Title: Wild Night
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: Alcohol has a lot to answer for.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Squaresoft/Unix. Am only borrowing them for my own perverted desires!
A/N: This fic is for Bleuwyn. She gave me this fantastic challenge and I just hope this doesn’t disappoint. So Bleuwyn my love, grab your sweet self a cuppa coffee, relax and read. Many hugs and much love, S xxx

Chapter 1

Sunlight of the cruellest kind filtered through the curtains to wash a pale face with gold, bringing colour to the deathly still form partially hidden by bed sheets. Birds chirped and tweeted outside; the noise penetrated her world of slumber and eased her back into the land of the living.

Tifa’s dry lips smacked together and her body unsuccessfully attempted to roll onto her side. For some odd reason, her eyes felt like ten ton sand bags and her mouth felt like a Chocobo trough. Her shoulders felt like a weight had been removed and she momentarily wondered if her head was still there. Not that she’d know, of course, because she couldn’t feel it.

So very gently, a single eye cranked open and immediately slammed shut. Oh holy lifestream. “Oooh…” Tifa moaned, or tried to moan rather. Now she could feel her head.

What the hell was going on in there? And what the hell was wrong with her voice? She didn’t feel like Tifa Lockheart, didn’t sound like Tifa Lockheart, so who was she and where was the real Tifa Lockheart?

A heavy hand came up to rub away the throb increasing in her brain. Her fingers shook as she coughed, her throat growing more and more parched. Both eyes slowly opened and she groaned as the evil light half blinded her. “Holy planet!”

Tifa covered her face with trembling hands in a good effort to block out the sun and coughed, feeling a not so nice surge of nausea bubble up inside her stomach. She swallowed thickly but it didn’t do much good as that bubble quickly turned into a balloon. “Oh God!”

She scrambled up off the bed and barely made it towards the bathroom before she threw up. A few minutes later found the brunette sat, half dead, on cold tiles and holding onto the toilet seat for dear life. Running a semi successful bar had ensured Tifa had experienced various stages of hangovers, but this… This took the cookie.

She got up on numb feet and staggered to the sink, completely unprepared for the sight she would face. It took all the strength she had not to scream in terror at the image reflected in the glass. Her make-up was streaked all over her cheeks and eyes, her lipstick was everywhere but her lips and her neck…

Her neck looked like a vampire had used her as a five course dinner and gone back for seconds. It was only then did Tifa begin to notice the soreness between her legs and her morning went from bad to dramatically worse. Unsurely, she touched herself and cringed when she felt liquid coating her skin. In fact, her entire body seemed to be sticky.

A part of her, some sadistic and sick side of her wondered how and why. The sane half told her she most definitely did not want to know.

“Okay.” She croaked and then coughed. “This is a dream. You’re dreaming. Any second now, you’re gonna wake up, and everything will be fine.” Tifa waited and continued to stare at the fright in the mirror. “Any second now…”

When the nightmare refused to end, she pinched her arm and yelped in pain. Nope, this was definitely no dream. She was wide awake and dealing with the aftermath of a one night stand. Whoever he was should be gone by now, well, she hoped anyway.

Tifa struggled to turn the faucet and grabbed the complimentary glass. Dehydration was one thing, vomit breath was quite another. She thoroughly rinsed her mouth out and turned the water off, only pausing to commit the sight of her hangover to memory. “I’ll never touch alcohol ever again.”

Now she needed to find some aspirin or a Chocobo tranquiliser, or anything to cure the hangover of the century. A decapitation from Sephiroth would be better than this!

Still clinging to the sink and counter for stability, Tifa began to slowly shuffle her way back to the bedroom only to still in horror at the sight of layers black hair peeking out from under the covers.

Her loud gasp obviously hadn’t disturbed him as he didn’t move a muscle, that’s if he had any. Inching quietly forward on tiptoes and with a cringe on her face, the twenty year old focused all attention on grabbing her clothes and escaping.

“Argh!” The yelp, caused by something sharp stabbing her foot, slipped out louder than she wanted and a toned arm slid out from under the covers. The shiny ring circling his fourth finger on his left hand had the nightmare turning into a living hell.

“Please, please let that ring be a family heirloom or a present from his parents.” Tifa beseeched, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. Even as she prayed, she knew the likelihood of that was slim to none. She’d gotten blind drunk and had a one night stand with a married man, and to top it all off, she couldn’t remember a single thing about it!

At least the arm belonged to a man.

Panicked eyes scanned the room in a final and very desperate attempt to locate her clothes. Where the hell were they? Ohgodohgod, she probably ended up having a one night stand with a pervert who intended on keeping her clothes as a souvenir.

“Think, Lockheart.” Tifa hissed. “You’ve been doing that very thing for twenty years, it can’t be that hard.” Unless thinking was what got her into this in the first place. There was no sign of her clothes and so she cautiously glanced at the black hair, wondering if she dared wake him up.

“Okay, here I go…” Damn, she needed something to cover herself up and save what little dignity she had left. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?” She sniped sarcastically. He’d probably seen more of her than she had of herself. Still, she couldn’t exactly wake him up naked and looking like the Midgar train graveyard.

Back to the bathroom and complimentary soap it was. With a bit of luck, there’d be a large fluffy towel in there.

While Tifa was getting somewhat presentable, the man in bed huskily groaned and tugged the sheets from over his head. Like the brunette, he hid away from the bright and cheery sunshine, muffling his next moan with a cover.

“Kill me.” Vincent Valentine choked and coughed, turning a sickly shade of green when the bed bounced in response to the tiny movements. What the hell had he done last night? If the feeling in his groin was any indication, the better question was who had he done last night.

Thumb and forefinger squeezed the bridge of his nose and he tried to rub away the oncoming truck. “Uh,” the gunslinger grunted when it did nothing but increased the size of the truck tyres and added a fog horn to the mix. God, his ears were ringing and his legs felt like lead.

Using weak and shaky arms to ease himself upright, Vincent dazedly glanced around to notice he was in his room. Odd, he thought, he would never normally invite a stranger into his domain. Then again, this obviously wasn’t a normal situation. He hadn’t done anything like this in thirty some years.

The first time he managed to get his rocks off in decades and he couldn’t remember a damn thing about it. Still, it must have been some night judging by the wild galloping chocobos in his head.

She’d obviously left before he woke up as there was no sign of a woman’s clothes anywhere… His blurry eyes went wide with shock as he took in the state of his floor. Bottles, mostly empty were strewn around carelessly; two bowls with a white and brown residue were next to his boots, and… A picture frame?

Perhaps in his drunken night, he’d agreed to a photograph. Vincent gave a helpless shrug. Whoever she had been was gone now, and half of him was relieved while the other half wanted to know about her. He shook his head to try and clear the fog, or at least some of it, in an effort to remember something.

Nope, no good. The memories of what happened were staying well and truly buried under the contents of the empty bottles.

Vincent tried to move his legs again but his stomach revolted against such a strenuous activity. Immediately, he stopped moving and took a deep breath, feeling it do nothing to help his fuzzy head and dodgy stomach. He waited a moment or six before attempting that feat again, and this time he eased his legs over the edge of the bed and placed both feet unsteadily on the floor.

Elbows went to rest on his knees and only when he placed face in hands did he look down to notice red nail shaped welts on his thighs. There were a few positions that sprang to mind which would explain how claw marks got there. While the images were very nice, they would be nicer if he had a face for the woman.

