[ she hadn't actually been sure if this place was real, though a part of her had only just barely doubted its existence, even if it's the kind of place she never would have slipped into back at home. an anonymous sex club β if anyone really knew that tifa lockhart, good girl of the community, was stepping into, she's sure it'd have been the talk of the slums for all that they loved the gossip. but that home is beneath rubble these days, half the people trying to find shelter in wall market or sector five and the other half simply gone. and here she is, alive, caught up in a whole other world with her mind too hazy to think about what's really important. how could she focus on the real mission to protect the planet when her body feels on fire as it does?
the disguise is a little silly, with her hair wrapped up in a bun and tucked beneath a stylish hat, sunglasses to hide the familiarity of her crimson eyes. it might still be a little too obvious and maybe even strange considering that there's plenty of people here that may not even know who she is, but this choice she's making β it's something that only the impulses of her skin have drawn her towards, a desperation that her own stubbornness has refused to tell her own friends about out of the embarrassment of that clawing need inside.
the inside feels rather simple in its lobby, just a polite receptionist who doesn't even ask her name and simply guides her to the dressing room. it's hard to tell how much the disguise will actually hide who she is, since the white bunny mask still shows plenty of her face, long black hair falling over her bare shoulders. the black unitard is especially revealing, breasts large enough to nearly spill out the top, with those straps really putting in the work to hold up her cleavage. when she walks, the fishnet stockings stroke against her legs, somehow making her even more anxious, heat pooling between her thighs, as the want encourages her towards the back rooms.
it doesn't take look from there for the men to rally around her, sly cocky smiles unhidden even with their masks, those boasting expressions that say she should join them in one of the private rooms before they even extend the invitation. these men, all strangers, tight shorts and leather pants giving a full display of their hardened cocks underneath, the sultry echo of their voices playing it cool in just how badly they want to fuck her β
her back's against the wall before she even has a chance to respond, knowing this is exactly where her usual politeness isn't ideal to voice rejection as at least three or four men trying to talk over one another on who can have her. no, this is a natural fight or flight situation, her mind trying to urge her to simply leave when she doesn't actually want to be there, fists curling like she might land a punch on the first one of these men that might dare to lay a hand on her, but her body β she needs it, needs it, the lust so heavy beneath her skin that she practically freezes in place for the first time since she could remember. ]
i am so sorry for the lag, i've been working like 12 hour days this week
[When Rufus comes out to Cloaca and Dagger, he wears black. It's one of the benefits of being so heavily associated with a signature color; people grow to associate the clothes with the man, which makes it all the easier to escape his own identity by simply choosing something different. The sleek canine-inspired mask he tends to prefer for situations like this can't hide the intense blue of his eyes, nor can it completely conceal the telltale wisps of his ice-blond hair. But there are many blond men in the world, and many with blue eyes, and Rufus Shinra wears white, not black.
And Rufus Shinra would never be caught dead in a place like this, but here he is.
Speaking of being caught, he quickly becomes aware of the pretty dark-haired thing who gets cornered by the gaggle of clubgoers; it's something he's learned to watch for since beginning to frequent the seedier side of the Peacock, less out of altruism and more because it's a very convenient way of making new "friends". Most people who find themselves in a rough situation appreciate a timely rescue, and there's plenty he can get out of a person when they're feeling appreciative.]
There you are.
[He says, making his way over with confident strides and bypassing the crowd of strangers as though they aren't even there to begin with, keeping his eyes solely on the girl. Such lovely long dark hair — eerily familiar, though maybe he's just biased with fond memories of Tseng.
Regardless. Unlike the other men and their grasping fingers, he offers his own hand palm-up.]
You should've told me you wanted me to hunt you down, little rabbit, and I would've found you much sooner. Now come on; our champagne is waiting.
no worries at all! i'm more than happy to backtag through it
[ this isn't like her at all, but then, tifa hasn't yet understood how to find a better balance of these emotions, the waves of alternating sensations heating through her body when she doesn't anticipate it, overwhelmed by the heat of it all that even the fabric of that unitard feels like it's pressing too tightly into her skin, nipples already visibly well taut against it, even when it's impossible to really distinguish arousal against panic.
but what she does know is that she doesn't want to be here, not with these invasive men, which is why she feels the heels already beginning to attempt to shuffle to the side to find an opening of escape β when the other man, all in black, suddenly appears.
her own gaze is instantly one of confusion, even behind the coverage of the mask, staring at his held out hand with the quickly raised question of whether he might somehow have her confused for someone else, or β no, is he ... helping her?
there's no recognition of him, nothing except the voice that sounds a bit ... no, it couldn't be anyone she knows. not in this place. and in the light of her panic, there's no room for much thought and she quickly reaches out to grasp his hand, stepping swiftly in his direction to take hold of his other arm. ]
I was waiting so long, I was worried something happened to you. [ she has no confidence in her acting abilities, but she can get away with this much at least, she thinks. but no reason to linger. ] We should go. I'm really thirsty for that champagne.
[ and she practically begins to tug him on her own, at least enough to get out of the space of those men, not wanting to look back on the chance that they might somehow see through it and try to keep her there. ]
[This is far from the first time he's rescued someone like this, and it likely won't be the last; what it means for the moment is that this dance is a familiar one, the way he draws her in and adjusts the angle of his body to obscure her from the gazes of the other men as she starts to tuck comfortably against his side. Outside of Cloaca and Dagger, it's often been as easy as that — other guests of the resort seem naturally inclined to recognize his rank for what it is and give him a wide berth, and the force of his presence is more than enough to facilitate the escape.
But here, anonymity is king, and audacity only goes so far. As they start to walk away, a few of the men start to raise their objections, one even reaching after as if to try to catch the girl before she can get away —
And Rufus deftly parries it, pivoting and pulling the girl behind him in a single smooth movement, hiding her altogether behind the shield of his own body as he stares the other partygoers down one by one.]
Your business with her ends now. Find someone else to fuck. [A pause, brief.] Why not each other? You all seem willing enough.
[One of the men starts forward, just one step; briskly, Rufus shoves him back, and the others quickly change their minds about following suit. Still, it's high time for a smooth retreat, and so he wastes no time collecting the girl once again and hastening her away from the mob, at a pace quick enough to put distance between them and the scene, but casual enough that it doesn't look like running.]
You should be more careful in a place like this. It's too easy to get cornered like that.
[ it doesn't escape her, the weighted importance of this rescue, how uncertainty she'd been of the outcome if he hadn't arrived, and suddenly her mind drifts to a certain blond that she once asked to promise that he'd save her were she ever in trouble. but she's not so distracted that she wouldn't be able to tell that the blond man who guides her into the secure safety of his body isn't cloud.
yet, there's something almost knightly about his actions, heroic in his confidence and willingness to pull her away from danger that she feels her body warm from it all, either touched with a fondness for the kindness or β slick wet for the overwhelming desire of him, as the small diamond marked behind her ear seems to glow a brighter red the closer she finds herself tucked to his side.
she drowns out the sounds of the men behind her, curling her body in closer as the man moves with such well-timed ease, skilled in the movement of his feet. tifa's lips remain parted with the surprise but isn't able to find another word to utter until she's guided swiftly away, following his steps as she turns her head to look up at her mysterious savior. ]
I didn't exactly want to be here to begin with, I just β [ her breath catches, feeling the heat making her a little dizzy that she almost stumbles before catching herself, head turning away that the crimson glow of her mark behind her ear is visible to his eyes. ] Thanks for helping me, but I should β I should probably leave.
