[ had this all gone entirely differently, where there'd been no suit mark to be activated, to spur on these urges, there's every possibility that things could have steered along this route eventually, though not at all at this pace with tifa far too reluctant to be so bold as to try to initiate sex on a first date. because it definitely felt a bit like a date (and tifa had certainly dressed for one, even if part of that had been the result of a limited wardrobe) and there's no doubt, there'd been something there fluttering in her belly, an excitement stemming from the progression of their conversation, doubts of him simply being a womanizing flirt falling away in light of recognizing a sincere kindness in his every word, and the dreams that made her see a different kind of boy sitting beside her.
but maybe she would have liked to see where another few dates could take them, to map out more stories of someone who had lived in a restaurant floating in the ocean, who was now sailing on a ship to find a legendary sea, who knew all the right things to say to pull out a smile easily from her lips. maybe she would have even been bold enough to initiate the first kiss eventually, when she became more sure of it all.
it's impossible to say now how things would have steered on the path, now that it's all been escalated too fast, so much so that whatever part of her that felt that natural attraction towards him at the red cardinal is now too overcome with the guilt of dragging him into helping her, even his own voluntary insistence. but just as he had then, sanji seems to have a gift for knowing all the right steps towards easing away that tension, how one, two, three kisses find their way down along the slope of her face, each one more tender than the last, until the last hushes away concerns, reminding her again what it is she really craves here β not just sex, but the heat for him, for his hands and mouth and kisses and touch. ]
Okay. [ she repeats as before, once again taking in a deep shaky breath, even as the lingering brush of his lips to hers pools its way low, past the sweet flutter in her belly, to the urgent ache of her cunt. you're doing so damn good, he says, and that provides a surprising kind of motivation, like the reminder that this is a test of patience, and there's that competitive impulse in her that ignites, wanting to prove she's capable of getting through it. ] I can make it, I promise.
[ even if it means she's gripping the back of his jacket a little tighter as they continue to move, fingers curling into a grip that might rip the very fabric itself if he ends up pulling away from her, just to keep herself steady. she licks her lips, focuses on the lingering taste of him there, on the sweetness of how he's soothed her, on the promise of more to come.
and then they're there, according to his words, unsure of what there is until he raises his wrist to activate one particular elevator that looks no different to plenty of others they've passed before. but if this is the special one they've needed then she moves her feet with him inside of it without a second thought, her breath held with anticipation as the door slides shut and then β
his mouth collides with hers before she even has a chance to look at him, and she doesn't even spare a thought before she's responding with just as much fervor, abandoning all gentleness for the heated chase of his mouth, warm and soft and tasting of relief. ]
Sanji. [ she breathes between their lips, a light sound like a whimper caught when she eagerly kisses him again, conscious shame abandoned when she offers the urgent heat of her tongue for his. her insatiable hunger is in her kiss, and equally in her grip of her thin fingers slipping in past his jacket to curve around his belt, tugging him in as close as she could urge him. the current state of suit's escalation is still barely hidden otherwise, how the front of her dress had been designed with a light padding so that it could be worn without a bra and yet still not enough to shield the perky arousal of her nipples now pebbled into stiff buttons straining against the fabric.
she gasps softly against his mouth for breath, her face lingering close to his, meeting peppered kisses to his lips, face flush with a deep crimson at her fully exposed urgency, hoping she'd at least made him proud by resisting this long. ] Touch me? Please?
[ because she's realizing just how increasingly difficult it's become just to avoid touching herself even if just for a few fleeting seconds of relief, like an itch that needs to be scratched, except it's a pulsing ache between her legs, and the discomfort of a thoroughly soaked pair of panties now drenched in all the slick that's dripped from her cunt since his fingers had first caressed over hers back at the bar. ]
no subject
but maybe she would have liked to see where another few dates could take them, to map out more stories of someone who had lived in a restaurant floating in the ocean, who was now sailing on a ship to find a legendary sea, who knew all the right things to say to pull out a smile easily from her lips. maybe she would have even been bold enough to initiate the first kiss eventually, when she became more sure of it all.
it's impossible to say now how things would have steered on the path, now that it's all been escalated too fast, so much so that whatever part of her that felt that natural attraction towards him at the red cardinal is now too overcome with the guilt of dragging him into helping her, even his own voluntary insistence. but just as he had then, sanji seems to have a gift for knowing all the right steps towards easing away that tension, how one, two, three kisses find their way down along the slope of her face, each one more tender than the last, until the last hushes away concerns, reminding her again what it is she really craves here β not just sex, but the heat for him, for his hands and mouth and kisses and touch. ]
Okay. [ she repeats as before, once again taking in a deep shaky breath, even as the lingering brush of his lips to hers pools its way low, past the sweet flutter in her belly, to the urgent ache of her cunt. you're doing so damn good, he says, and that provides a surprising kind of motivation, like the reminder that this is a test of patience, and there's that competitive impulse in her that ignites, wanting to prove she's capable of getting through it. ] I can make it, I promise.
[ even if it means she's gripping the back of his jacket a little tighter as they continue to move, fingers curling into a grip that might rip the very fabric itself if he ends up pulling away from her, just to keep herself steady. she licks her lips, focuses on the lingering taste of him there, on the sweetness of how he's soothed her, on the promise of more to come.
and then they're there, according to his words, unsure of what there is until he raises his wrist to activate one particular elevator that looks no different to plenty of others they've passed before. but if this is the special one they've needed then she moves her feet with him inside of it without a second thought, her breath held with anticipation as the door slides shut and then β
his mouth collides with hers before she even has a chance to look at him, and she doesn't even spare a thought before she's responding with just as much fervor, abandoning all gentleness for the heated chase of his mouth, warm and soft and tasting of relief. ]
Sanji. [ she breathes between their lips, a light sound like a whimper caught when she eagerly kisses him again, conscious shame abandoned when she offers the urgent heat of her tongue for his. her insatiable hunger is in her kiss, and equally in her grip of her thin fingers slipping in past his jacket to curve around his belt, tugging him in as close as she could urge him. the current state of suit's escalation is still barely hidden otherwise, how the front of her dress had been designed with a light padding so that it could be worn without a bra and yet still not enough to shield the perky arousal of her nipples now pebbled into stiff buttons straining against the fabric.
she gasps softly against his mouth for breath, her face lingering close to his, meeting peppered kisses to his lips, face flush with a deep crimson at her fully exposed urgency, hoping she'd at least made him proud by resisting this long. ] Touch me? Please?
[ because she's realizing just how increasingly difficult it's become just to avoid touching herself even if just for a few fleeting seconds of relief, like an itch that needs to be scratched, except it's a pulsing ache between her legs, and the discomfort of a thoroughly soaked pair of panties now drenched in all the slick that's dripped from her cunt since his fingers had first caressed over hers back at the bar. ]