Learning to Live

Vincent:



How had this come about again? he wondered dazedly as Tifa all but crawled into his lap, latching her arms around him. Vincent tensed at first, but heard her quiet hitched breaths and smelt the saline of her tears and gradually unwound his tense muscles. He could no longer blame the liquor, at least for his own actions, anymore. Oh, perhaps for the releasing of his sanity, sure, but he’d come to gradually realize that he needed this contact, this human interaction with a friend. And Tifa was certainly that. A lovely, warm, open woman, willing to sacrifice anything and everything for those she held dear. It was humbling to his battered and weary heart that she’d turn to him for comfort.



Although Vincent held no reservations otherwise; he knew she only viewed him as a friend and rightly so. He couldn’t be her hero, but he’d do his damnedest to be whatever else she needed. He also knew that she’d never tell any of the others about Cloud, they wouldn’t understand, or tell her not to worry, or reassure her with false hopes. Vincent knew better. He knew that life never waited, nor did it withhold any pleasant surprises; those had to be found on one’s own. Life was what one made of it. Period. He caught his breath as her cheek rested against his, lashes lowering in unfamiliar sensation.



“I’m here, Tifa,” he whispered at her ear, the words emerging from a rough throat. Carefully, so carefully, Vincent returned her embrace, both arms enfolding her gently as he maneuvered a bit on the couch, settling his back against the pillows and armrest, stretching out long legs. He let her snuggle against him as she would, right hand indulging itself by smoothing through her thick sable hair. It damned him just a bit, her wiggling, and he forced himself to be still, lest unfortunate activities occur forthwith, but Vincent had never dreamed to be thus with her.



An outsider, by choice if not default, he’d only watched from afar, admiring her strength, her stolid character, her natural loveliness. But she was now here in his arms, needing a strong shoulder upon which to lean. He had two. He’d admit to putting two fingers ‘neath her chin to lift her eyes and saying again, “I’m here, Tifa. For as long as you need,” but he knew it was the machinations of that Chaos-riddled part of his mind that lowered his head to press his lips gently against her forehead, making scarlet eyes flare behind half-closed lids.



Tifa:



As he reclined against the back of the couch with those long legs stretched, taking her with him, Tifa all but lay against him, one thigh between his. It felt more natural than she would have believed, had anyone tried to describe it to her prior to tonight. What was it about him, that made her feel like it was alright to settle into these strong arms and release every woe?



I'm here, Tifa. It reverberated through her mind in that thick baritone. For as long as you need. What if she did need more? More than just a moment, more than just his shoulder? When full, soft lips brushed her forehead in such a heartbreaking touch, Tifa felt her heart twist and flutter, as if something held it tight and shook it just to tell her, make her realize how priceless the moment was. If there were consequences, she damned them. If there was a moment to follow this one, she didn't care. If Cloud never loved her as more than a friend, she couldn't be bothered, for just that single moment.



This time, it wasn't just for him, and it wasn't the impulse of alcohol or a passing fancy conjured by girlish thoughts. This time, when she pulled back to look into crimson eyes, her own so wide in the darkness, then leaned forward to touch noses first, then lips more slowly, she meant every step. She let it linger, parting her lips just enough to enclose the full curve of his bottom lip, eyes still open and staring into his. She wanted him to know it wasn't just a repeat of earlier. It was something more, and even she didn't know what. Maybe it was simply that, with him, she found a connection deeper than friendship.



Understanding. Pain. Loneliness.



Her mind didn't dare to go further, as she pulled only an inch away, noses still touching. Part of her was afraid; terrified really, that what she'd done was wrong. For now, her heart told her otherwise.



Vincent:



As before, Vincent didn’t dare move or even breathe as Tifa leaned into him. But he could guess what she was about thus he wasn’t as shocked as before. Yet he couldn’t help the soft intake of breath at the touch of her lips to his, nor the muted moan that escaped his throat. Every contact she gave was deliberate and he felt it burn across his skin, flaming imprints of touch forever scalded to flesh.



Red eyes still half-closed, they smoldered behind the dark lashes as he returned her kiss, just fleetingly enough to be realized, mouth catching slightly on her tender upper lip. Vincent’s brain frantically tried to catch up with what was happening, but his body had a pretty good idea and took initiative all of its own accord. His arms snuck around her, curving behind her back and hips to hold her close as he shifted a bit lower on the couch.