[So, she's a diamond, then — and more than that, she's one with her suit at least partially activated. For a second, a fleeting memory comes back to him, another dark-haired woman and another similar rescue, now faded into the past with her departure from the resort. A shame, really. It wasn't just that she'd been beautiful; she'd been inexperienced, and it'd made her reactions all the more enthralling for it —
Not the time for that. Memories can wait, when there's a living breathing woman here instead who's barely able to keep on her feet, and it doesn't take much to guess why. Diamonds is such a compelling suit, the way it takes the body and turns it into a weapon for good or for ill alike.]
No, I don't think you should.
[There are all sorts of alcoves around Cloaca and Dagger, shadowed and acoustically dampened; he tugs her into the nearest one before pulling her against him, her back to his chest, in a way that he'll maintain is entirely to help keep her balanced while she wavers unsteadily on her feet.
The fact that she ends up supported against his body, with the bar of his arm wrapped snugly beneath her breasts and his hips pressed flush against her ass, is entirely coincidence, and not nearly temptation at all.]
You seem unsteady on your feet. Are you feeling all right?
[He asks, casual, like he doesn't already know better.]
[ currently, under the circumstances, she has little awareness of where the exit even is, not entirely sure if he'd been leading her to it or β no, he isn't, is he? she feels the tug that pulls her to that secluded alcove, her mouth parting to voice a protest against his suggestion, that she really should get out of here, but he steadies her once more to his body, the press of his arm secure around her front that she can feel the warmth of his arm practically nudged beneath the heavy gravity of her breasts, reminding her again of that urgency for them to be freed and touched.
she swallows against the desires, because they shouldn't be happening now, with this stranger, this man who'd simply come to her rescue β but isn't it what she wanted, why she had come to this place in the first place?
with the closeness of his hips behind her, she's sure the slightest movement would grind her ass against him, and the heightened awareness makes her all the more eager to remain still. ]
I'm ... just a bit dizzy. I think I'm just a little overwhelmed being here. [ she knows that isn't true, and something tells her that he probably could see through it too. after all, he's here too, isn't he? she tenses, his chest so firm against her back that she almost aches to stretch across it, to feel these arms move and brush over the rest of her. ] Does this happen to everyone here? The ... need of it? Wanting it this badly?
Would it make you feel better if it did? I've felt like that once. Wanting...attention.
[Of course, hearts manifests somewhat differently than diamonds — he knows that full well, too. For the latter, the cravings are more possessive, more animalistic; his own suit feels like a duller, more gnawing ache to be seen and praised and noticed.
But as out of it as she is, the wordplay won't make much difference; he'd rather not lie to this woman when she's in such a state, unless it's ostensibly for her own good. Call it an odd little notion of personal honor, a rare line he's not willing to cross.]
It won't fade on its own, I'm afraid. It'll only get worse...until you do something about it.
[With his free hand, the one not wrapped around her to help hold her steady, he drags the tips of his fingers against the fishnet encasing her thigh — a reasonably polite touch, for all that it's also a suggestive one.]
Wouldn't it be better to have it like this? You can pretend I'm anyone you want — or no one at all. Just easy, uncomplicated relief. All you have to do is say yes.
[ except that still wouldn't be enough, would it? even if tifa knew this was some kind of regularity amongst everyone in the resort, it wouldn't change that it was happening to her. the letter she had first received when she initially arrived had suggested as much, something helpful to encourage her, they said, but whatever it was, it seemed to be achieving its intentions and much more.
until you do something about it.
the answer's always been obvious, and the very reason she'd found herself here. because who could she ask β cloud? things with him were already in a complicated enough downward slope, could they really keep entangling themselves down a road like this? and she's far too ashamed to even bring it to aerith, despite knowing the other girl has been here longer than she has. has aerith been down these halls too, seeking out strangers to touch her?
fingers only lightly brush her thigh, the strings of the fishnet nudging to her skin and can sense the roll of its simple arousal reach her cunt, her breath shuddering for more of his caresses. ]
You won't know me, right ... ? And I won't know you? [ it's almost a rhetroical ask, since she already knows what this place is meant to be. all she does know is the sturdy reliance of this stranger's body behind him and the appreciation of his timely rescue, along with the heat that stirs for his hands, fingers, mouth, cock β anything he can give her to chase that relief.
tongue stroking across her dry lips, she breathes out her answer. ] Yes.
People don't come here to be known. I won't ask, and you don't have to tell me.
[Though of course, he'll retrieve her card after this, and that will lend a clue to her identity, depending — but that's a problem for later, when right now he's got far more pressing, more engaging business on his mind.
His fingers curl into the flesh of her thigh, a more possessive drag than the touch that came before; it's a warning of sorts, and the only one he offers before that same hand shifts over to the narrow strip of fabric that forms the only barrier against the wet heat between her legs.]
Let's pretend I'm your first. I'd like that.
[He tugs her a little more firmly back against him, tipping her off-balance so more of her weight is braced against his body, so that her hips naturally hitch up a little higher to better accommodate him as his fingers dip in to stroke her cunt through the fabric of her leotard, first just parting her folds before sliding higher in search of her clit.]
It's a shame about these masks. I'd like to make you come from my tongue — but there's plenty we can do, don't you worry.
[ maybe she should find relief in that, that her identity won't be revealed through this β because she certainly doesn't consider the collecting of cards at all, not something she's even thought of as any kind of achievement to chase β that maybe she could simply bask in the relief she can find through this, something that could at least make those symptoms of her mark to ease away and let her breathe normally again.
but what she finds is that the secrecy itself is something enticing on its own, that the mystery of the man standing behind her only adds to the heightened anticipation of his stronger grip before his touch dips lower to where she aches it to be.
with his tug, her neck stretches back, head nestled against his shoulder, with the ears of her mask curved back out of his way. her hips jut forward instinctively, a soft gasp expelled from between her lips as her fingers rub through the fabric, already soaked through with each and every one of her cunt's yearning reactions through the night.
he might not actually be her first, not even in this resort, but it's easy to play the part if only because she doesn't even need to try. not when she's still so uncertain in how to really chase what she wants, to feel any sense of confidence in knowing what she needs. ]
It's already so β [ so good? so wet? so much? her fingers clutch around his arm, not to push away or guide but simply to find purchase for herself to hold steady. ] Do ... do you want me to touch you too?
Oh? Don't you think it's better like this? You don't have to do anything at all.
[That's not to say his own cock isn't starting to ache, of course, or that he wouldn't very much enjoy feeling her fingers curled around it, or the warmth of her mouth enveloping it, or the squeal on her lips as he buried inside her. But there's a delicious sort of power in the prospect of controlling her pleasure entirely, with absolutely no reciprocation — her body his toy to play with, her reactions all his to tease out.
It's hardly generosity. It's just fun to watch someone so lovely fall apart beneath his hands like this.
He lowers his head a bit, using the elongated nose of his mask to brush at the thin strap of her leotard — pushing it over her shoulder so that it dangles precariously down her upper arm, and compromising the integrity of the top just that little bit more. Her breasts will hold the fabric in place well enough, certainly, but letting the strap slip adds the illusion of danger, of even more exposure in this semi-public atmosphere if she's not careful about how she squirms.]
Such a sweet little bunny. Should I make you hop?
[It's all the warning she gets before he finds her clit and rubs it firmly through the soaking cloth, hoping to make her jump from the sudden burst of sensation.]
