty seeming street the neighbors were nosy, that they were being far too blatantly physical and obvious but...
The sound she made into his mouth was relieved and her fingers in his hair curled and tugged.]
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It was impossible to remember those who slept just a single floor above them, separated only by thin layers of wood and blissfully closed doors. Difficult to remember they were supposed to be keeping this all a secret, something that was known only to them.
Impossible to fight against the desire to press her against the bar, to sink into her, to take her, to make her his.
They were definitely not making it up stairs.
Shifting, full combined weight resting upon one leg, he lifted the other, nudging sharply against the wooden door, sighing in relief when it swept closed. Honestly, he no longer cared who saw, who heard, who knew. Any shame that may have once reared it's ugly head had vanished, replaced entirely with desperate, pulsating, undeniable need.
Fingers tightened against her thighs, squeezing, one slipping upwards over the long, flat plane of her back, finding thick, dark locks and tangling, tugging, intent on angling her head back, on presenting more warmed honey touched skin for his attention. Lips fell away from her own, tracing along the strong line of her jaw, seeking out a pulse point, teeth sinking into the tender flesh.]
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No desire to stem what was years worth of waiting and wanting and need crashing down over her now.
She was hardly even aware when they moved, body trying to fit more perfectly to his, lost in the feel of being in his arms, pressed tight against him again. And the stroke and plunge of his tongue definitely had the shiver moving through her stronger, body feeling as if he was already stroking lower and her nails tightened on him, against his shoulder, in his hair.
She surrendered her throat completely to him when he tugged, ancient feral reaction, move pressing her chest closer against his, feeling the strangely erotic harshness of buckles through the leather. And it was a cry, soft though it was, when he teeth sank in, longing and need and relief.
She'd waited all day for this and it felt like years. Waiting to be claimed, waiting to be taken, waiting to surrender and give and lose herself in taking. Her legs hitched a bit more against him and against his back, her fingers pulled and tugged, bunching the fabric of his shirt up, wanting skin and heat and friction and mind too shattered with relief and need to focus enough to be methodical about it. His name was a desperate, needy, relieved sound when it slipped out.]
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