If this is what you need, Tifa, then take it, oh please take it… Vincent wasn’t sure who voiced that thought in his mind. But it didn’t matter. She was lonely, frightened and hurting. Vincent could relate with two out of three. He’d long since ceased to be afraid of the darkness; it held monsters, yes, but also a soothing coolness that calmed fractious edges. Yet he could feel her minute trembling; he knew she was uncertain and vulnerable. Two facets he never wished associate with her, ever.



Vincent felt her nose nuzzle his hesitantly and he licked his bottom lip, inwardly groaning at the sweetness of her taste. One hand drifted upwards to comb through dark tresses, gently resting against the nape of her neck. Fingers flexed and soothed in a gentle motion, seeking to banish a bit of the tension in her.



Vincent sighed softly, inhaling her breath and returned the gentle nuzzle, whispering against her lips, “Whatever you need, Tifa, take it. I’m here. Right here.”



Tifa:



It was. She did. Trembling now out of the flutters of her own heart rather than the fear that was slowly dissipating, she lowered her body flush against his, coaxed by the strong arms that encircled her.



This is what I want...



Lashes lowered half way over dark eyes, and with a shaking sigh her lips found his again, nuzzling first as before.



This is what I need...



His hand in her hair and against her neck, his mouth slowly parting for her, his firm, narrow frame sinking further against the sofa below her, the soft sounds he made. She was barely aware of the ones she emitted so breathlessly.



Not just for me, Vincent. Had Lucrecia ever given him even this? Even the kindness, the small intimacy of a kiss? She hoped not. It would mean that his hurt had been all the deeper for it. She didn't think about Cloud. In that moment, it was only Vincent.



One hand ran through thick locks to cradle the back of his head, the other against his neck just below his ear, slightly calloused thumb tracing back and forth across his cheek. You need this, just as much as me.



Daring to kiss him deeper, her tongue gently nudged its way between his lips, and her eyes nearly rolled, closing all the way as she explored the warm recesses of Vincent's mouth, ever so slowly. He tasted faintly of alcohol, but so much more. She couldn't place it, and titled it only Vincent. Things low in her body began to stir, yet were still far overpowered by the fluttering cadence in her chest.



A soft moan into his mouth, a breath taken just to whisper his name and another stare into the most beautiful eyes she could remember seeing. "Vincent..." I'll take this, I'll take you, now. But I never take what I can't give equally. And she would give as much as he, himself, was willing to take.



Vincent:



It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. It didn’t matter that he was a replacement for something she’d been missing for an eternity. It didn’t matter that this would probably shatter the fragile friendship between them to hell and back. What mattered was that Tifa needed it from him, and he, although damning himself with every beat of his heart, would willingly give it.



But oh, the feel of her, pressed against him as she was. Her lips returned to his and, quite surprising himself, Vincent tilted his head and parted his mouth, anxiously eager to taste her again. His nostrils flared on a quick breath as her tongue cautiously crept into his mouth and explored but he remained passive beneath her, more than willing to let her do as she wished. He tasted the peach flavor on her lips and groaned unconsciously, shifting beneath her, a cotton-clothed thigh maneuvering between hers. Planet, but he was slowly starting to ache with far too long repressed emotion; Chaos was running rampant behind his brain.



Vincent dimly felt the pulsing in his brain; his blood was heating and traveling everywhere. Tifa lifted her head and Vincent stared up at her through smoky eyes, dark crimson through black lashes. A jolt coursed through him at the sweetly whispered litany of his name. His name, by Gaia.



There was still hesitation in her. He could see it. But Vincent Valentine was fighting a losing battle. He was only human, after all. He’d pushed himself too far tonight. Normally a stoic careful individual, somewhere along the evening he’d decided to throw reason and sense into the basement and embrace emotion with both hands. There would be consequences, that he knew, but be damned. Gaia, his mind and body screamed together, just let me have this night, please. Let me have this with her. Let us drown the pain, oh please, let us drown in each other.



