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Diamonds In The Sky
They never talk about it.
It’s a weight between them, but Tifa doesn’t want to acknowledge it. She can’t, even though every time she wakes up, the words and the questions hover over her tongue, thicker and heavier when she glances over at him and finds his eyes on her face or her body but quickly averting away. Their stares meet briefly, and then they fall apart, and he rises and that is the end of it.
They never speak of it, not throughout the days’ travels and trials, not whenever they catch one another’s glances throughout the day, not when they fall in step beside each other, and not when they find themselves by each other’s side again the very next night.
They’ve been sleeping together.
They never talk about it, but ever since that first night, miles outside of Kalm, it becomes a habit that they both fall into wordlessly and that neither of them can avoid. And it always happens beneath the cover of the sky, never at inns or under the safety of a roof.
Always under the stars.
Tifa knows that something changed between them during that moment in the garden. She felt it in his embrace, in the tightness of his hold on her when he drew her in, in the strength hidden in his arms as he held her. Even though she had been fracturing from the pain of their losses, from the destruction of the only home she had left, and from the deaths of more innocents that she somehow knew she was at least partially responsible for, she had felt it. There was more behind his hug than comfort; there was a yearning and a passion that simmered dangerously beneath the surface of both their skin, hearts thundering and bodies trembling, Tifa crushed to him to the point that her ribs were sore and her lungs constricted.
Ever since that moment, things had been different. She’d seen it in his eyes when he stared back at her on the Shinra Tower’s roof, felt it in the way his hand locked around her wrist when she kept him from falling to his death.
Whatever happened between them when he folded her into his embrace, Tifa knows that it kicked up her own feelings, feelings that she’s held on to since she was a gangly limbed preteen on a water tower under a sea of blue and white glitter.
The first time it happens, it’s outside of Kalm, miles past the marshes and the mines. Tifa still feels the heaviness of their visit to that village on her heart, the weight of Cloud’s shared memories, so many of them mismatching her own. All day she rolls them through her thoughts, trying not to let the distraction impede her abilities on the battlefield and as a productive member of their party. But she can’t dissuade herself from the fact that there is something wrong, that the facts don’t add up, that Cloud is worse off inside than he had been when she found him shaking and shivering in the rain at a train station in Midgar.
All it does is draw her closer to him, a magnetism erupting that keeps them from being apart for too long.
That night, they make camp in a quiet forest, the night still and the air crisp and cool enough to raise bumps on her arms. Their tents go up and their bedrolls unfurl, a campfire brought to life by the flame of Red XIII’s tail.
Cloud hovers at the edge of their camp, arms crossed over the broad firmness of his chest as cool cerulean surveys the line of trees beyond. He’ll keep first watch, he negotiates with Barret. He doesn’t say much beyond that.
Tifa can’t fall asleep and she can’t help the way that her mind races, even as Aerith’s soft snoring at her side reminds her of all of the exhaustion and tired aches in her body. Her mind is consumed by him, wondering why so many pieces of the puzzle he’s presented to them don’t fit with her own memories, why he’s always so surly and detached, why the feel of her chest pressed against his is a memory she can’t let go of and one she craves the sensation of again.
The rest of the group is already fast asleep, and Tifa rises, rolling away from Aerith and brushing off her skirt as she gets to her feet. She affords a final glance behind her before she trudges through the clearing, grass silently crushed beneath the tracks in her boots.
She finds him leaned up against the trunk of a wide tree at the edge of the cluster of maples and oaks, overlooking the expanse of an open field that leads to the roads that head west. Their path to Junon is just beyond, Tifa knows. In the morning, he’ll be leading them in that direction.
“Hey.”
He knows she’s there before she even realizes what she’s doing, stopping a pace away from his side. He’s sitting with his knees open, arms draped atop them, buster sword at his side in the grass with the rusted hilt just within reach.
Gloved fingers twitch, and he slides the sword out of the way, moving it to the other side and making space for her.
She crashes into a sparkling oasis of blue when he looks up at her, his eyes infected by the beacons of light in the sky above. They are placid and calm, and the fusion of green - that verdant glow that has frightened and worried her since she first found him - seeps away little by little as he drinks in her appearance.
“Hey,” Tifa responds timidly.
Cloud lowers his right arm from his leg, gesturing lightly to the open space beside him. “Can’t sleep?” he asks.
Tifa swallows, pulling her eyes from his face to glance down at the patch of grass next to him. Her fingers twitch at her sides. The last time he asked her that question, she ended up in his arms.
“Not really,” she admits.
She isn’t sure how it happens, exactly, but she’s soon crouching down to his side, hugging her knees in front of her. She’s aware of the warmth of his body, the heat emanating from him reminding her of how close they had been to one another just a couple of nights ago. She craves that feeling again, realizing that the yearning for it has only doubled inside of her since the moment she told him he was hurting her and he released her.
Cloud leans back, positioning his arm behind her, against the tree. It opens up his body to her, offering her a little more space to close between them. She eyes it, turning her head slightly towards him, and she catches his eyes on her face.
He says nothing, but Tifa can read every word in those azure depths. There are questions and pleas there, the same fervid desperations and the same emotional need that has been locked away in her own heart these last few days. He blinks, softness rippling across his features, unspoken understanding blooming in the bright sparkle of blue and green between pale yellow lashes.
She leans in.
His arm that’s behind her raises and falls around her shoulders, crushing her to him. Tifa wonders if Cloud is aware of his own strength. His management of it is always so fluid and seamless on the battlefield, his body twisting through every hack and slash with the grace of a ballet dancer. But in moments like this, he is graceless. He is clumsy and awkward and too strong, his arm vicing her against a chest that feels like steel.