God, he couldn’t even remember her name, let alone what she looked like! Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. What was done, was done, and couldn’t be reversed. He sighed and sat straight, his legs stretched out in front of him and feet minding the bottles. The world, despite the hangover, didn’t seem like such a bad place to be after all.

“Best get dressed.” Vincent uncurled his lethargic body and stood. Soreness that only came from pleasurably rough sex spread through him and a smirk couldn’t be helped. He only hoped she’d enjoyed herself as much as he obviously had.

Enough of that, he had to meet the rest of Avalanche later and as there was a lot of tidying up to do, he’d better get a move on. Something occurred to him when he made for the bathroom; not once this morning had he thought of Lucretia.

Vincent frowned. Until now, that is. Again, there was no use in dwelling on the past, especially not with the current situation of the planet. He turned to the bathroom door just as the lock clicked open, and he paused.

The door opened and he got an amazing view of a pair of toned legs. Slowly, he followed those legs up over some knees and firm thighs. That tanned skin looked so soft, so lickable… And Vincent kept travelling up over the fluffy white towel until he reached a generous set of breasts that pulled the fabric tight.

A neck covered in love bites was next, then a defined jaw line, shapely cheekbones and finally…

“Vincent?”

Vincent Valentine found himself staring into a widened pair of startled crimson eyes. Suddenly, all memories of the night before came rushing back.

Chapter 2

The night before…

Tifa leaned her arms on the metal railing and looked down at the mass of people wandering around the main square. Even from her position, she could see the happy and cheery faces, and she sighed in contentment. With the way things were going with Sephiroth and Shinra, it was nice to see people still getting on with everyday life.

She popped her last chocolate into her mouth and chewed, relishing in the candy coating melting on her tongue and the tasty filling trickle down her throat. There was nothing quite like a cherry brandy chocolate liqueur. Offhandedly, she wondered what the others were doing while they were here.

Cloud had gone on his date with Aeris, Barrett was probably catching up on some shut eye or calling Marlene, and Yuffy would undoubtedly be gambling away all her Gil at the chocobo races. Cid would be having a jolly old time of it in the first bar he found. Vincent, the newest member of their group, had expressed an interest in hiding in his room. As for herself…

As much as she loved and respected the people she was with, it was nice to spend some time alone. Living in each other’s pockets, day after day, began to grate and personal habits sometimes led to petty arguments. So yes, it was a relief too have some time to think and do what she wanted without having to consult with everyone else.

“Maybe I’ll get my hair done or a manicure.” Tifa mused as she turned her back on the people. She hadn’t done anything like in God knows how long. Probably too long if the state of her split ends were anything to go by. Saving the world didn’t exactly leave much time for a girl to look her best.

Or maybe she’d go see that new play, Loveless. A heavy sigh escaped and drew attention from passers by, who received a smile from the brunette. That was another problem with saving the world. No time for dating or hell, kissing. The last man she’d had the pleasure of dating had turned into a total sleaze, thinking she owed him something because he bought her dinner.

Tifa grinned wickedly as she flexed the fist that had painfully connected with his dick. The look on his face when she’d beat him to a bloody pulp would be taken to her grave. Men will do silly things like try to pick on girls who could teach three different kinds of martial arts. She wondered if he’d kept the ability to reproduce, hopefully not.

“Well, c’mon Tifa. Let’s go have a little fun.” Chocobo races, beauty salon, or Loveless? Choices, choices. Ooh, there was that fighting game where you could win some GP. Nah, she already did plenty of fighting, she didn’t need that to intrude on her down time. With that thought in mind, the brunette decided she’d simply stroll around until she found something that caught her attention.

She pushed away from the railing and winked at a teenage boy she caught ogling her legs. His face went ten shades of red and Tifa chuckled. Still, it was a boost to her ego and she decided she couldn’t be in that bad a state after all.

Lazy steps took her past an exchange counter where a red cloak and black hair became instantly recognisable, and she stopped with a forming grin on her face. Maybe she could sneak up on him and…

“Good afternoon, Tifa.”

She slammed a hand across her now wildly beating heart and jumped a good foot in the air, glaring at the amused eyes of Vincent Valentine. “Holy planet!” Tifa swore sharply as her breathing slowly got back to normal. “That wasn’t funny.”

He didn’t reply with words, but merely raised an eyebrow at the fact she was still on her tiptoes.

“Alright, alright.” Tifa held up her hands in confession. “I was gonna sneak up on you. I admit it. But that doesn’t mean you can do it back.” He’d just given her the first heart attack of her life.

“I apologise.” Clearly, he was not sorry in the least. “You are enjoying yourself?”

A conversation with Vincent? This was definitely something not to be turned down, as it rarely happened. Usually, he stood quietly in the cockpit of the Highwind and observed all that was going on around him. There was no question about it. From the instant he joined their mission, he’d intrigued her, and Tifa had never been one to ignore intrigue.

Curiosity may have killed the chocobo, but satisfaction brought it back.

“Yep.” Tifa fell into step beside him and timed her walk to his casual pace. “I was just relaxing, you know? Taking time out to gather my thoughts so to speak.”

“Ahh.” The gunslinger knew all about thought gathering. He’d been doing that for the past three decades. “Then, I will leave you to your musings.”

He’d taken all of three steps when sense of his words caught up with her. Reacting, Tifa reached out and stopped his escape with a hand lightly wrapped around his arm. “You don’t have to go, you know? Company would be nice.”

Vincent was so stunned by her willingness to touch him that he couldn’t do more than stare at the slender fingers curled around his claw. Unconsciously, he stiffened but she didn’t remove her hold. “Surely thought gathering is best done alone.”

What took him three paces took her four. She smiled up at him and he realised just how short Tifa Lockheart really was. “True. Though eating is something which shouldn’t be done alone. C’mon, you can take me to dinner.” His arm was released, but only momentarily, and then he had hers linking him.

“Relax,” Tifa chuckled with a shake of her head. “I only bite when asked nicely.”

Vincent was helpless against the small tug turning the corners of his lips up. How long had it been since he’d eaten a proper meal? However long, it’d been much longer since he’d dined with a woman. He allowed her to set the walk and followed accordingly, as a gentleman would.

“A nice juicy chocobo steak with potatoes and vegetables…” The girl on his arm mused through a wistful sigh. “What do you want?”

He shrugged. Being in stasis hadn’t given much of an appetite, but a steak did sound appealing. “Perhaps the same.”

Tifa giggled and shook her head. “If you’re lucky, I may treat you to dessert.”

No. He wouldn’t allow her to treat him anything. In his ideals, when a man wined and dined a lady, he paid. He held the door, pulled the chair out for her, and did all the little things men these days no longer did. “There is no need to waste your money on me.” Vincent stated with a firm nod. “It is a treat enough to accompany you.”

He watched as a delightful blush spread across her face, only catching it before she lowered her head to hide it. “Don’t say things like that.” Give her fiends and monsters, she was fine. Give her a compliment, and she turned helpless.

“It is the truth.” He stopped their walk and tilted her chin to make her look at him, letting her see the honesty in his gaze. “I have not…” He struggled a little but she patiently encouraged him to continue. “Had dinner with a lady in…”

Realisation dawned on Tifa and her full lips formed a perfect O. “In that case, you can treat me to dessert. Lemme tell ya, you’ll be sorry, cus when I get started on ice cream? I never stop.”

Momentarily distracting Vincent from the conversation were images of sweet cream covering those plump lips and her licking it off. His tongue traced his teeth as he inhaled, only to swallow heavily at the thought of licking it off himself. He sharply snapped himself out of the daze he was suddenly in and the bad thoughts under an amused expression.