Seeing her still staring down at him, so earnest!, Vincent’s body took over and his hips bucked slightly, pressing her against him as his head lifted from the couch pillows to breathe roughly against her lips, “Tifa…more. Give me more.” Both hands slid down her sides, his grip a bit harsh, a bit eager.



Tifa:



She could feel the warmth of neglected skin beneath his clothes, heard the ragged edge of his breathing and saw the need on his face. He was becoming something more than she'd ever seen in another man. It thrilled her, that this man was giving into their mutual need with her. His kiss, his touch awoke things within her she'd been barely aware of.



Now she was being consumed, and his thigh lifting between hers made that achingly clear. She loved his hands on her sides and his voice - oh gods, his voice - begging for her to grant him what she'd hoped he wanted, craved as much as she did. Tifa moved bare legs to straddle his waist, now so sensitive to the body beneath her. "It's yours," she heard herself whispering. I'm yours, tonight.



She breathed his name once more, then kissed as eagerly as he touched. She leaned back, pulling him with her while slender fingers slipped under the cotton t-shirt to spread flat against heated, soft skin and the hard muscles beneath. Bold, inexperienced, but unafraid. As her hands traveled upward, so did the shirt, until she pulled her lips from his to slip it over his head. She watched as best she could in the dark room, but felt acutely the long tresses of tangled ebon hair falling out of the shirt to cascade down a pale, bare back, where her hands alternately explored flesh and fisted in fine strands. She couldn't help but wonder how anyone could hurt such a glorious man as this, so giving, as she imagined he'd been before the layers of pain, doubt, and wariness had been added.



Her lips returned just as quickly with deep, wet strokes of her tongue, seeking out more of his flavor before retreating to invite him to do the same. Fingers became acquainted with every inch of exposed flesh she could reach, and scars mattered not. They only served to further her determination to give something to him that she hoped might make up for just a little of his many years of torment. As he now was making up for so much of her own, and giving more to her than he realized.



Vincent:



Vincent growled against Tifa’s mouth as she straddled his waist, arms wrapping around her to hold her tight against him. For a long moment, he just held her as she kissed him, all other sensations forgotten as their mouths dueled together. Licking at her lips, Vincent rose with her as she sat up and pulled at him. At the touch of innocent fingers to his body, he froze, eyes flying open as skittish muscles trembled under her hands. But she offered him little time to dwell on the nuance, for two heartbeats later she was urging his arms away from her and up, pulling the t-shirt over his head and tossing it over her shoulder.



Vincent could only gape at her as he felt his long hair settle back over his naked shoulders and down his back, grateful the night hid the marks along pale flesh from her eyes. Hojo had done his work well; Vincent would carry those scars for all eternity. They crissed and crossed all over his chest, stomach and ribs, marks of horrible torture under the insane scientist’s hand. But those nasty memories were shocked from his mind by the return of warm willing lips to his, Tifa’s smooth tongue gliding into his mouth, eliciting a groan from deep in his chest. He dimly felt her gentle touch smoothing over exposed skin and shivered beneath her hands.



Vincent’s head fell back as she kissed him, so deeply, so thoroughly, so completely. But although he hungered for her touch, her caress, his own hands itched to roam her own lovely body, discover the hidden curves that made her moan. She withdrew her tongue from his mouth and, with a wrench low in his gut, Vincent kissed her again, pressing palms to her neck and smoothing her cheeks with his fingers. Hungrily he sucked her lower lip, teeth worrying the soft flesh before thrusting his tongue between her lips, teasing hers, smoothing the tip of his tongue along the roof of her mouth, tasting her eagerly.



Male desire threatened to take over; he wanted little more than to press her down on the floor and take her hard, but he bit the inside of his cheek and broke the torrid kiss, breathing hard against her lips.



