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You had been hearing about the dress since before you started dating. It was an inside joke, and you weren’t part of it, and that was fine. It was something that Tifa hid her smile about and Cloud mumbled excuses. It had never been explained to you fully until Tifa sat down with you and a bottle of wine to explain it. “We needed the dress at the time,” she says, her eyes hazy with alcohol and memory. “I think he still has the whole get-up somewhere.”
A montage of Cloud’s embarrassment flickered in your mind. “Why would he keep it?”
“It’s too weird to donate, but too nice to throw away, I guess.”
From that moment, the dress became a source of burning curiosity for you. Cloud’s normal verbal shutdown in the face of discomfort was not enough to dissuade you. He finally admitted to keeping it at the bottom of your shared closet. There it was, in a plain cardboard box, similar to all the boxes he used for storage. In the same night you asked to see it. To see him in it.
“No way.”
“Come on… You can’t just tell me its true, then not show me.”
“It’s embarrassing,” he mumbled.
“It’s just me,” you said, more gently, laying your hand on his bare arm. Cloud took yoru hand, held it for a moment. Then he sighed, got up, and guided you out of the bedroom.
“Stay there.”
“You’re gonna do it?”
“Yes,” he moaned. “One time. Five minutes. Then it lives in the box forever.”
//
Thirty minutes of muffled curses later, the door opened. You shot up from your slumped position on the couch. His skin had a little makeup to it: Some glossy red lipstick, some blush, some mascara. Enhancing details, applied with a shaky and inexperienced hand. The dress exposed his shoulders, his collar bones. You could swear that he was wearing something to squeeze his pectorals together into small, flat breasts because Cloud had honest-to-God cleavage. There was a little wrinkling in the bodice, as though Cloud had just thrown it into the box and never planned to wear it again. The tiara in his hair was missing a few stones, not too many. He had not bothered to wear the wig, but he held it loosely in one hand.
And he was lovely.
“Well,” he said. “This is it.” He spread his arms wide and gave you a quick spin. “What do you think?”
“You’re so cute,” you squealed, approaching your boyfriend and running a hand over the satin of the dress. “It really suits you!”
“It doesn’t,” he said. The makeup amplified his blushing face, making him almost glow.
“It does,” you insisted. “The color is so nice. It looks like it was made for you.”
“It sort of was.”
You ran your hands along his body, more admiring the slide of the satin on your hands than anything about the man wearing it. He took your wandering hand and held it, and you kissed him. Smearing his lipstick, for sure, but it wasn’t like Cloud was going anywhere dressed that way. He even smelled different; there had been some kind of cologne in the box as well. Cloud dropped the wig and held you, letting you kiss as much as you wanted. Whatever kept your hands from wandering.
You let them wander anyway. Running down his chest. Up his thigh. When you grabbed his ass, he gasped. The underwear felt different from the thick boxers you had seen him pull on that morning. “Are those… Women’s underwear?”
“The lines,” he coughed. “The lines of the dress didn’t look right without…”
“That’s kind of hot,” you said. You let your hand drift between his legs and grab his cock. It was a little stiff but twitched hard in your grasp. “You like that?”
“Nnn…”
“Hm?” You gripped him harder and he held you harder against him.
“I… I like it.” You stroked him, a luxurious push-and-pull that made his jaw drop. “P-Please…”
“Please what?”
“I want you. Please.”
“Okay,” you nearly sang, pushing a hand on his chest and leading him into the bedroom, shedding your clothes as you went. He stumbled backwards, fell onto the bed, and you were upon him. You kissed down his neck, nuzzling his chest that was pressed so deliciously out to you. You sat back on his legs and trailed a hand up the silk stockings. “Pull your hem up for me,” you intoned. “Show me.”
Still a lurid pink across the cheeks, Cloud removed his hands from your hips. He reluctantly curled his fingers around the hem of his dress and pulled it up slowly. Over his knees. Over his hips. Between his legs, Cloud’s thick erection strained against its silken prison. Precum had dotted the white fabric, so it went wet and semi-clear against his skin.
“Good boy,” you purred. You rubbed the heel of your palm against the bulge, stroking it affectionately and making him whine. Cloud writhed against your touch, bucking his hips up helplessly. Every time he got close enough to make it count, you pulled your hand back. “What do you need?”
“I need you. I need to fuck you.”
“Oh, that’s it, huh?” You hooked a thumb into the waistband of his panties. Pulling them down would free his cock to the open air. “Tell me please.”
“Please!”
You pulled the panties down in a swift movement. The mako in him had always made him sensitive. The slightest chill in the air would send him shivering. This was no exception. The cold air made him cry out as his cock bobbed and settled back against his hard abs. You took it into your hand and guided it to your pussy. It twitched as you rubbed the head against your wet heat. When you pushed him inside you, Cloud’s lipstick pout opened in ecstasy.
He never lasted long; SOLDIERs rarely did, as you understood it. Right now, he was too keyed up to bring you much pleasure. He was only good for one orgasm, maybe two, but there was no way he would last long enough for the marathons of sex that you were used to. You pushed your hips down onto him, taking all of his cock inside you. Cloud writhed around under you, the ribbing in the bodice of his dress holding its shape like a shell. You kept your hands on his satin-wrapped chest to keep your balance. He gripped your hips, desperate for the contact.
“Touch me,” you whined. Cloud’s hands drifted up your belly, towards your breasts, but you jerked one away and put it between your legs. Cloud’s fingers were calloused with the work of swordsmanship, but they felt pleasantly rough against your clitoris. He rubbed you while you thrust your hips against him, both of you feeling the heat building with each push.
The game you had been playing with Cloud was more stimulating than you realized and your orgasm rushed over you. His name alternated with ecstatic screams as you rode out your pleasure on him. Distantly, through the roar of the blood pulsing through you, you could hear Cloud whimpering your name while he pushed up against you, frantic with need. Your legs felt weak as you came now. You wobbled on him, a momentary struggle for balance while Cloud solved by pulling you against him.
“You,” you gasped. “You should keep this dress…”
“Maybe,” he said, but you were already plotting how to get him in it next.