He was going to make her pay, Cloud decided as he entered the elevator behind Tifa and a group of teenagers, all boys who were practically drooling as they spied Tifa flushed and smiling while she stood facing him in a corner of the car. He moved so he blocked most of their view, though he couldn't blame the lot of them, not when she looked so damn good, cheeks rosy, lips swollen from his kisses, hair tousled, and eyes sparkling as if they held some alluring secret.

Except he knew her secret. Hell, he had the tiny thing stuffed in his front pocket!

It had happened in a flash without his knowledge. He'd turned around for just a second to gather their bags, having spent some minutes helping her readjust her obi and kimono—he'd thought the thing had been held up with just the one obi, but instead she'd yanked two or three extra ties from somewhere, shoved them into his hands—and when he'd turned back, she'd been standing with a strange, uncertain look in her eyes.

"Is something the matter, Tifa?" he'd asked gently, wondering if she was having second thoughts and wanting to reassure her that there was no pressure, that he had no expectations and would escort her back to her rooms right then if that was what she wanted.

But she'd just tilted her head at him curiously, and he'd finally noticed that she had both of her hands clasped together in front of her chest as if she held something between them. "Not really," she'd replied as her cheeks had filled with color. "I just—there's this one thing—" She'd drawn a deep breath and had hesitated one heartbeat, two, before loosening her hands and showing him a pair of gray cotton panties, her thumbs hooked on each end and stretching the pair for his view. "I didn't know what to do with them. They were uncomfortable and soaked and I didn't want them to stain the silk so I took them off." She'd swallowed, crumpled the panties into a ball and stepped forward—only to use her finger to begin sliding the damn thing into his front pocket

"Will you keep them here for me?" she'd asked softly, her cheeks bright red and heavy lashes hiding her eyes.

Tifa Lockhart isn't wearing panties had been the only thought circulating his brain.

Instead of trying to find a proper verbal response in his short-circuited brain, he'd dropped the damn bags and had reached for her—only to have her laugh and evade his seeking hands, those long legs quickly taking her up the path that would lead them back into the park proper and far from his greedy crutches.

"Not yet," she'd laughed, walking backward with a playful wag of her finger. "Not until we have some more privacy, remember?"

She'd been teasing him nonstop since.

While making their way past the executive buildings back toward the main lobby, she'd quietly said his name, had held up a trio of shiny square packets. "Aerith gave them to me before I left," she'd imparted with a pretty blush. He'd made a mental reminder to give the Cetra a well-deserved hug the next time he saw her.

Marching the path up to the hotel through the fake cemetery, she'd asked him to wait, that she needed to adjust something, and had pushed aside the tea-length kimono before slipping out one long, sexy, mouth-watering leg so that she could tug the black thigh high nylons back into place. When she'd switched her attention to the second leg, his knees had gone weak, imagining those legs wrapped around him, opaque socks and all, knowing that if she pulled just a little higher he'd catch a glimpse of the curls between her thighs bare and free without the panties that were burning a hole in his pocket—and he'd tripped over one of the stupid, particle-board headstones, landing ass first atop of a nest of fake grass.

In the empty lobby while the front desk clerk had had her back turned to assign their room keys, she'd sidled close and tugged down the lapel of her robe until nearly all of one perfect breast was exposed, green silk caught on and hiding her nipple while her finger had tapped against a darkening spot, reminding him, "The other side doesn't have a matching mark." Hypnotized, he'd been leaning down to fix the error right then and there when she'd suddenly moved back and rearranged herself just as the clerk turned back around with their keys.

Waiting alone for their elevator before the teenage boys had arrived, she'd asked if she could help him with the bags—to which he'd tightly declined, holding the damn bags in front of his groin to hide his erection. She'd given him a teasing smile before she'd reached for the bags anyway, sliding her hand between the bags and his pants and over the throbbing, aching, hardened length of him. He'd made an inhumane sound as she'd murmured something about how she'd found something she could help with—before the loud voices of approaching teenagers had echoed and she'd, once again, backed away.

Yes, he was going to make her pay.