“Tifa,” he ground out, hands sliding down her arms. “…by the Planet, Tifa,” he panted, “…slow me down. Let me…savor you…” Heeding his own words, Vincent curbed his screaming passions and settled down more comfortably against the couch, adjusting the woman atop him more firmly against his groin. She shifted against him and he groaned, eyes closing at the feel of her against the tingling hardness. But such a sweet pain…



Although appreciative of Tifa’s impressive bustline (what sane man wouldn’t be, after all?) Vincent didn’t allow his hands access for the moment. Instead he wrapped arms around her again, placing small sweet kisses around her mouth, accentuated by light flicks of his tongue, never centered upon her lips. He kept her against him, relishing the feel of her breasts pressed to his bare chest. Vincent’s lips traveled over her cheek to her jaw, teeth gently grazing the curve of bone before nuzzling into the soft skin of her throat as his hands trailed fingertips around her body, soft beneath her shirt. The backs of his knuckles grazed over her belly, gently stroking her stomach with languid brushes; his lips fastened over the fluttering pulse in her throat and suckled.



In slowly rising circles, his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts as fingers splayed against her ribs, lifting her shirt as she’d done his. Lazily licking his way from her collarbone, over her chin to her mouth, Vincent’s thumbs brushed her nipples just as his mouth found hers, tongue slowly entering her mouth to taste and tease as he finally allowed his hands to reverently cup such lovely, heavy flesh. He groaned low into her mouth as the calloused palms of his hands rubbed harshly against the sensitive buds, wanting to hear her voice her pleasure.



He paused in his slow ravishment of her mouth to pant at her ear, “Gods, Tifa…you are so beautiful.” Vincent nuzzled beneath her ear, growling, “So ready to be pleasured.” His killing hands increased their fondling. “To see you this way…” His hips rocked rhythmically under hers. “…means more than you will ever know.”



Tifa:



Such slow torture, Tifa felt every fiber of her self control coming undone. Everything from the sensuous kisses not only against her mouth but on her face and neck, to the strong, slender fingers that found their way to nerves she didn't even know existed, it was so perfect. Yet not nearly enough. She knew exactly his dilemma when he groaned his plea, though he himself did more to slow down than she even tried.



The thick hardness pressed against her panties was rubbing just the right spot, and she panted softly, face flushed hot even in the cool room. The air that had felt so cold earlier could barely keep the sweat from her skin, and she quickly slipped out of the shirt as he guided up, up over her breasts, nipples already taut. So teasing the round-about way he fondled her.



When at least he cupped her, she moaned, low and long and rough, and keened into his mouth when he caressed stiffened peaks. Oh gods, Oh Vincent! She'd never known the delight he was giving her now, and would have possibly felt embarrassed of the sounds she panted into his mouth, or the way she ground against his hips in rhythm to him with her legs encircling his waist, squeezing with powerful thighs. Would have felt embarrassed, were it any other night, or any other man. But his words growled into her ear insisted that she withhold nothing from him, that she give him the full knowledge, as much as one could, of how much he did pleasure her.



As his chest pressed again to her breasts, this time there was nothing between them. She gasped at the sensation, skin to skin, and marveled that if it felt this good against her belly and breasts, how might it feel lower? Soon, not too soon... she reminded herself. Tossing her head back to expose her body to him even more, offering her throat once again, she let him ravage her with trembling care for a moment longer, until she knew she could take no more without rushing things. Hands that until now had burrowed into his hair and fisted there now released the imprisoned locks to grip his shoulders, gentle but firm, pushing him back enough to give her room to find his throat, her lips and tongue playing along such soft skin.



Down, down she went, panting between kisses and nips, over his collar bone until she pressed him back against the couch, having to untangle her legs from his waist. The separation left her hungry for his skin against hers once more, but she had a goal. Savor it. Savor him... there. The first scar that keen touch had felt. Instead of avoiding it, she licked it once, so softly, following with a kiss. She had felt his shock, his hesitation earlier, and her boldness had overridden it. Now she wanted that fear, that shame, dispelled.



"These..." she whispered, still laced with so much desire, and something far tenderer, "They don't bother me, Vincent." She took one of her hands from its smooth stroking of his sides to guide his left hand between her breasts, and the thin ridge of raised scar tissue there. "I have my own." Nothing like what Hojo did to you, but not without painful memories, her mind added silently.



Tifa continued her pilgrimage down his chest, taking time to kiss and lave both nipples between equal treatments of every scar her fingers found. She couldn't see them... didn't need to. The lines, jagged and straight, meeting and crossing, told her enough. Down the muscled plain of his stomach her lips and tongue wandered, until slim fingers hooked the waistband of cotton pants. She tasted the finest layer of salty sweat on his skin, inhaled his stronger scent and dared to nuzzle the firm length she'd ridden moments ago through the cotton of his pants.