It was a good thing he wore his cloak, else she might notice something that should not be happening.

“Oh yes.” Tifa seriously informed him. “Ice cream is my one true love. We were meant to be together for all eternity.” It wasn’t a lie exactly; she just left out the part where the ice cream would be smothered all over the body of her favourite actor, who was her one true love.

Vincent brushed his thumb softly across her jaw before dropping his hand to his side. “I am fond of ice cream myself.” This time, he did smile. The expression of complete surprise on her face warmed parts of him that had been cold for a long time. “That astonishes you.”

To his pleasure, she laughed and covered her mouth, leaving him to read the pleasure in her twinkling in her crimson eyes. “In a nice way. So Mr. Sweet Tooth, what’s your favourite flavour?”

He blinked. She insinuated there were more than just the strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla which had been around before his stasis. “There are more than three flavours?”

Her pleasure gave way to out and out shock. “What?” Surely he knew there was… Of course, he’d been sleeping while the world was changing. Something inside Tifa bubbled up and she realised just how much Vincent had missed out on. Hojo had put him through hell and back, probably more than once, but yet that seemed in comparison to this.

She thought of just how much of an outsider Vincent must feel when she and the others talked about things he might know nothing about. It was no surprise he was as quiet and solitary as he was. God, she was angry, so fucking angry at Hojo. When they found him, Tifa was gonna rip him limb from limb, then she was gonna feed his remains to the starving dragons in the Northern Continent.

Ooh, no wait; she had a much better punishment. Tie Hojo up with chains and give Vincent a few sets of throwing daggers. Yes, she thought in satisfaction, that’s what she’d do. That poor excuse of a scientist would suffer the Ten Plagues of Wutai.

“Please, do not pity me.” The gunslinger’s deep voice shattered her dreams of revenge.

“I don’t pity you, Vincent.” Tifa replied in a soft voice that belied her violent and bloody visions. “I’m just pleased I came along when I did.” And it was a good thing she came along when she did, or who knows what else he might have missed out on.

He didn’t have a chance to say anything else before his arm, no his hand he corrected, was grabbed and he was being led by a purposeful stride. “We’re gonna get dinner, and then you’re gonna treat us to dessert.” She had a whole bunch of stuff for him to try.

*~*~*~*~*

Dinner was eaten and thoroughly enjoyed by both parties, and now they sat with a drink each and waiting for the waitress. The smells from the kitchen were delicious and though they’d eaten their fill, the scent of good food was enough to bring the hunger pangs right back. However, it was time for desert.

Tifa was too busy enjoying Vincent to care about what she wanted. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a meal of steak and potatoes devoured quite like that before. He’d savoured every bite, every drop of gravy until his plate was clean and his appetite sated. Now, he was savouring his red wine like it was a gift from the Gods.

He noticed her smiling over the rim of her glass. For a second, he wondered if he had food in his teeth, but recalled this was Tifa. The girl who he’d often observed smiling for no good reason. He envied that ability.

During their meal, Vincent hadn’t been able to take his gaze off of her. It was the first time he’d seen in her in such a relaxed atmosphere and without her fighting gloves. Her nails were short and painted a pretty green. Her hair was still tied, but she’d loosened a few wispy strands that framed her face. A classier look, she’d explained as they’d waited for a table.

It was the same on her part as this was the first time she’d ever seen him without his cloak covering his entire face. His features were exquisitely defined and contoured; his skin was pale and contrasted with his jet black hair, while his lips were slim and pink. No doubt about it, he was an extremely handsome man.

“Enjoy your meal?” She asked after a delicate sip of her drink.

She rotated her glass and swished the wine, releasing a fresh wave of fragrance then held it out towards him. “Oh yes, that’s an understatement. Here’s to food not from a can.” Tifa beamed as Vincent dutifully returned the toast. “Now, onto dessert… Unless you’re too full?”

“Not at all, but please allow me too…”

A hand was held up to clearly state that no, he wasn’t going to pay for desert. Off his stubborn expression, Tifa sighed helplessly. “We made a deal. I buy dinner, and you buy the ice cream.” She gave a dramatic pause, “And a gentleman would never back out on a deal.”

Vincent wasn’t happy at his values being thrown back in his face, especially not by a woman using them to get her own way in matters like these. “Very well.”

“Besides,” she grinned in way that put him on guard. “I’m the one bringing you up to date on all things sweet, so the least you can do is pay for it.”

Why did that sound as though she were planning to go through the entire dessert menu? “Hmm.” Vincent sat back in his chair and studied her. He used to be a Turk, and so one of his talents was the ability to read people. Of course, this was a woman, and not even psychics could read a woman. They were strange creatures, if ever there was one.

The arrival of their waitress put an end to the conversation and they both looked at her, somewhat annoyed at being disturbed. The young woman shifted on her feet, uncomfortable under the slight glares she received. Some people, she thought with a sigh.

“Are you ready to order dessert?”

“Oh, sorry.” Tifa blushed and smiled sheepishly, a smidgen of guilt welled up as she realised she must have appeared unwelcoming. She looked to Vincent, who confirmed he was also ready for dessert. “Yes, we’re ready. Um, what ice cream flavours do you have?”

The waitress struggled to keep the grin off her face. Obviously she’d interrupted something when she arrived. “We have the usual. Chocolate, strawberry and vanilla. May I recommend something?” She got a nod from the brunette. “Our best seller. It’s lemon sorbet in a vodka sauce.”

Vodka? The uncertainty was visible on Vincent’s face as both the waitress and Tifa raised their eyebrows. “Vodka? And ice cream?” Who on the planet came up with that? Then there was the case of lemon ice cream. Lemon ice cream and vodka.

“Not ice cream, Vincent.” Tifa corrected with a slight smile. “Sorbet. It’s like crushed ice… Kind of.” What the hell was sorbet, anyway? “That’s sounds yum; we’ll have two bowls, please.”

“Excellent choice, ma’am. You receive a medium bottle of vodka free.”

Immediately piping up, “That will not be necessary, thank you. The sorbet will suffice.” The last thing he wanted was to drink vodka, especially after not touching the stuff for thirty years. His tolerance wouldn’t be all that great and he really didn’t want to look like a fool in front of her.

“No,” Tifa countered just as quickly. “We’ll have the free bottle.” If they didn’t use it, then they could give it to Cid and Barrett. Or it would come in handy for extra sauce.

The waitress ignored Vincent’s answer and smiled at his companion. “Excellent. I’ll clear these plates away for you and bring your order right over.” With that, she gathered the empty plates and made her way back to the kitchen.

“Ooh!” The twenty year old excitedly exclaimed. “I’ve never had this before. I wonder what it’ll be like. After our mission, maybe I’ll open a new bar and have this on the menu.” The business side of her brain kicked into gear as she thought of all the things she could try. With Midgar being in the slums and the people poorer than other places, there hadn’t been a chance to try stuff like this.

Nobody would have been able to afford the cost of cocktails and the bar would’ve been bankrupt within six months if she’d lowered the prices. As Midgar was destroyed by the collapsed plate, she’d have to find someplace else to set up shop. Perhaps somewhere warm and sunny, like Costa del Sol, or even the Northern Continent. People were always going there for weekend skiing trips or adventure holidays.

Along with her new and improved bar, Tifa saw Vincent as doorman. Sure he didn’t have the typical bouncer look, but she knew for absolute certainty he had what it took to keep the peace. She grinned at the image of Vincent Valentine in a uniform and demanding ID in that gruff voice of his. The women would flock around him!

