Goodnight Kiss

Goodnight Kiss
Chapter Two
Half-Realized

Aerith was driving Vincent slowly insane in her naïve teasing. Almost every night when she said good night to each member of AVALANCHE personally and individually, Vincent was always last in her rounds. Intentionally it seemed. And she always brushed his hair. He stopped protesting and just concentrated on muffling the way she turned him on, convincing himself with each passing day that as his memory became clearer and darker, he was less and less worthy of staining something as pure and delicate as her with ill-directed lust.

They were in Gongaga Village, restocking their supplies. The newest member of AVALANCHE—Cid Highwind—was buying drinks for all the men, as the women had declined to join. Vincent had as well, but stood on the deck of the run down bar anyway, unable to sleep and listening carefully to his teammates. Being aware was key to staying alive after all.

“That chick… whatsername?”

“Aerith?”

“Yeah. Goddamn, she likes to talk! Botherin’ to say g’night and shit and askin’ me all sorts of stupid questions…”

Barret laughed. “Take it easy, Cid, she does that ta everyone! Annoyin’ as hell, but that’s jus’ her bein’ her…”

“Even to him?”

Cid was gesturing to Vincent, he could tell. Mumbles and shrugs followed.

“I dunno, go ask him!”

Vincent didn’t move as Cid approached, leaning a little drunkenly against the wooden railing of the deck. He had a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. “What’s up?”

Vincent didn’t reply. This was one of those “I dare you” things, and he was slightly annoyed. It was like he was the punch line of some ill-gotten joke and it was mildly degrading. “No thanks,” he told Cid as he offered his beer.

“If you weren’t gonna drink, then why the hell’d ya come down?”

“Yuffie snores,” Vincent told him honestly.

Cid laughed heartily at this—mostly because the beer in his hand was his seventh. “That’s fuckin’ great, Valentine! Hey, speakin’ of chicks, has uh… Aerin—,”

“Aerith,” Cloud corrected from the door, approaching.

“Yeah. Yeah, her. She been botherin’ you the way she been botherin’ us?”

“I wouldn’t say bothering,” he said carefully, feeling a little cornered. The attention had never been so solely on him before in the week and a half that he had been among the living. Unease crept up on him again.

Cloud took the spot on the other side of Vincent and took another gulp of his drink. “How do you get her to spend so much time with you?” he asked honestly, not as buzzed as Cid.

“You like her, you little shit!” Cid mocked the ex-SOLDIER. Vincent looked to Cloud—who was actually waiting for a real answer.

He straitened to leave. “Grow your hair out,” he said dryly with a ghost of a smirk as he made his way for the door.

“Wha…?”

Cid was laughing again. “That guy’s a fuckin’ riot!! Ah… shit, I need another beer…”

***

Despite Cloud’s suggestion of saving gil, Vincent slept alone again by his own funds—which had gathered an incredible amount of interest in his absence. As close to sleep as he could get anyway. It eluded him, but strangely his suspended body functioned fine without it.

It was later than normal, but the knock came. Oddly enough, he was first tonight. Aerith let herself in, Vincent’s silence more permission now than withdrawal. If he didn’t want her to be there, he would have let her know. And god, it was dirty of him, but he did want her there. He awaited her eagerly sometimes, just to be able to have her touch him and speak to him… to acknowledge that he was alive and to tease him with something he just couldn’t have…

“It’s late, but I don’t think the boys will be in for a while,” she giggled. The fact that they could hear Cloud laughing out on the deck reiterated this fact. From simply observing, Vincent knew that it took a lot of alcohol to make him do so. It would be a late start tomorrow, which made Vincent shake his head. Turks were fast and accurate in what they did, and would beat them to the chase if they started too late…

Aerith sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him, kicking her feet. “The plants here are crying—I’m not too sure I like it here. It was his hometown after all… must be the Mako…”

Him being her ex he assumed. But that didn’t matter because it was none of his business. She hadn’t even touched him and already his arousal was kicking up, swelling with need more fierce than before. Not too sure what he was doing, Vincent reached out to touch her hair and pulled the bow out, watching her brunette waves spill down her shoulders and onto her back. It piled on the sheets it was so long.

