The sound of someone shouting and a car honking assaulted Tifa's ears, waking her from her alcohol-induced sleep. Her head was pounding and her stomach threatening to expel what was left inside it. How much had she drank last night?

She placed her hand to her head and sighed heavily. This had to stop. Just because Cloud went chasing shadows didn't mean she had to drink herself to sleep every night. There was no sense in it. Trying to cover up the pain with alcohol was doing nothing good for her aside from these glorious headaches.

He had left four months ago. Tifa saw the unhappiness in his eyes when he looked at her. He'd given up trying to hide it. She confronted him, telling him that if he couldn't love her, and only her, they might as well not waste their time on each other. She had regretted it the moment the words left her mouth but she knew she was right. If she couldn't be his everything, why bother? She had always given him everything she had, pushed away feelings for others she might have had so that she could be what Cloud had needed. He seemed to appreciate it at first, sure. As time went on though he cared less and less until he couldn't look at her without frowning. She deserved better and had decided it was high time to stop waiting around for him.

But it came at a price. She watched as he rode away on Fenrir, taking what was left of her heart with him. She didn't want to keep loving him but it was impossible. She had always loved him. And she probably always would in some way. There didn't seem to be any scenario where she could be happy if he wasn't with her. That aside, she still felt she needed to push him to make some kind of a choice, even though the odds of it ending poorly for her were very high.

So, to cope, she drank. Every night when she closed the bar, she'd sit down on her couch and down a bottle or two of wine, strawberry, of course. Then she would wander her apartment until she found her bed.

Last night, though, she had just drank too much. And she was realizing it now. She didn't remember much of what she did last night, only snippets here and there that didn't really make any sense on their own. Sighing again, she tried to sit up but found herself held down. She hadn't realized a presence next to her. The warm body, the gentle breathing. She looked down and saw a strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist. She hesitated to turn her head, afraid of who it could be. There was no memory of having any one over last night. But she didn't remember coming to bed, either.

Slowly, she cranked her head around. The first thing that caught her eye were messy locks of dark hair. Tifa's eyes carefully grazed down his hair and focused on where it covered bits of his face. She gasped realizing who the hair belonged to. Vincent in her bed... naked!? Tifa moved her hips cautiously. Yep, he was definitely naked. She panicked, not remembering anything but tiny details. She furrowed her brow, certainly she would remember romping with such a man. She playfully regretted not recalling it, it had to have been wonderful. He'd been coming around a lot lately to check on her, she knew. She'd always suppressed anything she felt for him though, she couldn't say if he felt anything but friendship toward her and she had been too afraid to find out.

She shook her head. 'Okay, gotta think this through. Last night I was...throwing myself a pity party. And then, obviously, he showed up...' It was proving to be futile. She had been too drunk to recall. Her eyes fell on his serene face, debating whether she ought to wake him up. He looked so peaceful sleeping, something she never thought Vincent Valentine could be.

The name rolled around in her head, her mind spoke it slowly and sultry, Vincent Valentine. Yum. This man had reluctantly joined their entourage and had only done so at the mention of Sephiroth, his former lover's son. Tifa recalled how shocked she had been to see a man sit up inside of a coffin. If she were any less intelligent she would have pulled out some garlic and began chanting. Vincent was a mysterious person indeed, he rarely spoke, when he did it was always so straight to the fact it hurt or it was completely riddled in metaphors. Perhaps that added to the attraction all three women of their group did feel towards him. They made a habit of gushing about men they found attractive and Vincent was always at the top of their lists. Hell, Yuffie had even tried flirting with him though she garnered little response. Vincent's actual age aside, she was too young. Tifa had always enjoyed drinking in the sight of him. It was impossible not to let ones eyes wander around him and every bit was deliciously sculpted from perfect marble. The phrase "sculpture sin cera" had never seen a truer meaning in life.

She carefully rolled to face him, simply wanting to take in the sight a bit longer. Then he stirred, opening his eyes for a brief moment before closing them. Tifa smirked at him and couldn't resist the urge to reach out and poke his nose.

