Sleep Well? [FFVII, Cloud x Tifa, NC-17]
Mar. 15th, 2010 12:29 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: Sleep Well?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
windrider1
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: - Final Fantasy VII, Cloud/Tifa: Morning sex - "Did you sleep well?" "Next to you, who wouldn't?"
Word count: 940
A/N: A day late, my apologies! I hope the prompter still enjoys it! In-Game.
Cloud couldn't recall exactly what time they'd managed to crawl into bed after another night of fruitless raids against Shin-Ra, but it had been late—or early, depending on your definition—and the muted gray of morning was unwelcome, and singularly unavoidable. He grudgingly blinked his eyes open, the cracked and flaked ceiling above him a familiar sight.
He supposed, if he really wanted, he could paint it. But he hadn't yet, and wouldn't. This was not his home. This was a place to sleep while he completed his jobs. So long as he was getting paid, he would do what they asked of him, and only that. It was an uncomplicated existence...or it should have been, he thought, rolling onto his side.
The movement caused the warm body beside him to stir, and, features softening, he tilted his head to watch her. And there would be the complication.
Tifa Lockhart.
Childhood...friend.
The foggy shroud over his memory still hadn't lifted completely—for whatever reason—but he remembered Tifa. And she him.
He recalled her finding him at the train station—him half out of his mind from wounds and illness—and her on the run from Shin-Ra troopers. It had only taken a split second recognition on her part for her to risk capture and haul his ass along with her to Sector Seven. Much to the fury of her team leader.
Cloud smirked at that memory. It was enjoyable, getting under Barret's skin and watching the big man bluster. And even more amusing was the way he gave in to Tifa. It was damn hard not to give in to Tifa, though, and Cloud didn't entirely fault the other man there.
Tifa was warm, and steady, and strong, and, well...Tifa.
It was a bit alarming how it felt for him to be around her. How much better he was when he was near her. The static in his head lessened and the pain—that tight, constricting, Ican'tbreathepleasehelpme pain—was gone.
So, when she approached him with working as a mercenary for AVALANCHE he had agreed. Not for the moral reasons she ticked off to him like some rehearsed speech, but because the idea of being away from her was uncomfortable. Disturbingly uncomfortable.
Given the small confines of their living space, and the bedrooms already taken to bursting, it had also seemed only natural to Cloud that he would share her room. He had stated as much, like fact. It made sense to him. He needed to be near her—because crawling beneath his skin was something only she could silence—and in the back of his brain there was the irrefutable need to protect her. To keep her safe.
That had been three months ago. And the small cot he'd started in was now propped against the closet, and Tifa was curled against his side.
Smiling, he brushed some of the longer strands of her hair back from her face. She gave a little sigh and wiggled closer, managing to wedge one of her legs between his. She wore faded sweatpants and an old T-shirt—which shouldn't have been the least bit sexy—but somehow were. She did that with everything, he thought, sliding one hand beneath the shirt and over sleep warm skin. She made everything better.
Watching her face, he cupped her breast, stroked lazy circles with his thumb. Gentle, playful, he teased her nipple until it pebbled against his palm and she sighed in her sleep. Bending his head, Cloud took the peak into his mouth, suckled lightly through cotton.
She squirmed against him and his lips curved up.
He left the alluring softness of her breast to trail his hand down, over her abdomen, beneath the elastic of her sweats, and down to trace against softer, hidden flesh.
In her sleep, she sighed his name.
She was damp, but not ready, so he stroked with patient, attentive fingers. Playing over the folds before dipping lower to slick wet heat along her seam. He adjusted his wrist, slid a finger—then two—deep while his thumb found and rubbed her clit in hard, quick circles.
She came awake with a shudder and a sharp cry of his name, and he chuckled, lowering his mouth to seduce hers. “Hush,” he teased, “you'll wake Barret.”
Coherence and recognition were slow coming to her pleasure hazed brain, but when it did, all she could think to say was: “Sleep well?” in a voice that hitched on the edge of completion.
He tugged down her pants, parted the fold in his boxers, and slid deep in one smooth glide. “Next to you, who wouldn't?” he rasped against her throat.
“Shiva!” Her fingers scrambled against his back as she tried to catch up to her own body.
“Easy,” he murmured, setting a slow, deep pace. He brushed light kisses against her parted mouth. “Just feel.”
Like she could do anything else, she thought, gasping his name again when he withdrew, only to surge back in deeper and harder than before. She stroked the line of his back, left fingernail crescents on his hip and cried out when he rocked and pumped and pleasured her in ways she'd never even dreamed of.
Arched against the worn mattress she took him in greedy answering undulations. In this act there were no questions, no niggling doubts or uncertainties. In this she knew he was Cloud and he was with her. There was no faraway lost look in eyes rimmed green. There was no cocky swagger that didn't fit quite right. No, in this there was only them.