As she began to slowly pull the fabric away, she found herself wishing desperately to see him, and she knew he could probably see her. Can't pull away, her mind whispered, touch will paint us a picture.



Vincent:



Vincent wasn’t surprised by Tifa’s return gesture, thus he ceased his worship of her lovely body and let her push him back down atop the couch. Glazed scarlet eyes fell closed in quivering bliss as her warm wet mouth and tongue laved his decades-neglected flesh, it heating beneath her touch. Everywhere she touched came afire. He shuddered at the feel of her exquisite form pressed so tightly against him; lusty groans and her whispered name fell from his lips like heated prayers. She slid down his body and his back arched involuntarily, wanting to press every inch of exposed skin to her lips.



Vincent’s eyes flared open as he felt her tongue trace a wet heated path over the long scar running the length of his chest. Without demur, he let her trail his fingertips between those lovely breasts and the sensitive digits felt the unmistakable ridge of scar tissue, testament to her own battle wounds. But a strangled moan escaped him as she assaulted flat male nipples, praying his once-noted self-control wouldn’t shatter into a thousand irrevocable pieces. Every nerve ending zeroed in on Tifa’s inquisitive mouth, following the heated trail down his chest to stomach, the muscles jumping under her caresses. Sweat beaded pale flesh; his fists clenched spasmodically under this innocent seduction.



As his mind pleaded with her to cease this maddening torture, he felt her fingers plucking at his loose pants and breath nearly screamed through clenched teeth as she nosed between his thighs.



“Tifa,” he growled, lifting his head enough to look down at her, “my control is not limitless.” All the warning he could muster. As long as it had been for Tifa, it had been decades for Vincent. “Experimentation…is perhaps best another time?”



Before she could answer, he moved, pulling her back up against him while at the same time divesting his long frame of remaining clothing. Pulling her astride him again, Vincent slipped arms around her hips and bucked beneath her as he pulled her down for another hungry needing kiss. Fondling her tongue with his behind her lips, he moaned roughly into her mouth as one hand slid between her legs, piano-long fingers slipping beneath the elastic band and rubbing sinfully against the heated wetness.



Panting for air, Vincent groaned between sloppy wet kisses, “I’m right here for you, Tifa. Take me…”



Tifa:



As he crushed her body to his once more, her mind registered his words. Another time? Ohhh yes, please... The heat she'd been straddling a moment ago seemed to rise to fevered with his clothing gone, and she whimpered with the need to finish her exploration. At least until his fingers found the wet center in which her desire had pooled. Tifa's mouth opened in wordless, soundless exclamation for a long, breathless moment as long fingers explored where no other had touched. Breath returned in harsh pants, quaking murmurs of his name. The digit that slid carefully into her was met with clenching muscles, virgin in all by the physical sense. That she'd lost to hard training and athletics, years ago.



Her hips moved of their own accord, riding the hand that wreaked havoc upon so many nerves. She felt her thighs trembling, and knew she wouldn't have been able to support herself if she tried. Soft cries begging more were drowned in his mouth, and Tifa felt something building at a desperate pace, deep inside. Closer it came, closer but never enough.



"Oh Planet, Vincent..." Her tone was low and rough, pleading. "More... I want... I want more!"



His command, his plea for her to take him played again and again in her mind, and fingers desperate to know him, explore him found and gripped the rigid shaft pressed between their bellies. Kneading, stroking, gently then roughly, base to sensitive tip and back again until she could memorize every inch. She nipped his lips, fighting the urge to bite her own, then buried her tongue deep into his mouth, coaxed his own out and sucked it as she would have done so much lower, before he'd stopped her. The nails of her free hand bit into his hip, then worried at her panties, the small stitch of material now feeling so restricting.



Finally impatience and strength broke one elastic strap, and she lifted her body enough to maneuver his member into position, working those wonderful fingers out of the way so she could rub the head against slick, smooth folds. She broke the kiss with a sigh, and very slowly, a centimeter at a time, began her descent.