[ part of his words before had mentioned the want of attention. she's not quite sure if that really aligns with these uncontrolled sensations, and yet there's something peculiarly arousing in the way he intends to focus entirely on her. likely, it's due to the way she's become quite expectant of men's desires for her, the number of brutish drunks at the bar who'd offered large tips for her to blow them behind the building or to let them to slide their dick between her tits β all easily rejected before she effortlessly kicked them out on their asses with plenty of broken ribs to join their bills.
whatever the man's actual intentions behind it, the movement of his fingers applies pleasure towards her, adding to the heavy slick that soaks through the flimsy unitard with every stroke.
she watches the purposeful fall of that strap, its reliability in holding her up now loosened as her breasts slacken more against the fabric still trapping it. cheeks burn flush, aware that they're still not quite private here, and yet feeling undeniably turned on by the danger of it, by the part of here that doesn't care for once for too much decency.
but his fingers catch over her clit, the friction of fabric stroking over that sensitive bundle of nerves and the sudden overwhelming spike of pleasure does indeed have her jolt back against him, hips jutting out forward with a sharp thrust against his hand. her breasts give a light bounce in the reaction, fabric from the unstrapped side dipping lower that her nipple nearly begins to peek over it. ]
Ah, pleaseβ [ the plea leaves her lips in a small whimper before she can restrain herself, hips giving a slight squirm. ] It feelsβkeep touching me like that, please.
[Now there's a pretty sight, he thinks with his blue eyes sharp behind the security of his mask, and the prospect of a little catch of personal entertainment besides: can he make her squirm and wriggle enough that her breasts fall out of her top? She's certainly endowed enough that it's plausible, and he wouldn't mind seeing it. There's something particularly erotic about dishevelment, of having taken something put-together and pristine and left his own personal mark on it.]
Shhh. Someone's going to know what you're up to, if you keep talking like that.
[It's entirely a ruse; these alcoves are designed for liaisons of exactly this nature, dampening the ambient sounds so that people can't be overheard unless they go out of their way to try. But it's just one more layer to the thrill of danger she must be feeling: unsteady on her feet and her top threatening to fall and her body craving the touch of a man she doesn't know.]
You're this wet already, and I'm not even inside you.
[It's not just that the fabric is soaked, either, but that it's slick, sliding all the easier against her sensitive folds with the benefit of lubrication to help guide the way as he rubs and strokes and stimulates her.]
[ if he purposely means to add concern for her, it certainly succeeds as she catches herself on her words, curling her lip inward to press her teeth down over it as if that might be able to silence away the soft noises that work through her throat. it's a strange feeling, not wanting to be caught, and yet feeling the thrill in knowing that they could. it's not like she wants to be seen like this, in the arms of a strange man, her breasts nearly spilling out the top of her unitard as she grinds against a steady palm, but there's something nearly feral and anxious for the stimulation that it's hard to keep herself caring for subtlety. ]
I'm not usually ... like this.
[ because how could she be that wet when she's barely been touched, wondering if this lies in one of those things that simply is, all because of this mark on her skin, heightening want and and drip of slick from her needy cunt.
he applies that wet friction with the pressure of his fingers to the unitard, fabric grinding firmly over her folds and clit, her hips rocking against his strokes, intoxicated by the satisfying rub that jolts pleasure through her. her hand holds onto his wrist to brace herself, the angle of her arm as a result allowing the only reliable strap to now loosen at an angle at her shoulder, still hanging on but not having quite the same grip now that the other strap falls free.
but it's just enough, the top hem of the unitard dipping a bit more as she arches her shoulders more against his chest to jut her hips forward for his hand, the heavy round curve of a breast empowering that weak fabric to dip over it, the tight peak of her nipple exposed freely to the open air. her breath hitches when she notices, fingers squeezing at his arm, movement of her hips weakening but not entirely stopping. ]
[And the best part is, it's impossible to tell whether she really means it or is just playing up the chastity angle; either way, it's all the better because it adds up to him being the exception, and therefore exceptional.
Beneath the circle of his supporting arm, she writhes — and sure enough, just as he'd hoped with breathless anticipation, she spills out of her top from the natural rocking motions her body is making against his stroking fingers. And oh, isn't she a sight, with her breasts so firm and her nipples so peaked, just begging to be pinched at and pulled.]
And so what if they see? Isn't that why you're wearing a mask?
[But it's the perfect opportunity to adjust the arm he's got around her, shifting it upward so that it's angled across her breasts instead — not just affording her the most laughable illusion of modesty, but giving him ample excuse to cup one of them in the palm of his hand, thumbing and circling the raised nipple as he does.
It's a distraction, to say the least, and one he intends to make use of; while he temporarily seeks to draw her attention to the touch to her chest, his other set of fingers finally pry the fabric of the unitard away and stroke her directly, rubbing only long enough to get thoroughly coated with slick before sliding low in search of her entrance.]
[ she can't say for sure if the excess of her wetness is entirely credited to him, but she doesn't doubt that he's a great contributing factor at this point, that his technique has succeeded plenty in easily riling her, as shyness becomes abandoned for a greedier chase of pleasure. no, she certainly isn't like this, typically a little more reserved when it comes to sex, and yet embracing the fulfillment of these carnal urges now with a complete stranger and feeling all the more lustful for it.
because he's right, isn't he? the mask if meant to shield her identity, just as unknown of a patron as all the rest here. even the fullness of her now exposed breasts shouldn't necessarily be traced back to her, not when the horizonal scar on her skin, tucked beneath the swell of those mounds, remains covered by the bunched fabric of the unitard.
his arm is only a minor barrier in censoring the view but her worries subside the moment his thumb massages over her nipple when he gropes her breast, the point tightening stiffly from his attention, practically begging for the pinch and tug of his fingers.
breathless, she tries to speak, ]
Are you sure no one's gonnaβah...
[ another soft moan spills from her lips, as she earns the direct touch of his fingers to her cunt, the heat of his skin a satisfying blaze that tosses her head back against his shoulders, lips parted with a steady panting as she maintains the forward arch of her hips for him to guide his fingers low.
she thinks of what he'd told her before β he could be anyone she wants or no one at all. in this moment, she's not entirely sure which of those she'd prefer, but she closes her eyes all the same, letting herself abandon tifa lockhart, to feel the anonymity of the mask, to pretend this is the first. ]
Do you ... do you like me like this? [ she whispers between her heavy breaths, the shyness of asking plenty authentic on its own. but she tries it all the same, urged by the stimulation that pulls her away from herself. ] So messy for you...?
Hush. Just relax and enjoy it like a good little girl.
[It's pressing his luck, he knows, but this isn't just about her pleasure; he's more than hard enough in his slacks to be aching for attention, and he's already generously ignoring it for the sake of getting off on pleasuring her instead. He's allowed, surely, to pepper in a little dirty talk to make things enjoyable — especially if this stays about her satisfaction entirely and he's left to contend with his on his own.
Still, she's so responsive that he'd be hard-pressed to say he really minds. Her nipples peak so rapidly that he briskly shifts from thumbing at them to pinching and tugging, layering the constant rubbing between her legs with short flashes of sharper sensation, intent on keeping her thoughts scattered and her focus unbalanced.
While she's distracted, he tips his head to the side and catches the muzzle of his mask against his own shoulder, pushing it up and onto his forehead to free his mouth, leaving room to nuzzle in and drag his tongue over that red little diamond behind her ear. She wants her anonymity, of course, and so does he — but maybe they'd both be willing to gamble it a little for the sake of something worth even more.]
I'd like — [He begins, breathless, dripping with temptation dangled ripe for the taking.] — to make you come like this, just like this, and then get between your legs while you're still shaking from my fingers and lick you until you scream.
[He circles his fingers around her entrance; it's the only brief warning she gets before he's pressing his fingers up and into her, wet and ready and needy, fucking her fast and rapid with the cadence of his promises.]
