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kinkfestTitle: Of Dolls and Playing
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
syvia
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, swearing, some dub-con
Word Count: 4742
Summary: While searching for Cloud, Tifa finds something else.
Author's Notes:crimsoncookie is to be thanked for betaing- love ya, hon! I admit, I picked up this prompt because the mental image was that hot. Hope you enjoy.
Prompt: 8th- Kingdom Hearts, Sephiroth/Tifa: Roleplay - "Cloud's always wanted to see you in a maid's outfit... trust me, I'm his darkness, I know these things."
Tifa had always believed that, if you couldn't find something- had looked in all the usual places- then the next, sensible thing to do was to look somewhere unusual.
The upper reaches of the castle were unusual, and here she was crawling through rubble, picking her way across tumbled stone and dead electrical wiring. Once her footing was more secure, there were rooms to be searched, and she moved through them slowly. They had been a suite once. A bedroom, a sitting room, a small library and even though Tifa had never seen the castle in the days of Radiant Garden's splendor, her heart hurt to think how beautiful it must have been years ago. The room was in tact but the bookshelves were covered with dust. The tables and chairs were sturdy, but slightly cracked and needing wood polish.
Tifa stood beside a table, drawing her finger through a layer of dust thick enough to write in. Something on the floor drew her gaze.
A footprint.
Light fought its way past the dusty windowpanes and she had left footprints, but this one was noticeably larger- repeated over the floor. Tifa followed them, lips parted and her breath coming a bit faster. Cloud? Had he been hiding here all this time? They carried to the bed, and she realized the bedclothes had been disturbed- they were clean, free of dust. The bed was made, but she put her hand beneath the sheets and they still held warmth.
There were footprints that moved from the bed to the wardrobe. Handprints marked the doors- one to brace the left, one on the handle for the right, and she put her smaller palms over someone else's marks as if they were a magic spell- to copy the other's gesture was to release the lock.
She opened the wardrobe.
Tifa blinked.
"Do you like it?"
She spun on her heel, snapping the other into Sephiroth's face- or would have if he'd still been standing behind her. Tifa followed him, punching left- right- and he dodged both. She grimaced and lunged- she was better than this- she could score a hit, damnit, and she'd have to if she wanted any chance of getting out.
She didn’t.
But no one could say she didn’t try.
Sephiroth caught her on the second pass, and Tifa wasn’t sure why the sight of the wings extended made her pause- they were a weakness, she should have attacked them like she would have any other body part- but they did, and then her back was up against one of the bedposts, arms over her head and a muscular leg spreading hers apart, lifting her inches from the floor- leverage gone.
“Just get it over with,” she muttered, staring at him. At least she’d gone down fighting.
Then he looked at her, looked her over.
“Does that mean you’ll wear the outfit?” His voice was low, soft and... interested. His thigh flexed against her groin and Tifa’s eyebrows lifted as she realized he was... yes, he was ogling her. His free hand rose- she squirmed, grimacing as she assumed he was going to grope her breast... and he didn’t. Sephiroth trailed light fingertips over her neck, smiling at her glare and the shiver that followed. She... didn’t think they were on the same page here.
“Wear the outfit?” she parroted.
“Cloud has always wanted to see you in a French Maid’s uniform,” he murmured, and she felt his breath- which smelled oddly like nothing at all- stirring her hair against her neck. “I’m his dark half, so I share the desire.”
“You w... what do you think is going to happen here?” He wasn’t hurting her- unless she struggled, because really, trying to strain against his hand was like banging your wrist against an iron bar- and he wasn’t threatening her.
“If you don’t put on the outfit,” he said, “I really do expect you to leave. It’s terribly rude to barge in on one’s private rooms.”
Tifa could admit when she was totally at a loss. She was humble enough for that. She didn’t give up, she improvised in a fight, but she knew there were just some times that you didn’t know what the hell was going on. This was one.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“Why would I?”
She was gaping at him and she knew it. That Sephiroth found her expression amusing was probably a good thing. She tried to come up with an answer. ‘Because you’re evil’ sounded too rude- even for someone like this.
“I admit, I am Cloud’s Dark Side, I have made it my ambition to pull his heart fully into the Darkness, but you are his Light. You are a contrast- something he can feel unworthy of. I do not tend toward self-flagellation." He loosed her neck, moved his hands so he steadied her a bit, then straightened his leg.
Tifa stood on her own two feet and her thighs felt colder for the loss of contact.
"I will return in one half hour," he said. "That should give you adequate time to think it over, as well as dress yourself in the costume." Then he turned around, and left.
Tifa stood there blinking.
The skirt barely covered her ass, and yet, Tifa was certain the thing was supposed to fit that way. If she leaned forward even a little, she'd flash anyone who happened to be standing behind her. There were fishnet stockings, but they were thigh-highs, and underwear had not been provided. She could have kept her own, but she had to admit, with a slight blush and knowing how ridiculous it sounded, that they didn't match the outfit. Besides- she knew what she was staying for. If she hadn't, the costume should have made it more than obvious. The bodice didn't support her breasts so much as present them for better viewing- the top of the cups covered her nipples but barely, and she held little hope for staying inside them if she moved too quickly.
Tifa had taken, when all was said and done, very little time to decide whether or not she was staying. She'd gotten undressed and dressed again with enough time to put some effort into it- she'd taken her hair out of its ponytail and braided it to the side, pulling it over her shoulder so the last six inches (left out of the braid in a tail) could spill down her skin. The contact over her cleavage was soft, repetitive as she breathed, and she toyed with her hair, grasping the elastic band and shifting it so her hair stroked over the tops of her breasts. She could remember very well the last time she'd had sex, and there was no reason not to help it along. Not that she needed much help. The outfit was doing half the work and thoughts of Sephiroth were doing the rest.