“A Gil for your thoughts?” The low murmur brought her out of her reverie. He picked up and drained the last of his wine, sweeping his tongue over his lips to capture stray droplets. Full bodied red; there wasn’t much that could beat it.

“I’ll have you know I don’t come that cheap.” Tifa pretended to be affronted and flipped her hair in a way that drew his attention to her neck.

Slender, shapely, soft skinned and tanned. He imagined leaving a love bite there, right above her jugular, just to say she was his. His tongue itched to trace patterns over the warm flesh and lips tingled in anticipation of trailing hot kisses down to her…

“Hmm,” Vincent refused to go further with that particular fantasy, “100 Gil?” Still, she denied him the pleasure of her thoughts. “How much?”

Tifa carefully regarded him, her head tilted to one side as she contemplated her answer. “Choose the next dessert and we’ll talk.” She sounded so playful and teasing that the gunslinger shifted in his seat.

Vincent glanced at her wine glass and noticed it was empty. “You would like a refill?” He’d be more than happy to get them another bottle.

“No thank you. Vodka, remember?” The brunette heavily sighed and leaned on closed hands, then graced him with another look he couldn’t read. “Are you going to choose our next dessert, or don’t you want to hear what I’m thinking?”

“Very well.” Something told him he was either going to regret this or thoroughly enjoy it, but it was too much to resist. He turned to the table behind him, “Excuse me, I apologise for interrupting. May we borrow your menu?” His request granted and he perused the offerings.

Tifa watched in amusement as he intensely studied the menu, his eyes roaming across one page and then another. She knew the second he found what he wanted; those dazzling red eyes of his widened a little before he handed the menu back. “Well?”

“I have chosen.” Vincent informed her. “It is your turn.”

“Here you go!” The merry voice of the waitress once again interrupted them, and once again she found herself the object of two annoyed glares. Wow, her timing must really suck. She placed the tray down and put a bowl in front of them both, then gave them the opened bottle of vodka. “Enjoy.”

And so their night began.

Chapter 3

Harsh light of day...

The hangover and memory loss was instantly forgotten as her brain registered the fact she had a naked Vincent Valentine in front of her. A yelp escaped and she spun around, having to grab the counter when she went light headed from the motion. Tifa blinked rapidly in a failed attempt to block out what she’d just seen.

She could only hope she wasn’t like this last night. Oh God, last night! What must he think of her? Getting blind drunk and having a one night stand with a man she barely knew. Hands over her face muffled the moan of despair. Where was a hole of mortification when you needed one? It wouldn’t have to be a big hole, any hole would do.

The worst of it? Vincent, her friend and fellow fighter, was married. Oh God. She was nothing but a horrible person who stole other women’s husbands. She was going to straight to the bowels of hell and staying there.

“I am decent.” If what he’d done to her last night was anything to go by, he was far from decent. She’d been so tight; he could still feel the hot squeeze around his shaft. Unconsciously, a hand skimmed his erection hidden below the sheet and he bit back the groan.

It may have been swallowed, but she still heard the soft throaty noise and her eyes to flew wide open. Was he thinking about last night? “Okay, that’s great!” Tifa looked to the bathroom wall for help on what to say next. “Now if you could go away while I shrivel up and die, that’d be great too.” Oh, and Vincent? Please don’t tell your wife.

He let her tone wash over him knowing she was probably feeling the effects much more than he was. “I have a sheet so you may remove the towel. I will leave it behind the door.” With that, the gunslinger hooked the sheet on the handle and tried not to think about those luscious curves.

Judging by her reactions, Vincent gathered she remembered next to nothing about last night. If she had, then he doubted she’d be hiding from him now. Maybe it was just as well she didn’t recall anything. He had a feeling if she knew what went on in that bathroom, she’d run a mile.

He slipped into sweetness from behind and let her feel what she’d done to him. The moan he forced from her throat brought his blood to boil. He gave it to her hard, making her keep her eyes open and focused on the mirror so she could see herself cum. God, she felt so fucking good around his cock.

“I will be outside.” Vincent choked out and escaped before he had a chance to re-enact that thought.

Relief caused Tifa’s shoulders to sag and she turned to face the closed door, snatching the sheet just in case he changed his mind and took it off her. The wet towel was discarded in favour of the cotton blanket, and then his scent hit her like a ton of bricks. “Oh God,” she moaned and closed her eyes, allowing an image to blaze behind her lids.

She nuzzled his neck and breathed him in, relishing in the musky scent that came from him. “Mmm…” Her lips trailed up his neck, feeling him shiver at the ticklish sensation.

“Tifa…” He warned lightly and gave into the urge to grind his forming erection between her thighs. “We’re not in our room yet.”

The brunette was taken aback by the sudden memory and held her throbbing head. If they hadn’t been in their room, then where had they been? Not that it really mattered, of course, as whatever happened, happened and couldn’t be reversed.

“Just go out there and face the music.” Tifa glanced at her reflection over her shoulder and suddenly she felt shame. Not for having slept with Vincent, but for thinking he’d treat her like a whore. Vincent wasn’t like that at all. He was a gentleman, and that was something she perfectly remembered.

He wouldn’t hurt her, physically or mentally, so why was she so afraid of going out there and speaking to him? She mentally went over the facts. She’d gotten mortally drunk, slept with a friend who was also married, couldn’t remember a damn thing, and threw up in his bathroom.

Tifa squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened the door, fully ready to face her fate. Oh holy planet! Vincent had been asleep for years, so his wife would have been waiting for him to wake up so they could be together. That thought had her resolve to deal with the situation crumble and collapse around her. How horrible could she be?

The gunslinger had waited patiently for her to exit the bathroom so they could clear the air, and he immediately rose from the bed in greeting when the door handle turned. He froze at the sight of tears shining in her eyes and the pout on her lips. Her name had barely left his mouth when she shook her head.

“I swear I didn’t know you were married Vincent,” she began in a teary voice. “I am so sorry. Since there’s nothing to tell, not emotionally anyway, we can keep this between us and your marriage is safe.”

Him? Married? He blinked. Where would she get an idea like that? He’d been in stasis for three decades, when did she think he had time to get married? Vincent scratched his head and merely looked at her in expectation of more.

Tifa cautiously shuffled further out of the bathroom and held the blanket tighter, her eyes completely focused on an interesting spot on the floor. “I only noticed your wedding ring this morning when I went to wake you up.”

Wedding ring?

A sense of certain dread had his stomach dropping into the pits of the lifestream as he brought his left hand up for inspection. Sitting right there, on the fourth finger, was a plastic wedding ring with a picture of a smiling chocomog. His gaze travelled warily to Tifa’s own left hand and suddenly his world ceased to turn.

“I could ask the same of you.” How the hell he sounded calm he’d never know. Inside, he was panicking to high heaven.

Tifa’s jaw dropped. “What? I’m not married.” Then her face changed to dangerous suspicion. “If this is your way of looking innocent, then I’ve got news for you pal... Hey!” He was in front of her before she could blink and had her left hand held up where she could plainly see the sunlight glinting off a clear plastic circle.

Vincent raised an eyebrow and twirled the plastic band round until a chocomog smiled up at the brunette. He watched with some satisfaction as her pale face lost a bit more colour before what appeared to be relief flooded her beautiful eyes, and she started laughing. A sound he hadn’t heard in, oh, a few hours.