The elevator dinged, signaling the teenagers' floor, and the boys shuffled out while Cloud continued to shield Tifa from their view. He smiled smugly as he caught one of the taller boy's challenging gazes, one who'd turned back to try and catch a final glimpse of Tifa, and he spat a pithy, "She's mine" when the boy had sullenly muttered, "Just wanted to look 'cuz she's so pretty, that's all."

"They're just boys," Tifa murmured as the doors shut, pressing one hand against the center of his chest, the other toying with the bottom of his shirt.

He only grunted, eyes trained on the rising elevator numbers. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…C'mon, hurry the fuck up, thirty-two.

Her fingers began a dance beneath the hem of his shirt, across his abdomen, circling his belly button. He held himself rigidly, not daring to move when she slipped a searching finger just under the waistband of his pants, sweeping it from the center toward his hip, then back again, over and over. He could feel her breath along his cheek, the geta bringing her nearly to his eye level, watched her eyes darkening with arousal as her fingers stopped and tugged on the top button of his pants.

He was a heartbeat away from damning them both and just taking her there in the elevator when the bell dinged, and the doors opened. He followed silently as Tifa made her way down the long hall toward their room, which happened to be the door directly at the very end of the walk, flanked by a housekeeping room to one side, and an ice and vending machine room on the other.

Which meant no neighbors.

Which meant more privacy.

Oh, but the sounds he was going to make her cry.

She fumbled with the key, then with the knob, her geta catching on the sill of the door as she stepped in after swinging it open. Impatient—and surprised by just how long he'd lasted—Cloud carelessly tossed their bags into the still darkened room and caught her before she fell. The door hadn't shut behind him before he had her pinned against the wall, mouth on hers and desperate for her taste.

"Cloud!" she gasped when he finally let them up for air long, long moments later, his hands trying blindly to undo her obi while he tongued his way down her throat.

Unsuccessful, he growled a curse, slowed his hands before he gave in and just ripped the thing. "Help me with this," he pleaded, his face buried between the valley of her breasts, using his face as well as he could to push the silky fabric until his seeking tongue found her nipple and flicked.

She released his hair to fumble somewhere behind her, arching her back and thrusting her breasts further into him. He nodded, murmuring his approval and latched onto one to suckle, hands parting the silk beneath the obi to slide his hands onto her thighs and lift. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. "G-got it," she panted, her back sliding up against the wall as the obi finally came free and dropped to the floor.

The silk parted unassisted, revealing to him in the darkness both beautiful breasts, her flat, toned stomach, and he growled, torn between his need to see her, all of her, and his need to taste her, touch her, feel her.

She was pulling at his shirt, lifting until it bunched beneath his arms, and when she was satisfied, she tugged his mouth from her breast with a free hand, looking down at him with gleaming ruby eyes, even in the darkness.

He blinked up at her, gaze misty with arousal and displeased to have had his treat taken away, but tamped down on his urgency, trying for the last of his patience.

She deserves more, he reminded himself, hiking her higher along his waist and pressing her harder into the wall. Everything. Anything you can give her.

"What is it, Tifa?" he asked gruffly, kneading her strong, supple thighs, trying not to thrust his hips to where she fit over him so flawlessly.

A tender hand stroked through his hair, and her voice was soft as starlight when she spoke. "I want to feel your heart against mine."

And if he hadn't already decided to give her every piece of himself, to trust her with all his best parts, along with all the dirty, dark, ruined crumbs, her warm words would have slipped them free from him without protest.

His kiss this time was soft and as gentle as her spoken words while his heart felt too big in his chest, and he slowly released her until she was standing on her own two feet, geta lost somewhere in the darkness. He worked his t-shirt off, watched as she sleekly slipped her arms free of green silk and let the fabric pool at her stockinged feet. And tenderly, carefully, he slid his arms around her waist, hers around his shoulders, until they were breast to chest, skin to bare skin, and heart to beating heart.

It's yours, he wanted to tell her, tucking his lips against the skin beneath her delicate ear. This battered, broken, beaten heart is mostly useless, but it's always been yours.

She sighed, warm breath trailing across his shoulders, along his nape. "Was that a buzz kill?" she asked quietly, and he smothered a snort of laughter in her hair.

