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He needed to leave.
The lesion on his arm was small and easily hidden by a bandage, easily dismissed as a scratch taken in one of the many short skirmishes he had every day. But the disease was moving now, he could feel it itching and boiling and eating away at the muscles and tissues of his arm, working to erupt. This small mark was a warning, a sign.
He needed to leave before it worsened. Before Tifa noticed, and before he became a burden. Before Denzel found out and let his own hopes fade. The little boy obviously idolized him: how much harder would it be to remain positive when the disease he struggled with struck his hero down? There was no cure, as Cloud and Tifa were both well aware. But that's not what you told a child. You gave a child as much hope as possible, so they could enjoy the good days – the pain free days – to the fullest. You told him that if he ate right, and rested, and kept clean and was cared for... he would recover. Cloud couldn't stay and be the proof that they had lied.
Still... he didn't want to leave. This place was home, more so than the house he'd shared with his mother had ever been. These kids and this woman were his family. Tifa's label, but he felt it as strongly as she, even though he didn't express it nearly as well. He'd even had new, fragile dreams of making it a family in more than name, of finally learning to let Tifa know how he felt, of letting her reciprocate with everything that shone in her warm brown eyes when she looked at him.
Foolish thoughts. Fate seemed to like making him live up to the name Strife, and took added pleasure in dragging anyone he was close to along for the ride. Why should his relationship with Tifa be any different? At least he could be thankful that the disease chose him rather than her.
Sighing, he stood and took another look around his room. He was taking very little, giving the illusion that this departure was nothing unusual, just another long delivery. Tifa would need that pretense, at least for a little while. And when he didn't come back, it would be easy to believe that he had never planned to leave in the first place.
Leaving his boots and pack on the landing and taking extra care to be quiet, he climbed the short steps from his room to the hallway above. Easing open the door to the kids' room, he found both were sleeping soundly, Denzel's peaceful rest a good sign that he'd be up and about, enjoying the day tomorrow. He straightened their blankets, tucking Marlene's doll back under her arm and brushing Denzel's hair off his forehead. They didn't wake, but he felt somehow that they would know he'd been there, that he cared, and that was enough.
Saying goodbye to Tifa, even with her asleep and unaware, would be far more difficult.
He was even more careful opening her door, as she was a light sleeper – partly due to the reflexes honed in their journeys two years before, and partly due to some strange female sense relating to children and late night out-of-bed excursions. To make sure she didn't wake, making this even harder, he silently cast Sleepel before entering.
Her curtains were drawn, filtering the already dim starlight to the faintest of slivers across her sleeping form. Perching gingerly at the foot of her bed, he watched her sidelong as he tried to decide what to say. It was almost as awkward as it would be if she were awake! He cleared his throat, stared at his feet, scratched the back of his head...
Jumped out of his skin when she sighed his name, shifting under her blankets.
Blue eyes flew to her face, only to find her still sound asleep. That could make it easier. Everyone – even Nanaki – had teased her about talking in her sleep. If he talked to her, would she answer? Or remember? As deeply asleep as she was now?
Hesitantly, he moved closer, covering her hand ever-so-lightly with his own. "Tifa?"
"Mmm?"
He had to smile as she tilted her head on the pillow, exactly the way she cocked her head to listen when she was awake. Her hand turned under his, fingers twining.
"I have to leave, Tifa. I... I don't think I'll be back." Ever. He swallowed. Her forehead was crinkled, although whether she was puzzled, troubled, or angry, he wasn't sure. "I just wanted to say goodbye."
She shook her head, patting the bed with her free hand for emphasis. "Too early. Stay."
Cloud shook his head ruefully. She was far too cute like this, sleepy and only loosely understanding what he'd said. "I can't, sweetheart." He wasn't sure what made him say it, but even asleep the smile it brought to her face was bright. Then she was tugging on their clasped hands, and he was collapsing on the bed next to her while she snuggled up to him like he was that horrid, giant chocobo Barret had sent Marlene.
"Stay," she mumbled, lips brushing his throat where she'd buried her face against him. She shifted again, kicking one leg free of the covers to throw it over his. "G'night, Cloud."
Blinking in surprise, Cloud froze. Now he was in trouble. He sprawled half atop her, pillowing her head on the arm he'd flung out to catch himself, one leg trapped between hers. Attempting to ease away only made her hands fist in his shirt. Any tighter, and he'd have to wake her to free himself, something that was both a bad idea, and a bit difficult to achieve thanks to the spell he'd used. Exhaling slowly, he let himself relax. If he stopped struggling to get away, maybe she'd stop clinging like a limpet.
Part of him hoped she'd hold on tighter.