“Oh my!” Tifa shook with relieved giggles and used a broad shoulder to steady herself. “So I’m not a home wrecker after all?” His head numbly went from side-to-side. “Thank Holy. I thought I’d turned into a callous drunken slut who steals husbands!” She laughed a little more at the ridiculousness before gaining control with a chuckled sigh. "All that worrying because we bought ourselves mementos of our, uh, yeah..."

“You will never be either callous, or a drunken slut.” Vincent murmured and placed a comforting hand over the one resting on his naked shoulder. The innocent touch brought another blush to her cheeks and he stroked her skin reassuringly. “Come…”

“Already did.” Tifa muttered and once again averted her gaze from his as her colour deepened. She just had to say that, didn’t she?

“Yes, you certainly did. Many times.” Memories of hot female cum coating his shaft and thighs got him hard beneath the sheet but he willed the arousal away. It wasn’t what either of them needed at this moment in time. But, heaven, he couldn’t help wanting more. “Sit.”

His hand was warm and soothing on the small of her spine as he guided her towards the rumpled bed where he sat her down. She would need a seat when he stated that yes, he did in fact have a wife and Tifa knew his wife intimately. First things first, “Would you care for some tea and aspirin?” He would kill for some.

Grateful ruby eyes finally met his darkening ones and she nodded; the frown on her face almost comical despite the circumstances. “God yes.” That reminded her. “Um, I don’t suppose you know where my clothes are?” He appeared to know more than she did about last night, so maybe he could solve the mystery of the missing garments.

Good question, he thought with a confused scowl. “Tea and aspirin first, then we talk.”

Did they have to talk? Where Tifa was concerned, there wasn’t much to talk about. After all, they already knew what happened. Well, he knew what happened anyway. “Not all that much to say. We got drunk and had sex. End of story.”

“Yes, we had sex.” Not just sex, but incredibly wild and uninhibited sex. Right there, in his bed. “We need to talk of this Tifa. If we do not then our friendship, assuming we have one, will be ruined.”

She laughed at his ways and shot him a glance, which was returned with equal stubbornness. “I think we’re more than friends now, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps,” Vincent agreed with a slight smile, “It is still no excuse to pretend this never happened.” Besides, if his instincts were on target, pretending would be impossible. “Please, let me fetch some refreshments and…” He rubbed his temple and grimaced, “Aspirin.”

Tifa sighed and watched as he began to slowly make his way around the room, gathering the things he needed. Every so often, he would pause to massage the bridge of his nose or soothingly rub his abdomen. Looks like the gunslinger wasn’t much better than her, and for some reason the thought gave her comfort.

Her eyes roamed his bedroom and came across a wooden frame on the floor. Curiosity got the better of her when she noticed the chocobo engravings in the frame edge. Stretching, she snatched it up off the floor and turned it over, fully expecting to see a cute picture inside. Maybe they had one taken last night.

“Sugar?”

“Just the one, please. Thank you. Hey, did we have any pictures taken last night?” Tifa asked as she held up the frame for him to see. Before he could do or say anything else, she turned it round and saw there was no photograph in it, only a piece of paper with pretty writing. She read it out loud.

“This is to certify that the authority of Gold Saucer have joined Miss Tofu Lockheart and Mister Vincent Valentone in holy matrimony on the date of…” Tifa’s blood stilled in her veins as she looked at the date.

It was yesterday's date.

Chapter 4

He had hoped to break the news of their marriage to her in a less surprising way, but like all good plans, it never turned out well. Vincent ignored the boiled kettle as he watched Tifa sit and stare at the wooden frame in her hand. It was almost as though she were trying to engrave it into her memory.

Suddenly, she looked to him and held up the certificate. Her face shone with desperate hope. “I’m guessing this isn’t one of them novelty things, am I right?” She could hope. Oh God, what if they really married? What then? Save the world, buy a house with a white picket fence, and a couple of dogs? Two words. No and way.

“Yes.” The gunslinger regarded her, only just fighting the urge to smile at her confused expression.

“Yes?” Tifa repeated slowly. “That’s all you have to say? We got married Vincent. Married!”

“Again, yes.” He flicked the kettle switch back on and waited until it reheated. “I would offer cream, but I am unable to find the tiny pots.” Still, he had another glance for the cream but could only find milk. Strange. He had never used the cream.

Oh yes. Now he remembered.

“I believe it is your turn to choose dessert.” Vincent purposely posed on the bed and his legs shifted to allow Tifa a perfect view of his erection. His eyes roamed over her svelte figure appreciatively and openly lingered on her pert breasts.

“Mmm dessert…” Tifa hungrily ate up the sight of a hard shaft leaving a slim line of precum on his toned stomach. A fresh wave of heat sent trickles of arousal down her thighs and she rubbed her legs together. She had the idea and the inspiration, now all she needed were the tools.

The gunslinger stroked the broad tip of his cock with a rough thumb; his other hand cupped heavy balls and groaned at the building pressure. “C’mere, Misshush Valentone. Put that smart mouth to good use.”

“You said it was my turn.” She pouted, twirled her hair, and pushed her full breasts out. At the sound of his lusty purr, she knew she’d won that little round. Tifa winked and giggled, tormenting him by popping a fingertip into her mouth and sucking lightly.

“Cock tease,” Vincent growled, “Yes…” His hips bucked up and he fucked his fist, his digits flexed around tightening testicles and he grunted. Hooded eyes watched as she raised her skirt high up her legs and let him see the shape of puffy lips hidden by cotton panties.

Before he could speak his thoughts, his teasing little wife had dropped her skirt and turned away, sweetly giggling at her agonising form of torture. “Tifa…” The warning in his voice was crystal clear and perfectly understood, and also ignored.

“I’m bringing you dessert, remember?” The temptress moved so her skirt was taut over her firm and rounded ass.

That sight just made him want to do very bad and very dirty things to that luscious looking treat. A wickedly slow smile furled up and his eyes glinted diamond hard; she kept moving like that and he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

“If I were a… Aha!” Vincent went from simply horny to curiously horny in a split second. What was she doing? His question remained unanswered as she turned to face him with a cheeky smile and hands hidden behind her back. “Close your eyes and no peeking.”

He cautiously studied the vixen before obeying and closing his eyes, resisting temptation to open them when he heard the sound of clothing being removed. A little pop came next and then a low hum, but still Vincent resisted opening his eyes. The bed dipped under her weight and he felt her core hotly scrape down his shaft.

The next thing he knew, something cool was being dripped on his cock. Instantly, his eyes snapped wide open to see Tifa smiling innocently down at him. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

Tifa didn’t see the way Vincent traced his mouth with his fingers, and nor did she see the way his expression screwed up in desire. He could still feel the creamy liquid being poured over his cock and the warmth of her mouth sliding to swallow him whole.

“We’re married and you’re talking about what I take in my tea?” She took a very deep and very noisy breath, held for five, then slowly exhaled. “Okay. This is probably just one of those novelty things. I doubt it’s real.” It was a long shot, but she was grabbing onto it like a lifeline.

“I imagine not.” Vincent calmly stirred first her tea and then his, the banging in his head synchronised with the clatter of metal against ceramic. “We are married Tifa, you are my wife.” It was quite simple really. They were married. Husband and wife. Ball and chain. However way it was said, they were legally bound to one another.

As his back was to her, he didn’t the incredulity marring her face. “Okay, now I know you didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” The way he spoke implied he would be happy to leave it at that. “Look. Perhaps we didn’t actually go all the way, but…”

Vincent faced her with a smirk riding on his lips. “We did,” she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “Three times.” And each time, he’d made her scream his name over and over.

