Chapter Text
Their bed was a series of soft kisses and even softer giggles. A touch here, a caress there. How many dates had the pair of them share in now...? Tifa did not know. It was well over the double digits by now. But all she knew was that she wanted to see more of the Lady in Red... no- no, her name was Aerith. A pretty name, Tifa thought, for an even prettier person. She'd told her not long after their first couple dates, which felt like a lifetime ago, but... To hear her utter it once more, to utter it herself, was something else. It was special. Tifa buried her face into the crook of Aerith's neck, murmuring: "Sorry about my... you know, my little anxiety attack last night." She nuzzled still. "I didn't mean to lash out like that."
Shame crept over her form, but the latter woman brought a gentle hand to scrape along the wealth of her back muscles. "It's okay," she'd said sweetly, with an earnestness unbound. "I know how you feel, it's been-"
"Difficult?" Tifa muttered, glancing up at her.
Aerith nodded solemnly. No words needed, yet there were none she wished to speak of; there was a moment the pair looked into each other's eyes, red against green, that true commonality was able to be sought. In a moment of tenderness in the early hours of a sleepless morning, there was relation, there was empathy, the willingess to look into the eyes of another after a moment of weakness, a moment of insecurity, and say wordlessly I still want this. The look was brief, ever fleeting, and though there were scars neither woman seemed privy to share... there was the hope that, one day, they would. One day, but not now. Aerith brushed several strands of hair from the front of Tifa's face, tucking them outward and past the framing of her face, and the bartender smiled gently. To say her crush upon the sex worker was apparent would have been the understatement of the year, no one under the rotting pizza could miss it - but Aerith herself seemed to... abide by it, not necessarily pushing in one direction or another. But the future mattered little in regards to how the pair could define themselves and what they were - Tifa pressed a kiss to Aerith's shoulder, having whispered her ask.
Aerith blushed. Through all the talk, and lack thereof, Aerith had almost forgotten the reality of it all. She was paid handsomely to offer her services, and now she was being asked to be treated once more. "B-But... I haven't shaved-"
Another kiss. Tifa responded entirely in the way she saw best. A kiss to the cheek, and then to her collarbone, and across her breasts. Tifa captured a nipple between her lips, whilst she kneaded the other, and she suckled heartily -- there was a soft moan that worked itself up and through Aerith's throat. Tifa had savored the time she spent between Aerith's legs prior, but it had been so long... She wanted to return the favor, given the number of times she'd paid Aerith to fuck her, with or without materia-ordained spunk. Tifa's hands continued to wrap around the heft of Aerith's bosom, less imposing than Tifa's but no less pliable, no less worthy of worship. A strand of saliva bridged Tifa's bottom lip towards one of Aerith's nipples, and she allowed the moment to linger, eyes full of adoration as she slowly lowered, peppering a series of soft kisses along Aerith's abdomen, below her navel, and soon Tifa was inhaling the desire of all that Aerith had to offer. Her croon was soft, but Aerith felt even softer - Tifa could have perished in such a warm, desirable place; but the fighter had a job to do.
Tifa's nose nudged the hood of her clit, reveling in the added grool of Aerith's pleasure. She neglected to use her tongue so quickly. She was almost nuzzling against the woman's cunt, savoring the scent of her, how the hairs brushed against her nose, lips, and cheeks. Before long she was letting saliva spill from her outstretched tongue, admiring how it spilled onto the heat of her slit.
And then Tifa dug into her heat for good. Aerith's fingers raked through the length of Tifa's hair, gripping it gently, holding her face there as though she never wanted her to leave. Tifa's tongue was never quite as deft as Aerith's in terms of experience, but Tifa matched it with the likes of her enthusiasm. The fighter was sloppy with it; doubly so when, after several more minutes of salivation, Aerith savored a gentle orgasm as it rippled through her softly.