Wondering if he only imagined the laughter in the back of his mind, he propped himself up on an elbow and took this opportunity to look his fill, admiring the form pressed against him clad only in silky shorts and matching top. A top that was riding up in the front, giving him a tantalizing view of her tummy and the curves of her breasts. Before his body got any ideas, he quickly shifted his gaze to her shoulders, then to her face. Long, dark hair obscured her features, and the hand not currently pinned under her gently stroked it back, letting his fingers ghost over her face, memorizing the arch of her brows and the curve of her mouth. Then he dropped his head and buried his face against her throat, breathing deeply to remember her scent.
This was far harder than it should be.
Tifa was dreaming. Strong arms held her close to a hard, warm body; gloved fingers tenderly stroked her face; and a masculine voice murmured softly in her ear, the words indistinct but the tone wistful Her eyelids were far too heavy to lift, to see who it was; but it felt safe, heady, and comfortable all at once, a combination her subconscious associated with Cloud.
Which was unlikely, if not impossible, which was how she knew she was dreaming. It wasn't a particularly new dream either, for all that he seemed somehow more solid and real and there than he usually did. Awareness tingled along her skin the way it did whenever he was near - nipples tightening, tell-tale dampness growing between her legs - simply due to the almost electric tang of his presence. Part mako, part male, and uniquely Cloud.
The fingertips tracing her features fell away, and she felt his breath dance over her skin as he leaned closer to nuzzle her hair. That warm, moist caress made her shiver, and she blindly nestled closer, twisting to bring her hips in line with the leg he'd inserted between her knees. Her bottom came to rest snug against his thigh, the hard muscle firm against her mound, radiating heat in an invisible caress. Arching against him, she ground her hips and tilted her head to slide her mouth along his throat, breathing his name as her fingers twined in the hair at his nape.
Cloud's hand reflexively tightened on Tifa's waist as she shifted so his leg rode higher between hers, even as he pulled away from the brush of her lips. Eyes shut, her movements just slightly uncoordinated, the woman in his arms was obviously still asleep and just as obviously dreaming. Erotic dreams. About him, if her whispers were any indication. The knowledge made something deep and primal, a part of himself he normally kept shackled and silent, growl in satisfaction. He ached for her all the way down to his bones; to know that - in her subconscious at least - she was his for the taking...
His decision to leave, in part, was to keep this from happening. To keep their relationship from growing any further when his geostigma insured they had no future. As such, he shouldn't be pleased at this evidence that he may already be too late... yet he was. He should be disentangling their limbs...
Yet he wasn't.
Would it be wrong to be together, just this once? To allow them both this memory? His conscience said yes. The press of her body, the clenching of her thighs and the gentle tugging on his shirt, said no.
Tifa pouted when the muscled form sheltering hers withdrew slightly. She liked the feel of his skin under her lips, his taste on her tongue, and he'd taken that away. He was almost unnaturally still, his only movement the light, considering brush of his thumb over the soft skin just above her waistband. Apparently he was going to tease her and take his time. Just the thought made her shudder with longing, legs shifting, the ankle resting behind his bent knee pressing him harder against her. Urging him closer with the hand tangled in his hair, the other finding its way inside his open collar, she strained upward to meet him, wanting his kiss.
His mouth was smooth, firm, and oddly hesitant under her own, accepting but not reciprocating, lips shut rather than parting to bring his tongue into play. Catching his bottom lip between her teeth she tugged, sent her tongue dancing along the crease between his lips, asking without words for him to give her more. Instead, he took her hand in his, ducked his head to press a kiss against her palm, whispered something she couldn't understand. He brought their joined hands to rest against her stomach, then released her fingers to thread his through her hair. Again she sought his kiss, and he turned his head so her lips just brushed his cheek. Another whisper, more insistent than the last.
Confused, she relaxed against the mattress, biting her lip, as the hand tangled in his hair slid down to rest over his heart, and the other began toying with the hem of his shirt, one finger tracing his belt.
Oh. Oh.
Cloud closed his eyes, praying for just a bit more control, as the hungry mouth playing against his rapidly eroded his good intentions. He needed to get out of the bed and out of the house. A good start would be removing her warm, slender fingers from his shirt. Her pout as he did prompted him to nuzzle a kiss in her palm. "I'm sorry, Tifa, but this really isn't a good idea." Placing her hand on her stomach, he gave it a little pat as if telling it to stay. Ignoring him - or misunderstanding in her sleep - she turned her mouth to his again. Evading her, he tried again, more emphatically. "No, Tifa."
This time she paused, biting her lip, brow wrinkled, considering. Then a look of comprehension took over her features, followed by a shy smile.
And the fingers he'd thought safely out of trouble began easing open his zipper.
