[ She makes a promise and he feels a surge of something— pride? empathy? tenderness?— flickering to life in his chest, the sure knowledge of what she’s likely going through burning like a red-hot brand in the back of his mind. He’s been in her shoes before, felt the relentlessly ache of his cock slowly ratchet higher and higher, demanding contact and attention and release and getting none of it. Tifa makes no attempt during their walk to voice her discomfort, that deathgrip on his jacket the only sign or hint at how awash with desire she must already be. It plucks at his heartstrings, knowing how she’s silently suffering, how badly her body must burn to do something far less civilized than simply walking together. He’s quick to pepper more soft, gentle kisses against her temple and her hair, quick to keep them coming during that torturous walk to the elevator.
They aren’t much. A cheap balm that he’s certain provides only a modicum of relief, a show of fondness to remind her that he will take care of her, that he will sate her body’s lust the moment they’re able.
That’s to say nothing of his own, a mellower, gentler want that he keeps in check with an iron grip, the constant reminder that she needs his help— nothing more, nothing less— playing in his head like the refrain of a song. It does nothing to dull the worry that he’s taking advantage— that without this heat, she’d have no interest in finding out what his hands, his mouth, his cock can all do to her— but there’s no time and no choice and it’s a problem he’ll deal with later, when the elevator doors aren’t cracking open and he isn’t busy letting the impulse to kiss her overriding every other thought and concern he could have.
Without even meaning to, she leaves him shuddering at the way his name sounds on her tongue— it sounds like a plea, like a prayer, like a whimper of need that only he can fulfill— and he didn’t his thoughts whirling anymore than they already are when she kisses him, too. Even with guilt and uncertainty eating away at his consciousness, his lips still part in welcome, his tongue lifting up to brush and tangle intimately with hers. His fingers softly stroke the gentle slopes of her cheeks, each touch as delicate as though her skin is porcelain to be revered, before his arm’s slipping around her waist, subconsciously aiding in her quest for closeness. There’s a noise he makes— rumbles quietly— as the softness of her breasts pools against the hard, broad plane of his chest, not even layers of fabric enough to dampen his appreciation for that failing. If the circumstances were anything else, he thinks he’d lose himself in kissing her, thinks he’d keep doing it over and over and over until their lips were kiss-swollen and sweetly aching from it. And maybe he will, still, but when the kiss breaks and he’s left softly panting against her mouth, too, fingers curling around her hip, the reminder of her need— her heat— bubbles up to the top of his mind. ]
You did so, so good, Tifa. Shit— you lasted so long. Yeah, yeah, of course I’ll touch you now. [ His voice is soft as he says it, dotting quick, gentle kisses against her lips and her cheeks, arm unwrapping from around her waist to slip between the small gap between them. Smiling against her mouth, he kisses her again— teeth nipping gingerly at her lips— before taking a half step back, adding just a hint more room. His arm moves down, nudging her legs to spread further apart, before darting in between her legs, the pads of fingertips curling around the sensitive skin low on the inside of her thigh. Any other time, he’d take his time, let his fingers slowly climb up and up and up, admiring the heat of her skin, the tone of her muscles, that point where slickness begins to cling, but he’s got more sense then that, knows she deserves better than being teased even a second longer than necessary. His hand skims over that expanse of skin, motion quick but smooth, as his lips press a kiss to her forehead, other hand gently stroking her hair. ]
Don’t worry, lovely, gonna make you fe— fuck—
[ Sanji’s eyes widen as the press of a pair of fingers finds the sodden ruins of her panties, soaked through and practically leaking her slick. He can’t help it. He groans softly, head spinning just a little, that familiar heat of want unfurling inside him, desire pooling like molten metal deep in the pit of his gut. There’s no hesitation in pulling them down, one hand tugging them as far down her thighs as he can manage with a savage yank, mouth suddenly crashing down against hers in a kiss that’s hungry and eager and desperate to taste the sweetness of her mouth all over again.
Another soft, quiet groan rumbles against her mouth as his fingers curl, lightly drawing their tips along the swollen, dripping folds of her cunt. His whole body shudders— yes, he knows her suit is flaring, knows it, knows that’s what’s responsible, but fuck, it’s hard to feel like that matters in the moment— as he murmurs against her lips in a voice that’s a soft purr. ]
Shit, you’re so fucking wet for me. Fuck, Tifa—
[ It’s not a bad thing and he tries to make that clear as his fingers shamelessly trace the shape of her cunt— mapping the dips and folds and ridges, gliding over the slit, gently rubbing the throbbing, needy bud of her clit— in a quick exploration, greedy to feel every inch of hot, slick flesh. His back curls and his lips gently press a kiss to the tip of her chin, then along the soft curve of jaw, before stamping soft kisses all along the column of her throat, each followed by a greedy little suck or a playful nip of his teeth. Not that those kisses are what she needs, not know, not as the elevator slowly rises upwards. The need to touch her is so strong— the need to make her moan and see the pleasure painted all over her gorgeous face so intense— that he’s quick to press the full flats of both fingers against her cunt, wrist flexing as it drags and grinds the digits along slickly silken flesh, not bothering with slow and steady, but rubbing against her with steady, firm, quick motions. ]
Your cunt’s so damn slick— [ He murmurs a half moment later, mouth surging up to kiss hers, bright eyes hazy with his own lust as his cock strains against the fronts of slacks, achingly hard already. ] —love that. Gonna do anything, everything I can to make you feel wonderful tonight.
no subject
They aren’t much. A cheap balm that he’s certain provides only a modicum of relief, a show of fondness to remind her that he will take care of her, that he will sate her body’s lust the moment they’re able.