“Maybe, oh I don’t know, that was wishful thinking on your part. Or maybe you dreamt it.” It seemed so weird to be accepting a cup of tea off the man she’d had sex with, but never mind. After everything else this morning brought, the normality of a cup of tea was just what she needed.

A dark eyebrow reached his hairline. The feeling in his groin clearly stated it was definitely not a dream or wishful thinking. Since he couldn’t describe the sensation, Vincent placed his cup beside the kettle and went to stand in front of her. He gazed down at the panicked girl and licked his lips just once.

The only part of Tifa not frozen was the hand holding her shaking cup. She was entranced by brilliant crimson orbs as they bent down to her level. Traitorous breasts ached with pleasure she didn’t remember and nipples hardened, responding to unknown stimulation.

“Your body is no stranger to mine,” Vincent murmured and purposely scanned her chest, pointedly glancing at the evident arousal. He didn’t need to do or say anymore for Tifa to get the idea, but that didn’t stop him from continuing. “I kissed your lips with my mouth and…”

She gasped and her cheeks burned bright red. She prevented him from saying anything more by placing a trembling hand over his mouth. “Sssh!”

Vincent removed her hand, his lips pressing dry and warm smooches up her palm before kissing each one of her fingertips. If only she recalled some of the things she’d said to him last night. Any shyness would be replaced by complete mortification. “You’ve no need to be embarrassed or ashamed.”

He certainly wasn’t embarrassed and definitely no ashamed. If anything, he was rather proud. Tifa Lockheart was a beautiful woman, not to mention well endowed. Oh yes, he recalled those full breasts vividly as they cushioned his erection while her tongue swirled over the rounded head and lapped up precum.

“Of course not, I mean we’ve already done God knows what.” Tifa snatched her hand away and clenched her fist in an effort to ignore the tingles she got from his touch. “It’s supposed to go the other way round. Ya know. Date for a while, get to know each other, have sex, and then get married.”

He couldn’t argue with that. However, drunken logic must have argued and wiped the floor with common sense. “Perhaps,” Vincent agreed, “It does not mean to say the proper way is best.” He studied her for a few moments as she contemplated his words. “What is really bothering you?”

Surprised, the brunette could only gape at the gunslinger, who merely gave a secret smile. How did he know there was something other than the morning’s discoveries playing on her mind?

“Last night was not just about intoxicated sex,” he stated, mildly amused. “I learned a little about the workings of your incredibly perplexing mind.”

Tifa scowled at him. “My mind is not perplexing. I’m simply complicated.” She didn’t care to read his expression, instead focusing on the steam rising from her cup for a second before returning her attention to him. “You’re much older than me, have more experience.” God, this was humiliating. “Was I okay?”

Vincent wondered at her meaning. “Did you…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Was I able to please you?”

Ah. Had she pleased him? My balls feel like a vice squeezed thirty years worth of orgasms out in the matter of minutes. Yet she is asking if I was satisfied? He didn’t say that to her, of course, he too sensitive to her currently delicate sensibilities. Neither did he tell her he was getting hard just thinking about it.

She laughed humorlessly, taking his silence as a gentle let down. “You haven’t had a woman for decades. How could I not satisfy you? Anyone could have done that.” Now Tifa did feel like an idiot.

He stood and stared down at her, smirking when he noticed they were in the exact spot where she’d sucked him into oblivion. Vincent’s smirk grew into a lecherous grin at the widening eyes now focused solely on his erect cock, visible beneath the sheet. “It was not nearly enough.”

“Finish your tea.” the gunslinger left her side after touching her cheek. “I believe your clothes are in the closet.”

“Amazing,” she exclaimed in exaggerated humor that came equipped with a cuttingly sarcastic smile. “He gets trashed, but still remembers to hang his clothes in the closet. Tell me Mr. Valentone, what kind of man are you?”

Vincent drained his tea in seconds. “A married one it seems.” He walked towards the bathroom, dropping his sheet as he moved only for a loud yell to pierce his ears. That noise didn’t help his tap dancing brain. Forgetting about his nakedness, he spun to face the brunette and saw a look of horror etched on her face.

Tifa was too shocked to explain the sudden outburst. His shoulder blades and back were covered in red welts, marring the flawless expanse of pale flesh. Her cheeks exploded in color and a squeak escaped her quivering lips. “Please tell me you use your gauntlet as a back scratcher.”

“Uh?” He opened the bathroom door and stood in front of the mirror, craning his neck too see the state of his skin. No wonder the sheet had felt so uncomfortable. Just more proof he’d fucked her good.

Black writing decorating his right ass cheek quickly distracted her from her damage. Her already wide eyes turned to saucers as the words became clear under her intense study. She really hoped that black writing was caused by a Sharpie, or body paint, or something other than what her instincts told her it was.

Calmly, rationally, Tifa grasped onto the teachings of Zanagan in order to preserve her sanity, but she couldn’t look away. Right there, scrawled across the firm muscle of Vincent Valentine’s butt was the name Tofu. Beside it, a cheesy picture of a heart with a gold lock lay in all its colorful glory.

Her heart, blessedly still working, began to thump madly in her chest as she continued to stare silently at the image.

On hearing her fall stone cold quiet, Vincent gave his attention to Tifa and raised both eyebrows at the unreadable expression on her face. His question was silent and the only thing she could do was point to his left ass cheek.

“Oh. That.” If she dropped her sheet, he’d be able to see the tattoo adorning her right cheek. Perhaps he should let her discover that one on her own.

“What do you mean, oh that?” Her voice cranked up a notch, almost becoming unbearable. “That's a tattoo, Vincent! It’s for life. You’re gonna have my name, complete with lock and heart, forever on your ass.”

“Your point?” The gunslinger saw no need to cover back up and lazily leaned against the bathroom door frame, seemingly content to watch as she worked herself up.

Tifa took a steadying breath and continued to explain in a way that might their situation to sink into that skull of his. “My point being this entire morning is…” It wasn’t often she found herself speechless, but it wasn’t often she found herself in positions like this. Hell, this was her first post-drunken marriage position.

First? It was the first and last post-drunken marriage position she’d be in.

Vincent just looked at her, a smirk tugged at his lips as he watched the brunette attempt to control her hyperventilating. “Tifa,” her attention was immediately on him and he kept it as he pushed away from his post, sauntering back to where she sat.

She averted her gaze from his crotch and nearly jumped a mile when she felt him next to her. She tensed at the first touch of his hand on her bare shoulder and slowly looked at him.

Perhaps he should give her fair warning of her own tattoo after all. “If my memory serves me well, then you also have a tattoo.”

The brunette blinked and tried to assimilate the information he’d just divulged. Then she shot up off the bed, dropped the empty tea cup, and began fighting with her sheet. Tifa tugged it right up, turning her neck this way and that, trying desperately to see if he was telling the truth.

Just then, she caught a glimpse of dark writing curving across her right buttock and she struggled to see more. As she couldn’t Tifa scurried to the bathroom in order to use the mirror for the purpose of seeing what was now decorating her ass. The words Vincent Valentone appeared to have grey smoke clouding round while there seemed to be the start of a picture. “What is it?” She dreaded the answer.

Vincent used his elbows for support, shamelessly exposing himself to his wife. “A smoking gun.” Her tattoo was artistically done in shades of black and grey, and if he was honest, he found it incredibly attractive.

