[Maybe she is just a little impatient. After all, how many times have they been through this? How many times have they been overcome by an urge to touch and explore one another, to experiment and discover new things about one another and about themselves that they never knew? Her imagination had wondered and often drifted, sure, but it was nothing compared to having him here now, the heat of his skin under her hands and pressing over her like this, his sturdy presence, even when everything else seems so uncertain and, admittedly, a little scary.
Even if she knows that she has nothing to fear with him, she is still nervous. Terrified. Scared that she will mess this all up or make a fool of herself. Scared that she won't know what to do and will hurt him. She has only read things, heard things, but never been so close to anyone like this before. She is so familiar with him now but it's all still so new that she is intent on taking her time, even if in the end, each kiss and touch and sound grows more desperate the longer they tease.
His ministrations set her body alight, every nerve on fire as his mouth and his hands move over her. He makes her arch up out of the flowers and sink back down, her gasps and soft moans turning into cries only for him to hear as he grows bolder and draws it out more and more, almost like he is testing to see how long before she finally breaks. And just when she feels like she might teeter over that edge, the stars blinking brightly behind her eyelids, he pulls her back to reality, grounds her, even as her mind grows fuzzy and her body weak with a want so strong that makes her fingers dig into his back and his arms, and coaxing soft, pleading mewls and sobs out of her, begging for more.
How he's managed to unravel her and so quickly, she doesn't know, but when it's her turn to do the same to him, she intends to give him as much attention, as much reverence as he had given her, with her lips, her tongue, her hands—hell, her entire body as they travel wherever they can reach, pressing soft kisses in between shy nibbles. She is not quite so bold as he is, everything that she does tentative yet somehow deliberate at the same time. And as she tastes him, slowly runs her tongue over his length before taking him between her lips, she hopes to draw out her name in his voice the same way that he did to her. To make him see the same stars just out of reach before she pulls away and draws him back down, too.
If only because she wants to do it together.
Of course, everything is clumsy, every touch beyond that laced with a nervousness to it. But she is so sure of what it is she wants that she doesn't even question it. Awkward as it is, and through the little slipups and mistakes that they make, Tifa doesn't want to stall it any longer. He takes care not to hurt her, but even with the pain, she has never felt anything quite like it before as he finally presses into her. To feel so connected with him—she had before, the first time they touched and the first time they kissed, but this... There aren't quite any words to describe how that feels.
Well, maybe one.
Love.
It feels like love.
And everything that happens in between, she both remembers and doesn't by the time they crash back down to the earth together, that high so vivid and extraordinary that all she feels, all she can recall, is the sound of his voice saying her name in her ear, and the way she cried his out to the stars, and that blinding ecstasy that comes with it.
It leaves her breathless, shattered, yet so unbelievably content after that she cannot even think to move from the flowers quite yet. With her heart still beating, her breaths still rushing out of her, she tangles herself up in him and mutters sweet nothings against his lips as they share soft kisses and hold one another as if it were their last night together. It's so perfect that she wishes that they never have to leave...
But they can't stay there forever, and she has no idea, nor does she care, how long they are there before they finally find it within themselves to get up, gather their clothes, and head back to the camp, holding one another close even still, the silence that hangs between them comfortable as she remains wrapped up in his warmth until they get back.
Even then, she won't be so keen to let go of him as they start a fire outside of their tent and curl up inside of it, pillows and blankets piled up around and over them to keep them warm for the rest of the night. And as she lies beside him, she cannot help but stare, her lids heavy with not tiredness but affection and contentment, as she brushes the tip of her finger over his cheek.]
no subject
Even if she knows that she has nothing to fear with him, she is still nervous. Terrified. Scared that she will mess this all up or make a fool of herself. Scared that she won't know what to do and will hurt him. She has only read things, heard things, but never been so close to anyone like this before. She is so familiar with him now but it's all still so new that she is intent on taking her time, even if in the end, each kiss and touch and sound grows more desperate the longer they tease.
His ministrations set her body alight, every nerve on fire as his mouth and his hands move over her. He makes her arch up out of the flowers and sink back down, her gasps and soft moans turning into cries only for him to hear as he grows bolder and draws it out more and more, almost like he is testing to see how long before she finally breaks. And just when she feels like she might teeter over that edge, the stars blinking brightly behind her eyelids, he pulls her back to reality, grounds her, even as her mind grows fuzzy and her body weak with a want so strong that makes her fingers dig into his back and his arms, and coaxing soft, pleading mewls and sobs out of her, begging for more.
How he's managed to unravel her and so quickly, she doesn't know, but when it's her turn to do the same to him, she intends to give him as much attention, as much reverence as he had given her, with her lips, her tongue, her hands—hell, her entire body as they travel wherever they can reach, pressing soft kisses in between shy nibbles. She is not quite so bold as he is, everything that she does tentative yet somehow deliberate at the same time. And as she tastes him, slowly runs her tongue over his length before taking him between her lips, she hopes to draw out her name in his voice the same way that he did to her. To make him see the same stars just out of reach before she pulls away and draws him back down, too.
If only because she wants to do it together.
Of course, everything is clumsy, every touch beyond that laced with a nervousness to it. But she is so sure of what it is she wants that she doesn't even question it. Awkward as it is, and through the little slipups and mistakes that they make, Tifa doesn't want to stall it any longer. He takes care not to hurt her, but even with the pain, she has never felt anything quite like it before as he finally presses into her. To feel so connected with him—she had before, the first time they touched and the first time they kissed, but this... There aren't quite any words to describe how that feels.
Well, maybe one.
Love.
It feels like love.
And everything that happens in between, she both remembers and doesn't by the time they crash back down to the earth together, that high so vivid and extraordinary that all she feels, all she can recall, is the sound of his voice saying her name in her ear, and the way she cried his out to the stars, and that blinding ecstasy that comes with it.
It leaves her breathless, shattered, yet so unbelievably content after that she cannot even think to move from the flowers quite yet. With her heart still beating, her breaths still rushing out of her, she tangles herself up in him and mutters sweet nothings against his lips as they share soft kisses and hold one another as if it were their last night together. It's so perfect that she wishes that they never have to leave...
But they can't stay there forever, and she has no idea, nor does she care, how long they are there before they finally find it within themselves to get up, gather their clothes, and head back to the camp, holding one another close even still, the silence that hangs between them comfortable as she remains wrapped up in his warmth until they get back.
Even then, she won't be so keen to let go of him as they start a fire outside of their tent and curl up inside of it, pillows and blankets piled up around and over them to keep them warm for the rest of the night. And as she lies beside him, she cannot help but stare, her lids heavy with not tiredness but affection and contentment, as she brushes the tip of her finger over his cheek.]
Best birthday ever, I think.