"Hey there," she said a little louder than a whisper, her finger gently pressing against his chiseled nose.

His eyes opened slowly. "Hello, Tifa." She resisted the urge to ask him how he got there, thinking it would probably insult him. Her thoughts raced, what should she say? Her eyes darted around the room, noting all the articles of clothing that had been strewn about the place. Something fun had definitely took place last night. 'This is why drinking is bad, Tifa! At least it was with someone I knew and not a serial killer.' She thought about that statement. Okay, so it wasn't someone that would kill her, but other people? Hope they don't get in his way.

"Should I assume... you don't recall last night?" his deep, sultry voice pierced her thoughts. She gave him a sideways glance. He always seemed to know what she was thinking. "You are looking around the room like you can't remember. You aren't that hard to read."

She let out an exaggerated sigh. "Vincent... I remember little bits but... I'm sorry." She hoped deeply she hadn't hurt his feelings. He withdrew his arm from around her waist and sat up. Tifa placed her head in her hands, trying to hard to remember. Images flashed briefly in her mind. Steamy, sweaty images but they were all blurry, impossible for her to decipher. Vincent gently placed his hand on her head, causing her to look up.

"Why should you apologize?" Vincent cocked his head to the side, a dark curtain of hair falling over his cheek.

For a moment, Tifa forgot that she could speak. He looked so beautiful sitting in her bed, staring down at her. She shook her head, sighing softly. "I feel like this," she motioned between them, "is something I should remember. I mean, especially with..." she trailed off, blushing.

"With?" his honey voice pulling her gaze back to him. He was smirking, by God. He knew exactly what she meant yet he wanted her to say it.

Tifa chuckled, fine, she would say it. "I believe that if I were to spend an entire evening romping through my bed with the one and only Vincent Valentine... I should at least be privileged with the memory of it." Truthfully if she were going to enjoy drunken splendor with anyone she would prefer Vincent. She would be safe with him at the very least.

Vincent's sharp grin did little to hide his amusement. "Yes, but that does not answer my question. Why are you apologizing for it?"

Tifa was getting frustrated. What was he after, what did he want to hear? "Well, I was just afraid that it might insult you!" She sat up, pulling the blanket taught across her chest. "Frankly, I'm a little upset. Wanna enlighten me on how this happened?"

"I suppose... I could share that information. It is very enjoyable to watch you suffer a little though." Tifa huffed, puffing her cheeks out in frustration. It made her look child-like, amusing Vincent. "Perhaps if you weren't so cute this wouldn't have happened," he sighed to himself. Tifa leaned forward, her head resting against Vincent's chest. She'd given up, he smiled. "I will entertain you. It started when I stopped by the bar last night after closing time..."

Closing time was always a little bittersweet for Tifa. The hectic night was coming to an end was what she looked forward to from the time she opened yet that would inevitably leave her alone with her thoughts, a dangerous prospect. Vincent Valentine knew what being alone with one's thoughts could do to a person, he'd done it for 30 years. Though Seventh Heaven was a little out of his way, at the end of his "job" he would try to make it at least once a week to check in on Tifa. He knew she didn't like being treated like a fragile object. In truth, Tifa was one of the strongest people he knew. Her love left her and she continued to go on every day. Vincent's love left and he shut himself away for decades. He did not expect that Tifa would ever sink into her loneliness though something in his stomach urged him to see her when he was in Edge, especially lately. Therefor he made the extra trip when possible.

Tonight he had left his meeting a little later than usual. Normally he had plenty of time to hit the bar before it closed but some complications had arose in his job. Technically he was working with the Turks, something he wasn't exactly thrilled about yet they shared a similar goal; they wanted peace on Gaia. Indirectly, of course. The Turks worked for Rufus Shinra, though they had agreed to join with Reeve Tuesti and the WRO. That was when Vincent decided to help. He was already working with the WRO but Reeve did not have the power or resources to send Vincent on the "special missions" that required his skills and expertise. Rufus possessed the resources and the Turks were dispensed to assist when necessary. It was not a perfect scenario by any means though it kept Vincent busy. He was going to carry out the same missions on his own regardless, he may as well use what had been offered to accomplish his goals faster and safer.