The ask that followed was hasty, breathless, but the excitement and desperation in Tifa's voice was enough to work Aerith over. How could she say no to such a woman? Tifa had excitedly, if nervously, fetched the confines of the materia-infused cock. When Tifa slipped it on, with the careful strappings of the harness, it braced to her - it felt... strange, almost too lifelike and not in a way that brought about discomfort. Tifa's hand gripped around the base of the shaft, savoring the heft of it all, stroking it deftly. Aerith watched her from afar, with something of a small smile, as she curled a finger towards her lover, saying: "C'mere... big girl."
...
The flower girl had towered over her, striking a figure most daunting, shimmying forward. Tifa was eager to sink her touch into the soft, supple flesh of the person whom so readily gave up access to her body. Tifa had wondered, then, how many times before had Aerith done this. How many men, women, whomever, had made use of her warm and affectionate touch. Were they gentle, each time? She knew well of hardship, and knew better still of the warmth a willing partner could provide. It was a feeling Tifa chased after, the endless search for something, anything--as though she'd felt it grace her presence once before and promptly slip through her weathered, worn fingers. Cloud was a man she loved once, but he was someone different now... or, at least, someone else he was trying to be. Tifa couldn't make heads or tails of where his mind was, not that she didn't care, but with such a good thing in front of her... it caused her to drift from him more and more. Recollection came with a much greater difficulty than she'd liked, but, the soft hitch she kept hidden in her throat as the flower girl, with her just a touch more voluptuous frame, pressing down against her had dispelled any further worry or want.
Tifa found her breasts once more, peppering them with kisses, wrapping her arms around the small of the woman's back, hands grasping into the wealth of flesh beneath. How Aerith's ass felt in the tightness of her grip, it was notable then but even more clear now just how starved the bartender had become. The pair met, with a soft embrace of their lips, their passionate kiss was born anew. Tifa could taste herself upon the woman's tongue from earlier in the morning, and likewise from her, driven wild from the act, and pressed against her more fiercely in response.
Aerith had whispered something to her, then, once contact was broken, nought but a small trail of saliva between them. The whisper was notable, something that brought gooseflesh to the surface of the bartender's skin as the flower girl rose slightly, reaching down to grasp at her length; there were several, careful strokes to the tender flesh, pressing it against the mound of her delicacy. A shudder, a shaky breath. Tifa dug into the soft skin of her lover, groping at, kneading, weighing the flesh in her midst; it was a delicacy, a luxury given with reckless abandon that she saw fit to savor, no matter how rough her touch had grown--but the appreciative edge did not waver. Aerith pressed a kiss to the bartender's forehead, raising slightly so that she would find purchase in the warmth the bartender had sought after.
Tifa hissed, Aerith gasped.
It was a soft, sudden noise; drowned by the shuddering coo of her lover, the length of her cock sinking slowly, snugly, into the wealth of unbearable heat. Hotter than any bath could ever be. Tifa pressed against her, in a half-hearted hug, as she held on for dear life. Once, twice. Each time she cooed, a soft whimper leaving her throat, whereas Tifa expelled more of a grunt, a primal expulsion of possession. She'd grasped onto the woman's tit, and onto a hip, and squeezed. Tifa almost squirmed from the feel of it all, the sensation of having a cock and having a tight cunt wrapped warmly around the length of it - the maddening, intense euphoria of it all had driven her into a kind of lust she'd not thought of previously; sounds of the soft clapping of flesh was but the result of a wondrous chorus. Of an ass against thick, present thighs; the dew of her cunt.
Aerith's eyes were closed tight, bottom lip falling agape in brief moments of sordid pleasure, the shocks of their mutual thrust meeting her nerves hotly, nicely. She'd muttered an expletive of her own, then, in between restrained moans - and it was then that Tifa grinned to herself, savoring how quickly she could bring someone to her level. The palm full of tit continued, toying with the flower girl now, as she rode her bartender with a continued, studious glee.
Another wince, another grunt. Aerith's enthusiasm had held strong enough to ensnare her, keep her attention focused; she'd pulled Tifa into yet another kiss, something sordid and more enthused than from before, then offered a breast for her to suckle upon as the flower girl rode her bartender more fiercely. She cooed, hitting a spot deep enough to leave her skin flush, ripe with gooseflesh, nerves quivering. She'd felt too good, found herself so terribly deep.