That’s to say nothing of his own, a mellower, gentler want that he keeps in check with an iron grip, the constant reminder that she needs his help— nothing more, nothing less— playing in his head like the refrain of a song. It does nothing to dull the worry that he’s taking advantage— that without this heat, she’d have no interest in finding out what his hands, his mouth, his cock can all do to her— but there’s no time and no choice and it’s a problem he’ll deal with later, when the elevator doors aren’t cracking open and he isn’t busy letting the impulse to kiss her overriding every other thought and concern he could have.
Without even meaning to, she leaves him shuddering at the way his name sounds on her tongue— it sounds like a plea, like a prayer, like a whimper of need that only he can fulfill— and he didn’t his thoughts whirling anymore than they already are when she kisses him, too. Even with guilt and uncertainty eating away at his consciousness, his lips still part in welcome, his tongue lifting up to brush and tangle intimately with hers. His fingers softly stroke the gentle slopes of her cheeks, each touch as delicate as though her skin is porcelain to be revered, before his arm’s slipping around her waist, subconsciously aiding in her quest for closeness. There’s a noise he makes— rumbles quietly— as the softness of her breasts pools against the hard, broad plane of his chest, not even layers of fabric enough to dampen his appreciation for that failing. If the circumstances were anything else, he thinks he’d lose himself in kissing her, thinks he’d keep doing it over and over and over until their lips were kiss-swollen and sweetly aching from it. And maybe he will, still, but when the kiss breaks and he’s left softly panting against her mouth, too, fingers curling around her hip, the reminder of her need— her heat— bubbles up to the top of his mind. ]
You did so, so good, Tifa. Shit— you lasted so long. Yeah, yeah, of course I’ll touch you now. [ His voice is soft as he says it, dotting quick, gentle kisses against her lips and her cheeks, arm unwrapping from around her waist to slip between the small gap between them. Smiling against her mouth, he kisses her again— teeth nipping gingerly at her lips— before taking a half step back, adding just a hint more room. His arm moves down, nudging her legs to spread further apart, before darting in between her legs, the pads of fingertips curling around the sensitive skin low on the inside of her thigh. Any other time, he’d take his time, let his fingers slowly climb up and up and up, admiring the heat of her skin, the tone of her muscles, that point where slickness begins to cling, but he’s got more sense then that, knows she deserves better than being teased even a second longer than necessary. His hand skims over that expanse of skin, motion quick but smooth, as his lips press a kiss to her forehead, other hand gently stroking her hair. ]
Don’t worry, lovely, gonna make you fe— fuck—
[ Sanji’s eyes widen as the press of a pair of fingers finds the sodden ruins of her panties, soaked through and practically leaking her slick. He can’t help it. He groans softly, head spinning just a little, that familiar heat of want unfurling inside him, desire pooling like molten metal deep in the pit of his gut. There’s no hesitation in pulling them down, one hand tugging them as far down her thighs as he can manage with a savage yank, mouth suddenly crashing down against hers in a kiss that’s hungry and eager and desperate to taste the sweetness of her mouth all over again.
Another soft, quiet groan rumbles against her mouth as his fingers curl, lightly drawing their tips along the swollen, dripping folds of her cunt. His whole body shudders— yes, he knows her suit is flaring, knows it, knows that’s what’s responsible, but fuck, it’s hard to feel like that matters in the moment— as he murmurs against her lips in a voice that’s a soft purr. ]
Shit, you’re so fucking wet for me. Fuck, Tifa—
[ It’s not a bad thing and he tries to make that clear as his fingers shamelessly trace the shape of her cunt— mapping the dips and folds and ridges, gliding over the slit, gently rubbing the throbbing, needy bud of her clit— in a quick exploration, greedy to feel every inch of hot, slick flesh. His back curls and his lips gently press a kiss to the tip of her chin, then along the soft curve of jaw, before stamping soft kisses all along the column of her throat, each followed by a greedy little suck or a playful nip of his teeth. Not that those kisses are what she needs, not know, not as the elevator slowly rises upwards. The need to touch her is so strong— the need to make her moan and see the pleasure painted all over her gorgeous face so intense— that he’s quick to press the full flats of both fingers against her cunt, wrist flexing as it drags and grinds the digits along slickly silken flesh, not bothering with slow and steady, but rubbing against her with steady, firm, quick motions. ]
Your cunt’s so damn slick— [ He murmurs a half moment later, mouth surging up to kiss hers, bright eyes hazy with his own lust as his cock strains against the fronts of slacks, achingly hard already. ] —love that. Gonna do anything, everything I can to make you feel wonderful tonight.