I'd like to ruin you for everyone else who comes after this. Until it drives you mad, wondering who I am, wondering how to find me just so you can have this again.
[ tifa barely knows the definition of relaxing, usually always up to something to feel herself useful to feel like she's dedicating herself to helping someone, so the very concept of being still while someone devotes this level of attention to her is unheard of. any man calling her a good little girl would typically result in a full set of knuckles knocking out their teeth, given the usual context of it, but right now, the low promise of his voice paired with his devoted fingers, pinching the sensitive points of her nipples and exploring the slick drip of her cunt, has her whimpering a moan that sinks her back further against his body.
it's so much, with so much applied touch to her body, the mark behind her ear nearly beaming with its brightness as he grants it that arousing lick, her lashes fluttering as a result. she's so dizzy, the sight before her hazy as she drowns within those sharp pleasurable aches from tugged nipples and the exhilarating rubbing between her legs.
his promises to her ear arrive so unexpectedly, lips parting to find words before the sound leaves her mouth as a sudden sharp cry when he briskly drives his fingers fast inside of her. ]
W-waitβIβ! [ she can't even protest at this pace, throwing her head back again as she pants with short moans on every pounding thrust of those digits, one arm stretching out to press her hand flat to the wall simply for purchase as the other grips at his forearm, just to keep herself steady against his rocking hand.
she can't rock against him like this, not when he's fucking her so fast and deep that it takes all of her to hold herself in place. though she can barely focus on each individual word he speaks to her, she seems to understand them all the same, too acutely aware that she's never been pleasured like this before, so overstimulated and attentive, her mark leaving her all the hungrier for this ferocious pace. ]
Oh, fuck, Iβit feels so goodβyou're ... gonna make me comeβ [ even her voice sounds pleading, lost in the drive of his attention, of his buried knuckles, quick and relentless. she needs this, to satisfy that itch that's been given to her, but she wants it too. ] Please, please, please, don't stop, don't, I'mβ
[ she doesn't even need to rub at her clit to nudge her over that edge, already so soaked with pleasure that it doesn't take much rubbing of where she needs him to touch, as her thighs tense, legs quickly around his thrusting hands as she arches her back to his chest with jutting hips, as she climaxes with a tight squeeze around his fingers. ]
[It's such a rush, the power and the eroticism alike; there's something absolutely enthralling about the way this faceless woman comes undone from nothing more than the way he handles her, begging and shaking and clutching at anything she can find for purchase as her arousal bursts into climax around his clever fingers. And for a single fleeting moment he thinks of that gaggle of overeager men who'd surrounded her earlier, how they'd made their bid to have her but he's the one who came away with the prize, this gorgeous disheveled woman stimulated senseless in his arms.
Her cunt clutches tight around his fingers, a sharp squeeze that stills his motions from how firmly her inner walls trap them, but he's still got his thumb free enough to find her clit and rub around the edges of it, wagering that direct stimulation would be far too much but the indirect variety will prolong the aftershocks of her pleasure.
And if he's a little hoarse from the sight of it, his own desire bleeding into the ragged words that escape his throat — well. Treated to a marvel like this, who could blame him, really?]
Close your eyes. Close them and don't look —
[— he says, urgent, as he slips his fingers free and pivots them so that he's in front of her with her back to the wall, holding her there with one hand against her stomach while he rips off his mask with the other. It doesn't matter; there's no chance of seeing his face, not when it only takes him a moment to bury his face in her bosom and start to kiss his way down, pausing only long enough to suck at each breast in turn before sinking down onto one knee between her legs.
Yor had been pretty like this, he thinks fleetingly — not to be uncomplimentary to this anonymous woman by thinking of another while he's fucking her, but rather just in a rare moment of nostalgia. He'd liked her, and there's so much reminiscent of her in this woman now, the power in her thighs and the sweetness of her curves, and maybe that's his own Hearts suit to blame for the twinge of fondness and ache, but he'll deny it the whole way down if he's ever asked.
(Damned dark-haired beauties. He really does have a type.)
But fuck it, fuck it all, he pulls one of her legs up to hitch over his shoulder and wraps his arm around it to steady her in place, his other hand drifting between his own legs almost as an afterthought. Just a little stimulation, he just wants that extra little edge of pleasure to feed the rest of it — as he replaces the concealment of his mask with the way he buries his face between her legs, mouth to her soaking folds, making good on his own dirty talk in his drive to be memorable.]
[ she can't say she recalls coming quite this hard in recent memory, but she also wonders if she could recall ever coming this hard ever, because why she's definitely had her share of good orgasms, it's hard to say how often she's had it this heavily stimulated, every limb quivering as he keeps his fingers pressed within her, teasing grazing touches around her clit. something about the continued mystery adds to that heat, this unknown man that seems to pick up with ease how best to touch her, how to utterly destroy her instantaneously with the smoothness of that husky lustful voice at her ear and his serving hands.
when he speaks again, it takes her a brief moment to blink herself back to steadiness, everything still incredibly hazy from her climax, but she's so enchanted with him in this moment, that all it takes is a simple request for her to follow her, abandoning usual doubt and skeptical trust to place herself in this man's hands the way she already has tonight.
he guides her to turn around and she does so, her eyes already shut, eyelids visibly closed within the eye sockets of her mask, as she presses herself back to the wall, thankful for the support it gives her to keep standing straight. without being able to watch him, she gasps softly as he mouths at her breasts, the suction of those lips drawing out sharper breaths that still haven't quite steadied themselves. and yet despite the elevated pleasure she's already received, she doesn't feel done, as if she's been given a plate of something so fulfilling that it only seems to make her hungrier, her mark glowing persistently as it demands more, more, more.
and he provides exactly that, the heat of his mouth pressing to her cunt, so deliciously arousing and desired, as her fingers reach down to his shoulder and guide their way to the back of his head, now free of its mask. she can feel the soft strands of it β blond, she recalls, from what peaked out in limited view before β and she combs her fingers through it, almost affectionately, even with the curl of her grip that tugs lightly at his scalp. ]
Oh, fuck, fuck, it's soβ [ she pants for breath, one heel firm to the ground as she balances her other leg atop his shoulder, using the wall at her back to keep herself upright. she can feel it, the soaking sloppy mess from her climax, now heavy on his tongue. ] You keep ... making me so wetβit's so much ...
ok but the spiderman pointing after this is going to be so fucking funny
[Rufus Shinra wouldn't let just anyone touch his hair, would make certain anyone afforded the privilege was well aware of the rare opportunity it was. But he's not quite Rufus Shinra right now, even maskless, and the fact of the matter is he likes the feeling of fingers carding through the strands — odd affection he's almost never received from anyone, living or dead. It's charming, though, how she's grasping for some sliver of agency in her own pleasure now that he's affording her enough of an opportunity to try for it; though he's very overtly the one setting the pace, he doesn't resist much should she try to pull his head here or there to get his tongue in the places it feels best.]
Mmmmm.
[She's so slick and so soft, and notwithstanding all the other more despicable pursuits he's ever committed his mouth to advancing, he's undeniably skilled at this one. The undulations of his tongue are less aggressive than the pace of his fingers had been, more focused on stirring up sensation than overwhelming her with arousal — understandably so, when she's fresh off one orgasm and likely overstimulated for it.
But he's a delicate touch, both with the heel of his hand pressed against the bulge in his trousers and with the way his tongue circles and flicks at her clit, the way it parts her folds and dips down to test at her hole before flattening again for a lengthy lick back up again.
When he comes up for air, it's brief, and as much to get a word in edgewise as to refill his lungs for the next pass.]
Too much?