Tifa doesn’t complain this time, though. She welcomes the heaviness of his grip, enjoys the way the chills of the night air are chased away by the heat of his body. He becomes a fortress of protection around her, shielding her from the demons and ghosts that have been following them both from their pasts. And even though she’s still worried, even though she still questions his recollections of events, she discards the pain that’s become a stamp on her heart, tosses it to the side, and leaves it to be examined when the stars she loves are gone and the sun returns with truth and reality riding its rays.
He smells good, Tifa realizes. She never thought about it before - the last time she had been this close to him, the only thing she could smell was cinder and ash, the burned, wooden remnants of her home. But this time, she can smell the faint scent of his sweat that’s blended with clean, un-fragranced soap and that crisp, earthy note that comes from the mako in his blood. It wraps around her like a pleasant fog, enveloping her in safety and care, and her head falls to his shoulder, her eyes closing to the world around them and the miseries and concerns that she’s been carrying. He holds her through the night, and Tifa doesn’t know if he ever finds sleep or not.
All she knows is that he’s there.
.
.
.
The next time it happens, they’re above the open sea. Tifa’s stuffed into the tight confines of an infantry uniform, knee pads and shoulder guards uncomfortably restricting, her chest compacted under heavy straps and her waist cinched by leather belts. It makes her feel sorry for all of the poor teenagers she remembers seeing in the slums who were tucked into this same hallmark of tyranny.
Wearing this uniform reminds her of how this all began, of how she found herself crossing the ocean to the other side of the world. She remembers them coming to her village and following her into the mountains, remembers them guarding the reactor, remembers dragging one away from the snarls of a dragon’s claws after he tried to save her life. She remembers them patrolling the slums, remembers the one who she watched bleed out from his throat right in front of her very eyes, a casualty of the war they were embroiled in even though he thought he’d chosen the right side.
She tries to tear it from her mind, but it’s been bothering her ever since she stood between Aerith and Yuffie in the locker room as they pulled on these disguises. The collapse of the Sector Seven plate had only been one shard of her guilt, but she knew that the glass had already been shattered all around her, and every bit of distance they traveled further away from Midgar fills her with the reminder of what their passion for revenge has wrought.
She’s spent most of her time above deck, Aerith at her side, listening as she shared little bits of her life with her. They’ve grown close over the last few days, both of them using their time traveling together to unearth one another’s pasts. It’s small comfort, being able to open up to someone a little bit, even if there are some things that Tifa knows she’ll never divulge.
Now, though, the sun has gone down and they are still hours from the opposite shore, nothing but gentle waves of endless blue surrounding them. They’ve managed to get this far undetected on the Shinra vessel, and Tifa relaxes a little as night falls, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. Aerith ventures below deck with Yuffie to nap, and Tifa declines to join them, needing air and needing him.
She knows Cloud is still up here, seeing him head past the bridge towards the ship’s stern just a little while ago. She ventures in that direction, keeping her wits about her as she passes a couple of grunts in similar uniforms, the enemy always afoot.
She finds him leaning over the railing, looking out at the sea below as it races away from them, Junon and its canon now fully disappeared from their rearview. She only knows it’s him from his gait and the lean lines of his body, and as her heart pumps a little faster, Tifa realizes that she would know his physique anywhere, no matter what he’s wearing.
Even though she pads in his direction quietly, he turns, already aware of her presence. She slows a pace, stopping a few feet in front of him, and he drops his arms from where they’re crossed over his chest, opening himself up to her. He’s not wearing his helmet, and the breeze is ruffling his hair, leaving it to shine like platinum under the moonlight above. His eyes narrow, watching her carefully, and they scan her from head to toe in an effort to identify her.
Tifa stops, chancing a careful glance around before she reaches up and pulls her own helmet away. She clutches it at her side, and she watches as Cloud’s entire countenance visibly relaxes, the green pulse around his pupils dimming.
“Tifa,” he says, his voice low and light and carrying over the splash of the ocean against the ship’s starboard.
She doesn’t respond - for some reason, every time he calls her name like that, it sets loose a sense of incoherence inside of her. She feels her cheeks warm, and even the sting of the cool ocean breeze can’t dull the excitement that his attention unleashes inside of her.
Slowly, Tifa saunters up to him, finding a place at his side. His eyes follow her the entire way, his body turning to face her until she is right beside him. She can feel the burn of those mako blues on her face and on her body that is cramped into this uncomfortable uniform. It doesn’t help the way that she’s already blushing like mad, and she hopes that he can’t see it with the darkness around them.
Despite the embarrassment that her feelings are sending in a tumble inside of her, Tifa can’t bear to be away from him. They haven’t spoken all day, and the day was long. She’s tired, and she misses him.
Badly.
“The others have gone below deck to sleep,” she says after a beat passes between them and all she can hear is the crash of the sea.
“Most of the crew has already taken it down for the night,” Cloud states observantly. “There’s just a couple on the other side of the bridge who are on night watch.”
Tifa nods, placing the helmet at her feet. For whatever reason, her heart is almost as loud as the sea, and it would be easy for her to say goodnight and find a quiet place to rest.
But she can’t be away from him.
“Everything okay?” he asks when the silence stretches on for too long.
“Yeah,” Tifa responds, turning to face him. In the darkness, his eyes seem to glow, but the mako in them has receded. It’s the blue that she remembers from her most cherished memories that’s piercing her now, and its color draws her near until she’s leaning against him.
Cloud notices her closeness and immediately draws her in with an arm around her shoulders, and Tifa completes the hold with an arm around his waist. Her right breast squishes against his chest, and even with these claustrophobic uniforms that they’re both wearing, the contact sends a spark throughout her body that crashes between her thighs.
Cloud is looking down at her. “Funny,” he comments, a teasing edge in his voice that has her quirking an eyebrow. “You make this shitty uniform look better than anyone.”