"I-Inside," Aerith had breathed, quietly yet hoarsely. "P-Please, I want it- fuck, I want it inside-"
The ask had made the bartender grasp onto her all the tighter, more fiercely. Her arms wrapped around the small of the flower girl's back, pressing tightly as her lips found the same, taut nipple from before, and worked her hips into the greedy lover until she were nought but a quivering mass of flesh, holding on for dear life as her hips drove into the the length of the bartender's cock, driving deeply into the recesses of pleasure she hadn't thrummed in some time. Clap, clap, clap. The soft clapping of flesh continued, with a whine falling from the flower girl as Tifa growled. It was a subtle, vicious thing--the noise, the pervasive chill that swept across Aerith and her most delicate portions, the power felt. She could not help but embrace the bartender, shroud her in a warmth she would not soon forget, for all the good she'd done. It felt too good, too ripe.
Aerith’s pussy squeezed her to no end, and a part of her feared the possibility that the flower girl’s heat wouldn’t ever let her go.
But in truth, Tifa wouldn’t want her to.
She hammered into the woman's heat, a possessive grip left to mark Aerith's skin as Tifa soon began to close the gap in a firm thrust, sowing a copious wealth of seed inside the lover. She took the flower girl's nipple by the teeth, and gnawed upon it as she came, feeling the writhing, the vicelike ensnarement as Aerith milked the bartender of her pleasure. Endless, evermore. It felt as though it lasted minutes, even if it had lasted in reality several seconds--but she held it there, held firm and strong in the aftershock of their lovemaking, that it would last. The sensation of cum spurting from the head of a thick prick left Tifa's mind spinning... it felt as though it were the best possible recourse to give thanks to Aerith, for all the labor she'd partaken in. Not that it was laborious - Tifa knew of how good she was, how good she, herself, tasted...
When the dust had settled, and the girls were showered and dressed, Tifa urged that Aerith take a payment. A solid helping of gil. Something Aerith had previously been denying in their recent dates. Aerith refused, as was her nature, but Tifa's insistence and urgency was enough to badger the flower girl into accepting it. Tifa figured it was the least she could do.
Aerith accepted, doing so on one condition: that Tifa cook her a nice dinner next time, and... possibly something more.
---
Her confidence had grown tenfold, and it showed through her tenure whenever tending bar. 7th Heaven was the talk of Lower Midgard, and all who came to soak their worries always left with a semblance of reassurance and a small pep in their step. Tifa's advice improved, her flirtation improved, but moreso her ability to listen was what increased most of all. And all the while, Cloud had noticed and couldn't help but offer his commendations. Tifa accepted them with relative grace, but... not in the way she once desired. Originally, there was nothing she wanted more than adoration and praise from the man she was crushing on - but now, she looked at him from the place of a more distant, bittersweet friend. She would always love him, in a certain kind of way, but his presence and more often the lack thereof wasn't apart of her mind in the way that it was. When he tried talking to her proper in the way he recently had, she blew him off and left the bar early to tend to what truly mattered to her. Her absence surprised him more greatly than he initially expected.
Each time there was a moment where she yearned for the touch of another, the thought was never colored with the details of that blond swordsman, not anymore; rather it was the brunette flower girl who'd grown a little good adept at eating her ass.
The way time changes a person.
That dinner and potentially more Aerith was wanting? It was all Tifa could think about, all she could do to prepare for in a way that would have made the flower girl proud. She didn't know what Aerith would have prompted her with thereafter, but this? This was her chance to take things to the next level. There was something to their pairing, when she'd wielded the materia strap-on, that seemed to click - something that finally settled in for her and her inclinations and what she wanted. All she wanted was for tonight to go well. If it didn't, would Aerith leave? Would she get cold feet? Sometimes she'd noticed Aerith withdraw. That distance triggered something in her all too familiar, and the more she fell into that wealth of despair, the more moments of insecurity she'd let show in front of her. All the more reason for Tifa to worry that Aerith would want to leave. She wouldn't blame her, much less demand that she stay. It was clear, and understandable, that a part of Aerith enjoyed the freedom of her life and her schedule, without the fear of getting too close to another - it was simply work. Very fun work. But it was work and it was valid nevertheless.