Slyly, playfully, he slid his hands from her waist, down her hips, waiting to encounter her bare, taut ass—and instead met with the waistband of a set of bottoms.

He stretched the waistband with his thumbs. "Tifa, did you put someone else's panties in my pocket?" he asked, recalling the pair that had been thrown at him on stage.

It was her turn to laugh, arms tightening around his neck. "No, silly. The ones in your pocket are mine. What you're pulling at now are the shorts I had on earlier, when you came to get me."

He blinked, then groaned before letting his hands travel inside the shorts to cup and lift her perfect ass, ground his pelvis to hers. "That godsdamn lingerie. I thought you were naked beneath that kimono but this might be even better. Shiva, but are you trying to kill me, Tifa Lockhart?"

He felt teeth tugging on his earlobe, a wet tongue tracing the shape and shivered. "Not just yet."

He pressed a hard kiss to her neck before finding the strength to release her. "Let me see you, Tifa. Please."

He fumbled in the dark for the light switch—more for her sake than his—the need to see her suddenly overriding the need to be close. And he knew he'd chosen correctly when he stepped back to see her standing there so shyly, that dark hair mussed, blinking beneath the sudden lights, her cheeks rosy with a blush and those delicious lips plump. She had her hands laced together in front of her, her arms pushing and lifting those magnificent breasts and his eyes lingered there, mouth-watering and fingers twitching to touch her, taste her again before he forced his eyes further south. A surgically neat scar tracing beneath one breast that slid into her side, a slender waist and shapely hips covered in those silk green and black lace shorts, a few inches of bare thigh…then those legs, so lush and strong and that seemed to go on for days and days encased in those opaque black nylons from powerful thigh to delicate toe…

"Ah, gods, you're beautiful," he managed roughly. His quivering fingers rose, stroked the visible skin on her thigh down to where it slid into nylon and he made a hoarse, pleased noise. Unable to resist any longer, he dropped to his knees in front of her so that his mouth could follow the path of his fingers, where he kissed, licked, nibbled. "You've slain me, Tifa. This must be the Promised Land."

She laughed huskily, nervously, hands in his hair. "You always know just what to say."

They were the last words spoken with any comprehension for a while.

At some point, he dragged her down or she sank to the floor with him, and their mouths found each other again. He pulled her into his lap or she crawled in and her legs, those wonderful, sexy, so long legs wrapped around his waist. There was murmuring when he gave her a mark on her perfect breast to match the opposite side, sharp cries of his name when he focused on her luscious nipples, rough groans when her busy hands worked to undo his pants only to be distracted and instead rubbed the length of him through said pants until he had her flat on her back on the hard carpet and was grinding on her.

Eventually, with their mouths fused, tongues and teeth and lips dueling, he picked her up bridal style and laid her gently on the bed to settle beside her, one arm working to push off extra pillows and a basket of treats that went crashing to the floor unnoticed, the other tracing up her thigh, toying with the band at the top of her nylons, and sliding up through the opening leg of green silk to find her hot and sopping wet, soaked through the fabric.

He groaned in approval at finding her drenched, his fingers eagerly seeking out her clit, finding it hard and slippery and when he began to flick and press, her hips jolted, mouth freeing from his as her head twisted and she moaned so loudly and so fucking sexily into the room.

So perhaps making her pay wasn't such a good idea, he thought foggily, so godsdamn aroused it hurt.

Somehow he managed to wriggle her from the shorts while her long legs scissored, her voice panting, mewling, calling his name. And somehow she managed to undo his pants, pushing them off his hips, her hands squeezing his ass while he kicked them, and his boxer briefs off.

When her hands found him, caressed him from base to tip with soft hands, he forgot how to breathe. He froze and rolled onto his back, let his attention be diverted while groaning at the sensations, living in each amazing moment of having Tifa Lockhart— Tifa fucking Lockhart —stroking his cock.

"Is this—is this ok?" she asked, rising on her elbow above him, her voice curious and uncertain, fingers hot when his pre-come leaked and she gently, curiously spread the fluid.