There were no sleeves, only ruffles on elastic which hugged her biceps. There was a little hat of a similar white, gauzy ruffle, and pins to hold it in her hair. Stark contrast to the black wrapping her skin.
A full-length mirror stood in one corner of the room, but Tifa didn't need it to know the overall effect- the tight confines of the bodice and the thought of why she was wearing it made her breathe a little faster.
She was crazy.
Sephiroth, whatever his excuses, was not to be trusted. Granted, he didn't seem to be the type to use costumes to humiliate before killing someone, and he'd given her the opportunity to leave. Tifa had checked the outer rooms- checked to see whether or not he'd try to stop her. Nothing had happened. He was Cloud's dark half, as he had said, and if Tifa could make his darker half feel wanted then, damnit, maybe his light half would stick around long enough for her to...
Now she was making excuses for herself to have sex with Sephiroth.
Her body and his interest were enough- really.
Except he was insane.
Tifa picked up the feather duster (supplied with the outfit) to stop thinking about it. So she wanted to get laid. So what? It wasn't a crime. It wasn't as if Cloud were around and asking her to dress in provocative costumes.
She stood in the high heels, shifted her weight from one foot to the other to get the feel of them. The tops of the stockings (held up with hooks that ran beneath the skirt and attached to the bodice) pulled a little on the outside of her legs. Tifa walked, swinging her hips a little, over to the bookcases. She began to dust.
"Be certain you give attention to the upper shelves, Mademoiselle Lockheart- they need it badly."
She stopped- and before she could blush, what he'd said sunk in. That was... kind of hot.
"Oui, Monsieur." She stood on the balls of her feet- she couldn't get much higher than the heels, but she could go a little, and she had to, to reach the top shelf. He could probably see her ass. Tifa dusted slowly, thinking about the role she was playing and how he was probably looking at her and what he could see. Well she was going to give him a good. Long. Look.
She finished one shelf and it didn't occur to her to be annoyed that she hadn't heard him come in. She wasn't annoyed that he seemed to be taking his time. She dusted the second level as slowly and deliberately, legs pressed primly together- at odds with her lack of undergarments. Tifa controlled her breathing, felt the weight of her breasts in the bodice and how they pressed together. The room was temperate enough that she wasn't cold, and her sweat wasn't from any heat in the air.
She wanted to turn and look at him, watch his face and how he watched her- no, she was a maid. She was supposed to be cleaning. When she'd enough of the upper shelves, rather than extending her arm to reach the next, Tifa leaned over a bit, teasing deliberately with what she knew Sephiroth could see- standing with her body slightly facing the side- giving him a glimpse of her breasts as she dusted.
She listened to his footsteps and controlled the smile that wanted to stretch her lips. She wasn't paying attention to him- she was cleaning. It was very important to get all the dust.
"Now the table, if you please." His voice was nearly in her hair, low and soft, deep enough to vibrate along her skin.
She couldn't help a shiver. Tifa straightened up slowly, meeting his eyes and the expectant look in them. Yes, he wanted her. She lingered over the pale skin and well-defined musculature visible in the open sections of his coat- the long spill of his hair down his back, like beaten silver against the blue-black of his wings.
"Oui, Monsieur."
She turned, walked over to the table, which was a bit lower than waist-height. She dusted it and felt his warmth at her thighs. Gloved hands trailed over the stockings and Tifa made a soft sound- lost the rhythm of her dusting.
"Resume, Mademoiselle." His fingers dug lightly into her thigh, didn't move until she made a superficial effort to dust the table- Sephiroth didn't care that she wasn't actually removing the dust. He cupped her ass, squeezed. The sound of her indrawn breath sounded so loud- her mouth was suddenly dry but she kept dusting until she heard his fly being undone- the purr of metal against metal and cloth shifting. Sephiroth said nothing as she let the duster pitch over and rest on the top of the table. Tifa wrapped her fingers over the edge, one on the side, the other around the back, palms flattened over the surface. Her calves burned as she straightened them, bracing herself, and her spine bowed to give him better access, hips tilted up and back, legs spread slightly.
She felt his hands again, palms trailing up her thighs, the curve of her ass, before spreading large and warm over her hips. Tifa whimpered a breath as she felt him slide against her, then he was in her. Then he was moving, dragging himself out of her, and into her, slowly at first, gradually picking up speed. Tifa smiled, biting her lower lip and pressing backwards to take him deeper as he moved forward. Her body was warm, faintly moist with the sweat of their exertion on her skin.
Her breasts shook, entire body rocking forward with the force of his thrusts, she hummed her pleasure, moaned and cried out with total abandon as he struck deep and touched something inside her that made her vision spark and waver at the edges. Tifa closed her eyes and held tighter- her knuckles hurt- she didn't care. Her muscles shook and his fingers pressed into her hips- hurting dimly as he went faster, and she was screaming, driven to mindlessness as he held her up and thrust even harder, and she almost stumbled on the high heels. She lost any control over the experience and could only hold on to the table, feeling, riding the sensations till they sent her over the edge and the world disappeared.
When it came back, Tifa stood on shaking legs. Sephiroth had pulled her back to lean against his broad chest and she did- unable to move away if she wanted to remain standing. He had pulled out of her but stayed close. She could feel that he was still hard. A hand on her waist nudged but gently, steadying her until she could lean a hip against the table and stand on her own at the same time the other played softly over her breasts, through the locks of hair resting on them. He smiled down at her.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle."
"It was my pleasure, Monsieur. But you haven't been finished yet," and she smirked, when she probably should have been running for the door. It just... didn't seem polite to leave him unsatisfied.
