Weak Defenses (FFVII, Cloud x Tifa, PG-13)
Jul. 2nd, 2010 11:00 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: Weak Defenses
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
windrider1
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual situations
Prompt: July 3rd - FFVII- Cloud/Tifa: love/hate relationship— there were times when she hated him for being able to reduce her to a quivering mess after his long absences.
There were times that she hated him for his ability to crumble her defenses and turn her into a quivering mass of flesh and responses.
Like now.
Hadn't she been angry a minute ago? she wondered, even as her head tilted back and a sigh left her lips as his tongue—hot and wet—slid into the dip of her collar bone. Hadn't she been justifiably upset over...what again?
She couldn't think when he did that, and it became even more of a task than usual when his fingers—free of their leather confines—traced along her spine to the fastens of her bra.
"Cloud," she said—too soft to really be a word. More like air. His name, her air... She shook her head, tried again. This time she earned a soft grunt and she saw his brows twitch from between the valley of her breasts.
She tugged on his blond spikes, gentle, but insistent. Finally, scorching blue fire blinked up at her from behind the fringe and he waited—silent, expectant, impatient.
Staring into the electric sky, she forgot what it was that she had planned to say.
His lip arched, just a bit, just at the corner, in an eerie resemblance of what Barret had dubbed his 'ass-kicking smirk'. It was his victory assured face, and for some reason it didn't irritate her as much as it probably should.
Maybe because even though his eyes were on hers, his hands had continued their task and she was now bare beneath her tee-shirt and his warm palms were on her aching skin.
She gasped a little, arched, and bit her lip when his teeth grazed against cotton.
"Tifa?" he addressed her, his voice teasing. He lowered his head, mouth open, to hover above her pert nipple, breath steaming even through her clothes. "Was there something you wanted?"
Okay, focus, Lockhart. What was it she was pissed at again?
"It's been two weeks, and unless it's life or death, I'd rather not be talking," he added.
Oh, yes, that.
She scooted back, adjusted her shirt and earned herself a scowl. "You were only supposed to be gone three days," she reminded him.
"Hn." He plucked the hem of her shirt, eyes still smoldering. "Complications came up."
"I understand that--"
"Good." He crawled over her, his lips making their way to her throat. Earlobe sucked gently between his teeth, he asked, "Then what's the problem?"
"You should have," yes, right there, "called."
He hummed against her pulse. "Reeve sent word, didn't he?"
"Yes, but that's hardly the same...we talked about this, and...oh..." Words left as he settled on her, hard and insistent through his pants.
"Were you worried?" he asked, his nimble fingers on her belt.
"Not really," she conceded, wiggling in order to silently assist him. Cloud could take care of himself, and she'd learned—during the time they still rarely spoke of—to not sit up waiting worried for a phone call.
"Hm. Lace. Nice." He cupped her through the black material. "Miss me?"
That was a stupid question. She snorted. "Cloud."
"Show me," he whispered. Which was about as close to 'shut up' as Cloud was going to get with her. That probably should have annoyed her too, but with his hands and lips making the room spin, Tifa decided that she couldn't keep track of all the reasons she should be mad, and instead reminded herself to hate him later for making her tremble and moan and love him, so damn much.
Author:
windrider1Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual situations
Prompt: July 3rd - FFVII- Cloud/Tifa: love/hate relationship— there were times when she hated him for being able to reduce her to a quivering mess after his long absences.
There were times that she hated him for his ability to crumble her defenses and turn her into a quivering mass of flesh and responses.
Like now.
Hadn't she been angry a minute ago? she wondered, even as her head tilted back and a sigh left her lips as his tongue—hot and wet—slid into the dip of her collar bone. Hadn't she been justifiably upset over...what again?
She couldn't think when he did that, and it became even more of a task than usual when his fingers—free of their leather confines—traced along her spine to the fastens of her bra.
"Cloud," she said—too soft to really be a word. More like air. His name, her air... She shook her head, tried again. This time she earned a soft grunt and she saw his brows twitch from between the valley of her breasts.
She tugged on his blond spikes, gentle, but insistent. Finally, scorching blue fire blinked up at her from behind the fringe and he waited—silent, expectant, impatient.
Staring into the electric sky, she forgot what it was that she had planned to say.
His lip arched, just a bit, just at the corner, in an eerie resemblance of what Barret had dubbed his 'ass-kicking smirk'. It was his victory assured face, and for some reason it didn't irritate her as much as it probably should.
Maybe because even though his eyes were on hers, his hands had continued their task and she was now bare beneath her tee-shirt and his warm palms were on her aching skin.
She gasped a little, arched, and bit her lip when his teeth grazed against cotton.
"Tifa?" he addressed her, his voice teasing. He lowered his head, mouth open, to hover above her pert nipple, breath steaming even through her clothes. "Was there something you wanted?"
Okay, focus, Lockhart. What was it she was pissed at again?
"It's been two weeks, and unless it's life or death, I'd rather not be talking," he added.
Oh, yes, that.
She scooted back, adjusted her shirt and earned herself a scowl. "You were only supposed to be gone three days," she reminded him.
"Hn." He plucked the hem of her shirt, eyes still smoldering. "Complications came up."
"I understand that--"
"Good." He crawled over her, his lips making their way to her throat. Earlobe sucked gently between his teeth, he asked, "Then what's the problem?"
"You should have," yes, right there, "called."
He hummed against her pulse. "Reeve sent word, didn't he?"
"Yes, but that's hardly the same...we talked about this, and...oh..." Words left as he settled on her, hard and insistent through his pants.
"Were you worried?" he asked, his nimble fingers on her belt.
"Not really," she conceded, wiggling in order to silently assist him. Cloud could take care of himself, and she'd learned—during the time they still rarely spoke of—to not sit up waiting worried for a phone call.
"Hm. Lace. Nice." He cupped her through the black material. "Miss me?"
That was a stupid question. She snorted. "Cloud."
"Show me," he whispered. Which was about as close to 'shut up' as Cloud was going to get with her. That probably should have annoyed her too, but with his hands and lips making the room spin, Tifa decided that she couldn't keep track of all the reasons she should be mad, and instead reminded herself to hate him later for making her tremble and moan and love him, so damn much.
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