Being abandoned, that's what the bartender's mind kept returning to. Had Aerith feared the same? Had she been left behind in ways so similar to her own...? There were worries that things had gotten a touch too deep for the current confines of their relationship. With Aerith refusing payment from her so often, that had to mean the flower girl was working extra to support herself. What was her home-life like? Did she even have a stable room-and-board to return to? Tifa didn't know, she never did. Aerith had consistently been only a call away from her. Whenever she called Aerith, the flower girl would be there no matter what. As the pair were eating, a meal Aerith found to be particularly delectable, this guilt had run the bartender through like a spear into her side. The discomforting realization that she didn't know much about Aerith. It pained her. The bartender knew not the extent of the flower girl's past: Shinra, her Cetra-heritage, the lab and all the horrors of Dr. Hojo, her mother, her father; none of it -- and how could she? There was so much, too much, and despite Tifa wanting to know, she was caught upon the precipice of desire and boundaries. Over dinner, after playing with the remnants of her food somewhat sheepishly, Tifa attempted to ask, to broach the subject, encouraging Aerith to be open with her. Before she was able to get a word in edgewise, Aerith thrust the second part of her plan upon her. The mention of a discounted night at a local sauna / hot spring combination. Aerith wanted to unwind, and she was taking Tifa along whether the latter woman wished to or not. That's how it was. Tifa was always howing out, wanting to impress the girl, and yet she was always getting dragged around. Taken on new adventures. In 7th Heaven, at the night market, wherever. Tifa could not help being taken by the hand and led into new waters - this time, she mused, literally.
The soft droplets of water peppered the background as Tifa remained, naked and submerged past the pool of the private spring. In spite of the discounts, the thought of Aerith rejecting her pay burned her twice as badly now. Aerith exhaled with a blissful sound, and Tifa mustered the courage to find the words. "A dinner and a show is one thing, b-but... a dinner and a soak this nice is... well."
"Something else, huh?" Aerith beamed at her.
Tifa held strong. "Aerith... about before, uhm, before we went here...? I was going to ask you." Tifa blushed, tried to hide it, couldn't, and still retained focus. "I don't know much about you... I know we may have shared similar experiences, but, here... with you and with me, and... how close we've gotten, I wanted to ask...." The desire made her sick, weak in the knees, like she didn't deserve to speak. "Where did you come from? What was your life like... b-before? What was-"
Aerith drifted towards her, slowly, though with an awkwardness to her features. "My mom was really nice... and, uhm, well-" She rubbed at the back of her neck, lifting part of her upper half from beneath the water. Tifa had seen Aerith naked a bevy of times now, and likewise with her, but seeing the sight of them so starkly naked still felt like the first time, each time. Aerith couldn't take her eyes off of the more than generous valley of cleavage Tifa was sporting. "I'd rather not talk about any of that now. It's... it makes me too sad." She paused. "Okay?"
A beat passed and the pain remained, but, in that feeling of pain was a moment of clarity. She'd overstepped, she was pushing it. Tifa was an overthinker to a detrimental degree and it was all the more clear Aerith had a penchant for escapism and distraction, but the bartender reeled. "I-I... I understand, and I'm sorry."
Aerith edged closer. "Don't be sorry..." Closer still. "Be Tifa." She booped the bartender's nose, and despite it all, it made the latter woman smile. Aerith could feel the swelling of awkwardness. "Can I kiss you?"
Tifa looked at her, and still, despite it all, she said: "You... can do whatever the fuck you want to me, baby."
That was when they came together, a mashing of lips. Tifa knew not if Aerith's affections were entirely skin-deep or there was something more or it was, somehow, both. But Aerith was good at getting what she wanted, which meant using her charms and her body to do just that - her passion pushed Tifa's insecurity and fear to the side, as the woman kissed, trading tongues, hands roaming freely, until Aerith pulled away - overstimulated from the amount of groping and kneading Tifa had done.