Yes, she was crazy- or maybe it was the afterglow.
He returned the smirk. "Hmm, no. Would you care to do something about that?"
"Oui."
"Then come sit upon my lap," he murmured.
Tifa leaned against the table as he walked away, still hard, slick from her body, uncaring that he hung out of his clothes. She watched his ass- what she could see of it- and frowned a bit, still playing the part.
"Monsieur," she said, "we might stain your trousers."
He turned and carefully- mindful of the wings- sat in the dusty leather chair, cock straight and rising without hindrance with the dark of his clothing all around it. He was still ready for her, smiled, "I would not sit upon this furniture in nothing at all. I am sure you can appreciate that."
"I will hardly sit upon nothing," she purred, moving forward slowly, with a swing to her aching hips.
He watched her intently, let his arms rest upon the sides of the chair as Tifa put her hands on the back, between his head and the arch of his wings. She climbed into the chair, knees straddling his thighs, resting on the seat. She gave him a heavy-lidded glance and a smile as she lowered herself onto him. She was still slick inside, loose, he was still hard, and it was an easy joining. Even having been satisfied, she felt needy, wanting him inside her and relieved as she took him in a bit at a time. She braced herself on the back of the chair and started to move.
She felt no need to kiss him, and he didn't try. He stared at her all the while- like he wanted to imprint the image of her, face flushed, lips parted, in his memory. He never closed his eyes, the only signs of lost control were the faint sheen of sweat on his face, a slight rustling of his wings now and again- a rise in the speed of his pulse. She could feel it when she nipped along his neck- the echo of it through his cock. He sighed almost sweetly as she rode him. She moved over him, and she felt almost lazy with the lack of speed.
She continued- not really working towards her own climax, enjoying the motion and the heat of her own body, humming encouragement when his hands spread over her ribs, stroked upwards and peeled the bodice down over itself, exposing her nipples to the air. She didn't stoop moving as he nuzzled them, sucking one, raising the other and pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.
She moved faster, pushing against him with each movement, tipping her head back when a finger, slick with the fluid of their own bodies, stroked her, sending what felt like tiny jolts of electricity through her body and sweet Planet- where had Sephiroth learned this?
Had it been Cloud's knowledge first?
His hand was on her back, pressing her closer, and she finally heard him making noise, hissing groans, sharp grunts as he twisted upward to meet her body, stroked her as he kissed over her breasts.
She heard nothing as he came, spilling hot and sudden into her body, clutching her to him- nipping sharply at her skin and she cried out and followed.
"I wonder," he was murmuring into her ear before she could string a coherent thought together, "what Cloud will have to say about this."
Tifa shivered at the sound of his voice, at the words he said, but didn't lift her head from his shoulder, didn't pull away from where she leaned heavily upon his chest. His hands stroked her back gently, over and over.
"He doesn't have the right to say anything," Tifa murmured, and somewhat bitterly, "he's never around."
"Ah yes," Sephiroth trailed a single digit up her spine. "You have every right to move on, choose someone else, make a life without him."
But that wasn't what she wanted... and suddenly Tifa was all too aware that she was half-naked, dressed in a maid's uniform with an enemy... of sorts, sheathed inside her. She felt cold, stone-cold sober and shifted to slide off him- sucked in a breath when his grip tightened.
"Let me go." She remembered- reminded herself in the sudden fear that this was a man who could snap her spine bare-handed, carried a sword as long as she was tall, and as far as she had seen, had no compunctions about killing. She'd stayed on the assertion that he had no reason to harm her- because he'd showed her a little attention... a little desire.
She was so fucking stupid.
"If you care so little about what he thinks, Mademoiselle Lockheart," he drawled the title and Tifa clenched her jaw, annoyed that his purr continued to make her shudder, "why do you continue to search for him? Oh, I remember. You love him so."
She didn't agree or disagree, tense, her arms on his shoulders. They were too close for him to see her face and she was glad of it.
"He keeps running away from me," she said, and it was true. She was also avoiding Sephiroth's words. "I just want to get him in one place long enough to talk about why."
"Fucking his dark half is the perfect conversation opener. You're sure to convince him he's wanted this way." His tone was polite agreement. Tifa wanted to punch him. What had she been thinking? What had he been thinking?
"This was all about Cloud." But that had been true for both of them, hadn't it? She had no right to feel betrayed and yet...
"Of course," the bastard sounded surprised that she would doubt it. "But I would not say no-"
She grabbed the hand creeping up her thigh and clenched it in her fist, a little harder and she knew it would break.
He was hard again. Tifa leaned away from him, still held, and his arm was so powerful around her back, muscles flexed against her skin and she was afraid- and it made her angrier.
"We're not doing this again."
He smiled at her. They could have been talking about the weather for all his polite tone and bland expressions.
Tifa gritted her teeth and refused to think how ridiculous she probably looked in the hat and the ruffles which brushed the front of her chest, her hair trailing down over her naked breasts and she was straddling him-
"I'm going to give you thirty seconds to let you prove you don't want to hurt me- and then I'm going to start throwing punches. ...One." She'd actually give him ten. Tifa estimated the time she'd need to reach for one of the shoes. High heels could very handily cause blunt-force trauma. If they were thin enough, they made good stabbing weapons. Her gaze had gone still and cold- and Sephiroth's expression changed, recognizing her as a threat. He opened his hands.
Tifa pulled away with a slight wince that she tried not to show, backed up, stepping out of the shoes and kicking them behind her to roll and eventually stop against the wall. She moved to the chair on which she'd left her clothes and she had no idea how this was going to work.