She’s blushing again, instantly turning away from his smirk and schooling her gaze on the navy blue depths below. She can’t bite back the smile that stretches her lips, though. Cloud’s propensity to flirt so casually catches her off guard every time. She doesn’t know what’s changed in the years that faded between them, and she wonders what kinds of experiences he’s had while he’s been away. The Cloud she remembers was too shy to even look her in the eye when he asked her to meet him on the water tower, but this Cloud has no problem letting those cobalt beacons pin her to the ground when he compliments her with such effortlessness.
She brushes past his praise, even though it has lit up parts of her body that she’d rather not acknowledge. “Think we’ll be in Costa Del Sol soon?” she asks, hoping to thwart the emergence of her feelings for this boy for a little while longer.
Cloud turns to face her fully now, letting both arms pull her in. She wonders when they crossed the boundary into a space where this closeness happens with such unspoken ease. But she doesn’t fight it, and she leans in, accepting him with her arms around his narrow waist.
“Early morning is my guess,” Cloud answers. “The climate is already starting to shift. You should get some rest. Head down with the others, Tifa. I’ll keep watch here.”
“I want to stay with you,” she blurts.
One of Cloud’s eyebrows quirks, but otherwise, he wears an unreadable mask. Tifa can’t help but stare up at him, feeling the cyclone in her belly escalate until it is in her chest and her heart is racing and loud. She hates it, because she’s pressed right up against him and she knows he can feel it, can probably hear it, too.
He doesn’t say anything as he studies her face for a long moment, and Tifa realizes he’s reading her. He knows her better than anyone, she knows, and he gleans it all from his senses, from his eyes on her face and his hands on her body, from the sound of every breath she releases.
She wishes she could say the same.
He nods, and wordlessly, he begins to crouch, pulling her with him. Tifa falls pliant, dropping to her knees at his side. She’s content to lean against him again the way that she did nights ago, the last time she remembers getting a night of restful sleep.
But he’s pulling on her arms, trying to arrange her into a different position. She doesn’t resist, despite the way that curiosity bubbles up inside of her. He’s pulling her into his lap, she realizes, her cheeks bright and burning like the sun. He spreads his knees and centers her between them, and his arms wrap around the front of her body, holding her tight and holding her close.
Tifa can’t help the shiver that runs like an electrical current through her body, her back flush against the solid wall of his torso. He responds by giving her a little squeeze, but once again, he underestimates his strength. She hears her bones crack, but she doesn’t complain because he’s nuzzling the side of her throat with his nose. Tifa doesn’t care how many boundaries they’ve crossed. All she wants is to feel like this forever.
“You sure you’re okay, Teef?” he asks her, and his breath is so hot against her skin that her pulse quickens. His voice has taken on that gentleness that she never hears unless they are alone, and she knows that it’s only for her. It makes her feel special, and the sound rides a slow vibration across her body, stiffening her nipples and raising the hair on her arms, pulsing between her thighs. His hands have dropped to her wrists, and he’s running them up and down her forearms, inspiring warmth and inspiring her fantasies, ones she’s been forced to face over the course of the last couple of weeks. Tifa folds her legs under her and curls into his hold, wishing away the layers of this stupid uniform that keep them from being skin to skin.
“I’m okay,” is all she can manage, her voice so tiny she can barely hear it over the waves below.
Cloud does something then. He presses his lips to her cheek, leaving her with a kiss that burns. It shocks her, and as he drags the softness of his pretty mouth across her flesh, leaving her with a final peck against her earring where it dangles from her lobe, Tifa feels a wave of pleasure wash over her entire body. She feels herself staining her underwear, and her cheeks are tinged by the sudden blood rush that is hitting her. If he has any idea of what he’s doing to her, he doesn’t let on.
“I’m here,” he whispers in her ear. “Get some sleep, Tifa.”
There’s a lustful possession in the way he says her name, and feeling the stiffness of his crotch behind her, Tifa realizes she’s affecting him the same way he affects her. Kissing her face is the farthest he’ll allow it to go, but Tifa knows doubtlessly that something’s changed.
Irrevocably, she hopes.
She settles and lets herself lean into it. Cloud is hers, in ways she can’t say out loud, but he’s still here, the way he said he would be and the way he promised. The stars sparkle in a sky that’s as purple as it is black, and it spills glitter all across the sea. They are the last things that Tifa sees before she closes her eyes, inhaling the fresh scent of saltwater as she melts into Cloud’s hold.
She sleeps.
.
.
.
After that, they steal moments when they can - she leans against him in front of the flames of the Cosmo Candle, even holds his hand when they pass through the gates of Nibelheim, uncovering a pristine village that they both know should be ash. He meets her atop the water tower where he made his promise to her, and he reaffirms it with his arms around her and his lips on her forehead, letting her weep through the misery of memories that bleed and remind them both of what could have been and what will never be.
But they’ve had the luxury of inns and taverns throughout their journey, and Tifa always rooms with the girls. They don’t share a bed, not daring to arouse the suspicions of their friends any more than they are stirred as it is. They don’t have another opportunity to sleep together until days later, after they’ve passed through Mt. Nibel and they face another hundred miles to hike before they make it to Rocket Town.
Their party has grown by that point, and so they set up a real camp, a full fire blazing in its center. Tifa cooks a meal from the rations they’ve collected, and they share rum from a canteen that Barret passes around while he and Aerith and Yuffie keep the conversation alive. Vincent abandons them by the time the sky is black, and the girls are giggling and tipsy. Tifa wants to join in on their camaraderie, but she’s still wearing the burden of their visit to Nibelheim, still can’t climb through the fog of sadness that has infected her heart.
Cloud sits at her side, quiet the entire time. When their group is finally spent, the girls passing out in their sleeping bags inside their tents, Barret snoring at the farthest edge of their encampment and Red curled up in a ball in front of the fire, he turns to her.
“Ready for bed?”
The softness is in his voice again, and it’s carried by a suggestiveness that makes Tifa press her knees together. She turns to him, her heart starting to pick up speed, and it careens out of beat when their eyes meet. He’s looking at her expectantly, and she nods in response to his query.