Tifa neared, pulling a tit closer. She brought the breast to her mouth, lips enclosing softly around the thick, stiffened nipple. The woman moaned heartily as she began to suck. Nearing closer, Aerith's eyes were the lustful, half-lidded allure they were previously. She grabbed at Tifa's other breast, and brought the heft of it towards her lips. When she began to suckle from her lovers' teat, it felt as though the pleasure of the pool intensified tenfold. Kisses, licks, a lapping of pleasure as their grool became one with the waters. Tifa's lips pulled at the breast, and to her surprise, the more she pulled, the more she was met with the advent of pleasure; Tifa dug a hand down to touch at Aerith's heat, and without much recourse the sex worker woman was coming and coming hard. Pussy quivering softly, she and Tifa continued to suckle from each other. But, not to be outdone, Aerith's free hand drifted over to Tifa's chest. She groped and fondled at the mass of her, but then her touch drifted lower, delving past the heat of the spring. Aerith's careful digits glossed over the navel of her friend... but how deep did she truly want this to go?
This felt like the next, best step. She didn't know of what the future held. But right now, she was looking for a pussy to play with, and more. And her fingers found purchase in precisely that. When she entered Tifa, the bartending fighter nearly sobbed from the slow-mounting pleasure. The length of Aerith's digits plunged into her so deeply, so fiercely, and the curling of her fingers thereafter had Tifa crying out, pussy clamping around her and squirting a helping of pleasure in a manner pathetically rash and simply. Tifa's blush intensified as her lips left Aerith's nipple, saliva running past her lips in droves. Suddenly, she pulled one of her lover into a kiss, Aerith's breasts spilling out, becoming submerged by the pool's embrace. Tifa and Aerith threw all caution to the wind, arms wrapping around one another, tongues traded over such a small length of time - a strand of saliva bridged their lips together when the pair had finally pulled from the other, and yet their foreheads remained linked; eyes softly shut as small, delighted hums aired the mutual appraisal of their current love. Aerith continued to toy with her pussy, thrusting inward, stroking upon every downward stroke, curling towards herself; she mashed her palm against the hood of her lover's labia, and pressed as she shook her; wobbling, jostling, and urging the woman to reach her peak once more. Tifa struggled to stand in their embrace, the wealth of her backside slipping and pressing against the side, as her legs reflexively widened all the more. She cried out, pleasure choking the confines of her throat as Aerith kissed down her cheek, the length of her jawline, and towards the crook of her neck; Aerith's tongue found such sensitive flesh utterly delectable, working to enclose her lips around every spot Tifa had previously waxed dreamily over being so touchy, so sensitive, so willing to be taken advantage of.
Aerith, with her fingers knuckle-deep in her love, used her other hand to grab at the heft of her backside. The curve of the woman's ass felt firm, pliable, falling into and responding positively towards her touch. She groped, pulled at, and spread the cheek doubly so in the same vein as she plunged her fingers into the woman's cunny. She was vigorous, hungry, enraptured by the maddening delights of partaking in the pleasures of another woman, her scent, her taste, her very heat; it was so much, too much, but not enough to stop Aerith from bringing the hand closer, her middle finger finding the delectable asshole of her lover; she rubbed circles into it, encircling the pad of her finger against the bud until, after a moment of slow-failing resistance, she mewled as her bud was parted. Aerith let her finger slip into Tifa's ass, soon plunging deep so as to hook the woman, never wanting to let her lover go.
Tifa shuddered, letting the waves of pleasure fall over her. There was a hitch to her breathing, the racing of her heart hitting fast and hard, fluttering in congress with the advent of her lover's tender ministrations - an overwhelming shudder tore through her as yet another orgasm came, slowly and with little care as it stabbed into her nerves, lighting her core aflame. Both holes clenched and clutched at their respective intrusions, and it took little time for the wealth of additional pleasure to find itself marking the length of her lovers' hands. Aerith cooed, a careless whisper fluttering at the sensitive ear of Tifa: "That's my girl..."