She couldn't climb out of here without shoes. There were Heartless- she didn't look away from him as she thought, and reached blindly for her gloves. Sephiroth sat there as if he weren't hanging out of his clothes, hadn't just had sex... as if he were a perfectly normal man over six feet tall with enormous black wings.
Right.
Tifa pulled on the gloves and reached for her vest.
"I would appreciate," he said pleasantly, "the return of the costume."
Asshole. Fine. If he wanted the costume, she'd give it back. Tifa gripped the sides of the bodice and pulled- pulled it open, mostly likely pulled half the eyehooks out of the back. She dropped it and the bodice pulled the stockings to the floor. She stepped on one and pulled her foot out, did the same with the other stocking. She pulled on her vest, mentally grimacing as the ruffle on her arm rolled upward and was pinned beneath the leather. He was smiling at her.
She never saw him move- reacting instinctively as a blur of wings, silver, and black cloth flew at her- she felt the kick impact on his chest and reverberate up her leg, every muscle she'd just abused gave a twinge. She kicked again, aiming for his face. The next move was a punch to the crotch, all three quick, without thought, the third intercepted when he grabbed her wrist.
Another kick- she was going to hurt for this later... if he didn't kill her. There was no condemnation for her stupidity, no embarrassment at her nudity- she'd given herself over to the fight and it was all she had in that moment. She was aware of him- his state of arousal, heightened breathing, the musk of his feathers and his enthralled smile. He was enjoying the fight. Even with all her skill and strength built with careful years of training, she was barely hurting him and she knew it. He accepted hits and blocked others, toying with her. He had been toying with her. She was still afraid and still angry because of it. Tifa knew- when he tired of the fight-
He grabbed her wrist in one hand and her neck in the other, flung her on the bed. She was back up in seconds but he was faster, hands on her forearms and legs pinning hers.
"Now," he said, leaning close enough that his forelocks brushed her face, "you will recall that I said 'I had no reason' to kill you. I have no reason- but if you continue to be so rude..."
"Fuck you," and she made it sound off-hand and disdainful. She was proud of herself.
He laughed against her cheek. "You've already done that. Should I remind you how it felt?"
As soon as she got enough leverage, she was going to kick him in the balls. "No."
"Where is the harm in it?" he asked. "Cloud pays no attention to either of us. Why not enjoy ourselves in his absence?" He lowered his face to her neck and biting softly just below the jaw.
Okay, he had been good- she could admit that. Toe-curling good, and her body wouldn't have- down girl. It was a stupid idea. It had been stupid the first two times. So she was lonely and horny- so what? Did she love Cloud or not? She knew better than to think he'd just shrug this off if he found out. Sephiroth would most likely ensure he would find out. Fuck.
She had more pressing things to worry about at the moment.
He'd moved his hands, stroking her breasts and pinching lightly. His touch was careful, as if he expected her to start fighting him any minute.
"Fine," she murmured, stroking his arms, shifting her legs out from under his. He let her- searching her eyes. "Once more," she said, cupping his face, "and then I'm leaving."
"Very well," he smiled.
She smiled, and head-butted him.
Years later, she still wouldn't find anything- fiend or Heartless- that could hit as hard as Sephiroth. Her head throbbed and there were sparks in her vision- through the ringing in her ears, she could hear his laughter.
"Aren't you the devious one," he chuckled, pinning her wrists with one hand. "But I've never wondered why he chose you." The bed squeaked as he shifted slightly, guided her leg to curl over his hip before he thrust into her, breathing out.
Her head spun and she tried to keep it still, her breaths slow. He rocked into her slowly, gently, and maybe he was being careful of her injury- which made it somehow worse. Tifa hissed in discomfort- she was still slick, but not as much as she had been and the first moments were tight- slow, painful friction between their flesh. It didn't seem right that he still felt so good. He was a violent sociopath. Her body didn't seem to care.
She concentrated on keeping her head still, unclenched her jaw, let her breath come fast and sharp, felt the twitch of her body as he started to go faster and she grew closer to the brink. The ruffles on her arms abraded her skin- a hair pin was digging into her scalp and her vest was slick and warm with sweat. Her leg muscles jumped with shivery convulsion after convulsion and he pounded into her, relentless. She heard herself gasping.
For a moment or two, the orgasm drowned out the pain in her head.
Then he was sliding out of her. Tifa lowered her arms. She groaned as she pressed a hand to the side of her head. She could hear him zipping up- almost smirked as he extracted the ruffles from her vest and pulled them gently from her arms. He tugged at the hat and she slapped his hand away- undoing the pins herself with agonizing slowness.
"Cheap bastard," she muttered, freeing it to lay on the coverlet, where he caught it up.
"Not at all." It seemed like too much trouble to push his fingers away from her cheek. "I simply think we can get more use out of it."
It was also too much trouble to tell him to go to hell. Tifa waited for the world to stop spinning.
"Cloud has that much of a fetish?" she asked, not expecting him to answer.
He didn't, but chuckled. Tifa listened to his footsteps, cracked her eyes open to watch him leave. She'd take a few minutes- then start to get dressed. She had no desire to fall on her ass in the dust and have to get dressed there.
A maid's uniform. She had to smirk. Cloud had wanted to see her in a maid's uniform. Tifa sighed- then sucked in a breath. If she could believe anything Sephiroth had said....
Cloud. Cloud had wanted to see her in a maid's uniform.
Despite everything- she smiled.
Author/Artist:
syviaRating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, swearing, some dub-con
Word Count: 4742
Summary: While searching for Cloud, Tifa finds something else.
Author's Notes:
crimsoncookie is to be thanked for betaing- love ya, hon! I admit, I picked up this prompt because the mental image was that hot. Hope you enjoy.Prompt: 8th- Kingdom Hearts, Sephiroth/Tifa: Roleplay - "Cloud's always wanted to see you in a maid's outfit... trust me, I'm his darkness, I know these things."