Aerith looked over her shoulder to him with a smile. “Your turn? Okay. I had a feeling you wanted to…” And she handed him the brush. A little bewildered, Vincent stared at the red handled thing for a moment before he started to tentatively weave it through her hair. It was already thoroughly groomed enough to brush through the top of her head to the bottom of her strands without a single tangle. The smell of gladiolas was so much stronger now, and the way she leaned into him… oh god…

The brush slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor as he wrapped his arms around her and nestled his face in her hair, breathing in her scent deeply. She sort of tensed in surprise, then shivered as his lips pressed against her neck. He ruined it, he knew he did. She would get angry; push him away; scream…

She didn’t. Aerith covered his long bony fingers with her small soft ones, as if to prevent the dress he was clenching so tightly from ripping. Oh, he wanted to rip it off and see her bare and exposed. She didn’t even flinch at the sight of the ugly metal appendage touching her—he’d forgotten it was there and was ashamed for a moment, but the fact that she didn’t mind it—didn’t mind him—was an aphrodisiac in its own respect. With fingers that were quickly getting used to working solo the first button of her dress came undone. He waited for her to show permission to continue, or at least tell him to stop.

Neither came, so after a moment the next button came undone. Then after another moment of nothing but her shaky breath, another button came away, revealing perfect breasts perched high in a bra that was just a little too small…

His common sense shattered, he rolled her over and with a little more effort required than buttons, unsnapped the latch in front, releasing those perfect orbs of flesh from the hold they were in. The little dark nipples came to life under his caresses. Then he realized that she was blushing deeply.

He looked at her, waiting for some denial or resistance. None came. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly. As if he could offer any comfort if she wasn’t…

“Yeah… just…” He waited for her to give him a reason to stop. The sensible side of him was just praying for her to ask; to put an end to this madness. “You’re the first…”

Good lord, a virgin! If there was any reason, there it was. His face dropped to her belly, lips quivering on the hot skin of her stomach. He should have guessed by her behavior. His hard on was begging for a taste now—screaming for it, but his morals were screaming just as loud: not something as innocent as her! She couldn’t waste her purity on something as foul and sinful as him, not until his atonement was complete at the very least!

“Vincent… it’s… okay,” she assured, though she didn’t sound very sure in her voice.

He shook his head. “Not me. You shouldn’t.”

“Just… just a little…” she pleaded unsteadily, sinking her fingers into his hair in a way that sent ripples of those goosebumps over every inch of his body…

Just a little. He didn’t have to have sex to make love. “Just a little…” he repeated, more to give himself boundaries than to state hers. He was under the same unreasonable influence as her, so right and wrong blurred and melded. The dress parted for him, and in kissing the hems of her tiny white panties, his senses were overwhelmed in how ready she was. The smell of it, the sight of it right through the layer of clothing that protected it and the anticipation of tasting it… oh god, he was almost glad his will didn’t allow him to fuck her; he wouldn’t have lasted long at all…

Vincent resolved to leave her underwear on, so not to be tempted. He pushed them aside and nearly lost said resolve upon seeing her shy little pussy, slick wit her want and the clitoris swollen with arousal.

He introduced a finger very slowly and reveled in the gasp it produced. She was so tight he could barely fit another finger in. She moaned as he gave gentle thrusts with them. The barrier he encountered when he pushed deep confirmed her words. Never seen; never touched. He was going to hell, no doubt, but her pants of his name may well be worth it…

He gave a lick to that nub above the opening of her sex and she nearly shrieked. He nearly lost to temptations with the taste of it. He devoured her completely, putting a hard fast pressure on her clitoris, causing her to shake in pleasure.

“Oh, oh god, Vincent!” she praised, almost pulling his hair in delight. She came in a fluttery, pulsating fury. He drank what she gave eagerly.

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to bury himself within her. Especially when she pulled him up and kissed his lips frantically, red in the face her orgasm had been so intense. Her lips were soft, sweet and so delicious..

“Vincent, please!” she begged under him, her ankles squirming against his in a maddening way.

“No.”

“Please!”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

She was looking him hard in the eye, and he had to swallow to remember why he was saying no. “You’re right. I won’t.”

“Why?”

Because he had made the same mistake before. Because he was her opposite. Because he didn’t deserve it. Because his heart was just too heavy to handle any more. Because she deserved so much better than him for her first…

“It can’t be me,” he said simply. It literally hurt to refuse her—his hard on was begging for attention. He wished he knew what she was thinking as her expression softened in acceptance.

“Okay,” she finally agreed.

Neither of them agreed on her staying there, but that’s the way it worked out. She laid on his chest for a long time after they got mildly comfortable (to continue a muted conversation perhaps?). She was thinking deeply, or just listening to breaths and heartbeats as he’d drifted off. It was a wordless and unintentional arrangement, but there she was, curled up between him and covers, warm and fragile thing that she was.

Fragile, but unbroken. He was determined to keep it that way.

End Chapter Two
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Will he? Won’t he? Not too sure on that myself! ^_^