Cloud pushes up to his feet, extending a hand to her. She accepts it, and she rises, following him when he leads her towards his tent and leaving hers abandoned where it sits in a cluster with the girls on the opposite side of the fire.
They duck inside, and Tifa can’t slow the pace of her heart, can’t stop the way that her palms begin to sweat. It’s even darker inside the tent, but she can see the bounce of starlight through its fabric. Cloud has already laid out his bedroll, and the blankets are strewn to one side.
He crouches and sits, unzipping his boots. He removes his pauldron and harness, shoving all of it to one side. Tifa sits across from him, and unsure of what else to do, unlaces her boots and dismantles her own armor.
Cloud is pulling away his gloves when their eyes meet in the darkness. His left wrist is wrapped to the elbow in thick white gauze, and having never seen him without his gloves and armor, the sight catches Tifa’s attention. Sliding her compression sleeves off to the side, she folds her legs under her and looks up at him as he rubs his wrist, almost as if in pain.
“Why is your arm bandaged like that?” she can’t help but ask.
Cloud is looking down at the offending arm, and he clenches his hand, flexing the muscles of his entire forearm. Tifa studies his hands, and she realizes that they are beautiful. His fingers are long and his skin looks soft, even though she can see the callouses under his palms.
His eyes narrow, a pinched expression crossing his face. He refuses to meet eyes with her.
“I…” he starts, and Tifa watches his brows furrow further. “Just an injury. I usually let it breathe at night.”
He stops there, and Tifa feels the anxiety of his words unspool, thickening the air in this tiny tent that they are sharing. It’s a little bit suffocating, and Tifa realizes that she’s become as in tune with his feelings as he is with hers.
All she wants to do is make him feel better.
She reaches forward, taking his wrist in her hand. His are so much larger than hers are, and she realizes it truly when she sees them side by side like this, both of them finally gloveless. Tifa scoots closer to him, and in the confines of this tiny tent, she’s nearly on top of him. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move, and Tifa is instantly comforted by his warmth that she can feel as she draws near.
“Let me help,” she says softly.
Cloud doesn’t protest, just relaxes his arm and lets it fall in her lap. She knows that he’s watching her face when she brings her fingers to the strip of bandaging, knows he’s watching her intently as she unwraps it.
She works slowly, because her hands are trembling and her heart is racing. She’s close to Cloud again in a way she’s been dreaming about since the night on the boat, and there’s something uniquely intimate about this act that she’s performing, stripping away this thin barrier that has shielded a vulnerability of his from her and everyone else. That he’s letting her in this close warms her soul, and Tifa feels the firefight of excitement dance throughout her body, realizing that almost all of the walls that Cloud had erected when they first reunited have melted away.
He’s always there for her, Tifa thinks. Let her be there for him, too.
She unravels the bandaging and drops it off to the side with his gloves. Cloud’s no longer watching her face, instead has dropped his gaze and is looking away. But Tifa is staring at his arm, unable to resist the impulse to reach out and run her fingers gently across his flesh.
The skin there is broken, puckered in places as if he had been stabbed and clawed at, maybe even prodded at with needles. She can see the remnants of a faded blue and yellow bruise beneath the scabs, and Cloud flexes his hand again, bubbling his vein against his skin, his muscles straining.
“What happened?” she asks him.
Cloud shrugs and his eyes lift again to meet hers. There’s a pain living there that stabs at her, and Tifa realizes the hurt is far deeper than the surface of those wounds. It comes from something deep inside of him, connected to his inability to recall certain memories, attached to hopelessness and a sense of loss and darkness he’s been muddled in since she discovered him in the rain.
It breaks Tifa’s heart.
She wants to take that pain away. Without thinking, Tifa bends down, dropping her lips to his forearm. She kisses all along the scars and the damage, every press gentle and soft. She hears Cloud emit a tiny, surprised sound that is almost a sigh, but she doesn’t stop. His skin is impossibly warm under her mouth, and Tifa suddenly wants to devour him.
Moments pass with her adoring him with affection this way before Cloud stops her, his free hand coming to her chin. He pulls her gently, and Tifa sits back up, letting her eyes meet his. Their faces are only inches apart at this point, and she can feel the heat of his breath when his lips part.
“Thank you,” he whispers to her before he kisses her.
Tifa doesn’t realize what’s coming until it happens - he leans in quickly, and then, his lips are on hers. She feels the gentle press of his mouth on hers, and his lips are so impossibly soft that it feels like a dream, as if it isn’t real. They are warm and so is Cloud, his arms falling around her body and pulling her into the heat of his embrace.
It’s Tifa’s first kiss, and it’s with Cloud, the boy she’s wanted to kiss since she was thirteen. This thought flutters through her mind and she wonders idly if it’s his too, if he’s wanted to kiss her as long as she has wanted to share this simple act of affection with him. Her thoughts spin, thousands of possibilities bubbling up her insecurities, but they are scattered when his too-strong arms squeeze and crush her against him, her ribcage feeling the brunt of it.
He doesn’t demand too much, even though Tifa can feel the tightly wound tension in his body that tells her he is eager for more. Cloud is always so gentle with her, and even now, he doesn’t part his mouth too much or invade hers with his tongue, as badly as she wants to feel it. All she feels is the heat of his lips and the hot line of wetness between them, and her core clenches, because she wants more more more.
She’s always wanted more with Cloud, and now their relationship is truly teetering beyond a border where, maybe, just maybe, despite the trauma and the tragedies that they share, she might be able to find it.
They break apart after a moment, and Cloud offers her the slightest hint of a smirk. It’s warm, but Tifa sees the smugness behind it, and she knows he’s feeling a sense of triumph at stealing that first kiss from her. It’s okay, because she feels the same.
