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He gave the door a hesitant, questioning knock. “Tifa?” he called. “If this is about that new dish you’ve been working on, why are we here instead of down at the bar?” Stargazer Heights was cozy, as far as the Midgar slums were concerned, but he didn’t think she could do much with one of the cheap, electric burners they had in the apartments.
“Cloud?” she responded, muffled by the door. His ears picked up the sound of a feminine grunt through the thin walls; accompanied by something heavy groaning across the floorboards. “Just give me a minute. The food’s almost ready.” He waited for three, listening to the sound of dishware and cutlery with a mixture of confusion and concern. “Alright,” she finally announced. “Come on in!”
+++
“I... thought I’d try adding some sushi to the menu. Coconut and crab rolls, like my mom used to make,” she explained sheepishly; her eyes darting about the room. “You remember those, right? They pair well with most of the drinks we serve at the bar; and seafood always does pretty well with the regulars,” she continued. “So, I thought to myself, why not try out an old recipe from home?” He spied an open, emptied bottle of wine sitting next to her, and the bright pink dusting her cheeks.
“Are... Are you alright?” she asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.
Cloud couldn’t breathe.
The desk had been moved to the center of the small room and Tifa lay, flat on her back, across its surface. Her head was pillowed against her forearms, tilting upwards just far enough to glimpse his shocked expression. Long, toned legs spread apart and spilled towards him over the edge of the desk; not quite touching the floor. A small, wooden chair situated itself between them. She wore her usual black and white marital arts gear, suited just as well to the bar as the battlefield. However, both her top and the waistband of her skirt had been inched apart to expose even more of her midriff than she usually would have.
Heart hammering in his ears, he drank in the sight of a half-dozen, expertly wrapped sushi rolls arrayed artfully across her sculpted abdomen. Beneath them, her stomach glistened with a thin sheen of oil. A small saucer was balanced atop her navel, chopsticks secured themselves beneath the band of her bra, and a stemless, triangular glass had nestled into the valley of her breasts. A fruity, neon green cocktail his muddled, backfiring mind recalled her refer to once as the ‘Mako Special.’
A moment passed before Tifa summoned the courage to look him in the eye.
“Don’t just... stand there!” she stammered, face flushing crimson. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Jessie. This was a mistake...” she muttered, facing away from him. “You can go back to the bar. Cloud. I-” she stopped, suddenly; words caught in her throat as something slammed against the floorboards.
"Fucking keep it down!" a voice yelled from the apartment below, muffled by the wooden floor.
"Sorry!" Tifa answered back, still staring at him. "I'm just rearranging some furniture!"
+++
Cloud let his pack fall from his shoulder as he stepped forward into the modest apartment, the door closing behind him with a soft clack. His gaze never broke from the meal she prepared, or the platter she had chosen, as his legs carried him into the middle of the small room. He stood or a long moment, mesmerized; his eyes unblinking and mouth painfully dry.
Tifa shifted her gaze to meet his, expectant, and worried at her bottom lip. “Come and eat your dinner before she gets cold, Cloud,” she breathed. “I’d hate to tell the chef you sent it back.”
A long breath shuddered past his lips as he gathered what little remained of his wits. He moved, dutifully, to sit in the chair in front of her. His eyes flickered to her own and then back to the meal in front of him. Hesitant fingers extended to brush against her muscled calves. They rested there for a moment, uncertain, before his palms trailed up her legs, over black stockings and the leather hem of her skirt. He paused briefly, thumbing the exposed skin of her thighs, before the exploratory drag of his hands stopped just above her belt.
She slid the chopsticks from beneath her bra, her breath hitching as rough digits rhythmically traced the furrow of her hips. Grasping them between strong, delicate fingers, she pinched the utensils around a mouthful plated atop her toned stomach. She moved, unsteadily, to dip it into the saucer that now rose and fell along with heavy breaths; the dark liquid spilling over the rim to pool within the chisel of her abs.
+++
His vision snapped up to see the roll extended towards him. “Have a bite,” she instructed, eyes warm and encouraging, and offered him a bite-sized portion. He licked his lips and craned forward, tongue sliding out to accept it. The flavor exploded against his palate: sharp and nutty and rich and familiar. His tongue curled back into his mouth and his lips sealed around it before he brought his gaze to meet Tifa’s own. Tilting his head to bare the column of his throat, he swallowed the single, unchewed morsel with an audible ‘gulp.’
