[ though she hadn't come to fully understand the order of things or the full intent of those marks printed on their bodies, tifa had come to mostly guess what the intentions have been behind it, and after her incident in the omegadome, she'd painfully understood it wouldn't be the last that they'd find some way to make her race through the motions of that ferocious heat, regardless of whether it all came about in the same patterns or not. but the mark β she never could figure out how it came into play, and when sanji explains what that deeper red of color upon it means, she feels the warming flush of her cheeks, not from the fluttering rush of lustful desire (though she can feel that tickle between her legs, the urge to tighten her thighs together), but from the acknowledgement that such a visible mark on her body is enough to let anyone know the ride of sensations her body is charging through.
it both simultaneously helps and doesn't when he gives her that squeeze to her hand, relieved for his comfort but imagining the tattoo only brightens from the rush she gets from the sole touch he offers.
anyone you trust to help you. the name that springs to mind is instantaneously an impossibility, because for all that she trusts cloud, the previous incident between them brought the acknowledgement that it's not something that could just happen so casually again, not when there's miles worth of baggage for them to sort through, the kind that may not ever recover if they pile all of this onto it too. but if not cloud, then ...
she gives a regretful shake of her head, not able to look him in the eye. ]
I haven't really been here long enough to really find, um β someone for all of that. [ eyes downcast, the weight of her gaze lingers on that soothing hold of his hand in hers, warm and simply friendly, something she feels plenty lucky to be able to find in a place that has a way of making anyone feel so lost within themselves. but it also blossoms a curiosity that she forces herself to swallow, guilt swelling in her chest with her dependency of his aid.
lifting her head, she glances back up at him and puts on a smile, the kind that's well practiced with all that she puts on her cheery enthusiasm from the other side of her own bar, turning her hand to give his fingers a returning squeeze of appreciation. ] But it's okay. I can head back and ... get it figured out. I don't want you to have to worry about β [ her eyes drift from his eyes to the softness of his lips, a dizzying thought curious to know if they bear a taste as sweet as the rest of him, and down to the slope of his throat, strong and succulent that invites the test of how well her mouth could leave its own mark there.
she slowly lifts her gaze back to his eyes, the guilt of her thoughts burning a hot in the swirling red there as it does in the mark of her sinful fantasies. ] I should go on my own. If I β if I stay with you longer, I might want ... [ you, she doesn't say, but she doesn't think she needs to. ]
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it both simultaneously helps and doesn't when he gives her that squeeze to her hand, relieved for his comfort but imagining the tattoo only brightens from the rush she gets from the sole touch he offers.
anyone you trust to help you. the name that springs to mind is instantaneously an impossibility, because for all that she trusts cloud, the previous incident between them brought the acknowledgement that it's not something that could just happen so casually again, not when there's miles worth of baggage for them to sort through, the kind that may not ever recover if they pile all of this onto it too. but if not cloud, then ...
she gives a regretful shake of her head, not able to look him in the eye. ]
I haven't really been here long enough to really find, um β someone for all of that. [ eyes downcast, the weight of her gaze lingers on that soothing hold of his hand in hers, warm and simply friendly, something she feels plenty lucky to be able to find in a place that has a way of making anyone feel so lost within themselves. but it also blossoms a curiosity that she forces herself to swallow, guilt swelling in her chest with her dependency of his aid.
lifting her head, she glances back up at him and puts on a smile, the kind that's well practiced with all that she puts on her cheery enthusiasm from the other side of her own bar, turning her hand to give his fingers a returning squeeze of appreciation. ] But it's okay. I can head back and ... get it figured out. I don't want you to have to worry about β [ her eyes drift from his eyes to the softness of his lips, a dizzying thought curious to know if they bear a taste as sweet as the rest of him, and down to the slope of his throat, strong and succulent that invites the test of how well her mouth could leave its own mark there.
she slowly lifts her gaze back to his eyes, the guilt of her thoughts burning a hot in the swirling red there as it does in the mark of her sinful fantasies. ] I should go on my own. If I β if I stay with you longer, I might want ... [ you, she doesn't say, but she doesn't think she needs to. ]