He studied the curves on display with unabashed appreciation and traced his teeth with his tongue, wondering if he should confess to the love bite on the opposite cheek. Biteable.

“Oh God!” Tifa groaned as she let the blanket fall down, blocking his view. “What are we gonna tell the others?” She was all up for keeping this a secret, but that would be impossible since they all lived in such close quarters on the Highwind.

Vincent kept silent as he contemplated telling her the others probably knew by now, since Cait Sith had witnessed their wedding.

The loser does whatever the winner wants.

Those were the words that set the battle lines and started the war. Those were the words that got Tifa thinking if she won, she could have Vincent doing whatever she wanted. Those were the words that got Vincent thinking if he won, Tifa was going to do whatever he wanted. Not that either of them knew what they were going to do, but that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

All that mattered was the ego. She was playing to win for her side of the gender pool, and so was he. Neither was going to hand the victory over on a silver platter.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just you?” Tifa spoke without missing a beat, the grin on her face evident of her enjoyment of this.

Vincent smirked. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or shall I walk past again?”

Tifa blinked and put on the most innocently beguiling expression she could. “I seem to have lost my way, would you mind taking me with you?”

“Do you have any Wutai in you?” Vincent asked as he signalled the waitress back over. How the hell had they gone through two bottles of vodka already? Not to mention the three desserts. Lemon sorbet and vodka, the creamy one with the chocolate liqueur, and the disgustingly unhealthy Knickerbockerglory, which came complete with full cream

His stomach rolled in protest and sang in delight. It was sickly, but oh so good. Two hours later and he could still feel the way the cream dripped onto his tongue. Tifa had originally ordered two, but the waitress had rightfully advised them to order one. These Knickerbockerglory things would be the ultimate downfall of mankind.

“You’re from Wutai?” Tifa quizzed, momentarily distracted from the game when he confessed his origins. She studied him closely. Her gaze traced every single facial feature, right from the elegant lines of his jaw to the way his eyes were set. His hair was jet black and perfectly straight, an exquisite Wutai characteristic.

It was a bit selfish, but she hoped they didn’t. Telling someone something usually implied trust, so this meant Vincent trusted her. Aww! I feel all warm and cosy!

“I am.” The gunslinger answered and turned to face the waitress, “I would like to…”

“Another bottle of vodka?” The waitress struggled to hide her grin. She’d been watching them for the past few hours and noticed them getting a little worse for wear. Bets had been started in the kitchen for how long it would take for them to get it on. If the momentous occasion happened in the next half hour, she stood to win a whopping eighty Gil.

“If it is not too much trouble.” Tifa rolled her glazing eyes and shook her head. Only Vincent Valentine would think ordering a drink, in a bar, would be too much trouble. He was just so… so… He was just so something, she didn’t know yet, but was sure she’d think of it.

The waitress took the order and left them to it. On her way to the bar, she paused for thought. Eighty Gil was a lot of money; in fact, it was more than she made in a day. Maybe she’d give them a little something to go with the vodka, on the house, on the house of course. It never hurt to give people a push in the right direction.

Maybe she’d give them a bottle of twenty Gil champagne. That stuff was lethal.

Getting back to The Game, Vincent repeated his line. “Do you have any Wutai in you?”

“No, I don’t have any in me.” But I wouldn’t mind. Tifa only just managed to hide her gasp with her hand. Bad thoughts led to bad things. Still, this was Vincent. He was sensible. He wouldn’t let her do anything bad.

“Would you like some?” I got plenty. He cleared his throat and pretended he just didn’t think that. This was Tifa, she was nice, and she wouldn’t do anything bad like what he was thinking.

The brunette blushed as he answered her very thoughts. He was a very bad man. However, there was a war to win and the reputation of women to protect. There were bigger things at stake right now and she couldn’t afford to lose. “Have you got a mirror in your pocket?”

He frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“Cus I can see myself in your pants.” At this, Vincent laughed enough to make his shoulders shake and Tifa giggled.

“Pretend to walk out.” Off her bewilderment, “Pretend to walk out.”

She did as asked and pretended to get up, but only turning her back to him. “I’m leaving now…” The sentence was left open for him to finish.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” When the brunette returned her attention to him, he sported the most incredible pout known to mankind.

Dutifully she asked, “What?”

Vincent gave a soppy smile, “Me!”

Tifa rolled her eyes in exasperation. She’d expected more than cheesiness from an ex Turk. “Do you have a mutual friend who could introduce us?”

“Orgasms are known as the little death. Would you like to die happy?” Even as he said this, Vincent’s cheeks took on a light pink hue and lowered his face in the hope she wouldn’t see.

“The amount of times I’ve heard that one…” She sighed, it was her turn again. “Do you know the main difference between sex and a conversation?” He played along and shook his head. “Wanna go to bed and talk?”

If that be the case, he’d talk all night long if she wanted. “You have been very naughty, go to my room.”

Damn him! That was her next one. Now what could she say? Oh yeah, this was a good one. “You’re a sex crime waiting to happen.” Tifa gave a gleeful little snigger at getting one out before her fifteen second time limit was up. Yeah, take that Valentine. Teach you not to mess with the best. Ha!

Vincent purposely leered at her body, well, as much as he would without appearing like a pervert. “Your parents threw you some tight curves.” He hated himself for using that one, but this wasn’t the time for pride.

“I don’t know what you think of me, but I hope it’s x-rated.” The smirk appearing on his face had Tifa squirming and wondering if x-rated thoughts were going through his head. The idea of Vincent thinking that about her was enough to have her heating up down there.

He suddenly got out of his seat, and for a moment, she thought he was going to leave. When Vincent began to wave his arms around, jumping up and down, Tifa figured he going to leave after he embarrassed the hell out of them.

“What the hell are you doing?” She hissed and sank into her seat, using a hand to hide her reddening face. “Oh God. People are looking!”

“I am a penguin. I am trying to break the ice.” That was the first chap-up line he ever used and he’d been about 12 at the time. It worked like a charm and he’d gotten his first kiss from a sixteen year old girl who thought he was the same age.

Tifa couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. “Cute. Weird, but definitely cute.” She watched as he sat back down as though nothing had happened. He appeared as calm and composed as ever. Her turn again.

Vincent stifled a groan as she popped a slender finger inside her mouth. She then slid that glistening finger down the front of her top, and then reached over to do the same with his. “Lets you and me get out of these wet clothes.”

“I am curious,” he checked her over in a way that prickled her skin with heat, “Are you as good as you look?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out!”

“Smart answer.” The gunslinger complimented with a grin. He was thirsty, where was the alcohol? Vincent looked around for their waitress and saw her at the bar, putting a dark green bottle onto a tray. From his position, he could just see the label reading champagne. He hadn’t ordered that, he was sure of it.

Tifa took his expression as a sign of possible trouble and began looking in the same direction. The vodka had her light headed, but that could be ignored if it came to the crunch. Still, it’d be a shame if trouble did ruin tonight. “What is it?” She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“I fear the waitress has gotten our order wrong.”

She shrugged, “Heh, we all make mistakes.”

The two watched the waitress approach their table with a smile. “Compliments of the house,” was all she said and placed the champagne on the table, along with two crystal flute glasses. That eighty Gil was as good as hers.

The war picked up where it left off, and that was Vincent’s turn. “If I owned the alphabet, I would put U and I together.”