His eyes pass over her body where she’s crouched in front of him, and Tifa doesn’t miss how they’ve shadowed into a midnight blue, the fervency of quiet lust embedded within. It sets off the throb between her thighs, and she realizes that her nipples have hardened, and she’s eternally grateful that it’s too dark in here for him to notice such a detail.
She hopes.
“We should try to get some sleep,” he says tacitly, carefully pulling on her arms to guide her to lay down.
They settle next to each other on the bedroll, Tifa’s heart crashing like the hooves of horses against pavement inside her chest. She rolls to her side, facing the flaps of the tent, which are slightly parted and let in a leak of starlight. She curls into herself protectively, her body still alight from Cloud’s lips on hers. She’s trying to tamp down her excitement, but there’s no denying the way that Cloud works her up. She’s wet and pulsing between her thighs, her breasts are aching, and her heart hurts.
She wants him.
Cloud settles behind her, and she feels the firm wall of him and all of the heat he brings with him. It doesn’t help the way that she is throbbing, but it’s worsened when he presses the front of his body to the back of hers and wraps one arm around her. The other falls above her head, caging her against him, and Tifa is flooded by a blend of feelings, of safety and comfort and desire that threads through it all.
“Goodnight, Tifa,” he whispers into her ear, his breath skirting over her skin. She can’t avoid the impulse to sigh in response, and she leans back, wanting to feel all of him.
And all of him is hard.
His chest, his abs, his bicep that is curled around her, his hand splaying over the exposed flesh of her belly - all of it is like a block of iron. But it’s the hardest part of him that has Tifa’s attention, the stiffness of his erection pressing into her bottom and setting her bones on fire. She bites into her bottom lip, feeling dizzy as the implications hit her. She can’t stop herself from rolling her hips a little, feeling it jerk against her. Cloud lets out a groan, dark and low and deep in his throat.
He pulls the covers over them and holds her closer. His lips are suddenly on the back of her neck, trailing their way up and down, adoring her with soft kisses. Tifa melts, squirming against him as she feels her clit throb every time he christens her with another blissful press of affection. She rubs her thighs together, but its no relief. She’s wearing too many layers, and the parts of him that she wants so badly are nowhere near the parts of her she needs him the most.
“Go to sleep, Tifa,” he scolds her gently when she grinds back into him again. He’s hooked his fingers under her tank and bra, and they brush against the underside of one breast as he whispers over her shoulder. The combination of his words and his touch is enough to turn her into putty, and she bites even deeper into her lip to keep a moan from escaping. This is embarrassing enough as it is, and her cheeks are on fire as she realizes that he knows exactly how she is feeling at this moment. Knowing how perceptive Cloud is, she wonders if he knows how deep her desire for him runs, leaving her to ruin another pair of panties as she lays with fire running through her veins.
The only consolation, Tifa thinks, is that she knows he wants her too, every muscle in her belly snapping taut when he idly passes his thumb over her nipple.
But that’s the end of it. He lets his hand rest just below her breast, but he doesn’t continue to touch her anymore suggestively after that. He just holds her tight, his body a firm fortress behind her as he spoons her, his knees bent against hers. He leaves his final kiss against her hair.
Tifa lets out a slow sigh, hoping some of the heated need that he’s wrought out of her will disappear so she can sleep. Cloud is breathing quietly, letting himself fall into a light doze. Tifa glances out of the gap in the tent’s flaps again, her eyes hooking onto the swath of galaxies that burn above.
She doesn’t just have a deep-seated crush on Cloud that started in the throes of girlhood. She doesn’t just find him mind-blowingly attractive, doesn’t just appreciate his pretty face and infectious aquamarine eyes and that lean, chiseled body. She doesn’t just care about him and worry about the way that he has changed.
She is in love with him.
.
.
.
It’s days later when Tifa gets to sleep next to Cloud again.
This time, they are both flushed when they stop running together, bright lights and loud music a cacophony around them. Tifa’s head is swimming, she’s had too many cocktails and her cheeks are bright. She’s giggling, and the sound is so foreign to her, but then, so is the happiness she feels as she squeezes his hand tight.
They’re at the Gold Saucer, and they are on their date. The date that Tifa had shyly tried to set up for them back in Sector Seven that never materialized because Shinra and all of its madness got in their way. But they had a reprieve during their second visit to the Gold Saucer, and while every part of her was brimmed over with diffidence at the prospect, she was burning from the inside out with desire for Cloud.
So she gently brought it up again - shyly asking him if he wanted to spend the night finally celebrating their reunion the way that they had agreed just a few short weeks ago. She hadn’t been prepared for the way that Cloud smiled and nodded eagerly, and without a moment’s hesitation, she was pulling him by the wrist and he was following her with his eyes trained on the back of her body.
They dance and they drink, and they hold hands as they make their way through the squares. They’d both shed their gloves and armor before they went out, and Tifa is comforted by the firm warmth of his hand clasped around hers. They play games at Wonder Square and Cloud is terrible at everything except motorcycling and snowboarding. Tifa laughs when he fouls at basketball, and when it’s her turn, she wins a stuffed chocobo and gives it to him, his face as bright and red as a honeycrisp apple.
It’s late when they finally return to the hotel, and Tifa is so tipsy and full of unbridled joy that she isn’t even perturbed by the ghosts this time. Cloud’s no longer holding her hand but holding her waist, keeping her close to him. She likes the way it feels, subtle notes of possession beneath his gloveless fingertips that dig into the soft curve of flesh under her ribs. People notice them as they walk by together, and Tifa catches their smiles. They must think that they are a couple, and she wishes that they were.
She wonders.
Cloud walks her to her room. She’s sharing with Aerith and Yuffie, and she hesitates by the door. He lowers his hand from her waist and scratches the back of his head, and Tifa realizes that his cheeks are stained pink when he finally looks at her.
“I, uh, had fun tonight,” he manages, the highlights on his cheeks brightening and causing Tifa to flush in tandem.