Tifa had always believed that, if you couldn't find something- had looked in all the usual places- then the next, sensible thing to do was to look somewhere unusual.
The upper reaches of the castle were unusual, and here she was crawling through rubble, picking her way across tumbled stone and dead electrical wiring. Once her footing was more secure, there were rooms to be searched, and she moved through them slowly. They had been a suite once. A bedroom, a sitting room, a small library and even though Tifa had never seen the castle in the days of Radiant Garden's splendor, her heart hurt to think how beautiful it must have been years ago. The room was in tact but the bookshelves were covered with dust. The tables and chairs were sturdy, but slightly cracked and needing wood polish.
Tifa stood beside a table, drawing her finger through a layer of dust thick enough to write in. Something on the floor drew her gaze.
A footprint.
Light fought its way past the dusty windowpanes and she had left footprints, but this one was noticeably larger- repeated over the floor. Tifa followed them, lips parted and her breath coming a bit faster. Cloud? Had he been hiding here all this time? They carried to the bed, and she realized the bedclothes had been disturbed- they were clean, free of dust. The bed was made, but she put her hand beneath the sheets and they still held warmth.
There were footprints that moved from the bed to the wardrobe. Handprints marked the doors- one to brace the left, one on the handle for the right, and she put her smaller palms over someone else's marks as if they were a magic spell- to copy the other's gesture was to release the lock.
She opened the wardrobe.
Tifa blinked.
"Do you like it?"
She spun on her heel, snapping the other into Sephiroth's face- or would have if he'd still been standing behind her. Tifa followed him, punching left- right- and he dodged both. She grimaced and lunged- she was better than this- she could score a hit, damnit, and she'd have to if she wanted any chance of getting out.
She didn’t.
But no one could say she didn’t try.
Sephiroth caught her on the second pass, and Tifa wasn’t sure why the sight of the wings extended made her pause- they were a weakness, she should have attacked them like she would have any other body part- but they did, and then her back was up against one of the bedposts, arms over her head and a muscular leg spreading hers apart, lifting her inches from the floor- leverage gone.
“Just get it over with,” she muttered, staring at him. At least she’d gone down fighting.
Then he looked at her, looked her over.
“Does that mean you’ll wear the outfit?” His voice was low, soft and... interested. His thigh flexed against her groin and Tifa’s eyebrows lifted as she realized he was... yes, he was ogling her. His free hand rose- she squirmed, grimacing as she assumed he was going to grope her breast... and he didn’t. Sephiroth trailed light fingertips over her neck, smiling at her glare and the shiver that followed. She... didn’t think they were on the same page here.
“Wear the outfit?” she parroted.
“Cloud has always wanted to see you in a French Maid’s uniform,” he murmured, and she felt his breath- which smelled oddly like nothing at all- stirring her hair against her neck. “I’m his dark half, so I share the desire.”
“You w... what do you think is going to happen here?” He wasn’t hurting her- unless she struggled, because really, trying to strain against his hand was like banging your wrist against an iron bar- and he wasn’t threatening her.
“If you don’t put on the outfit,” he said, “I really do expect you to leave. It’s terribly rude to barge in on one’s private rooms.”
Tifa could admit when she was totally at a loss. She was humble enough for that. She didn’t give up, she improvised in a fight, but she knew there were just some times that you didn’t know what the hell was going on. This was one.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“Why would I?”
She was gaping at him and she knew it. That Sephiroth found her expression amusing was probably a good thing. She tried to come up with an answer. ‘Because you’re evil’ sounded too rude- even for someone like this.
“I admit, I am Cloud’s Dark Side, I have made it my ambition to pull his heart fully into the Darkness, but you are his Light. You are a contrast- something he can feel unworthy of. I do not tend toward self-flagellation." He loosed her neck, moved his hands so he steadied her a bit, then straightened his leg.
Tifa stood on her own two feet and her thighs felt colder for the loss of contact.
"I will return in one half hour," he said. "That should give you adequate time to think it over, as well as dress yourself in the costume." Then he turned around, and left.
Tifa stood there blinking.
The skirt barely covered her ass, and yet, Tifa was certain the thing was supposed to fit that way. If she leaned forward even a little, she'd flash anyone who happened to be standing behind her. There were fishnet stockings, but they were thigh-highs, and underwear had not been provided. She could have kept her own, but she had to admit, with a slight blush and knowing how ridiculous it sounded, that they didn't match the outfit. Besides- she knew what she was staying for. If she hadn't, the costume should have made it more than obvious. The bodice didn't support her breasts so much as present them for better viewing- the top of the cups covered her nipples but barely, and she held little hope for staying inside them if she moved too quickly.
Tifa had taken, when all was said and done, very little time to decide whether or not she was staying. She'd gotten undressed and dressed again with enough time to put some effort into it- she'd taken her hair out of its ponytail and braided it to the side, pulling it over her shoulder so the last six inches (left out of the braid in a tail) could spill down her skin. The contact over her cleavage was soft, repetitive as she breathed, and she toyed with her hair, grasping the elastic band and shifting it so her hair stroked over the tops of her breasts. She could remember very well the last time she'd had sex, and there was no reason not to help it along. Not that she needed much help. The outfit was doing half the work and thoughts of Sephiroth were doing the rest.
There were no sleeves, only ruffles on elastic which hugged her biceps. There was a little hat of a similar white, gauzy ruffle, and pins to hold it in her hair. Stark contrast to the black wrapping her skin.
A full-length mirror stood in one corner of the room, but Tifa didn't need it to know the overall effect- the tight confines of the bodice and the thought of why she was wearing it made her breathe a little faster.
