Work Text:
Cloud was lounging in the porch glider, a towel slung low around his hips, when Tifa finished her morning swim and returned to the villa. Eyes closed and head back, he looked like he'd swapped sleeping in bed for dozing on the porch, but he held out a hand in invitation at the sound of her approach. Accepting, she snuggled in his lap, knees burrowing into the thick cushion, and sealed ocean damp skin to sun-warmed planes. Soap-clean and salt-brisk, their scents mingled as mouths met, sweet with just a hint of banked passion. Otherwise unmoving, arms open and braced along the back of the glider, he used his heel to push it into motion, the slow, frictionless back-and-forth rocking their bodies together.
He was hard and fully erect beneath the thin terry fabric, and she wondered if he'd been daydreaming, or merely watching her play in the waves. It didn't matter; all that really did was the feel of him, warm and solid between her thighs. Apparently, Cloud agreed: shifting, he tugged the towel from between them and draped it around her waist, covering them both. Then strong hands pulled her back down, willingly taking her weight as he arched into the press of her body. Her folds parted as she sank against him, his naked length drawing the material of her bikini taut over her clit. Each glide of the rocker caused her to rub – just slightly – against him, sealing them tighter together. Before long even the thin, slippery material of her suit was too much of a distraction, bordering on uncomfortable. He noticed, blue eyes carefully watching her face, and he stilled their movement, nimble fingers seeking out the ties at her hips.
"Here?" Tifa whispered, cheeks flushed, brown gaze a mix of excitement, hesitation, and surprise.
"Why not?" Cloud responded, one side of his mouth curving in a knowing smile. The beach was mostly deserted, the porch private property, and the towel obscured the view should anyone care to look. "Just try to be quiet," he teased, stripping her of the thin garment and tossing it aside.
Skin to skin, her body's moist welcome flowing to coat his erection, she writhed against him, his length nestled between the petals of her sex, slick and hard and wonderful. Hers. The thought made her shudder, and on the next slow pass he shifted, letting one hand drift down her back and between her legs to guide his thrust inside. She moaned, and he caught the soft sound with his lips.
Ensconced deep within her clinging warmth, he relaxed into the cushions, once more stretching his arms along the back of the bench. Bereft of the steadying presence of his hands, she braced her palms on his shoulders. As soon as she did, he pushed off, resuming the leisurely motion of the glider.
Goddess Minerva.
In this position, she should have had control. She certainly had freedom to move as she wished: circling or grinding or sinking and withdrawing as she chose. But her rhythm was guided – if not outright dictated – by the frictionless sway of the chair, and he controlled that. Tifa came almost from the realization itself. Hands fisted and knuckles white, she bit her lip as the pleasure peaked then subsided, and heard him laugh. His thumb skimmed her cheek, palm cupping her throat just below her ear, and pulled her down to lave her abused mouth with this tongue. "Quiet, not silent," he reminded her. "I like to hear you."
So the second time she climaxed, she let him: giving a soft, shuddering cry that was muffled against his neck into something for his ears alone.
When her orgasm faded, the clasp of inner muscles easing, he sat forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands closing around her hips as he – finally – moved to satisfy his own needs. Both feet planted firmly, he directed the glider in sharp, short jerks, increasing both the pace and force of his thrusts. Tifa's shaky thighs clamped closer at his hips, her own circling in sluggish response, and the words of approval he breathed in her ear changed to earthy encouragement.
"Hold me tight – tighter – just like that," he whispered, as she spasmed and clenched in response, whether to his words or the demand of his body he neither knew nor cared. "Don't let go, I want to know you can't get enough. Want to feel you desperate and grasping as you come, forcing me to do the same." Tifa moaned, hungry and doubting at the same time, and he let his fingers slip from her waist to dip between her thighs, his touch light but devastating. "You can. Now. For me."
Tifa came, mewling against his throat. Cloud thrust hard, twice, slamming the rocker forward and then holding it steady as he spilled inside her, fierce pulses as he groaned with relief.
And if after, Tifa blushed when they greeted the neighbors, it only made him grin.