Cloud x Tifa - Last Train to Brooklyn (Final Fantasy VII)

Chapter 5 - If Constellations Hold Together

"Tifa? Cloud?"

Cloud could just barely distinguish the high-pitched, sunny voice that pierced through his fog of sleep, greeting him with the same bright burst of awareness that the sunlight streaming through the window above was burning his eyelids with.  Groaning, he shifted, feeling a stiffness in his left arm, hearing a light wrapping at the door.

"Tifa, Cloud.  We have to check out soon!"

Cloud groaned, opening his eyes with several long, slow blinks, craning his neck to get a glimpse of his surroundings.  Immediately, he awakened to the fact he was inside of a plush hotel room that was decorated in shades of creams and light teals, but more importantly was the warmth that was crushed against his body, responsible for the numbing sensations in his arm.

He looked down to find Tifa splayed across him, her arm still wrapped around his waist, a leg flung over his hips, her hair a tangled, fanned out sprawl of black across her back and shoulders. Her face was concealed, buried into his chest.  He felt his cheeks warm when he realized that he too had his arm wrapped around her, but that his palm was splayed over her bare ass, her dress bunched all the way up to her waist, her thigh-highs torn and sliding down her legs.

Awareness of this sight crashed into him at the exact same moment that the first spark of a blinding white pain hit his temples, alerting him to the quickly developing hangover that was working its way through his every nerve ending.  Wincing and trying to wade through his muddled thoughts, Cloud carefully shifted Tifa away from him so that he could sit up.

Instantly, the flood of memories from the night before began to return to him, each with a new pulsing beat of pain against his skull.  Tifa, taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom.  Tifa, turning to him in the moonlight and pressing her lips against his in desperation.  Tifa, pushing him down onto the bed and pulling his pants open.  Tifa, looking up at him with tears and need in her eyes, his cock in her mouth and tapping the back of her throat.

Him, flipping her over and sucking the flesh of her neck between his teeth.  Him, ripping apart the neckline of her dress.  Him, pushing her dress up and her panties down and drowning in the sight of her slick, shaved pussy, pink and wet and swollen just for him.  Him, licking and sucking and flicking her most intimate parts, his finger curling inside of her until she cried.

Tifa, looking down at him with her fingers tangled in his hair, calling him baby throughout it all.

What the fuck.

"Cloud, Tifa!" Aerith.  It was Aerith's fucking voice that was screeching on the other side of the door, flaring the headache that was becoming an entire band of pain across his forehead.  "You guys have to get up!  We have to leave, it's almost eleven!"

Fuck.

Cloud glanced down at Tifa, who had rolled onto her belly with her arms over her head on the pillow when he'd sat up.  With this change in position, her round bottom was entirely on display, and she had bent one knee upward, offering a magnificent shot of her pretty pink pussy, leaving him disbelieving that he'd had his face pressed between there just a few hours ago.

Cloud couldn't help but stare at the sight for long moments before he remembered himself and blushed even more furiously, panicking slightly at the state of affairs as Aerith continued to knock on the door.  Glancing at Tifa's rumpled dress, he wondered if he should try to fix it before she woke up.  Would it be weird or pervy to fix a girl's clothes while she was still passed out?  Wouldn't she be embarrassed if she woke up in this condition?

"Tifa!" Aerith demanded.

Goddamnit.

Impulsively,  Cloud reached for Tifa's waist, ambling to find the hem of her dress.  Instantly, his knuckles brushed against warm skin, and Tifa made a kitten-like sound, leaning toward him and spreading her legs even further, and Cloud's brain began to fizzle and smoke.