She was crazy.
Sephiroth, whatever his excuses, was not to be trusted. Granted, he didn't seem to be the type to use costumes to humiliate before killing someone, and he'd given her the opportunity to leave. Tifa had checked the outer rooms- checked to see whether or not he'd try to stop her. Nothing had happened. He was Cloud's dark half, as he had said, and if Tifa could make his darker half feel wanted then, damnit, maybe his light half would stick around long enough for her to...
Now she was making excuses for herself to have sex with Sephiroth.
Her body and his interest were enough- really.
Except he was insane.
Tifa picked up the feather duster (supplied with the outfit) to stop thinking about it. So she wanted to get laid. So what? It wasn't a crime. It wasn't as if Cloud were around and asking her to dress in provocative costumes.
She stood in the high heels, shifted her weight from one foot to the other to get the feel of them. The tops of the stockings (held up with hooks that ran beneath the skirt and attached to the bodice) pulled a little on the outside of her legs. Tifa walked, swinging her hips a little, over to the bookcases. She began to dust.
"Be certain you give attention to the upper shelves, Mademoiselle Lockheart- they need it badly."
She stopped- and before she could blush, what he'd said sunk in. That was... kind of hot.
"Oui, Monsieur." She stood on the balls of her feet- she couldn't get much higher than the heels, but she could go a little, and she had to, to reach the top shelf. He could probably see her ass. Tifa dusted slowly, thinking about the role she was playing and how he was probably looking at her and what he could see. Well she was going to give him a good. Long. Look.
She finished one shelf and it didn't occur to her to be annoyed that she hadn't heard him come in. She wasn't annoyed that he seemed to be taking his time. She dusted the second level as slowly and deliberately, legs pressed primly together- at odds with her lack of undergarments. Tifa controlled her breathing, felt the weight of her breasts in the bodice and how they pressed together. The room was temperate enough that she wasn't cold, and her sweat wasn't from any heat in the air.
She wanted to turn and look at him, watch his face and how he watched her- no, she was a maid. She was supposed to be cleaning. When she'd enough of the upper shelves, rather than extending her arm to reach the next, Tifa leaned over a bit, teasing deliberately with what she knew Sephiroth could see- standing with her body slightly facing the side- giving him a glimpse of her breasts as she dusted.
She listened to his footsteps and controlled the smile that wanted to stretch her lips. She wasn't paying attention to him- she was cleaning. It was very important to get all the dust.
"Now the table, if you please." His voice was nearly in her hair, low and soft, deep enough to vibrate along her skin.
She couldn't help a shiver. Tifa straightened up slowly, meeting his eyes and the expectant look in them. Yes, he wanted her. She lingered over the pale skin and well-defined musculature visible in the open sections of his coat- the long spill of his hair down his back, like beaten silver against the blue-black of his wings.
"Oui, Monsieur."
She turned, walked over to the table, which was a bit lower than waist-height. She dusted it and felt his warmth at her thighs. Gloved hands trailed over the stockings and Tifa made a soft sound- lost the rhythm of her dusting.
"Resume, Mademoiselle." His fingers dug lightly into her thigh, didn't move until she made a superficial effort to dust the table- Sephiroth didn't care that she wasn't actually removing the dust. He cupped her ass, squeezed. The sound of her indrawn breath sounded so loud- her mouth was suddenly dry but she kept dusting until she heard his fly being undone- the purr of metal against metal and cloth shifting. Sephiroth said nothing as she let the duster pitch over and rest on the top of the table. Tifa wrapped her fingers over the edge, one on the side, the other around the back, palms flattened over the surface. Her calves burned as she straightened them, bracing herself, and her spine bowed to give him better access, hips tilted up and back, legs spread slightly.
She felt his hands again, palms trailing up her thighs, the curve of her ass, before spreading large and warm over her hips. Tifa whimpered a breath as she felt him slide against her, then he was in her. Then he was moving, dragging himself out of her, and into her, slowly at first, gradually picking up speed. Tifa smiled, biting her lower lip and pressing backwards to take him deeper as he moved forward. Her body was warm, faintly moist with the sweat of their exertion on her skin.
Her breasts shook, entire body rocking forward with the force of his thrusts, she hummed her pleasure, moaned and cried out with total abandon as he struck deep and touched something inside her that made her vision spark and waver at the edges. Tifa closed her eyes and held tighter- her knuckles hurt- she didn't care. Her muscles shook and his fingers pressed into her hips- hurting dimly as he went faster, and she was screaming, driven to mindlessness as he held her up and thrust even harder, and she almost stumbled on the high heels. She lost any control over the experience and could only hold on to the table, feeling, riding the sensations till they sent her over the edge and the world disappeared.
When it came back, Tifa stood on shaking legs. Sephiroth had pulled her back to lean against his broad chest and she did- unable to move away if she wanted to remain standing. He had pulled out of her but stayed close. She could feel that he was still hard. A hand on her waist nudged but gently, steadying her until she could lean a hip against the table and stand on her own at the same time the other played softly over her breasts, through the locks of hair resting on them. He smiled down at her.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle."
"It was my pleasure, Monsieur. But you haven't been finished yet," and she smirked, when she probably should have been running for the door. It just... didn't seem polite to leave him unsatisfied.
Yes, she was crazy- or maybe it was the afterglow.
He returned the smirk. "Hmm, no. Would you care to do something about that?"
"Oui."
"Then come sit upon my lap," he murmured.
Tifa leaned against the table as he walked away, still hard, slick from her body, uncaring that he hung out of his clothes. She watched his ass- what she could see of it- and frowned a bit, still playing the part.