Choking out a curse he fumbled to capture her wayward hand, even as her other dropped from his chest to tug at his belt. His fingers closed around her wrist as hers curled around his length, and he couldn't help the strangled sound that escaped his clenched teeth. His grip kept her from doing anything more – for the moment – as he struggled not to thrust into her encircling fingers. Then she wriggled, leaning up to press a kiss to the edge of his mouth, and a three-note chorus rang through his head, insisting that he should never feel guilty for giving Tifa something she so clearly wanted.
The flesh under her hand was hot, hard, and satin smooth, his groan echoing in her ears. The feel of it did something to her, sending a surge of lust-need-want straight to her core. As a hard hand closed around her wrist to guide her stroking, she arched her back, lips searching...
And the dream changed, veering to follow a more familiar path.
Leaning heavily on the arm cradling her head, hand loosely tangled in her hair, he rose above her, taking control. His other hand held her still as his mouth came down over hers, his tongue flickering against her lips until hers came to meet it, brushing lightly together. When she retreated he followed, surging between her lips to explore within, teasing the roof of her mouth, gliding over her teeth, thoroughly tasting and laying claim. He left her gasping before shifting his hand to her nape and angling her head back, exposing her throat to the scrape of his teeth. As she held the position herself, his hand shifted to the strap on her shoulder, clearing a path for his lips and teeth and tongue to explore.
Cloud struggled not to rush, feeling the same urgency as Tifa but tamping it down. Freeing his shaft from her grasp and granting himself some measure of reprieve, he guided her hand to his shoulder. Wanting to feel her skin under his touch, he raised his hand to his mouth to catch his glove between his teeth. A sharp jerk of his head, and his lightly calloused palm was sliding down her arm to the soft skin of her stomach, then under her top to cup one full breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over the nipple. His wandering mouth soon found the other, tongue laving the rising peak through silky fabric. She moaned, arching into the press of his fingers and lips, breathing ragged, body flushed and heated, shuddering at every rasping stroke.
Dipping his head further, he kissed the well of her navel, just above the waistband of her shorts. How often had she teased him by showing that little dimple? His tongue stabbed inside, marking her with his heat, savoring her taste. Pleasure speared through her at the strange sensation, and she writhed against his thigh. In response he shifted, his knee rubbing against her. The increased contact prompted more little love-noises, her hands clenching in his shirt before strong yet dainty fingers found the zipper and opened the garment for her explorations. Pale skin was warm under her hands, sleek over lean muscle.
Soft hair brushed her breasts and belly as he nosed the hem of her camisole higher, exposing her chest to mako-enhanced eyes. The darkened room offered no deterrent to his scrutiny: pearly skin, rounded flesh, and pinkened nipples were all clearly visible. His mouth again closed around one ruched peak, this time without fabric hindering the caress, adulterating her taste. Shaky fingers burrowed through his hair, asking for more. He gave it – sucking, nibbling, teasing – until her moans came loud and freely, and he could scent her arousal, feel her body's welcome dampening his thigh even through their clothes.
With a last teasing brush of his thumb, he placed his hand on the bed by her shoulder, shifting his weight as he eased his other arm from behind her head. Nudging her legs farther apart he knelt between them, before sitting back to tug his other glove free and remove the belt she'd undone. The starlight fell across his form, painting him with shadows: shirt open, pants rakishly unfastened and gaping, eyes heavy lidded and hot. Tifa obeyed blindly when his fingers closed around the waist of her shorts, arching off the bed so he could slide them off her hips and down her legs.
The touch of his hands was scorching as they glided up her thighs, coming to rest with thumbs gently massaging on either side of her mons. The circling motion pulled her skin taut, parting her nether lips and indirectly teasing the eager nub between them. A whining moan escaped her throat. In answer, he sought out the moisture pooling between her thighs, bathing his fingertips before stroking carefully inside. His other hand sought out the engorged button just above her entrance, three fingers fluttering against her in a random, lightly tapping pattern of caresses.
Goddess. Her dream lover always seemed to know what she needed, but this was far better than any fantasy she'd had before. Clever digits alternately thrust and scissored, teased and stretched sensitive tissues; while others slowly drove her mad with all too brief touches. Hands clenched in the sheets, she moved her hips to the rhythm he set, head back, mewling encouragement. The fingers inside her curled with exquisite care, lightly brushing up as those playing against her clit pressed down, and her body careened out of control.
Cloud was mesmerized, observing every detail of her response as she came: legs clenched around his hand, mouth open and panting, soft cries spilling from her lips. Her fingers were white knuckled in the bedding, muscles frozen while she focused on the pleasure flooding through her. Rotating his wrist he brought his thumb to grind against the hard pulse between her legs, simultaneously easing her through her climax and forcing it to last. When finally the sensations faded, she collapsed, limbs boneless, legs splayed.