“Me too,” she blurts, and suddenly, Tifa doesn’t want this night to end. She doesn’t want to go in her room, doesn’t want to deal with Aerith and Yuffie’s line of questions, who both insisted they were going to stay up and wait for her so they could hear all about it. She just wants to stay with him, to feel his lips again and to kiss him the way that they’d kissed a few nights ago outside of Nibelheim, the place where their pasts and futures had burned.
The Cosmo Canyons she’d sipped all night must be getting to her because she can’t stop herself from acting on impulse. She rises up on her toes, clumsily reaching for his shoulders, and she kisses him.
Cloud is surprised - she hears it in the little gasp he makes - but after that, his hands are now both on her waist, holding her and keeping her from tumbling or falling over as she leans into him. This time, their kiss starts as a soft press but quickly deteriorates into something messy and hot and swift as Tifa darts her tongue out. Cloud doesn’t shy away from her advances, and he gaps his lips, letting her in. Their tongues meet, and the instant the tip of his touches hers, Tifa feels the familiar, white-hot spark hit the most sensitive parts of her body - a sizzle and a zap across her tits and along the seam of her pussy. She presses her body against his, aching for him.
They’re embroiled in a wet twist of passion like that for a moment longer, and finally needing air, Tifa breaks away. Cloud’s eyes are hooded when he opens them again, and the swirl of colors in his irises is bright. Tifa blinks, thinking she can see the stars there, like diamonds in the sky.
He glances at the door to her room, then back to her face. Tifa knows what he is thinking, because she’s thinking the same.
She nods.
Cloud lowers his hands from her waist and takes her hand, and he turns away, leading her down the carpeted hall. She ignores the spooky music that drawls from the overhead speakers and the flicker of candlelight from the torches burrowed into the walls. Tifa ignores everything around her, except for the boy in front of her, the boy that she has loved for so, so long, who makes her body sing, who makes her feel alive, and who makes her forget how broken and damaged she is inside.
Cloud takes her to his room at the end of the hall. He hates bunking with the other guys. Barret snores too loudly, Nanaki is always underfoot, Cid fills the air with smoke and Vincent just disappears anyway. So he has his own room, and Tifa is suddenly more grateful for this than anything in recent memory.
He pulls her inside and locks the door behind them. The room is small, but it’s furnished like all the others, blood-red carpets and dim candlelight, the bed outfitted in black iron that matches the grates on the windows. The curtains are thrown open, inviting the multitude of colors that shine in from beyond, the Gold Saucer a place that never sleeps.
It makes her a little sad, because with all the light pollution here, she can’t see the stars.
Cloud seems to know what she’s thinking, because he closes the curtains, shadowing the room and keeping the kaleidoscope of rainbow colors at bay. He turns to face her, and Tifa can see that his lips are still wet from their kiss.
“Tifa…”
His voice is so low, and it reawakens the ache that she felt stirred moments ago in the hallway. He steps closer to her, and her head swims as she tries to remember how many drinks she actually had tonight. She’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the way that she’s so crazy about this boy that’s making her dizzy, but either way, she doesn’t complain or fight it when his hands come up to her face and he’s kissing her again.
This time, there’s a wildness in their connection. That Cloud initiates this kiss colors the encounter differently, and his possession and dominance contribute to the sudden frenzy they find themselves in. Tifa moans into his mouth, relenting when his tongue finds hers, dancing against it, its firm point sliding against the softest part of hers. She’s getting wet again, and her clit is throbbing and she’s pulsing from the inside out for him, finding herself desperate for relief from a tenseness that’s been building for weeks.
He knows, because he breaks their kiss and picks her up with his hands under her ass and drops her on the center of the bed. She bounces lightly against the mattress, and already she misses the soft heat of his mouth. But he’s crawling over her, his body a cage that shields her from the rest of the world, and all she can see is him, his beautiful porcelain face and ultramarine eyes and soft blond hair.
Her knees fall open.
Cloud isn’t one to rush, even though his breathing has quickened to the point that he’s nearly panting. He pauses as he hovers, the tops of his cheeks pink, and Tifa blushes too as she realizes that his eyes are roving her. He’s drinking her in, appreciating everything she has to offer as she lays so wantonly below him. She feels unmasked by him, as if all her secrets and the sins of her desires have been laid bare.
“You’re beautiful,” he professes in a whisper.
It’s not the first time he’s told her this, but she’s blushing even harder nonetheless. The last time he shared this sentiment with her, he’d been smirking and smug. But this time, he’s sincere and soft, and the look in his eyes betrays something like reverence.
It melts her, only makes the electricity that’s sparking every nerve ending burn harder, because she realizes that he doesn’t only want her, but he needs her.
Maybe he even loves her.
Tifa doesn’t have time to ruminate on that too much, because Cloud is kissing her again. It’s just as desperate as it had been moments ago, but he’s working even more purposefully now. Every curl and twist of his tongue works with the aim to please, and his hand is on her breast, giving it a careful squeeze.
Somehow, Tifa is coming out of her clothes. Her top and bra are discarded, both pulled over her head and tossed aside. She tries to cover herself - she’s never let anyone see her naked before, and she doesn’t want him to see the nasty scar that Sephiroth left her with. But Cloud kisses her again and whispers in her ear.
“Every part of you is beautiful,” he tells her, pulling her arms away and dashing away her insecurities with a kiss to her scar.
He thumbs a nipple while his lips reconnect with hers, and Tifa rolls her hips up towards his, feeling the stiff ridge of his erection trapped at the front of his pants. The movement causes him to groan, and Cloud pinches her nipple, dropping his lips to her neck. Tifa gasps and curves her head to one side, freeing up the expanse of her throat so that he can suck and kiss and nip at the column of it. She arches her back, feeling her clit throb desperately while her panties grow damp.