"Monsieur," she said, "we might stain your trousers."
He turned and carefully- mindful of the wings- sat in the dusty leather chair, cock straight and rising without hindrance with the dark of his clothing all around it. He was still ready for her, smiled, "I would not sit upon this furniture in nothing at all. I am sure you can appreciate that."
"I will hardly sit upon nothing," she purred, moving forward slowly, with a swing to her aching hips.
He watched her intently, let his arms rest upon the sides of the chair as Tifa put her hands on the back, between his head and the arch of his wings. She climbed into the chair, knees straddling his thighs, resting on the seat. She gave him a heavy-lidded glance and a smile as she lowered herself onto him. She was still slick inside, loose, he was still hard, and it was an easy joining. Even having been satisfied, she felt needy, wanting him inside her and relieved as she took him in a bit at a time. She braced herself on the back of the chair and started to move.
She felt no need to kiss him, and he didn't try. He stared at her all the while- like he wanted to imprint the image of her, face flushed, lips parted, in his memory. He never closed his eyes, the only signs of lost control were the faint sheen of sweat on his face, a slight rustling of his wings now and again- a rise in the speed of his pulse. She could feel it when she nipped along his neck- the echo of it through his cock. He sighed almost sweetly as she rode him. She moved over him, and she felt almost lazy with the lack of speed.
She continued- not really working towards her own climax, enjoying the motion and the heat of her own body, humming encouragement when his hands spread over her ribs, stroked upwards and peeled the bodice down over itself, exposing her nipples to the air. She didn't stoop moving as he nuzzled them, sucking one, raising the other and pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.
She moved faster, pushing against him with each movement, tipping her head back when a finger, slick with the fluid of their own bodies, stroked her, sending what felt like tiny jolts of electricity through her body and sweet Planet- where had Sephiroth learned this?
Had it been Cloud's knowledge first?
His hand was on her back, pressing her closer, and she finally heard him making noise, hissing groans, sharp grunts as he twisted upward to meet her body, stroked her as he kissed over her breasts.
She heard nothing as he came, spilling hot and sudden into her body, clutching her to him- nipping sharply at her skin and she cried out and followed.
"I wonder," he was murmuring into her ear before she could string a coherent thought together, "what Cloud will have to say about this."
Tifa shivered at the sound of his voice, at the words he said, but didn't lift her head from his shoulder, didn't pull away from where she leaned heavily upon his chest. His hands stroked her back gently, over and over.
"He doesn't have the right to say anything," Tifa murmured, and somewhat bitterly, "he's never around."
"Ah yes," Sephiroth trailed a single digit up her spine. "You have every right to move on, choose someone else, make a life without him."
But that wasn't what she wanted... and suddenly Tifa was all too aware that she was half-naked, dressed in a maid's uniform with an enemy... of sorts, sheathed inside her. She felt cold, stone-cold sober and shifted to slide off him- sucked in a breath when his grip tightened.
"Let me go." She remembered- reminded herself in the sudden fear that this was a man who could snap her spine bare-handed, carried a sword as long as she was tall, and as far as she had seen, had no compunctions about killing. She'd stayed on the assertion that he had no reason to harm her- because he'd showed her a little attention... a little desire.
She was so fucking stupid.
"If you care so little about what he thinks, Mademoiselle Lockheart," he drawled the title and Tifa clenched her jaw, annoyed that his purr continued to make her shudder, "why do you continue to search for him? Oh, I remember. You love him so."
She didn't agree or disagree, tense, her arms on his shoulders. They were too close for him to see her face and she was glad of it.
"He keeps running away from me," she said, and it was true. She was also avoiding Sephiroth's words. "I just want to get him in one place long enough to talk about why."
"Fucking his dark half is the perfect conversation opener. You're sure to convince him he's wanted this way." His tone was polite agreement. Tifa wanted to punch him. What had she been thinking? What had he been thinking?
"This was all about Cloud." But that had been true for both of them, hadn't it? She had no right to feel betrayed and yet...
"Of course," the bastard sounded surprised that she would doubt it. "But I would not say no-"
She grabbed the hand creeping up her thigh and clenched it in her fist, a little harder and she knew it would break.
He was hard again. Tifa leaned away from him, still held, and his arm was so powerful around her back, muscles flexed against her skin and she was afraid- and it made her angrier.
"We're not doing this again."
He smiled at her. They could have been talking about the weather for all his polite tone and bland expressions.
Tifa gritted her teeth and refused to think how ridiculous she probably looked in the hat and the ruffles which brushed the front of her chest, her hair trailing down over her naked breasts and she was straddling him-
"I'm going to give you thirty seconds to let you prove you don't want to hurt me- and then I'm going to start throwing punches. ...One." She'd actually give him ten. Tifa estimated the time she'd need to reach for one of the shoes. High heels could very handily cause blunt-force trauma. If they were thin enough, they made good stabbing weapons. Her gaze had gone still and cold- and Sephiroth's expression changed, recognizing her as a threat. He opened his hands.
Tifa pulled away with a slight wince that she tried not to show, backed up, stepping out of the shoes and kicking them behind her to roll and eventually stop against the wall. She moved to the chair on which she'd left her clothes and she had no idea how this was going to work.
She couldn't climb out of here without shoes. There were Heartless- she didn't look away from him as she thought, and reached blindly for her gloves. Sephiroth sat there as if he weren't hanging out of his clothes, hadn't just had sex... as if he were a perfectly normal man over six feet tall with enormous black wings.
Right.
Tifa pulled on the gloves and reached for her vest.
"I would appreciate," he said pleasantly, "the return of the costume."