Vincent's missions primarily consisted of investigating reports of monsters or remnants, something that had been increasing more so lately. This fact concerned him greatly. They were not particularly powerful, not like the last group. But they were organized enough to cause terror in small cities and outposts. It was simply faster and safer to send Vincent and significantly cheaper than organizing the WRO to investigate. His meeting tonight however had been to set up a more in depth and dangerous investigation of the remnants in the Wutai area. Politics made it more impossible for them to barge in and take care of the problem so Reeve was taking a primary role in this issue. Their relationship with Yuffie helped to push things through though it still had to be handled delicately. The Wutainese were proud people, they were not going to accept assistance easily.

That meant treading carefully and observing the Wutainese traditions and regulations, a very time consuming endeavor. If Vincent had ever needed a drink it was certainly tonight. He arrived outside Seventh Heaven to see it was mostly dark inside. He checked his watch, it was 1AM. Tifa had already closed up and was probably finishing her cleaning. He reached for the door handle, hesitating. Did he really want to bother her this late? She'd likely had just as long of a day as he had, she probably just wanted to go to bed. Vincent checked the handle and surprised that it was still unlocked. Tifa closed the bar at exactly 12:20 AM every day. A wave of anxiety hit Vincent. Normally he would not be concerned for Tifa but if nothing else, Tifa stuck to her closing time and absolutely always locked the front door.

Pushing through the door, and locking it, he began looking for anything out of the ordinary. Boots falling heavily on the wooden floor, he pulled the Cerberus out of it's holster on his hip, proceeding carefully. It was far too quiet and the bar had not been cleaned. Something was off. Moving past the bar, he approached the hallway. Still silence. Vincent carefully ascended the stairs, eyes set on Tifa's bedroom door, the only room with a light on. He slid carefully against the wall, using the barrel of Cerberus to push the door open.

Vincent peered into the room. Tifa laid stretched out sideways on her bed, her hair strewn about all over her face. There was an empty bottle of wine on the floor and a half empty bottle of whiskey on her bedside table. So, that was it then, she'd just been drinking. Vincent placed the Cerberus back into its holster, moving to pick the wine bottle off the floor. He stood next to the bed, looking down at Tifa. He was a little puzzled as to why she had been drinking. He had seen her drunk before though that had only been with the group. This was foreign to him, happening upon her in this state. He brushed the hair from her face, a tenderness rising in him. What had caused her to feel this was the best way to end the night, he wanted to know. This was unlike the Tifa he knew. Perhaps he didn't know her as well as he had thought then? Could something have occurred at the bar tonight that put her in this state?

Tifa stirred softly, pulling Vincent from his thoughts. He placed a hand on her cheek, genuinely concern spread on his normally expressionless face. The innate desire to destroy whatever caused this yet confusion as to why he felt this way fighting for dominance within him. He could only attribute these emotions to the fact he had been spending so much time with Tifa lately. Their nights together had given Vincent many things to think about however he had not speculated that he could have seen her as something more than a comrade and friend. He trusted her implicitly of course but something more? Was that even a possibility for Vincent Valentine? He had been spurned once before, he couldn't see himself taking another chance.

"Vincent," a whisper demanded his attention. Tifa was looking up into his face, reflecting his confusion and something more. She stretched slowly, her small white top struggling to keep her breasts concealed. Vincent closed his eyes, not because of the sudden display of bare skin but of his own frustration at the stirring that was beginning to grow stronger in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to reach out to her, touch her, but his body forbid it. He would not allow it.

"Tifa. Explain. Why was the door unlocked downstairs?" He was angry, she was never this foolish. She was slowly registering his words, trying to come up with a proper answer.

"I didn't care."

Vincent was taken aback, visibly angry with her. "Why would you not care?" He tried not to shout at her but he was very frustrated with her now.

She looked toward the bottle of whiskey obviously contemplating finishing it off. She didn't want to look at his face. "Some girls came in tonight," she started slowly. Vincent could see she had been bothered by something tonight. He sat on the bed next to her, placing his hand over hers. "They, um. They were talking about Cloud. Apparently he had come back to Edge for a little while. I don't know why."

