Final Fantasy VII (Loz/Tifa)
Title: Close Contact
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: R
Warnings: Masturbation, violence, and bad language. Also a very fleeting reference to tentacle porn.
Word count: 604
Summary: Momentum's an irresistable thing.
A/N: Very early morning post due to the fact the computer gets commandeered by World of Warcraft players on Mondays :).
If asked, Tifa wouldn't know what she was doing because she couldn't consciously acknowledge her reasons for doing it. Good girls don't pick fights with boys. Even bad girls aren't meant to pick fights with boys.
Still, the moment she lost because the bastard cheated, she had to fight him once more. Just to see.
And despite being the big brother of a group who were clearly all batshit crazy, he'd agreed to a rematch, even putting aside that... thing he normally wore on his arm to make it a real match, black-gloved fists against black-gloved fists.
Even without the weapon he moved abnormally fast and she loved that, loved that she'd underestimated him for a moment just as he'd initially underestimated her, making them even at last. She loved all of it more than she should. She'd fought so many men before and only a very, very few fought her with anything close to respect even after she'd handed their asses to them, looking at her with pity or amusement or lust. Loz hadn't given her an inch of slack, and getting to really fight - to kick and smash and connect - was more than she'd dreamt of in the years since Sephiroth's death. Loz hurt her and threw her and she would find her balance and counter, playing with real momentum from a solid opponent, and as the jacket tied around her waist worked itself loose she felt exposed, her leather against his doing damn little to cover anything.
He wasn't even hard when she slammed him into the wall and kneed him in the crotch, and that in itself sent her pulse racing in an entirely different way, one she couldn't acknowledge even though the evidence was between her legs, panties and leather shorts feeling as though they could never hide it, and if she moaned in the wrong way when he punched her in the chest she refused to hear it.
They had to stop eventually, neither of them losers because her reactions were always too quick and his constitution too strong for either of them to strike a winning blow, but she didn't want to leave even when common sense forced her to on hearing his phone signal the imminent return of his brothers.
She couldn't acknowledge what she had felt even when she lay down in bed that night, legs spread and a hand between them to help herself sleep, pretending there was nothing unusual in daydreaming about the enemy. Forget that the other brothers, Sephiroth, the vast majority of Shinra - she never counted Reno or Rude, forces of nature that they were - left her uninterested and cold. Besides, no one took masturbatory fantasies seriously or there'd be a strange number of people throwing themselves at Malboros in a fit of lust.
Orgasm came and she let herself moan quietly into her pillow, trying not to make any noise that could disturb the children. On the rare occasions she did she usually pretended it was from an asthma attack, but they were getting old enough to check she had her inhaler with her and it wasn't worth the embarrassment. Even with the last fantasy thought having been Loz slicing her top open, her breasts falling free from her bra and leather as he fucked her silly, she still couldn't directly acknowledge the possibility of being smitten with the silver-haired man.
She could, however, glare over at the empty bed supposedly belonging to Cloud, and mutter under her breath words that in theory were aimed at the blond.
"Why are the good-looking ones always psychotic?"
End
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: R
Warnings: Masturbation, violence, and bad language. Also a very fleeting reference to tentacle porn.
Word count: 604
Summary: Momentum's an irresistable thing.
A/N: Very early morning post due to the fact the computer gets commandeered by World of Warcraft players on Mondays :).
If asked, Tifa wouldn't know what she was doing because she couldn't consciously acknowledge her reasons for doing it. Good girls don't pick fights with boys. Even bad girls aren't meant to pick fights with boys.
Still, the moment she lost because the bastard cheated, she had to fight him once more. Just to see.
And despite being the big brother of a group who were clearly all batshit crazy, he'd agreed to a rematch, even putting aside that... thing he normally wore on his arm to make it a real match, black-gloved fists against black-gloved fists.
Even without the weapon he moved abnormally fast and she loved that, loved that she'd underestimated him for a moment just as he'd initially underestimated her, making them even at last. She loved all of it more than she should. She'd fought so many men before and only a very, very few fought her with anything close to respect even after she'd handed their asses to them, looking at her with pity or amusement or lust. Loz hadn't given her an inch of slack, and getting to really fight - to kick and smash and connect - was more than she'd dreamt of in the years since Sephiroth's death. Loz hurt her and threw her and she would find her balance and counter, playing with real momentum from a solid opponent, and as the jacket tied around her waist worked itself loose she felt exposed, her leather against his doing damn little to cover anything.
He wasn't even hard when she slammed him into the wall and kneed him in the crotch, and that in itself sent her pulse racing in an entirely different way, one she couldn't acknowledge even though the evidence was between her legs, panties and leather shorts feeling as though they could never hide it, and if she moaned in the wrong way when he punched her in the chest she refused to hear it.
They had to stop eventually, neither of them losers because her reactions were always too quick and his constitution too strong for either of them to strike a winning blow, but she didn't want to leave even when common sense forced her to on hearing his phone signal the imminent return of his brothers.
She couldn't acknowledge what she had felt even when she lay down in bed that night, legs spread and a hand between them to help herself sleep, pretending there was nothing unusual in daydreaming about the enemy. Forget that the other brothers, Sephiroth, the vast majority of Shinra - she never counted Reno or Rude, forces of nature that they were - left her uninterested and cold. Besides, no one took masturbatory fantasies seriously or there'd be a strange number of people throwing themselves at Malboros in a fit of lust.
Orgasm came and she let herself moan quietly into her pillow, trying not to make any noise that could disturb the children. On the rare occasions she did she usually pretended it was from an asthma attack, but they were getting old enough to check she had her inhaler with her and it wasn't worth the embarrassment. Even with the last fantasy thought having been Loz slicing her top open, her breasts falling free from her bra and leather as he fucked her silly, she still couldn't directly acknowledge the possibility of being smitten with the silver-haired man.
She could, however, glare over at the empty bed supposedly belonging to Cloud, and mutter under her breath words that in theory were aimed at the blond.
"Why are the good-looking ones always psychotic?"
End