[He chuckles, more on the side of teasing than of taunting, but she does seem to like it when he talks to her with that edge of dark filth, so —]
Should I stop?
[The bastard.]
it's gonna be so beautifully disastrous, i can't wait
[ she doesn't so much as guides him with her tightening grip as she simply seeks something to latch onto, to keep her steady when her knees are already threatening to give out, when her thighs are still quivering from her last orgasm and yet readily seeking the chase for another. there's also something plenty arousing in feeling the motion of his head against her hand, how she can follow its movements as he explores the tasting of her.
the pace is so drastically different that it's almost jarring, in a way that isn't unpleasant, not as it seems to strangely help in grounding her, when his explorative tongue wanders with a patience that's almost torturously slow, rounding her clit with an awareness of its sensitivity that doesn't lets her breathe while still stretching out that lasting pleasure that doesn't seem to rest.
and then he stops, so abruptly, while she's sounding out another moan, that she has to will herself to avoid opening her eyes on instinct. she even gives a persistent shake of her head, before realizing that he might not even be looking towards her. ]
Don't.
[ with the convenience of those strands of hairs caught between her fingers, she briefly holds him as she blindly curves her hips forward, until she can feel the lips of her cunt teasing against the lips of his mouth, just the slightest flutter of contact as that damp pink skin smears its slick surface to the corner of his mouth and cheek. ]
Youβyou wanted to make me scream, didn't you? Make it so I can't forget, okay? [ her fingers loosen only so she can gently scrape the tip of his nails lightly to his scalp, thriving on these touches as her eyes remain shut, with honesty slipping from her lips with the boldness of this arousal. ] And ... and you won't either. Make me come so hard again that your tongue never forgets how I taste.
[And that's the first, most dangerous tell of his true identity — a favorite filler phrase of Rufus Shinra, spoken in the very same tone albeit with a significantly different context than his usual. Something she might think on later, perhaps; for the moment, he's humming his approval at the way her fingernails drag through his hair, alternating between pressing his mouth back against her and tilting aside to kiss at her thigh to keep her arousal holding at a plateau even while they exchange words.]
What a shame you can't scream my name. But I won't hold it against you.
[He noses at her thigh again, buying himself another moment to stretch and work his jaw in preparation, then ends her reprieve and returns to her cunt with renewed vigor; where before he'd tongued and teased, now he works his mouth firmly against her, paying lengthy attention to her clit as he sucks and laps at her.]
[ if there's any hints or crumbs sprinkled of the man's identity, tifa isn't in the midst of picking up on it, not while she isn't even seeking to find out who the man currently on the knees in front of her is, almost preferring that she not find out, since it means she stands a better chance of remaining a mystery herself. because she's not sure she ever wants to be found out, to be known for being this hungry for satisfaction, begging and pleading and moaning as shamelessly as she does now, basking in the luxury of anonymity.
though she does guiltily wish she could watch him, feeling the way he noses against her thigh as he paints momentary intermission kisses there, ticklish at the skin between the tight nets of her stockings. but it's all for the best, since she's not sure she could stare at him without instantly shying away at the way he buries his face to her cunt. ]
Is there ... something else you want me to call you?
[ or something else for her to shout in place of a name she doesn't wish to know. not that it matters since sounds will slip from her lips regardless. when his mouth returns, she's caught off guard by the increase in fervor, in the full devouring from lips and tongue. the leg atop his shoulder tightens, heel digging in at this back, as her hips respond to his mouth, writhing at the succulent attention to her clit.
as she keeps a hand clutched to his hair, the other rises to one of her free breasts, grabbing a palm full of the soft flesh and giving it firm squeeze as she pants soft moans again with each of her breaths. ]
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π€ cloaca and dagger hell, if this works for you!!
the disguise is a little silly, with her hair wrapped up in a bun and tucked beneath a stylish hat, sunglasses to hide the familiarity of her crimson eyes. it might still be a little too obvious and maybe even strange considering that there's plenty of people here that may not even know who she is, but this choice she's making β it's something that only the impulses of her skin have drawn her towards, a desperation that her own stubbornness has refused to tell her own friends about out of the embarrassment of that clawing need inside.
the inside feels rather simple in its lobby, just a polite receptionist who doesn't even ask her name and simply guides her to the dressing room. it's hard to tell how much the disguise will actually hide who she is, since the white bunny mask still shows plenty of her face, long black hair falling over her bare shoulders. the black unitard is especially revealing, breasts large enough to nearly spill out the top, with those straps really putting in the work to hold up her cleavage. when she walks, the fishnet stockings stroke against her legs, somehow making her even more anxious, heat pooling between her thighs, as the want encourages her towards the back rooms.
it doesn't take look from there for the men to rally around her, sly cocky smiles unhidden even with their masks, those boasting expressions that say she should join them in one of the private rooms before they even extend the invitation. these men, all strangers, tight shorts and leather pants giving a full display of their hardened cocks underneath, the sultry echo of their voices playing it cool in just how badly they want to fuck her β
her back's against the wall before she even has a chance to respond, knowing this is exactly where her usual politeness isn't ideal to voice rejection as at least three or four men trying to talk over one another on who can have her. no, this is a natural fight or flight situation, her mind trying to urge her to simply leave when she doesn't actually want to be there, fists curling like she might land a punch on the first one of these men that might dare to lay a hand on her, but her body β she needs it, needs it, the lust so heavy beneath her skin that she practically freezes in place for the first time since she could remember. ]
i am so sorry for the lag, i've been working like 12 hour days this week
And Rufus Shinra would never be caught dead in a place like this, but here he is.
Speaking of being caught, he quickly becomes aware of the pretty dark-haired thing who gets cornered by the gaggle of clubgoers; it's something he's learned to watch for since beginning to frequent the seedier side of the Peacock, less out of altruism and more because it's a very convenient way of making new "friends". Most people who find themselves in a rough situation appreciate a timely rescue, and there's plenty he can get out of a person when they're feeling appreciative.]
There you are.
[He says, making his way over with confident strides and bypassing the crowd of strangers as though they aren't even there to begin with, keeping his eyes solely on the girl. Such lovely long dark hair — eerily familiar, though maybe he's just biased with fond memories of Tseng.
Regardless. Unlike the other men and their grasping fingers, he offers his own hand palm-up.]
You should've told me you wanted me to hunt you down, little rabbit, and I would've found you much sooner. Now come on; our champagne is waiting.
no worries at all! i'm more than happy to backtag through it
but what she does know is that she doesn't want to be here, not with these invasive men, which is why she feels the heels already beginning to attempt to shuffle to the side to find an opening of escape β when the other man, all in black, suddenly appears.
her own gaze is instantly one of confusion, even behind the coverage of the mask, staring at his held out hand with the quickly raised question of whether he might somehow have her confused for someone else, or β no, is he ... helping her?
there's no recognition of him, nothing except the voice that sounds a bit ... no, it couldn't be anyone she knows. not in this place. and in the light of her panic, there's no room for much thought and she quickly reaches out to grasp his hand, stepping swiftly in his direction to take hold of his other arm. ]
I was waiting so long, I was worried something happened to you. [ she has no confidence in her acting abilities, but she can get away with this much at least, she thinks. but no reason to linger. ] We should go. I'm really thirsty for that champagne.
[ and she practically begins to tug him on her own, at least enough to get out of the space of those men, not wanting to look back on the chance that they might somehow see through it and try to keep her there. ]
<3
But here, anonymity is king, and audacity only goes so far. As they start to walk away, a few of the men start to raise their objections, one even reaching after as if to try to catch the girl before she can get away —
And Rufus deftly parries it, pivoting and pulling the girl behind him in a single smooth movement, hiding her altogether behind the shield of his own body as he stares the other partygoers down one by one.]