“Fuck,” he panted, somewhere else for a long moment. Rising from his seat, he bent over her prone body to brace a hand against the wall and press his lips against her neck, teasing the skin beneath her ear. “Tifa,” he sighed against her. “Do… Do you trust me?” The words were hopeful and uncertain. “I need to know that you trust me.”
Her chest tightened painfully, and she let him linger above her for a few moments. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” she whispered, answering his pleading stare. “Yes, Cloud,” she clarified. “I do.” His chest rumbled in response, and he parted from her, walking away to rifle through the bag he dropped beside the door. She felt a low whine escape her throat, protesting the loss of contact and the fact that her head couldn't tilt low enough to see what he was after. “Is something wrong?” she questioned. “What are you-”
Her eyes widened as the question on her lips answered itself. Cloud sat, once again, in front of her; his hands clutching a length of rope. Grasping her wrists in his hands, he guided them behind her head. “You trust me,” he repeated back to her, breath hot against her collarbone, and bound them with a simple set of cuffs. Content with his handwork, his arms slid beneath her, tracing patterns across the muscles of her back, before he secured the binding by tying the loose rope around her belt. “Can you move them?” he probed, his expression gentle and curious.
Her hand curled against the nape of her neck, elbows bracketing either side of her head, as she tugged at the bindings. “No,” she answered. “I can’t move them at all.”
“Good,” he stated, crawling off of her and back into his seat. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable. I...” he swallowed, “I haven’t done that with someone before.” His hands returned to their reverent position astride her hips. “Itadakimasu,” he muttered to himself, and pressed his mouth around a second bite. A low, steady moan vibrated against her stomach; his wet tongue lapping at her skin as he ate.
+++
“It’s alright, Clou-” she yelped as he began sampling the meal off her abdomen. Her powerful hips bucked against his torso as her hands strained against their bonds, yearning to find purchase in his hair. He tightened around her in response, holding her still. He stood, shifting forward, as his lips drifted to sample a third roll. Rough hands slid up her sides, long fingers closing around her trim waist with a bruising grip, and his teeth nipped at her skin before he swallowed a fourth. “How-" she asked, the sensation of his tongue against muddling her thoughts. "How’s your-" she continued. "-food, sir?” A content smile tugged at her lips.
He felt her suck in a sharp breath as he emptied the saucer onto her stomach. Its contents ran across her toned middle and dripped through his fingers. Tracing the grooves of her abdomen with his tongue, he savored the sensation of rich sauce mingling with oil and the salty, indescribable taste of her skin. He broke away, seizing a roll between his teeth, and carefully removed the cocktail glass that now threatened to spill across her heaving chest. He pulled away for a moment to rest it next to them on the desk. Then, crawling over her, he brought up a knee to rest on the desk between her legs and found her gaze, once again, with his own.
Her expression was puzzled. It took a long moment, but she slowly recognized what he was asking, and obediently parted her lips.
Leaning down, his lips brushed gently against her own, a free hand sliding upwards to grasp the length her neck. His tongue presses the morsel into her mouth, gliding against her own, before he breaks away. He feels the whine in her throat as she struggles to follow him, stopped by the soft pressure of his hand. Cloud’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes are hungry and expectant. She knew then, and he felt the muscles shift beneath his hand as the roll slid audibly down her throat. “You tell me, Teef,” he breathed, his voice low and heavy, into her ear.
“It’s... wonderful,” she sighed; head lolling back against her arms. She felt him shift off of her, his hands drifting down her body until they, once again, encircled her waist. His lips ghosted against her, warm breath teasing damp skin as his torturously slow movements circled the last bite resting on her abdomen. Her thighs brace against his sides, squeezing around him in encouragement. “Cloud,” she rasped, frustration slowly creeping into her voice. “Please.”
The word had barely passed her lips when he presses himself around the last mouthful of sushi. He takes his time, mouth open against her, as he alternates between nibbling at the food and the soft, toned flesh of her stomach. She squirmed beneath him, her thighs tightening impatiently around his waist. His mouth lingered against her skin as he swallows, the desire to memorize the taste of oil and sauce and her overpowering him. He finishing his meal grudgingly, letting his tongue trail long, lazy pathways across her abdomen and lapping up what little remained on her skin.