"He didn't stop by." It wasn't a question. Vincent knew Cloud well enough to guess he was too scared to face her yet.

"No." Tifa replied flatly, tears dripping down her face.

Rage was welling inside Vincent. The man didn't have to propose or anything, he just had to stop by. Cloud was so thick. If Vincent had had a wonderful woman like Tifa pining for him after Lucrecia, chances are good he wouldn't have slept in that box for so many damn years. Tifa rolled away and sat up, taking a large swig from the whiskey. She grinned back at Vincent, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's not like I expected him to stop by, you know? Just, I don't know. Maybe I'm just stupid."

Vincent took the bottle from her, holding it in his lap. "No. Not stupid. Tifa Lockhart is not stupid." She laughed loudly, shrugging at him. "You are not stupid, Tifa," he spoke slowly.

"Then why do I hold out? Knowing he's not gonna walk back in through that door. Why can't I move on?"

"Moving on is," he paused, thinking carefully. He was no expert either. "It's hard, Tifa. You get accustomed to these feelings and then you are told that you shouldn't have them. Your brain can reason all it wants but a heart is not so easily swayed." Tifa stared at him, she knew he was speaking from experience. "It's not as though Cloud ever moved on either."

"No," she replied, sighing heavily. "I couldn't compete with her. I was always going to be in second place. Maybe I should have said something sooner, y'know? Told him before."

Vincent took a deep drink of the whiskey, leaving little left for Tifa. It burned going down, like good whiskey should. "Tifa, it's his loss. If he can pass you by for a ghost," he leaned toward Tifa's face, his nose an inch away from hers. "Then he never deserved you in the first place. Any man can see you're everything they could ever want." He sighed inwardly, this was not how he wanted his evening to go. What was he even saying? Was this some sort of confession? How strong was this whiskey?

Tifa looked down, blushing partially from the alcohol and partially from his indirect compliment. "If that's true then why do men who try to woo me," she grinned at him jokingly. "Why do they only care about one thing, hmm?"

He would not be so easily discredited. "They're intimidated by a strong and intelligent woman," he answered, polishing off the rest of her whiskey. It's wasn't as though she needed anymore.

She slid next to Vincent, her head resting on his chest. "I'm not that strong," she whispered.

"You faced off against Sephiroth at what, fifteen years old? You kept an entire group of people together who had very little in common on the surface. Even now you are strong. You are facing your troubles alone while still running one of the most successful bars in Edge." Tifa crawled into Vincent's lap, something she had never braved before. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her protectively though he remained uncomfortable. "Tifa, you aren't weak. You are the strongest person I know."

She sighed against his chest. "You're much braver than I am."

Vincent laughed loudly, shaking her. "Hardly."

Tifa looked up at him, amused. She so rarely heard him laugh. "Explain," she demanded, knowing fully well she was in a position of power, literally.

He thought for a moment. There would be no going back from this if he was honest here. Did he really want to commit to being open with Tifa about this, he couldn't say. Something in him said to throw her off his lap and leave, not to even look back until she had sobered up and he had figured out where he had hit his head. That would hurt her though, the mere thought of hurting her made his stomach sink. Could he really confide these confusing feelings to her? His eyes met hers, she was waiting so patiently. He could tell she was enjoying her new seat. He hoped he could keep himself in control so she wouldn't be alerted to how he was enjoying it as well. He sighed, resting his head atop hers. "Tifa, I am not brave or strong in this sense. I am too afraid to voice my feelings to myself much less the person I care about." He could feel her slump a little against him, as though she had been expecting a different answer.

"Does... does she know? She'd be a fool to toss you away." Was that envy in her voice?

"I can't say. I'm too afraid to tell her because it opens me up for the chance of pain yet again. I am apparently willing to forgo what could be an amazing experience because of the risk it would mean. At least you told him how you felt."

"You should tell her, Vincent. She should know." He grunted in response. That would not do. "No, really. You should. What if she goes after some other guy and you miss out? That would suck."