Your business with her ends now. Find someone else to fuck. [A pause, brief.] Why not each other? You all seem willing enough.
[One of the men starts forward, just one step; briskly, Rufus shoves him back, and the others quickly change their minds about following suit. Still, it's high time for a smooth retreat, and so he wastes no time collecting the girl once again and hastening her away from the mob, at a pace quick enough to put distance between them and the scene, but casual enough that it doesn't look like running.]
You should be more careful in a place like this. It's too easy to get cornered like that.
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yet, there's something almost knightly about his actions, heroic in his confidence and willingness to pull her away from danger that she feels her body warm from it all, either touched with a fondness for the kindness or β slick wet for the overwhelming desire of him, as the small diamond marked behind her ear seems to glow a brighter red the closer she finds herself tucked to his side.
she drowns out the sounds of the men behind her, curling her body in closer as the man moves with such well-timed ease, skilled in the movement of his feet. tifa's lips remain parted with the surprise but isn't able to find another word to utter until she's guided swiftly away, following his steps as she turns her head to look up at her mysterious savior. ]
I didn't exactly want to be here to begin with, I just β [ her breath catches, feeling the heat making her a little dizzy that she almost stumbles before catching herself, head turning away that the crimson glow of her mark behind her ear is visible to his eyes. ] Thanks for helping me, but I should β I should probably leave.
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Not the time for that. Memories can wait, when there's a living breathing woman here instead who's barely able to keep on her feet, and it doesn't take much to guess why. Diamonds is such a compelling suit, the way it takes the body and turns it into a weapon for good or for ill alike.]
No, I don't think you should.
[There are all sorts of alcoves around Cloaca and Dagger, shadowed and acoustically dampened; he tugs her into the nearest one before pulling her against him, her back to his chest, in a way that he'll maintain is entirely to help keep her balanced while she wavers unsteadily on her feet.
The fact that she ends up supported against his body, with the bar of his arm wrapped snugly beneath her breasts and his hips pressed flush against her ass, is entirely coincidence, and not nearly temptation at all.]
You seem unsteady on your feet. Are you feeling all right?
[He asks, casual, like he doesn't already know better.]
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she swallows against the desires, because they shouldn't be happening now, with this stranger, this man who'd simply come to her rescue β but isn't it what she wanted, why she had come to this place in the first place?
with the closeness of his hips behind her, she's sure the slightest movement would grind her ass against him, and the heightened awareness makes her all the more eager to remain still. ]
I'm ... just a bit dizzy. I think I'm just a little overwhelmed being here. [ she knows that isn't true, and something tells her that he probably could see through it too. after all, he's here too, isn't he? she tenses, his chest so firm against her back that she almost aches to stretch across it, to feel these arms move and brush over the rest of her. ] Does this happen to everyone here? The ... need of it? Wanting it this badly?
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[Of course, hearts manifests somewhat differently than diamonds — he knows that full well, too. For the latter, the cravings are more possessive, more animalistic; his own suit feels like a duller, more gnawing ache to be seen and praised and noticed.
But as out of it as she is, the wordplay won't make much difference; he'd rather not lie to this woman when she's in such a state, unless it's ostensibly for her own good. Call it an odd little notion of personal honor, a rare line he's not willing to cross.]
It won't fade on its own, I'm afraid. It'll only get worse...until you do something about it.
[With his free hand, the one not wrapped around her to help hold her steady, he drags the tips of his fingers against the fishnet encasing her thigh — a reasonably polite touch, for all that it's also a suggestive one.]
Wouldn't it be better to have it like this? You can pretend I'm anyone you want — or no one at all. Just easy, uncomplicated relief. All you have to do is say yes.
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[ except that still wouldn't be enough, would it? even if tifa knew this was some kind of regularity amongst everyone in the resort, it wouldn't change that it was happening to her. the letter she had first received when she initially arrived had suggested as much, something helpful to encourage her, they said, but whatever it was, it seemed to be achieving its intentions and much more.
until you do something about it.
the answer's always been obvious, and the very reason she'd found herself here. because who could she ask β cloud? things with him were already in a complicated enough downward slope, could they really keep entangling themselves down a road like this? and she's far too ashamed to even bring it to aerith, despite knowing the other girl has been here longer than she has. has aerith been down these halls too, seeking out strangers to touch her?
fingers only lightly brush her thigh, the strings of the fishnet nudging to her skin and can sense the roll of its simple arousal reach her cunt, her breath shuddering for more of his caresses. ]
You won't know me, right ... ? And I won't know you? [ it's almost a rhetroical ask, since she already knows what this place is meant to be. all she does know is the sturdy reliance of this stranger's body behind him and the appreciation of his timely rescue, along with the heat that stirs for his hands, fingers, mouth, cock β anything he can give her to chase that relief.
tongue stroking across her dry lips, she breathes out her answer. ] Yes.
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[Though of course, he'll retrieve her card after this, and that will lend a clue to her identity, depending — but that's a problem for later, when right now he's got far more pressing, more engaging business on his mind.
His fingers curl into the flesh of her thigh, a more possessive drag than the touch that came before; it's a warning of sorts, and the only one he offers before that same hand shifts over to the narrow strip of fabric that forms the only barrier against the wet heat between her legs.]
Let's pretend I'm your first. I'd like that.
[He tugs her a little more firmly back against him, tipping her off-balance so more of her weight is braced against his body, so that her hips naturally hitch up a little higher to better accommodate him as his fingers dip in to stroke her cunt through the fabric of her leotard, first just parting her folds before sliding higher in search of her clit.]
It's a shame about these masks. I'd like to make you come from my tongue — but there's plenty we can do, don't you worry.
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but what she finds is that the secrecy itself is something enticing on its own, that the mystery of the man standing behind her only adds to the heightened anticipation of his stronger grip before his touch dips lower to where she aches it to be.
with his tug, her neck stretches back, head nestled against his shoulder, with the ears of her mask curved back out of his way. her hips jut forward instinctively, a soft gasp expelled from between her lips as her fingers rub through the fabric, already soaked through with each and every one of her cunt's yearning reactions through the night.
he might not actually be her first, not even in this resort, but it's easy to play the part if only because she doesn't even need to try. not when she's still so uncertain in how to really chase what she wants, to feel any sense of confidence in knowing what she needs. ]
It's already so β [ so good? so wet? so much? her fingers clutch around his arm, not to push away or guide but simply to find purchase for herself to hold steady. ] Do ... do you want me to touch you too?
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[That's not to say his own cock isn't starting to ache, of course, or that he wouldn't very much enjoy feeling her fingers curled around it, or the warmth of her mouth enveloping it, or the squeal on her lips as he buried inside her. But there's a delicious sort of power in the prospect of controlling her pleasure entirely, with absolutely no reciprocation — her body his toy to play with, her reactions all his to tease out.
It's hardly generosity. It's just fun to watch someone so lovely fall apart beneath his hands like this.
He lowers his head a bit, using the elongated nose of his mask to brush at the thin strap of her leotard — pushing it over her shoulder so that it dangles precariously down her upper arm, and compromising the integrity of the top just that little bit more. Her breasts will hold the fabric in place well enough, certainly, but letting the strap slip adds the illusion of danger, of even more exposure in this semi-public atmosphere if she's not careful about how she squirms.]
Such a sweet little bunny. Should I make you hop?
[It's all the warning she gets before he finds her clit and rubs it firmly through the soaking cloth, hoping to make her jump from the sudden burst of sensation.]