Thoroughly pleased with herself, it took a long moment to realize that he was no longer pressed against her midriff.
+++
Her head craned upwards, scanning the room, confusion and hurt playing across her features, until she spied the telltale mess of blonde spikes standing over the sink. The sound of water from the leaky faucet stopped and he padded back to her, setting a stack of rags on the desk. Her head tilts, questioningly, and she lets out another startled yelp as strong arms snake beneath her, lifting her off the desk. Her head braced against his shoulder, he carries her the short distance to the bed before setting her down gently atop the sheets.
Grabbing one of the rags he took from the washroom, he got to work wiping the sweat, sauce, and oil from the surface of the desk. A minute passes, and he grabs another before turning back to her, ignoring the glare she shoots at him. His response is to press the cold, wet towel against her skin, pausing to appreciate the shiver that passes through her, and clean the remnants off her midsection with careful, deliberate motions.
She felt her expression soften. Finishing quickly, he dried her skin with a third rag before attending to the mess that still adorned his chin. Once again, she felt him lift her up, holding her body against his, before he lowered himself onto the bed. His grip loosened around her waist as he set her down against the headboard; her hands still bound and legs extended across his lap. His arms came to rest against her, hands grasping the nearly forgotten drink from off the desk. He took a long swig before turning to face her; the glass half-emptied when he does. “Thank you, Teef. For the meal, that is. It was...” he considers for a moment, breaking eye contact almost instantly. “-better than I remember it being.”
“Your welcome, Cloud,” she responded, blushing scarlet as an impish smirk crept its way across her features. “Do you think the regulars would enjoy it?” she asks, ignoring him choke on his drink. “I can see it doing well during the Friday rush.” Her chin tilts up, expression thoughtful. “Though Jessie or Biggs would have to fill in for me to mix drinks. I’d be too tied up as a sushi platter to serve anyone behind the counter. Maybe if we turned me into a buffet? That could work. If we served enough people, the extra money might be worth it...”
She was yanked into his lap in an instant, one arm coiling around her waist and another grasping a rough hand around her chin. “I’m the only one who gets to order you,” he growled, eyes green and luminous. “My Tifa. Mine.” Her eyes widen in alarm at the outburst, body frozen in shock. She feels the intensity fade from his gaze almost instantly, the green dimming to a familiar blue. “I-” he stammered, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. Here,” he continued, bringing the discarded glass to her lips. “Drink. You must be thirsty.”
She relaxed into his hold, and drained the rest of the glass before pressing her head against his shoulder. “What are we, Cloud?” she asked, voice muffled against him.
“I-“ he struggled out. “We’re friends. Aren’t we?” There was a long pause as she stiffened against him, and he knew it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “But I want to be something… else,” he confessed after a long moment. “What do you want, Tifa?” He feels her mumble into his shirt. Licking his lips, he pulled away to face her.
She stared at the empty glass on the desk and took a deep, steadying breath. “I-” she hesitated, leaning heavily against him. “I want you to stay here.” The blush crept back onto her face. “-with me.”
His face is schooled and unreadable, but it was colored a familiar crimson. “Then I’ll stay,” he answered. “-for as long as you’ll have me.” She feels his lips press gently against her own, and his arms encircle her waist. Cradling her body against his chest, he breaks off the kiss to bury his face in the hollow of her throat; murmuring confessions, inaudibly, against her skin. They lose track of time like that, breathing in each others warmth and feel and presence, before Cloud took a quick glance at the clock mounted above her door.
“Tifa,” he whispered, prodding her back to awareness. “I’ve got a job across town tonight.” He tries to ignore the plaintive sound that escapes her throat, feeling it vibrate against his chest. “-and you need to open the bar in a few hours for the evening crowd.” He stood, slowly, before turning to rest her back against the mattress. A pout graced her features, glaring at him and disappointed to know that he was right. “In the meantime-,” he explained, a smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s a pretty standard restraint Shin-Ra teaches to its troopers. You might have seen it on that guy... Johnny? I think?” he mused. ”-the day after the reactor job.” He moved towards the door and slung his discarded pack over his shoulder. “Getting out of one is an important skill to know in your line of work. So... this should be good practice.”
+++
It took a moment to overcome her bewilderment. “Cloud Strife!” she yelled after his retreating form, struggling to loosen the knot around her wrists. “Come back here and untie me right now!” The door answered with a soft clack as it closed behind him.