"Tifa," he whispered.

"No, Vincent!" she turned around to face him, passion boiling in her eyes. "You march straight to her house and tell her! Who cares what time it is. Go. Now." Tifa moved to evacuate his lap so he could leave but he held her tighter. "Vincent?" He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers gently, anxiously waiting for any response. He expected her to push him back hence his surprise when she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back eagerly. She was smiling against his lips, grasping him tightly. He chuckled softly as he laid her down on the bed, gently settling his own weight on her.

"I guess she knows now," he whispered.

Tifa wrapped one leg around his waist, smiling. "I suppose so," she replied softly.

Vincent's brow furrowed. "Tifa," he paused, "what about you?" She looked puzzled. "I don't want to think that I took advantage of you. This has to be about us or I will leave."

"Are you dense?" She replied, obviously agitated. "Gosh Vincent, it appears I gave you too much credit." She stuck her tongue out, laughing. He caught it with his teeth, grinning brightly.

"Is that so, Miss Lockhart? Would you care to explain?"

Tifa wrapped her other leg around his waist, crashing her hips into his. "The last few times you've come by I have been flirting with you. I don't wear mini skirts and drop things that often, you know." He pressed his forehead to hers, sighing. She pulled him down to kiss her, moaning softly against his lips. She was teasing him. He wasn't sure he could hold off. Vincent briefly thought about leaving, that definitely seemed like the logical idea. Should he stay he would be fully admitting his feelings for Tifa, even though they confused him. In that event it could only end with him spiraling to hell in flames. Tifa was, in his eyes, pure. He felt he would only be corrupting her with his touch. Everything in him said to leave.

Yet her every movement urged him forward, leaving his conscious farther away each second. He cursed her, the wicked siren. How dare she pull him in like this, knowing it would be far too late for him to walk away? He had obviously not given her nearly enough credit when he sat on that bed. She could have plotted this entire thing out knowing he always made an effort to see her on Saturday nights, knowing she could stay up late because the bar would be closed on Sunday. Vincent growled into her kiss, frustrated with her, with himself. What man could walk away from this? It would not be weakness that would keep his arms wrapped around her tonight, it would be the burning passion he felt in what he previously thought to be a frozen heart. This woman was clearly sent by some god purely to torment him. In no realm of Vincent's mind did he believe this could end in smiles.

He did not stop, however. His hands traced down her sides, gently caressing each breast, his fingers hiding the true urgency he felt, instead opting be cautious and slow. Vincent did not want to scare her off, he wanted desperately to maintain control of each moment. Tifa, on the other hand, was pushing him to the edge of his restraint. She continued to thrust her hips into his, smiling with pride as she felt his arousal against her body. Oh yes, this woman knew exactly what she was doing.

"Cruel, evil woman," he snarled in her ear. His only reply was a heady giggle against his throat. Her tongue slowly tracing down to the hollow of his neck. She pulled against his suit, whining in a pathetic attempt for him to obey. When he did not move to answer her she pulled sharply on his tie, whispering his name with a hint of need. Vincent replied with a strong tug, pulling the tiny shirt over her head to expose her chest. A dark grin crossed his face as Tifa grew impatient herself, undoing the tie. She was nervous to be exposed to him but she would not allow him the upper hand. Her dextrous fingers making short work of the buttons, she nearly pulled the shirt right off him in her haste to feel his bare chest against her hand.

Pinning her hips down against the mattress with his own, Vincent sat up to remove his shirt. His eyes settled on hers, trying to gauge if this was the right move. His unfamiliar heart urged him on. An evil sneer settling on his face, he reached down to hook his fingers around her skirt and panties, pulling them down swiftly. Tifa gasped softly, suddenly aware of how naked she was before him. She followed his gaze as it sloped across her body slowly, drinking in each curve and freckle. He could die now a relatively happy man if he were average. He was not, however, and he was selfish. He wanted more. And what he wanted he would take. He had passed his threshold, he would not walk away easily.