Cloud moves lower. The tips of his fingers draw circles over both nipples, and his mouth is now at her clavicle. His touch is so listless and soft that it drives Tifa wild, her body writhing in time with every strum of his rough hands against her sensitive peaks. She’s leaking and she wants to feel more, an ache below that she’s familiar with and has only ever tried to satisfy with her own hesitant touch.
But now she has him, the boy who has always inspired these feelings in her, and she needs him to satisfy it. Badly.
He must know because he’s moving further south. His mouth finds her nipples, sucking each one into firm peaks until she’s forced to moan, unable to stop the way fire screams along her limbs from the sensation. Tifa never paid much attention to her breasts before, but being with Cloud these last few weeks made her painfully aware of the way he could make them ache, and his kisses and sucks and nips have her pussy so wet and the pleasure so bright inside her tummy that she wants to cry.
Cloud’s hands find her waist, working at the buckles of her skirt. He’s a little bit clumsy and uncoordinated, but he isn’t discouraged by this fact. In fact, he only grows more demanding any time he meets the resistance of leather or fabric, and by the time he gets to her panties, he’s tearing them.
Tifa shivers when she is fully naked and exposed under him. He hooks his fingers into her stockings, toying with the fabric as he lowers himself between her thighs. He glances up at her, his eyes glowing bright with the viridian blaze of mako, and she feels her cheeks burn when their gazes connect. He smirks and she bites her lips, and then he drops his lines of sight to her spread core.
Tifa isn’t sure how to react. She’s never been like this with anyone before, in fact, she can count the number of times she’s indulged her own impulses on one hand, every time connected with thoughts about him. But she’s let it get to this point - naked and trembling under him - and she realizes that there is no turning back and despite her fear, she wants this, no, she needs it, so, so badly.
“Beautiful,” he praises her for the third time that night.
Tifa can’t handle it. She blushes so brightly that she has to cover her face with her hands, unable to stare down at him and his smirk any longer. Cloud just kisses her hip bone in response, though, and the next thing she knows, he’s touching her.
He starts by petting her folds, his touch gentle and careful as if he’s afraid to hurt her. The tentative awkwardness of his movements tells Tifa that he’s just as inexperienced as she is, and though she finds this difficult to believe, she has to admit that she is comforted by it. She wants to be his one and only, because she already knows he’s the only one she’ll ever have.
Cloud grows a little more curious, experimenting with the touch of his fingers on her. Tifa closes her eyes and waits, hoping desperately that he’ll find her aching button, and soon. He dips a little inside of her, just enough to drag out a thick stream of her wetness so he can roll it up and over her slit.
Just a little higher, she screams in her mind.
Cloud kisses the inside of her thigh, and Tifa can’t help the heavy sigh that falls from her lips. Everything about Cloud is so soft, even his kisses so close to an intimate part of her are handled with a gentleness that makes her dissolve. But when his finger raises and finally finds her clit, she rewards him with a bright moan.
“Cloud,” she calls, lifting her head from the pillow, her nub filled with blood and engorged by now. “Right there, please…”
Tifa’s voice breaks off into a whine, and her body is as tight as a bowstring as she waits. Cloud offers her a hint of a smile, holding her eyes as two firm fingers stroke the side of her clit. He draws circles over it, and Tifa tosses her head back again, closing her eyes and letting out a dark, needy whimper.
Cloud takes great joy in playing with her clit, Tifa realizes, and the more sounds she makes, the bolder he gets. He wets the pads of his fingers inside of her, Tifa arching her back as he presages a taste of the fullness another part of him can provide her. He runs his fingers in a downward line over her sore, aching spot. He swipes his fingers across it in back and forth movements, and Tifa tosses her head from side to side, feeling a puddle of lava surge deep in her belly. He rubs the tip of her clit where it peeks out at him from beneath its hood, and Tifa is whining again, chewing her lip in an attempt to keep from crying out too loudly.
Cloud stops, staring up at her, and Tifa feels her core clench and her clit pulse in anticipation. She opens her eyes again and stares down at him through her lashes, her chest rising and falling with every quick, heavy breath that she takes. Cloud’s eyes meet hers with a sparkle, and he kisses her inner thigh just once before he leans in and presses his lips to her clit.
Tifa rolls her hips and lets out another loud moan, and Cloud shushes her, his breath and the vibrations of his voice attacking her hot, swollen nub. It makes everything worse, and Tifa raises her arm to her face, biting into the flesh above her wrist to stifle her noise. Cloud is only encouraged by her responsive display, because he holds her thighs down and open with both hands before his tongue goes to work on her clit.
It’s impossible for Tifa to silence her sounds. Even muffled by her arm, her keens and whimpers escape, his name floating from her lips in huffed intervals. Cloud is lapping at her clit, massaging it up and down with the flat of his tongue, flicking it back and forth with the firm tip of it. The coil in her belly tightens, and Tifa plunges into the feeling, letting the release she’s wanted to share with him for weeks now build in every muscle. She strains to reach for it as she feels the wires of electricity expand inside of her nerves, tears pooling the corners of her eyes as it draws close. Her whines of his name become unintelligible, and Cloud notices, because he looks up at her and smirks before he begins to suck on her clit.
That is all it takes. The crescendo quickly builds, and Tifa feels herself on the edge of the cliff, ready to fall. The sensation of his lips wrapped so tightly around that tiny, sensitive part of her, working so feverishly to please her, only helps the euphoria peak that much more quickly. She’s wanted this so bad for so long that now that she has it, her mind has whited out with disbelief that blends with the pleasure he spoils her with. Cloud hums against her, and Tifa breaks, crying his name in a burst as her fingers surge into his hair and she holds him there while she rides every wave.
At some point, it ends. Tifa is spent, her breathing ragged and thin. Cloud pulls his lips away from her skin with a small pop, and it leaves her trembling. He crawls up beside her, taking her into his arms as he kisses her forehead and she tries to remember who and where she is.