He couldn't answer for long moments, his voice box not working, his brain not working, everything focused on how damn good she was making him feel with her innocent, unpracticed touch, how sexy she was watching while she touched him.

"Yes," he hissed finally, watching her while she watched him.

She glanced up at him with a quick, shy smile, carmine and chestnut melting together in her eyes. "You're sweet for lying but maybe you can teach me and I can do better. For next time."

Next time. She'd liked what they had done so far enough that she was already considering the next time.

He groaned, fought back the need to jerk his hips into her touch, to teach her how to squeeze and work him until he erupted in her hands, and instead reached to drag her mouth back to his, dislodging her grasp, rolling until he'd settled between her legs.

He slipped a hand between their bodies and sought her hot and wet again, searching through damp curls to find her clit where he began to press and rub until she was rocking her hips, her legs restlessly sawing.

She broke their kiss, pressed her lips to his ear and demanded with a whisper, "More."

He smiled his way down her throat, kissing, licking, and readjusted his hand until his thumb pressed against her, and easily slipped his center digit inside of her.

"Yes, more," she cried as he began to pump his hand slowly, his thumb rubbing mercilessly. "More. Gods, more. "

He flicked his tongue along a swollen nipple as her hips rolled. "Not the gods, Tifa. Cloud, '" he reminded her playfully and sucked the peak into his mouth when she repeated his name eagerly.

He kept his hand working at a steady pace, watching as her body undulated, captivated at how sensitive she was, learning the way her thighs quivered, how she shivered and arched her back.

She was so wet and so tight, sucking his finger each time he withdrew and returned, her hips rocking, chasing. Transfixed on her, he was slow to realize how his own hips were shadow pumping against the mattress, moving in time with his hand.

Ah, gods, he was so ready to be inside of her.

With much regret, he slowly pulled away from her, broke her resisting hold as he rose on his knees and edged off the bed. "Where are the condoms, Tifa?"

Carmine eyes blinked at him foggily. "S-snack bag?"

He smiled at her tone, and turned to quickly find the paper bag—thank Shiva she'd had the foresight to put them in the only paper bag they'd had or he'd be digging for gods knew how long through the other plastic bags—dumped the contents and grabbed all three, shiny packets. He returned to set two of them on the nightstand beside the bed, ripped the third, and used his finger to slip out the contents.

I can do this, right? he asked himself. It's pretty self-explanatory and should be intuitive. Following his instincts and the hazy memories of whatever sex education he'd had when he was young, he pinched the tip and rolled the condom on.

He felt her watching him and turned to catch her curious gaze, taking in the beautiful, devastatingly sexy visage of her dressed only in those thigh-high black nylons waiting for him, propped up on one elbow facing him with the silky strands of her hair spilling over the cream-colored coverlet and one shoulder. Her full, exquisite breasts were free, marked in several places from his attentions with nipples distended and puffy, and as he slid his gaze lower, she brought up one nyloned knee, shyly hiding that secret place of hers.

For as long as he was alive, he knew he would never forget that vision of her.

He approached her slowly, trying for an easy smile, and sighed his approval when she drew him in without hesitance, pressing them heart to heart, arms around his neck, legs around his waist, both sets of limbs holding tightly. He basked in their embrace for long moments before turning to nuzzle her, bringing his lips to her ear.

"I've never done this before," he admitted to her quietly, without shame or embarrassment. She was Tifa Lockhart and he trusted her with anything, everything, all things.

She squeezed him tight for several heartbeats before cupping his face in her hands, shifting until he met her glittering ruby gaze, shining with emotion. "You won't be my first, Cloud Strife," she said without regret or apology, and he felt a strange emotion in his gut, trying to slither its way into his heart. She dispatched it with her soft smile and next words. "But you…you'll be my last."

His heart pulled taut in his chest, throat suddenly too tight, and the only word he could squeeze through was her name—before he claimed her mouth once more.

It didn't take much until they were both panting and desperate again, teetering on the edge, her nails digging half-moons into his skin as he used both hands on her, one hand pumping a finger inside her slick and slippery, the other parting her nether lips and rubbing circles on her clit.