"I-I want you, Vin... Vincent..." Her voice trembled, and near-black eyes opened wide, struggling to focus on him in the darkness. Oh, oh gods... It hurt, but so good. The muscles within her struggled in tension at first, yet with every delicious sound he made, every thought of how he may look, writhing beneath her, they relaxed just enough to let him in, inch by excruciating inch.



Finally, her hips settled back onto his, and Tifa took a long, gasping moment to savor the new feeling of fullness he gave her, accentuated with a long, ragged groan. She was afraid to move for a time, unwilling to shatter such a perfect feeling. The pulsing ache that returned with a driving force saw an end to that, and leaning to sit up, Tifa began to slowly rock in the motion her body commanded.



Vincent:



She was made for pleasure, he remembered thinking, watching the emotions play across her face as his fingers worked inside her. It was enough for him to keep his own raging feelings under strict control as he pleasured her, calloused fingers slipping deep into tight wet silk and stroking languidly, then increasing pressure as she responded so ardently. Vincent growled low in his throat as she demanded more, but he was determined to make her take it. He wouldn’t just give it.



But a strangled gasp left his throat as she retaliated and gripped his throbbing member, trapped between their sweaty-slick bodies. He couldn’t help arching hips into her touch, unconsciously begging for more. Vincent returned her torrid kiss with enough passion to make his head spiral, deep primal noises rumbling thick in his chest. Withdrawing his fingers from her body, he clenched his teeth and hissed as she slipped atop him, torturing him so sweetly. Rampant thought flamed through his brain, several miles a minute as Tifa carefully began to lower herself atop him.



Vermillion eyes slammed closed and cords stood out along his neck as he strained not to hurt her by doing anything rash; this was her pleasure, let her take it. And take it she did, he realized as she finally enveloped him deep within the wet warm depths. Vincent opened his eyes to see her face, contorted with myriad emotions. Like her, he was terrified to move, afraid to shatter this newness, this perfection. But by the gods, she was so tight upon him! While his own experience was woefully limited, Vincent knew better than to think Tifa any more experienced than he. She’d reserved this for only man, and that poor sod had been fool enough not to accept it.



But she began to move on him and Vincent groaned, hands gripping her hips, letting her learn the rhythm and take her pleasure as she would. He moaned her name into her ear, accentuated by panting breaths and husky whispers of ragged want. Although he knew they should continue slow and languid, the starvation for contact and passion was cresting in them both, he could see it in Tifa’s face and feel it in his own body. Lithe powerful hips flexed beneath hers as he stroked inside her, hands leaving her hips to smooth down her sides and caress everywhere he could reach. Gods, but she was beautiful…he dimly remembered voicing the thought.



Tifa:



She rode him slowly at first, until she became used to it, guided by his hands on her hips. She lifted and lowered, ground back and forth, finding every secret new place he could reach within her, nearly overwhelmed by each discovery. When she pressed hard, leaned back and pushed her hips forward, she felt him rub firm and slick against the most exquisite place, while at the same time sweat-slicked skin and soft black curls slid against the tiny, swollen bud that his fingers had teased previously.



Tifa's breath came now in slow, shaking drags through parted lips. She could see those red, red eyes, admiring her body. Her body, while whispers of her beauty and groans of her name fell from full, kiss-bruised lips. She didn't need light to know they were that way, her own were swollen and hot, full of tingles. Her discovery of his body and all he offered leaned more and more to the desperate, frantic rhythm of a building climax. She leaned down again, wanting to touch him all over, but found her motion impeded by this.



Fingers gripped his shoulders until crescents from her fingernails no doubt marked his skin. Strength she normally reserved for fighting was used to roughly pull him up with her, then she leaned back, lacing their fingers as her back met the leather cushions, between his thighs. Her hips still bucked frantically against him while strong legs cinched around his slim waist, and her voice rose half an octave to match her body's desperation.



"Vincent... please, please, fuck me, the way you want to." It felt so dirty to say the words, but the heady rush of liberation fallowed them, deepening the flush in her chest and cheeks. Oh Gaia, if only she could see him.