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whatever the man's actual intentions behind it, the movement of his fingers applies pleasure towards her, adding to the heavy slick that soaks through the flimsy unitard with every stroke.
she watches the purposeful fall of that strap, its reliability in holding her up now loosened as her breasts slacken more against the fabric still trapping it. cheeks burn flush, aware that they're still not quite private here, and yet feeling undeniably turned on by the danger of it, by the part of here that doesn't care for once for too much decency.
but his fingers catch over her clit, the friction of fabric stroking over that sensitive bundle of nerves and the sudden overwhelming spike of pleasure does indeed have her jolt back against him, hips jutting out forward with a sharp thrust against his hand. her breasts give a light bounce in the reaction, fabric from the unstrapped side dipping lower that her nipple nearly begins to peek over it. ]
Ah, pleaseβ [ the plea leaves her lips in a small whimper before she can restrain herself, hips giving a slight squirm. ] It feelsβkeep touching me like that, please.
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Shhh. Someone's going to know what you're up to, if you keep talking like that.
[It's entirely a ruse; these alcoves are designed for liaisons of exactly this nature, dampening the ambient sounds so that people can't be overheard unless they go out of their way to try. But it's just one more layer to the thrill of danger she must be feeling: unsteady on her feet and her top threatening to fall and her body craving the touch of a man she doesn't know.]
You're this wet already, and I'm not even inside you.
[It's not just that the fabric is soaked, either, but that it's slick, sliding all the easier against her sensitive folds with the benefit of lubrication to help guide the way as he rubs and strokes and stimulates her.]
no subject
I'm not usually ... like this.
[ because how could she be that wet when she's barely been touched, wondering if this lies in one of those things that simply is, all because of this mark on her skin, heightening want and and drip of slick from her needy cunt.
he applies that wet friction with the pressure of his fingers to the unitard, fabric grinding firmly over her folds and clit, her hips rocking against his strokes, intoxicated by the satisfying rub that jolts pleasure through her. her hand holds onto his wrist to brace herself, the angle of her arm as a result allowing the only reliable strap to now loosen at an angle at her shoulder, still hanging on but not having quite the same grip now that the other strap falls free.
but it's just enough, the top hem of the unitard dipping a bit more as she arches her shoulders more against his chest to jut her hips forward for his hand, the heavy round curve of a breast empowering that weak fabric to dip over it, the tight peak of her nipple exposed freely to the open air. her breath hitches when she notices, fingers squeezing at his arm, movement of her hips weakening but not entirely stopping. ]
W-wait β someone might see.
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[And the best part is, it's impossible to tell whether she really means it or is just playing up the chastity angle; either way, it's all the better because it adds up to him being the exception, and therefore exceptional.
Beneath the circle of his supporting arm, she writhes — and sure enough, just as he'd hoped with breathless anticipation, she spills out of her top from the natural rocking motions her body is making against his stroking fingers. And oh, isn't she a sight, with her breasts so firm and her nipples so peaked, just begging to be pinched at and pulled.]
And so what if they see? Isn't that why you're wearing a mask?
[But it's the perfect opportunity to adjust the arm he's got around her, shifting it upward so that it's angled across her breasts instead — not just affording her the most laughable illusion of modesty, but giving him ample excuse to cup one of them in the palm of his hand, thumbing and circling the raised nipple as he does.
It's a distraction, to say the least, and one he intends to make use of; while he temporarily seeks to draw her attention to the touch to her chest, his other set of fingers finally pry the fabric of the unitard away and stroke her directly, rubbing only long enough to get thoroughly coated with slick before sliding low in search of her entrance.]
no subject
because he's right, isn't he? the mask if meant to shield her identity, just as unknown of a patron as all the rest here. even the fullness of her now exposed breasts shouldn't necessarily be traced back to her, not when the horizonal scar on her skin, tucked beneath the swell of those mounds, remains covered by the bunched fabric of the unitard.
his arm is only a minor barrier in censoring the view but her worries subside the moment his thumb massages over her nipple when he gropes her breast, the point tightening stiffly from his attention, practically begging for the pinch and tug of his fingers.
breathless, she tries to speak, ]
Are you sure no one's gonnaβah...
[ another soft moan spills from her lips, as she earns the direct touch of his fingers to her cunt, the heat of his skin a satisfying blaze that tosses her head back against his shoulders, lips parted with a steady panting as she maintains the forward arch of her hips for him to guide his fingers low.
she thinks of what he'd told her before β he could be anyone she wants or no one at all. in this moment, she's not entirely sure which of those she'd prefer, but she closes her eyes all the same, letting herself abandon tifa lockhart, to feel the anonymity of the mask, to pretend this is the first. ]
Do you ... do you like me like this? [ she whispers between her heavy breaths, the shyness of asking plenty authentic on its own. but she tries it all the same, urged by the stimulation that pulls her away from herself. ] So messy for you...?
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[It's pressing his luck, he knows, but this isn't just about her pleasure; he's more than hard enough in his slacks to be aching for attention, and he's already generously ignoring it for the sake of getting off on pleasuring her instead. He's allowed, surely, to pepper in a little dirty talk to make things enjoyable — especially if this stays about her satisfaction entirely and he's left to contend with his on his own.
Still, she's so responsive that he'd be hard-pressed to say he really minds. Her nipples peak so rapidly that he briskly shifts from thumbing at them to pinching and tugging, layering the constant rubbing between her legs with short flashes of sharper sensation, intent on keeping her thoughts scattered and her focus unbalanced.
While she's distracted, he tips his head to the side and catches the muzzle of his mask against his own shoulder, pushing it up and onto his forehead to free his mouth, leaving room to nuzzle in and drag his tongue over that red little diamond behind her ear. She wants her anonymity, of course, and so does he — but maybe they'd both be willing to gamble it a little for the sake of something worth even more.]
I'd like — [He begins, breathless, dripping with temptation dangled ripe for the taking.] — to make you come like this, just like this, and then get between your legs while you're still shaking from my fingers and lick you until you scream.
[He circles his fingers around her entrance; it's the only brief warning she gets before he's pressing his fingers up and into her, wet and ready and needy, fucking her fast and rapid with the cadence of his promises.]
I'd like to ruin you for everyone else who comes after this. Until it drives you mad, wondering who I am, wondering how to find me just so you can have this again.
no subject
it's so much, with so much applied touch to her body, the mark behind her ear nearly beaming with its brightness as he grants it that arousing lick, her lashes fluttering as a result. she's so dizzy, the sight before her hazy as she drowns within those sharp pleasurable aches from tugged nipples and the exhilarating rubbing between her legs.
his promises to her ear arrive so unexpectedly, lips parting to find words before the sound leaves her mouth as a sudden sharp cry when he briskly drives his fingers fast inside of her. ]
W-waitβIβ! [ she can't even protest at this pace, throwing her head back again as she pants with short moans on every pounding thrust of those digits, one arm stretching out to press her hand flat to the wall simply for purchase as the other grips at his forearm, just to keep herself steady against his rocking hand.
she can't rock against him like this, not when he's fucking her so fast and deep that it takes all of her to hold herself in place. though she can barely focus on each individual word he speaks to her, she seems to understand them all the same, too acutely aware that she's never been pleasured like this before, so overstimulated and attentive, her mark leaving her all the hungrier for this ferocious pace. ]
Oh, fuck, Iβit feels so goodβyou're ... gonna make me comeβ [ even her voice sounds pleading, lost in the drive of his attention, of his buried knuckles, quick and relentless. she needs this, to satisfy that itch that's been given to her, but she wants it too. ] Please, please, please, don't stop, don't, I'mβ
[ she doesn't even need to rub at her clit to nudge her over that edge, already so soaked with pleasure that it doesn't take much rubbing of where she needs him to touch, as her thighs tense, legs quickly around his thrusting hands as she arches her back to his chest with jutting hips, as she climaxes with a tight squeeze around his fingers. ]
no subject
[It's such a rush, the power and the eroticism alike; there's something absolutely enthralling about the way this faceless woman comes undone from nothing more than the way he handles her, begging and shaking and clutching at anything she can find for purchase as her arousal bursts into climax around his clever fingers. And for a single fleeting moment he thinks of that gaggle of overeager men who'd surrounded her earlier, how they'd made their bid to have her but he's the one who came away with the prize, this gorgeous disheveled woman stimulated senseless in his arms.