Vincent wrapped his left hand in her hair carefully, placing a firm grip near the base of her skull. With his other hand he gently slid over her entrance, probing her with one long finger. His lips meeting her neck, fangs choosing to nibble softly as he stroked her warmth. Tifa moaned softly with each caress, her hips thrusting against his hand. Filled with satisfaction, he inserted another digit into her, fingers dripping wet now. Vincent bit onto her neck roughly as he hit her button harshly with little mercy. Her back arched, needy moans filling the room.

Tifa could scarcely control herself, this was bliss. Vincent had truly been sent from heaven to touch her, she was certain. His every movement, every breath seemed to be her only reason for existing now. A dull ache rose within her, begging her for something more. Hazy on the acquisition details, she began to reach for his pants. He grinned wildly against her throat, urging her on. Vincent would wait for her to decide, he would not choose for her. Slowing his taunting, he let go of her hair to give her more room. Tifa carefully loosened the buckle on his belt, pulling it free. Her fingers were shaking, forcing her to concentrate harder on the buttons. The anticipation she felt was like nothing she had ever faced in her life. She was so sure this was what she wanted, what she needed. Vincent Valentine, the mysterious Vampire, for lack of better word. The man she always imagined would touch her though she never dared to pursue, this man was about to be hers entirely. She was finally able to let go and seek out something that could be real, something that might be reciprocated. Maybe it wasn't the same kind of love she had for Cloud, she was willing to accept there was many kinds of love and ways to achieve happiness, they didn't always have to follow the story book. For the first time in Tifa's life she was being selfish. And she was enjoying every second of what it had brought her.

Vincent had never known he was so patient. He needed to feel her pulse around him, to suck him into her, he needed his release. Every breath was torture. He was determined not to frighten her with his need yet he was not sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold himself back. Deciding that she had given her answer for this checkpoint he regretfully withdrew his fingers so that he could remove the rest of his clothing. His eyes studied hers carefully, he was ready to stop if she needed him to. Her hunger only intensified as he finally stood naked before her, ready and waiting for her final consent.

She licked her lips, holding eye contact. For a brief moment her eyes looked dewy, as though she were on the precipice of tears. Brushing the hair from her sweaty face, he waited. He would not move until he was certain she wanted this

Tifa knew her moments to withdraw were dwindling. It had been fun before now, it was naughty but still so innocent. This would change everything, she knew. Nothing could ever be the same after this. Would she be okay with that? What would Vincent want? He had never seemed eager to enter into a relationship, not after how his last ended. Her heart skipped a few beats, was this wrong? She could not shake the feeling that she was pushing him into something simply to appease her, not himself.

"Vincent, I..." she hesitated, thinking of the right words. His wine eyes bore into hers, never wavering. "I'm scared."

"I will not hurt you," he reassured.

She half halfheartedly smiled, shaking her head. "Everything is going to change."

"Do you not want it to?"

"I care about you," she started, shakily. "I don't want to lose what we have."

He was a statue standing there, in that moment he was a monument of her torment as he chose his words carefully. "I care for you a great deal. Had I not I would have already taken you." Tifa did not doubt his words. His hesitation and slowness were for her, proof that he spoke the truth to her. "If you tell me to, I will walk away. But Tifa, I will always wonder if this would be a missed opportunity."

Tifa looked away for a moment, surprised. "What if it's the wrong one, Vincent? What if this crashes and burns? What if I can never look you in the eyes again? What if-" he forced her to face him, keeping his face as close as possible.

"What if this is real?" he asked calmly. She hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Vincent never bore his soul. She had seen him intoxicated many times, he only grew more silent in those moments. This was a side of a Vincent she did not know existed. The need in his voice, his eyes. Tifa decided that she would risk it. Her whole life she thought she knew what love was, what it meant to love someone. And she continued to sacrifice everything in the hopes that her love would be returned tenfold. Her stomach was doing flips as she replayed those words in her head. Neither of them had said love but her heart pushed her onward. Tiny tears escaped her eyes, belying her confidence in this decision. Tifa reached her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. She hoped this was not going to kill her.