Vincent:



Her breathless pants, her untaught movements, she was slowing driving him insane. Tifa rose and fell atop him; to his eyes a goddess taking her pleasure from his merely human body. And he’d give her his last breath, should she wish it. Quivering muscles clenched him so exquisitely, forcing husky groans from his parched throat. His hands aided her hips in her rocking motions, keeping her rhythm steady and deep. But he sensed her oncoming climax; her head tossed and she began to buck, making his back arch as she tightened around him.



Complying as she hauled him up with her, Vincent groaned as the movement drove him even deeper inside her warm wet depths, shivering as long strong legs wrapped around his waist. Long black hair fell across bare shoulders as he leaned over her, both hands planted firmly on the cushions, his hips instinctively thrusting hard against her willing pliant body. He saw her beneath him; flushed, trembling, gorgeous breasts bouncing from his thrusts, it was enough to force a real growl from his throat.



A shudder ripped through him at her fevered plea, the vulgar profanity hitting a nerve straight in the back of his brain and a howl echoed somewhere in Vincent’s ears. He vaguely heard a ripping sound and tasted blood in his mouth. His shoulder blades tingled. The familiar pain slammed across his brain and his back bowed as he gave a guttural cry and, with a force testament to the pent up tension buried deep within his lithe frame, abruptly jerked the woman beneath him from the couch to the floor after giving the coffee table a knock with his hand, sending it tumbling across the floor.



Slamming back down atop his willing captive, Vincent stared down at her, burning red irises glowing in the dark room. His hands, tense and hard, gripped her wrists and jerked her arms above her head, splaying her beneath him. It was barely human, the voice that emerged from his throat.



“You want me to fuck you, Tifa?” he growled at her lips, tongue teasing her mouth, following by a rough bite to her throat. “Then I will,” he snarled, a knee shoving her legs apart and abruptly slamming back inside her. “Because Gaia knows I want to…”



Vincent released her hands, dragging blunted nails down her arms, scoring the delicate flesh. Gripping her hips, he thrust harder into her, grunting and groaning with every deep stroke into submissive female flesh, a place he’d not been in so very long. Snarled pants burned beneath her ear, even as teeth and tongue nipped and lapped at salty sweet flesh. Chaos snapped and seethed beneath his skin, roiling muscles under scarred flesh. He growled her name in a litany of animalistic primal sounds, jerking her hips to meet his.



Wanting to make her writhe and thrash beneath him, one of his hands snaked between their heaving bodies and a fingernail scraped over the swollen flesh just begging for his touch. With every mad stroke inside of her, he swelled and the friction increased, driving the pounding between his ears to fever pitch. Vincent’s shoulders braced as his body tensed, but he wanted, needed to make her scream…



Tifa:



Tifa's eyes widened in the darkness as she watched the dim glow of red eyes intensify with the primal growl and cry that tore from deep in his throat. It reverberated through his body, even inside her, such was the force. The next thing she knew, she hit the floor, which was blessedly padded in thick carpet. Not that she could have cared if it were concrete, not while he forced her arms above her and leaned to shove himself so deeply into her.



An alarm went off in her mind as flecks of yellow-gold threaded through the crimson in his eyes, his sounds now inhuman. Any fear was brief, for her heart reminded her that he controlled the beast, not the other way around. She was shocked to find that this roughness, this near violence, his growls and obscene words to match her own, it thrilled her.



Pleasure that had been briefly dulled when they hit the floor flared back to life as he slammed his hips hard against hers, and no amount of her writhing could keep up. Her legs wrapped around his, toes curling and digging into his calves as his hands returned to harsh explorations. Tender breasts ached from the jolts of his thrusts, when they weren't pinned beneath taut pectorals.



Never had Tifa imagined that sex could be so brutally satisfying, or that she would want him to be this way. She did. She wanted to have all of him, every inch of flesh, every cry and breath, every confession, every tear he'd never shed and every need he'd ever buried. The man. The beast. All of him, so perfect in his tragedy. So like her, and far, far more to her eyes.



Nails raked his back, marking over scars put there by far less pleasurable means, feeling over the smallest movements below the muscles of his shoulder blades, under the twin scars there. Keening whimpers were muffled in his hair, against his neck where teeth made their mark. She savored his every kiss, every lick and bite, everything he gave her. Because she knew she was getting it all, and somehow knew it was something no other woman had ever claimed.