Cloud and Tifa.
Only them.
And it was beautiful.
Author:
windrider1Rating: NC-17
Prompt: - Final Fantasy VII, Cloud/Tifa: Morning sex - "Did you sleep well?" "Next to you, who wouldn't?"
Word count: 940
A/N: A day late, my apologies! I hope the prompter still enjoys it! In-Game.
Cloud couldn't recall exactly what time they'd managed to crawl into bed after another night of fruitless raids against Shin-Ra, but it had been late—or early, depending on your definition—and the muted gray of morning was unwelcome, and singularly unavoidable. He grudgingly blinked his eyes open, the cracked and flaked ceiling above him a familiar sight.
He supposed, if he really wanted, he could paint it. But he hadn't yet, and wouldn't. This was not his home. This was a place to sleep while he completed his jobs. So long as he was getting paid, he would do what they asked of him, and only that. It was an uncomplicated existence...or it should have been, he thought, rolling onto his side.
The movement caused the warm body beside him to stir, and, features softening, he tilted his head to watch her. And there would be the complication.
Tifa Lockhart.
Childhood...friend.
The foggy shroud over his memory still hadn't lifted completely—for whatever reason—but he remembered Tifa. And she him.
He recalled her finding him at the train station—him half out of his mind from wounds and illness—and her on the run from Shin-Ra troopers. It had only taken a split second recognition on her part for her to risk capture and haul his ass along with her to Sector Seven. Much to the fury of her team leader.
Cloud smirked at that memory. It was enjoyable, getting under Barret's skin and watching the big man bluster. And even more amusing was the way he gave in to Tifa. It was damn hard not to give in to Tifa, though, and Cloud didn't entirely fault the other man there.
Tifa was warm, and steady, and strong, and, well...Tifa.
It was a bit alarming how it felt for him to be around her. How much better he was when he was near her. The static in his head lessened and the pain—that tight, constricting, Ican'tbreathepleasehelpme pain—was gone.
So, when she approached him with working as a mercenary for AVALANCHE he had agreed. Not for the moral reasons she ticked off to him like some rehearsed speech, but because the idea of being away from her was uncomfortable. Disturbingly uncomfortable.
Given the small confines of their living space, and the bedrooms already taken to bursting, it had also seemed only natural to Cloud that he would share her room. He had stated as much, like fact. It made sense to him. He needed to be near her—because crawling beneath his skin was something only she could silence—and in the back of his brain there was the irrefutable need to protect her. To keep her safe.
That had been three months ago. And the small cot he'd started in was now propped against the closet, and Tifa was curled against his side.
Smiling, he brushed some of the longer strands of her hair back from her face. She gave a little sigh and wiggled closer, managing to wedge one of her legs between his. She wore faded sweatpants and an old T-shirt—which shouldn't have been the least bit sexy—but somehow were. She did that with everything, he thought, sliding one hand beneath the shirt and over sleep warm skin. She made everything better.
Watching her face, he cupped her breast, stroked lazy circles with his thumb. Gentle, playful, he teased her nipple until it pebbled against his palm and she sighed in her sleep. Bending his head, Cloud took the peak into his mouth, suckled lightly through cotton.
She squirmed against him and his lips curved up.
He left the alluring softness of her breast to trail his hand down, over her abdomen, beneath the elastic of her sweats, and down to trace against softer, hidden flesh.
In her sleep, she sighed his name.
She was damp, but not ready, so he stroked with patient, attentive fingers. Playing over the folds before dipping lower to slick wet heat along her seam. He adjusted his wrist, slid a finger—then two—deep while his thumb found and rubbed her clit in hard, quick circles.
She came awake with a shudder and a sharp cry of his name, and he chuckled, lowering his mouth to seduce hers. “Hush,” he teased, “you'll wake Barret.”
Coherence and recognition were slow coming to her pleasure hazed brain, but when it did, all she could think to say was: “Sleep well?” in a voice that hitched on the edge of completion.
He tugged down her pants, parted the fold in his boxers, and slid deep in one smooth glide. “Next to you, who wouldn't?” he rasped against her throat.
“Shiva!” Her fingers scrambled against his back as she tried to catch up to her own body.
“Easy,” he murmured, setting a slow, deep pace. He brushed light kisses against her parted mouth. “Just feel.”
Like she could do anything else, she thought, gasping his name again when he withdrew, only to surge back in deeper and harder than before. She stroked the line of his back, left fingernail crescents on his hip and cried out when he rocked and pumped and pleasured her in ways she'd never even dreamed of.
Arched against the worn mattress she took him in greedy answering undulations. In this act there were no questions, no niggling doubts or uncertainties. In this she knew he was Cloud and he was with her. There was no faraway lost look in eyes rimmed green. There was no cocky swagger that didn't fit quite right. No, in this there was only them.
Cloud and Tifa.
Only them.
And it was beautiful.
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