Tifa, in spite of all her previous inclinations, for all her defenses, nearly melted into the embrace of her lover; it felt dreamy, surreal, the mounting pressures of the world and the toll it'd taken upon her... and yet here she was, nestled in such a place, nestled against the bosom of a woman she could confide in; as she'd previously done. She pulled Aerith into a kiss - there was naught else she could do, much less refuse, in their moment of passion. Tongues were traded as carefully and sloppily as were hands upon breasts; touching, groping, rolling the length of one stiffened nipples betwixt a forefinger and thumb or another, or both; the women sought comfort in each other amidst a maddening, surreal circumstance, and took heart in knowing that they would always have this -- this moment of blissful passion, a tension let loose, would be theirs and theirs alone, and the gratefulness of that would continue to fester until one or both of them urged the desire to return.
Aerith moaned against her lover, and urged her body to move, to spin around in order for her to perform something even more special than she had before. Aerith knew well of Tifa's secret wants.
Tifa, having read the woman's mind, moved upwards. She lay on her knees, facing the edge of the spring horizontally now as opposed to before, wherein her ass stuck out as she crossed her arms against the rim of the spring adjacent to Aerith's placement. To move, presenting herself so openly, there was a notable blush upon Tifa's features still. The way in which the low level of soft, warm light left shadows upon her features, accentuating each and every curve of her perky frame. Aerith's hand briefly cupped the sensitive heat of her lover, and then traced a lone finger further north, rubbing against the tight, pink bud of the fighter's backside. She'd winked it, once, twice, until the woman went mad with desire and found herself peppering kisses along the taint and towards the hole itself, starting simply with kisses meant for more romantic means, until her tongue inevitably found purchase in Tifa's most delicate of places. The fighter mewled, a soft groan working itself through her in a way most sickly, her cheeks burning red with an impassioned fury - the kind wicked women like her saw fit to milk, to no end.
Aerith's thumbs pressed into the wide expanse of her lovers backside, spreading her cheeks, allowing herself the opportunity to feast upon things more divine than any scripture; but the gentle, ravenous consumption was met with a quick smack to one of the fighter's cheeks. A yelp, a coo, a mewl. It was like music. She tasted savory and of more heavenly delights. Her taste, her scent, her very feel. Aerith had woven a webbing of letters into the fighter’s succulent asshole, and she did not stop.
Tifa yelped, again, crying out in a moment of restrained bliss. Several teeth found her knuckle thereafter, as she gnawed carefully into it, teething through the shocks of pleasure working through her like horrid waves. She'd hated this, hated every moment she was robbed of all fight and was left wanting nought but to be adored and fucked and bred and used. Aerith could feel it, how hot and heavy and dripping the sex between her plush thighs were--and Aerith was more than content to palm at it, carefully, teasingly. She was the worst, in the best way possible.
Tifa shuddered, the tireless refrain from the treasure-trove of pleasure, yet she had managed to turn the tables upon her lover; yet the more she spun, the less intense the pleasure was. She grasped Aerith and began to fondle her incessantly, but from below, beneath the waters, the resurgence of the ghostly tongues, tendrils, and otherwise pecking at them; at their pussies and assholes as they mashed lips. Tifa pressed Aerith against the edge of the bath, and continued her assault. "You dirty fucking girl-"
Aerith knew just how to cheer her up. But would it have been enough? She didn't know yet, but one day she would.
---
Another night, another moment of bliss.
Tifa's bottom lip fell open to gasp for a portion of air, and that was when the wealth of Aerith's cock began to fill her gullet. Tifa's moan was muffled, and then the soft, slick, lewd sounds of a dick slowly sawing itself to and fro could be faintly registered to the ambience of her bedroom. Aerith cooed aloud, chewing into her bottom lip as she worked more of her dick past the plushness of Tifa's lips. "Mm... That mouth feels so good. You're doing so well..." She gripped and tugged, carefully urging more of the girl's head down the length of her cock. And then, with a tender and agonizing slowness, Aerith pulled Tifa from off of the length. Her lips were carefully dragged from along the wealth of each and every sensitive inch; glossing over much of her arousal. And when Tifa's lips were popped from off of the length, she gasped aloud, breaths clinging to her as a lone strand of saliva clung from her bottom lip to the underside of the head. Copious helpings of pre were beginning to dot the head of Aerith's prick, and though the materia-infused cock held firm, it drooped faintly, allowing a dollop of that pre to fall upon Tifa.