She tossed her head, sending dark hair cascading along the pillows, and pounded on his shoulder. "Please, Cloud," she moaned, a broken, desperate sound. "Now. More."

He released her from his torment, freed her nipple from his mouth to seek hers while he positioned himself carefully between her legs. Curiously, he pumped his hips and made a hoarse sound as his cock slipped easily through her nether lips, coating it with her slick juices. She made sharp, strangled cries as he did it again and again, sliding hard against her over and over until he was as soaked as she.

When he could take no more, he grasped her hips, slid his hands to her taut ass and kneaded, holding her steady. "Tifa," he said, rough and ragged, found her entrance with a probing tip—and slid carefully inside, inch by satisfying inch.

"Ah, gods, so tight," he uttered through clenched teeth when he'd filled her to the hilt, afraid to move in case it was over before he'd even started. She was wrapped around him like a fist and it felt so, so fucking good. Still, he'd felt her stiffen as she'd accepted him, and he lifted his head to look down at her, concerned. "Are you alright, Tifa?" he asked.

Carmine eyes were dark with arousal and she nodded. "I'm fine, just—you're big. If you'll give me a minute..."

He breathed deeply, waiting for her to adjust to his size, waiting until he felt her relax beneath him, hips loosening. He let himself withdraw slowly then, sliding back in just as slowly, felt the pleasure of it strum through his body like Bolt3 injected directly into his veins. "You always know just what to say," he managed harshly, repeating her previous line to him before taking her mouth again—and letting instinct guide him.

Each motion was like sliding into bliss, his hips finding a steady rhythm and pumping. He relished her every response, the soft sounds she made once their mouths broke their hold, the low moans that rose and ended in a sigh, the feel of her heels as they dug into the back of his thighs to encourage his movements. He hadn't known that the sounds of their bodies slapping together and the wet, yielding tempo of his every withdrawal and advance could sound so much like music, a cadence that had their bodies singing the same song though they'd never done so before.

It was both terrible and wonderful that he was close only after a few minutes, the rhythm of his thrusts breaking and growing shorter, more urgent. He opened his tightly shut eyes to find Tifa biting her lower lip and tossing her head, chasing something elusive.

"Tifa," he growled, forcing his hips to slow and steady, to slow his descent as he bent to her breast and teased a hardened nipple with his tongue. He would not take the first plunge without her.

She nodded, digging her hands into his shoulders even as she cried, "More, Cloud. More."

More, he thought and slipped a hand between their bodies to seek out her wet center.

Her whole body jolted as he found her clit and rubbed, thighs tightening at his hips, back arching off the bed and she moaned high and broken. "Yes," she called as he quickened his pace, hips pumping harder and more rapidly, each thrust jerking her body. When he groaned, ready to explode, could see her just behind him in their race for completion, he suckled her nipple into his mouth—and felt as she unraveled around him. As her insides squeezed him while she came, he lasted only one more, jerky, unsteady thrust before he exploded inside of her, shuddering, panting, goosebumps rising all along his skin and roaring her name.

His release seemed to last forever and yet not nearly long enough, muscles pulled taut, nerves quaking, emptying him and leaving him absolutely drained. Depleted, he thought it might be alright if he collapsed on her—before managing to roll onto his side, clumsily taking her with him.

Keeping them heart to heart.

Cloud closed his eyes as he stroked her back, so many emotions bubbling inside himself it was damn near bursting. A thousand words of gratitude, of devotion, of affection and praise, of pure, unadulterated adoration swirled in whatever part of his brain that was still working, clambering in his throat. They waited to spill from his lips, however inelegantly, to shower her with all the tenderness he held…

But the fear, the small sliver of insidious fear that slithered just beneath the surface, the one that didn't want to scare her, the one that was scared she couldn't, didn't return his affection, the one that warned it wasn't the right time, at least not yet, kept him from speaking.

So he remained silent, and instead buried the words soundlessly against her temple, sliding them into her silky, dark hair.

For now, it was enough.

"You said this was your first time?" he heard her ask, her voice soft and rich with disbelief.

He smiled, smug and pleased with himself now, and nuzzled his way until their lips met once more.