Vincent's body collided with hers, forcing her back onto the mattress. Her legs wrapped rightly around his, begging for him. The word love bounced around at the back of his mind as he embraced her. He had purposely avoided saying it. For all his intellect he could not fathom the meaning of the word truly. He could not be sure that these tender feelings were love. He knew he cared about Tifa a great deal, that this was not purely lust. It was strong but… love? Mentally shaking his head he turned to focus on the angel below him. Her body pleaded with him, aching for him. He was determined to make her scream his name. He beamed greedily as he positioned himself to enter her. Slowly at first, he told himself. He had said he would not hurt her, it was a promise.

Tifa shook with anxiety. Her body tensed though she willed it to loosen. She was uncertain if it would hurt, she didn't think it would really yet she was apprehensive. In the moment he wavered before entering she pressed her face into his shoulder roughly, desperately trying to prepare herself. His words continued to resound in her mind as he slowly pushed his cock inside. Her arms tightened around his neck, bringing her body against his. It was not painful like she'd always been told it would be but it was uncomfortable at first. Vincent whispered softly in her ear, comforting her. Every moment was agony and yet it was bliss. Her body felt complete, she felt whole. Vincent's head rested on her shoulder, his breathing ragged. He was trying so desperately to keep the pace slow he felt he would die, that her warmth would completely consume him before he could push himself to the hilt. Each second tormented him, his very soul begging him to push harder.

Hooking her heels around his thighs, Tifa sucked in a deep breath and thrust her body upward, forcing the rest of him inside her. Vincent's voice joined her own as they cried out in bliss. Tifa's experience was nonexistent though Vincent was comparing carefully. This time felt right. It didn't feel like it was required of him, as though this was nothing but lust. Something inside him said this was right. He sighed heavily into her neck, relieved. He whispered her name over and over, this strange feeling swelling in his stomach. He would admire it another day, he decided. Tifa deserved his attention.

Vincent wrapped his arms underneath hers, gripping her shoulders. He wondered how much she could take before she cried his name. He chuckled sinisterly in her ear, starting his thrusting at a slow and even pace. He knew she was untouched by Cloud, a realization that filled him with pride to have been the first one to touch and hold her like this. Therefor he made it a point to begin slow and allow her to dictate the pace, at least until he could no longer control himself. Gods help her if she wasn't ready, she would be bed ridden.

Tifa matched his pace, still uncertain. His body moving in rhythm with hers, his soft moans and whispers, it was all bringing her to tears. Every thrust sent waves of electricity up her body, making her shiver. The steady grind making her confident, she tested him by creating her own. She had always prided herself on being a fast learner and this was no exception. She set the speed, moaning loudly when he matched her. Tifa continued to push herself to higher limits when a strange feeling began to build up within her. It was like nothing she'd ever felt. It stared in her core, an icy cold sensation. It slowly spread to her toes, making them curl. Her arms tightened around Vincent as he matched her pace, seemingly holding on to what little control he had left. Just as she felt herself adjusting to the icy feeling her body went hot, then exploded. She screamed his name, gripping him tightly, her legs clamped down around his hips. She could no longer counter his thrusts, she could only feel this hot wave pulsing through her whole body, forcing her to shiver.

Vincent grinned darkly, satisfied that he'd forced her to scream. He moaned her name when he felt her orgasm, her walls closing in on him, choking him, threatening to never let go. He pushed the speed, he saw to her release and now he needed his. The pride he felt combined with the feeling in his stomach and the sight of her head tilted back while she screamed his name threw him over the edge. His release came so strongly, as though he had gone his entire life never feeling an ounce of pleasure until now. He held her tightly, burying his face in her neck. Vincent Valentine had never felt so complete in his entire life.

The pair lay together silently, listening to each other breathe. Vincent finally pulled himself away from her, laying behind her and wrapping his arm around her waist,

"Vincent...?" she whispered hesitantly.

"Tifa," he answered.

"What... where do we stand now?"

He nuzzled into her neck, sighing. "It will be addressed in the morning, Tifa. Sleep."

In the short twilight of consciousness before sleep, the word "love" hovered in their minds brightly, demanding to be noticed. Vincent told himself he would address that in the morning as he pressed his face into Tifa's hair.