The finger that dragged over the throbbing bud drew a soft shriek from her. Half-words and unintelligible sounds from squeaks to moans, whimpers to soft growls fell from her lips to his ear. She couldn't tell if it was that she were getting ever tighter, or he was becoming even thicker, even harder inside her, or both, but the friction was so much that each time he dragged himself back out of her, it nearly hurt. Nearly, but not quite.



Thighs shaking, head thrashing from side to side, with her back arching high off the floor and breasts heaving from the effort it took to just breathe, Tifa came, screaming.



"Vincent!! Oh, Gaia, Vincent!" Fingers dug into perfect buttocks, begging even as she bucked against him, riding the harsh ebb and flow of orgasm.



Vincent:



Pain shot through his fingers and raced up his arms as Vincent felt claws rip through his nail beds and with a muted roar he slammed his hands to the carpet to keep from shredding tender flesh. But she thrashed beneath him, bucking like a thing possessed, her body strangling his member buried so deep within, it was all he could do to keep the demons beneath his skin. Sweat glistened over pale straining flesh as he heaved atop her, driving ever harder into her as if the salvation of his soul depended on just fucking her. Sharp claws plowed furrows in the carpet as Tifa convulsed around him, flailing in the throes of her glorious orgasm.



Sensitive ears caught her breathlessly screaming his name and the pain she inflicted on his body drove him straight over the edge; taunt muscles locked then exploded in a fountain of white-hot fury and a ragged screamed roar exited his rough throat as sharply clawed fingers gripped Tifa’s hips, holding her immobile as he flooded into her. Shuddering, Vincent dimly heard the frothing of the monsters within as he spent himself completely, they losing their grip and fading back into the recess of his mind as he slowly regained his control.



With a strangled groan, he all but collapsed atop his lover, shaking, burying his face in the damp hair strewn about Tifa’s head. Nose buried beneath her ear, Vincent wrapped his arms around her and held her close, still nestled inside her pliant body. He ached, but the glittering gold that still streamed through his burning blood was a small pain compared to the odd use of muscles. Yet one he never wished to relinquish. Gods, but there would be repercussions of this, but at the moment, he neither worried nor cared.



Now-normal hands (such as they were) slowly stroked her slick body, fingertips gliding across gleaming flesh with the barest of touches. Oddly enough, he felt himself stirring within her and a purred growl reverberated against her throat, but he resolved to move soon; doubtless she’d be stiff and uncomfortable, not wanting anything more. She’d only asked for this, after all.



Tifa:



The intense glow of his irises providing just enough illumination for Tifa to make out some of the ecstasy written in his expression, and as he shut his eyes and fingers gripped her hips with suddenly sharp points, Tifa stilled but for the tremors of aftershocks, eyes shutting with a satisfied sigh. His scream made her shudder, but not nearly as much as did the feeling of his length quivering and flexing inside her and she was filled with the proof of his satisfaction.



Hands traced lazy circles along his slick back, her panting breaths matching his in time. She couldn't help smiling against his neck at how he trembled above her, still trying to half-support himself. With gentle insistence, she pulled him to lay fully against her, his weight more a comfort than a bother. As her skin cooled from the slowly receding passion, she shivered, thankful for his body covering her own. He slowly softened inside her, but remained there, her body refusing to let him go, constricting now and then around its prize. She stared into the darkness through the veil of his hair, thoughts drifting. Morning would come in but a few hours, and whatever consequences were to be paid.



With a soft mew of protest, she nuzzled his neck, willing the sun to wait a while longer. Maybe forever. Let me hold onto this, please, her heart whispered, supported by her body, still aching with the fruits of lust more than the bruises that would no doubt be there later. Let me enjoy the darkness, enjoy him, just a bit longer.



Just then she felt him begin to stir within her and atop her, moving to pull away even as he became partially erect again. She stilled him with legs and arms, "Vincent?" Her voice was hoarse. "I don't want to sleep tonight..." she whispered, nose and lips brushing his jawline, hoping for more than the gift she'd been given. Greedy? Yes. Selfish? Probably. But he had said he was there for her, whatever she needed... and right now, she needed more than to simply roll over and go to sleep.



To be continued…