Sliding his fingers free, he raised them to savor her scent, closing his eyes as he tasted the essence of her arousal. His ready but neglected shaft jerked in reaction, balls tightening, but he hesitated, giving his body a moment to cool. At present, she was sated, her death grip on his shirt long since relaxed. He could leave now, tuck her under the covers and not take any further advantage of whatever dream had captured her sleeping mind. What he'd had of her could be enough – would be enough – with a little willpower.
Unfortunately, he had very little left.
For her part, Tifa was caught somewhere between sleepy relaxation and unfocused need. Cloud had withdrawn. She could feel his body heat where he still knelt between her legs, but he was making no move to take care of his own arousal. And she wanted to feel him, his lean body sheltering hers. If he wasn't going to take her, she at least wanted him to hold her. Raising her legs, she draped them over his splayed thighs, calves curling loosely around his waist. "Cloud..." she whispered, shifting lower in the bed, arching so the opened placket of his pants brushed against soft skin, "please? I need you. I need to feel you."
Opening his eyes, his breath caught at the sight of her offering herself. She was all but in his lap, angled and ready for him. It took but the slightest motion for him to lean forward and align their hips, his length nudging her opening. She whimpered, hands moving restlessly across the sheets, her stomach, her breasts; and he thrust forward.
Slender fingers found new purchase in the fabric of his shirt, pulling, wanting to feel him over her, forcing her into the mattress. He came willingly, catching his weight on his hands as he settled against her, breasts pressed to the hard muscles of his chest. It was only natural, then, to kiss her: thrusting his tongue between her lips as he began moving between her legs.
Neither was interested in keeping the pace slow, both hungry for the climax building between them. Cloud's thoughts were locked in a pattern of hot, tight, more; Tifa's similarly cycling through hard, full, and please. She broke first, calling his name. He followed seconds later, pulling out and spilling over her stomach with a muffled groan, face pressed into the pillows by her shoulder.
The mumbled words against her skin might have been an I love you, but in her dreams that was not unusual.
Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, she stroked his shoulders and hair as their breathing returned to normal. The dream was already fading, mind sinking even deeper into sleep, when he moved away, exposing her to the chill air of the room. She made a soft, complaining noise, then he was back, a soft, damp cloth stroking across her tummy and thighs before he tucked the covers around her, cocooning her in their fuzzy warmth. Content, she turned on her side and snuggled into her pillows as his fingers ran through her hair, stroked the line of her back. He whispered goodbye – or good night – and that was the last she remembered.
Several hours later an alarm went off, and she fumbled on the night stand until quiet reasserted itself. Rubbing her eyes, Tifa blinked sleepily, her mind unusually foggy after such a good night's rest. Then she remembered the dream she'd had, of Cloud making love to her, and couldn't help but smile. That, at least, explained how she'd gone all night without waking. She'd definitely need a shower this morning, though: the erotic imaginings of her sleeping mind translated in the waking world to damp panties and musky arousal.
Sitting up she froze, as tiny little aches made their presence known. Pleasant little twinges in her thighs, an extra sensitivity between her legs. The tap pants she'd worn to bed were missing, her lower half bare; her camisole slid down her stomach alerting her to the fact it had been hiked up above her breasts. The scent of her own lingering musk twined with another, more masculine scent on her skin.
It hadn't been a dream.
Fuzzy memories of what she thought an imaginary encounter were frantically recalled. Odd pauses where her dream lover would have been unhesitating. The way everything had seemed more real, more solid. Tifa buried her face in her hands, wondering how she would be able to face Cloud later, after having molested him in her sleep.
And then another, more horrible thought struck: What if it hadn't been Cloud?
No, surely it was. As unlikely as him joining her – or even visiting her room after she'd gone to bed – might be, it was far more likely than the alternative. Some oversexed cat burglar who would have had her awake and out of bed the minute he entered. Satisfied with this reasoning, she nodded, registering again how tired she still felt. Panic promptly surged back through her veins. She hadn't awakened because the man had put her to sleep!
At that thought she lunged out of bed, wrapping her shivering form in a blanket as she stumbled to the door and down the hall. She sagged with relief to find both children safe in bed, then lurched down the hall to Cloud's room. His door was open, bed covers messy, while he himself was absent. Nothing unusual there, either. Further checking found no open windows or unlocked doors. Returning to her room she sank down on the bed, eyes focused on the only thing she'd found that was out-of-place.
It had to have been Cloud... right?
The silver wolf ring on her right hand glinted in the sunlight, real and familiar, for all that it hadn't been there the night before.