“You okay?” he asks her, and she realizes these are her two favorite words in the world.
“Mhm,” is all she musters. She leans closer to him, and when their bodies collide, she realizes he is still as hard as a rock against her hip. It brings her back to reality a little bit, and she looks up at him, finding his eyes still wild with desire even though he hasn’t made another move yet.
It’s her turn to smirk. Tifa offers him the most playful look she can garner, her inhibitions blunted by the remnants of alcohol in her blood and the afterglow of her orgasm that has her still trembling. She leans in to kiss him, his lips slick and tasting like her. She crawls over him, forcing him to lie back, her hands dropping to drag his sweater out of his pants so she can pull it over his head. Cloud moves in tandem with her, letting her take control.
Tifa tosses the sweater aside and doesn’t shy away from admiring Cloud’s sculpted torso. Plenty of times she’d been pressed close enough to him to feel every smooth line of muscle here, and she’d be lying if she said she never observed the way his pectorals were defined against the tight fabric of his sweater. But this is her first time seeing the carved perfection of his body- sinew and muscle smooth and almost architectural in its design, beautiful pale skin puckered with scars that make her own pale in comparison. She can’t resist the urge to touch, her fingers following the story that his body tells, tracing the slash above his heart.
Cloud’s breathing has grown heavy by now, and Tifa knows that he is eager for her to please him the way he pleased her. And she intends to, in fact, just the thought of it has her growing warm and wet again despite how sated she is. She wants to please this man so badly, wants to show him just how much she wants and needs him, how he is everything to her, and how she will do anything to make sure he knows it.
She goes to unbuckle his pants, pulling down his zipper. Her nerves kick in then, and Cloud senses her hesitation. His hand comes up to the side of her face, stroking her cheek gently, his fingers catching into the threads of her hair. It calms her, and Tifa exhales, reaching into his boxers and finding his cock.
She blushes as soon as she pulls it out, finding it long and thick and leaking at the tip. It’s strained from lack of stimulation, its head bright red. Cloud groans as soon as she touches him, closing his eyes.
Tifa’s never seen anything like this before, has never come close to doing anything like this. But Cloud’s reactions are enough of a guide for her, and she strokes him with one hand, her heart beating faster and faster the more he moans and lifts his hips from the bed.
It thrills her to know that she is the one to reduce him to a writhing, whining puddle like this.
Wanting to repay his affection, she leans over and takes the head of his cock into her mouth. She licks away the salty liquid, sliding her tongue between his split. Cloud moans, and his fingers tighten in her hair. She lowers her mouth and starts to suck, unsure of what she’s doing but making her best attempt anyway.
Moments pass with Cloud moaning and grunting, and suddenly, he’s pulling her back by her hair and angling his hips away from her. Confused at first, Tifa leans up and wrinkles her nose, wondering what she’s done wrong. But then she watches as Cloud empties on the mattress, a thick stream spurting out of him as he quietly moans her name. Tifa blushes, but she feels like a queen inside.
Some time passes while he collects himself, and once his breathing has calmed, Cloud reaches for the tissues on the bedside table to clean up his mess. He rights his pants, then immediately slides closer to Tifa, pulling her close to him. She’s still naked except for her thigh-highs, and when her breasts press against the warmth of his chest, all she can do is coo and sigh contently.
“You’re amazing, Tifa,” he whispers into her hair as he pulls the sheets around them.
Tifa laughs happily in response. There are so many things she wants to say, but she’s afraid of every word. The feelings he’s unearthed in her run deeper than anything she could have imagined before he returned to her in Midgar. There was no separating herself from Cloud, and she loves him more purely and desperately than she ever thought possible.
She closes her eyes, inhaling his scent, her brain flooded with endorphins. Now isn’t the time, she thinks. She’ll tell him soon.
It’s the last time she sleeps with him.
.
.
.
The next time Tifa sleeps with Cloud, she’s weeping.
She’s weeping because he doesn’t respond to her. He doesn’t look at her, and when his eyes are open, they are dead, the bright lights behind that crash of blue and green extinguished. He doesn’t smile or smirk, doesn’t quip at her or roll his head to one side or call her name with that gentle softness that sends loose butterflies in her tummy. He doesn’t cross his arms over his chest or tap his foot in frustration. And he doesn’t hold her or kiss or touch her, the way that she had come to rely on and crave.
Things had gone downhill after they ventured to the Temple of the Ancients, and the lingering instability that Tifa had detected in Cloud weeks ago careened out of control. It was followed by a succession of destruction and tragedy, and soon, they lost him.
She’s found him again - in the village of Mideel, locked in a sanitarium. While their friends worry about the world, Tifa makes the decision to worry about him.
He’s the only thing that matters.
She curls up at his side on his gurney, feeling his body tremble beside her. She’s reminded of the way she laid beside him that first night in the slums, after she found him at the train station, his brain as mako-adled as it is now. That night, she’d laid him atop her bed, watching his brow crease as he shook with confusion, and she’d laid beside him, praying he would wake out of it.
Now, she lays beside him, thinking about all of the nights that they spent together - the nights they never spoke of once the sun had come up and the stars faded away. Over the course of that time, Tifa’s feelings bloomed and burst, until she was hopelessly in love with him and wished that she knew how deeply he returned her feelings. But they both stayed silent, sharing their feelings with touch and never with words.
It had been a mistake, she realizes.
Tifa wraps her arms around Cloud, holding him tight in her arms. He moans something nonsensical, and tears run in hot trails down her cheeks. Yet she clutches him even harder, refusing to ever let him go, even if he never speaks to her again.
He’s all that matters, and she holds on to the memories of the intimate moments that they’ve shared, all the times they slept at each other’s sides and held one another tight, when their lips were sealed together and their mutual touch brought fire out of their skin.
She wishes they had talked about it.