“Aww Vincent,” Tifa mockingly cooed and watched as he did the gentlemanly thing, and began to open the champagne. “That’s sooooo cute!” She sniggered when he visibly blanched at being labelled cute. “What winks and screws like a tiger?”

“I do not… Know…” Vincent pointed the bottle away from them both just as the cork came out with a loud pop. The froth gushed out, soaking his hand and pants. He shook his hand frantically in an attempt to get rid of the liquid, and Tifa watched the spectacle in high amusement.

She bit her lip and wondered if she dared do what she thought. Oh yeah. By the time the devil on her shoulder won the debate, Vincent had put the bottle to one side and was about to dry his hand on his cloak. Tifa snatched his hand and brought it to her mouth.

He blinked, not quite sure if she was doing what he thought she was doing. When her warm lips closed around his finger, Vincent knew he was dreaming. Her mouth and tongue worked from knuckle to tip, determined not to lose a drop. Tifa watched his eyes glaze and lose focus as she repeated with his next digit.

“Mmm tasty…” Tifa released his hand and licked her lips.

The waitress held out her hand and wiggled her fingers, already feeling the delicious weight of eighty Gil lining her purse.

Vincent was breathing heavily by the time she finished and his pants were uncomfortably tight around his groin. “I would not know.” Her glass was filled half way and he indicated her to drink. His eyes were focused on the way her throat tilted and how her lips kissed the rim. God, he was getting so fucking hard.

Tifa put her glass down and resisted the urge to moan. He was looking at her like she was his next meal. She licked her lips again, this time in anticipation. It didn’t take long for the gunslinger to react.

He leaned over the table and stole a kiss, using his tongue to lap the droplets on her pout. “Tasty indeed.” His voice was low and gruff, the vibrations of his words had her body tingling and she squirmed in her seat. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Have somewhere in mind?” Tifa whispered and her lips kept grazing his.

“Yes.” Who cared about a stupid game? There were much better and much more productive things for them to be doing.

*~*~*~*~*

Vincent swallowed a large gulp of the champagne and replaced his mouth on hers. Tifa readily welcomed the kiss, tasting the bubbles lingering on his tongue. He groaned into her and his free hand grasped her knee, kneading the toned muscle with talented fingers. “I am going to touch you and you are going to like it.”

“Yessss…” Her head dropped onto his shoulder and parted her legs to allow him the access he wanted. He moved higher up her thigh until cotton panties teased his fingertips and he pressed softly against her pussy. She was puffy and wet and so delicious, he wanted to taste her and not the champagne.

There was something about touching a woman through her panties that got Vincent right where it hurt. But feeling Tifa through her panties simply had him hard. “You’re so wet,” he mumbled into her mouth, “Soaking, actually.”

She pushed on his hand and turned her face to muffle her light moans against her shoulder. Two thick fingers rubbed slowly along her slit and pressed directly on her clit. Tifa snatched a hold of his cloak, fisting the warm material and rocking her hips rhythmically.

“You like that, huh?” Vincent moved up and down the swollen slit, pausing when he felt the sensitive entrance. He chuckled when she bucked, the motion making his hand roughly touch her pussy as a whole. “You like that?”

A hummed “Uh-huh,” was his answer and the gunslinger massaged the tiny bud with the heel of his palm. The only thing stopping his fingertips from penetrating was her underwear.

The Love Boat ride maybe dark and private, but it was by no means sound proofed. One or two people close to them looked their way, the goings on of Vincent and Tifa seemingly more exciting than themselves.

Soft hair tickled him as he slid past the waistband of her panties and he groaned. She was burning and soaking, and it was all because of him. A single finger traced the shape of her cunt and felt the small pearl protruding from pouting lips. He tugged it and Tifa cried out in surprise.

This time, more than one or two people looked in their direction, but couldn’t see much. The torches designed to give a romantic atmosphere gave off a low glow and highlighted the way he was seated to her right, and her head was tilted back. It was obvious what was going on.

One of the security guards frowned. This kind of romance was definitely not allowed and he whispered a quick word to his partner before leaving through a door marked Private. Something would have to be done. He couldn’t allow that to go on in public.

Tifa reached behind her, feeling around under the cloak for Vincent’s thigh and followed the muscle up until she found her prize. Wide eyed turned to look at him over her shoulder. He simply smirked and rolled his hips forward.

“Unzip me… Good girl… Ah yes, like that…” He grunted when her hot little hand firmly clutched his cock and began to move. His balls were heavy and almost painfully full with thirty years of cum. “Harder.” He didn’t mind begging when it got him off.

Those two thick fingers of his slid inside and he twisted them, hitting her sweet spot and making her legs snap shut. “Vincent please,” Tifa grasped him harder, and listened as his breathing paused before a long drawn out moan vibrated through him.

He paused in thought and suddenly removed his slick digits. Vincent held them up and licked his lips, helpless to stop the fantasy from tearing through his brain. “Drink.” It wasn’t a request.

Hooded crimson eyes blinked and a shaky hand took the half empty champagne, gulping a healthy mouthful. Tifa grinned at the way his expression became set in stone.

“Taste.” His voice had dropped an octave and his gaze completely focused on her lips. Fingers swept across her pout and Vincent began to pant heavily as he watched her mouth glisten. Slowly, that digit eased inside and her tongue wrapped round to lick up the honey.

Her thighs rubbed together and she tried to fight the ache building between. The second she tasted herself on him, arousal dripped down to dampen her skin and she pushed back into him. The move had her skirt rising and he let out a strangled groan, looking down to see the tip of his cock brushing against her rounded ass.

Without hesitating, Vincent crushed his lips harshly to hers and tasted the luscious combination of champagne and sex. His hips eased further against her, his shaft slid along her skin and God, it all felt so fucking good.

Tifa ground back into him and tightened around his length, sliding slowly up until her thumb lightly grazed the broad head. Precum made him slippery to touch and she rubbed the liquid all around him, feeling him quiver in her hand.

“Oh, that’s good.” Vincent’s hand followed the bread crumbs back down to where her panties teased his fingers. Again, he promised penetration but didn’t give it. She was drenched in sin and sex, and he should have felt guilty, but he couldn’t. He slipped lower and pressed hard.

Those white panties was only thing stopping him from easing inside that tight cunt was her underwear. “Take them off for me, Tifa. I am not asking.” She didn’t hesitate.

The elastic was torture as she took them off and no sooner had she done that, then Vincent snatched them out of her hand. “Mine.” He put them into his pocket for safe keeping and placed his hand on her knee. Moist digits crept higher until Tifa’s breath hitched at the touch of bare skin.

“You want me,” he murmured throatily. The gunslinger rimmed her entrance and forced a tiny moan from her throat as she spread her legs for him. “Open up for me...” Silky walls stretched to fit and Vincent curled his fingers up, stroking her sweet spot.

Tifa suddenly jumped and let go of his cock, much to his frustration. “The ride’s almost ended. We can’t get caught with our pants… Quick. Gimme my panties back.” She could feel her face burning ten shades of red as she saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

“No.” Vincent itched to ignore the truth and continue. The way her soft hand kept sliding up and down his cock had him so close, his balls were tense. His eyes half rolled and flickered as he pulled away from the brunette to carefully tuck himself back into his pants. “Fuck.”

“Excuse me…” A man in uniform approached the tunnel just as the ride was finishing. He looked at the bright red brunette, and then looked again. He was sure she’d just been pulling her skirt down. “Can you both accompany me, please? The park warden would like to speak with you about some complaints.”

Vincent and Tifa glanced at each other, and knew they were busted.

TBC