Her cunt clutches tight around his fingers, a sharp squeeze that stills his motions from how firmly her inner walls trap them, but he's still got his thumb free enough to find her clit and rub around the edges of it, wagering that direct stimulation would be far too much but the indirect variety will prolong the aftershocks of her pleasure.
And if he's a little hoarse from the sight of it, his own desire bleeding into the ragged words that escape his throat — well. Treated to a marvel like this, who could blame him, really?]
Close your eyes. Close them and don't look —
[— he says, urgent, as he slips his fingers free and pivots them so that he's in front of her with her back to the wall, holding her there with one hand against her stomach while he rips off his mask with the other. It doesn't matter; there's no chance of seeing his face, not when it only takes him a moment to bury his face in her bosom and start to kiss his way down, pausing only long enough to suck at each breast in turn before sinking down onto one knee between her legs.
Yor had been pretty like this, he thinks fleetingly — not to be uncomplimentary to this anonymous woman by thinking of another while he's fucking her, but rather just in a rare moment of nostalgia. He'd liked her, and there's so much reminiscent of her in this woman now, the power in her thighs and the sweetness of her curves, and maybe that's his own Hearts suit to blame for the twinge of fondness and ache, but he'll deny it the whole way down if he's ever asked.
(Damned dark-haired beauties. He really does have a type.)
But fuck it, fuck it all, he pulls one of her legs up to hitch over his shoulder and wraps his arm around it to steady her in place, his other hand drifting between his own legs almost as an afterthought. Just a little stimulation, he just wants that extra little edge of pleasure to feed the rest of it — as he replaces the concealment of his mask with the way he buries his face between her legs, mouth to her soaking folds, making good on his own dirty talk in his drive to be memorable.]
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when he speaks again, it takes her a brief moment to blink herself back to steadiness, everything still incredibly hazy from her climax, but she's so enchanted with him in this moment, that all it takes is a simple request for her to follow her, abandoning usual doubt and skeptical trust to place herself in this man's hands the way she already has tonight.
he guides her to turn around and she does so, her eyes already shut, eyelids visibly closed within the eye sockets of her mask, as she presses herself back to the wall, thankful for the support it gives her to keep standing straight. without being able to watch him, she gasps softly as he mouths at her breasts, the suction of those lips drawing out sharper breaths that still haven't quite steadied themselves. and yet despite the elevated pleasure she's already received, she doesn't feel done, as if she's been given a plate of something so fulfilling that it only seems to make her hungrier, her mark glowing persistently as it demands more, more, more.
and he provides exactly that, the heat of his mouth pressing to her cunt, so deliciously arousing and desired, as her fingers reach down to his shoulder and guide their way to the back of his head, now free of its mask. she can feel the soft strands of it β blond, she recalls, from what peaked out in limited view before β and she combs her fingers through it, almost affectionately, even with the curl of her grip that tugs lightly at his scalp. ]
Oh, fuck, fuck, it's soβ [ she pants for breath, one heel firm to the ground as she balances her other leg atop his shoulder, using the wall at her back to keep herself upright. she can feel it, the soaking sloppy mess from her climax, now heavy on his tongue. ] You keep ... making me so wetβit's so much ...
ok but the spiderman pointing after this is going to be so fucking funny
Mmmmm.
[She's so slick and so soft, and notwithstanding all the other more despicable pursuits he's ever committed his mouth to advancing, he's undeniably skilled at this one. The undulations of his tongue are less aggressive than the pace of his fingers had been, more focused on stirring up sensation than overwhelming her with arousal — understandably so, when she's fresh off one orgasm and likely overstimulated for it.
But he's a delicate touch, both with the heel of his hand pressed against the bulge in his trousers and with the way his tongue circles and flicks at her clit, the way it parts her folds and dips down to test at her hole before flattening again for a lengthy lick back up again.
When he comes up for air, it's brief, and as much to get a word in edgewise as to refill his lungs for the next pass.]
Too much?
[He chuckles, more on the side of teasing than of taunting, but she does seem to like it when he talks to her with that edge of dark filth, so —]
Should I stop?
[The bastard.]
it's gonna be so beautifully disastrous, i can't wait
the pace is so drastically different that it's almost jarring, in a way that isn't unpleasant, not as it seems to strangely help in grounding her, when his explorative tongue wanders with a patience that's almost torturously slow, rounding her clit with an awareness of its sensitivity that doesn't lets her breathe while still stretching out that lasting pleasure that doesn't seem to rest.
and then he stops, so abruptly, while she's sounding out another moan, that she has to will herself to avoid opening her eyes on instinct. she even gives a persistent shake of her head, before realizing that he might not even be looking towards her. ]
Don't.
[ with the convenience of those strands of hairs caught between her fingers, she briefly holds him as she blindly curves her hips forward, until she can feel the lips of her cunt teasing against the lips of his mouth, just the slightest flutter of contact as that damp pink skin smears its slick surface to the corner of his mouth and cheek. ]
Youβyou wanted to make me scream, didn't you? Make it so I can't forget, okay? [ her fingers loosen only so she can gently scrape the tip of his nails lightly to his scalp, thriving on these touches as her eyes remain shut, with honesty slipping from her lips with the boldness of this arousal. ] And ... and you won't either. Make me come so hard again that your tongue never forgets how I taste.
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[And that's the first, most dangerous tell of his true identity — a favorite filler phrase of Rufus Shinra, spoken in the very same tone albeit with a significantly different context than his usual. Something she might think on later, perhaps; for the moment, he's humming his approval at the way her fingernails drag through his hair, alternating between pressing his mouth back against her and tilting aside to kiss at her thigh to keep her arousal holding at a plateau even while they exchange words.]
What a shame you can't scream my name. But I won't hold it against you.
[He noses at her thigh again, buying himself another moment to stretch and work his jaw in preparation, then ends her reprieve and returns to her cunt with renewed vigor; where before he'd tongued and teased, now he works his mouth firmly against her, paying lengthy attention to her clit as he sucks and laps at her.]
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though she does guiltily wish she could watch him, feeling the way he noses against her thigh as he paints momentary intermission kisses there, ticklish at the skin between the tight nets of her stockings. but it's all for the best, since she's not sure she could stare at him without instantly shying away at the way he buries his face to her cunt. ]
Is there ... something else you want me to call you?
[ or something else for her to shout in place of a name she doesn't wish to know. not that it matters since sounds will slip from her lips regardless. when his mouth returns, she's caught off guard by the increase in fervor, in the full devouring from lips and tongue. the leg atop his shoulder tightens, heel digging in at this back, as her hips respond to his mouth, writhing at the succulent attention to her clit.
as she keeps a hand clutched to his hair, the other rises to one of her free breasts, grabbing a palm full of the soft flesh and giving it firm squeeze as she pants soft moans again with each of her breaths. ]
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forgive me for how ridiculously late this is ;;