Asshole. Fine. If he wanted the costume, she'd give it back. Tifa gripped the sides of the bodice and pulled- pulled it open, mostly likely pulled half the eyehooks out of the back. She dropped it and the bodice pulled the stockings to the floor. She stepped on one and pulled her foot out, did the same with the other stocking. She pulled on her vest, mentally grimacing as the ruffle on her arm rolled upward and was pinned beneath the leather. He was smiling at her.
She never saw him move- reacting instinctively as a blur of wings, silver, and black cloth flew at her- she felt the kick impact on his chest and reverberate up her leg, every muscle she'd just abused gave a twinge. She kicked again, aiming for his face. The next move was a punch to the crotch, all three quick, without thought, the third intercepted when he grabbed her wrist.
Another kick- she was going to hurt for this later... if he didn't kill her. There was no condemnation for her stupidity, no embarrassment at her nudity- she'd given herself over to the fight and it was all she had in that moment. She was aware of him- his state of arousal, heightened breathing, the musk of his feathers and his enthralled smile. He was enjoying the fight. Even with all her skill and strength built with careful years of training, she was barely hurting him and she knew it. He accepted hits and blocked others, toying with her. He had been toying with her. She was still afraid and still angry because of it. Tifa knew- when he tired of the fight-
He grabbed her wrist in one hand and her neck in the other, flung her on the bed. She was back up in seconds but he was faster, hands on her forearms and legs pinning hers.
"Now," he said, leaning close enough that his forelocks brushed her face, "you will recall that I said 'I had no reason' to kill you. I have no reason- but if you continue to be so rude..."
"Fuck you," and she made it sound off-hand and disdainful. She was proud of herself.
He laughed against her cheek. "You've already done that. Should I remind you how it felt?"
As soon as she got enough leverage, she was going to kick him in the balls. "No."
"Where is the harm in it?" he asked. "Cloud pays no attention to either of us. Why not enjoy ourselves in his absence?" He lowered his face to her neck and biting softly just below the jaw.
Okay, he had been good- she could admit that. Toe-curling good, and her body wouldn't have- down girl. It was a stupid idea. It had been stupid the first two times. So she was lonely and horny- so what? Did she love Cloud or not? She knew better than to think he'd just shrug this off if he found out. Sephiroth would most likely ensure he would find out. Fuck.
She had more pressing things to worry about at the moment.
He'd moved his hands, stroking her breasts and pinching lightly. His touch was careful, as if he expected her to start fighting him any minute.
"Fine," she murmured, stroking his arms, shifting her legs out from under his. He let her- searching her eyes. "Once more," she said, cupping his face, "and then I'm leaving."
"Very well," he smiled.
She smiled, and head-butted him.
Years later, she still wouldn't find anything- fiend or Heartless- that could hit as hard as Sephiroth. Her head throbbed and there were sparks in her vision- through the ringing in her ears, she could hear his laughter.
"Aren't you the devious one," he chuckled, pinning her wrists with one hand. "But I've never wondered why he chose you." The bed squeaked as he shifted slightly, guided her leg to curl over his hip before he thrust into her, breathing out.
Her head spun and she tried to keep it still, her breaths slow. He rocked into her slowly, gently, and maybe he was being careful of her injury- which made it somehow worse. Tifa hissed in discomfort- she was still slick, but not as much as she had been and the first moments were tight- slow, painful friction between their flesh. It didn't seem right that he still felt so good. He was a violent sociopath. Her body didn't seem to care.
She concentrated on keeping her head still, unclenched her jaw, let her breath come fast and sharp, felt the twitch of her body as he started to go faster and she grew closer to the brink. The ruffles on her arms abraded her skin- a hair pin was digging into her scalp and her vest was slick and warm with sweat. Her leg muscles jumped with shivery convulsion after convulsion and he pounded into her, relentless. She heard herself gasping.
For a moment or two, the orgasm drowned out the pain in her head.
Then he was sliding out of her. Tifa lowered her arms. She groaned as she pressed a hand to the side of her head. She could hear him zipping up- almost smirked as he extracted the ruffles from her vest and pulled them gently from her arms. He tugged at the hat and she slapped his hand away- undoing the pins herself with agonizing slowness.
"Cheap bastard," she muttered, freeing it to lay on the coverlet, where he caught it up.
"Not at all." It seemed like too much trouble to push his fingers away from her cheek. "I simply think we can get more use out of it."
It was also too much trouble to tell him to go to hell. Tifa waited for the world to stop spinning.
"Cloud has that much of a fetish?" she asked, not expecting him to answer.
He didn't, but chuckled. Tifa listened to his footsteps, cracked her eyes open to watch him leave. She'd take a few minutes- then start to get dressed. She had no desire to fall on her ass in the dust and have to get dressed there.
A maid's uniform. She had to smirk. Cloud had wanted to see her in a maid's uniform. Tifa sighed- then sucked in a breath. If she could believe anything Sephiroth had said....
Cloud. Cloud had wanted to see her in a maid's uniform.
Despite everything- she smiled.
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Date: 2008-02-08 01:45 pm (UTC)I. Um. Okay, I'm sold. I wasn't sure about Seph/Tifa, but this is fucking hot.
*faints happily* X)
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Date: 2008-02-09 04:50 am (UTC)XD Thank you very much!
*fans you and foregoes the smelling salts* ^_^
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Date: 2008-02-09 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-09 11:08 pm (UTC)Syvvvv. It's so much better than I could have ever thought and nghasd;ja wonderful job!
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Date: 2008-04-23 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 01:09 pm (UTC)Okay, I'm starting to suspect that you have psychic powers for seeing into my secret kink closet. ^________^
Anything goes when it comes to Sephiroth (as long as it isn't sappy or sweet). God I love that she head butted him.