Tifa had never sucked cock before, not this thoroughly, this voraciously, but she loved it, craved it, wanted more. She wanted to suck those fake, fat balls into her mouth but instead she continued to work her tongue along the frenulum. "Are you going to fuck me?" she asked.
Aerith was upon her in seconds.
...
Aerith lay behind her, as both women were upon their sides. She held her close, fingers glossing over not just the wealth of muscle and her fat tits, but now neatly put together her pussy was. Aerith's whisper was chilling, everlasting. "It's so pretty... just like the rest of you." Thrust, clap. Thrust, clap. Aerith's hips lazily but firmly collided with Tifa's backside, as the length was spreading the lips of her pussy wide. The fighter mewled, shrouded in a warmth unbecoming, and held onto Aerith firmly, desperately, like she was never wanting her to leave. She wanted Aerith to keep going, to never stop, to thrust an thrust until she was able to pump her pussy full of cum day after day after day. The desire to be used and fucked and bred was working itself into her like a knife most foul, but the desire to have her pussy used, leaking with seed, and still with the promise of potentially something more was a thought that shamed Tifa greatly. She cried out as Aerith braced one of her legs, lifting it upwards as she continued to hammer into the bartender's helpless pussy. She'd never wanted to be properly bred before... but with Aerith, well, Aerith changed her world in more ways than one. As far as Tifa knew, Aerith could do whatever she pleased with her, so long as it was done with love and with insistence. Aerith peppered kisses along the wealth of her deltoid, the crook of her neck, taking in the exasperations of her partner all too well. Aerith could feel the length being gripped like a vice from the heat of the bartender's cunt, and the sensations it brought upon her were maddeningly delightful.
But then Tifa had said it: I love you. She said it aloud, breathlessly, in a moment of euphoria.
Aerith felt dumbfounded, heart fluttering and core burning and mind racing, and all she could respond with was that, in truth, Tifa made Aerith happy. The bartender began to sob, crying aloud amidst the throes of pleasure, in the heat of the moment. Aerith knew not whether they were tears of joy or sorrow or the horrid, all too relatable mixture of both, and though her mind continued to race, she destined to set it aside as she wanted to prove to Tifa how much the woman meant to her. But not through words.
The women rearranged, with Tifa flat on her back, legs hooking over Aerith's shoulders, as the mess of her materia-infused strap-on slipped from her pussy lips and soon found them evermore. Aerith settled Tifa into something of a mating press, as her hips began to hammer away at the tight heat of her cunt. Tifa's mind was threatening to go blank from the ordeal, the pressure mounting, the joy building. Aerith could feel her body tingle from the onslaught of pleasure, her DNA activating the truest confines of what the strap was capable of; and Tifa was already coming. The sensation was too hot, too tight, too much; tearing through the both of them that, instead of waiting and riding the wave with her gently, Aerith threw herself into overtime and worked her hips like a piston all the more into Tifa. The women shared in their appraisals, the moans and groans of lovers meeting, until Aerith was sowing a more than copious wealth of seed as deep inside of the woman as she could possibly manage. Tifa cried out, her cheeks marked with the remnants of tears, as she felt the feeling of being pumped so full; she bordered on blacking out, as she once had previously, but the warmth inside her cunny ran deep.
Deeper than she would soon realize.
---
That was the thing about desire, when compounded by distance and moments of despair, it could ruin a person; lead to a wealth of misunderstandings, needless yearning, and then some. Aerith couldn't deny her feelings for Tifa, despite the moments where she was more than the flower girl had bargained for. What started as a meager fuck in an alleyway had boiled over, bubbling into something sweet. Aerith loved her work, loved the time she was able to spend doing as she pleased, yet her thoughts would drift back to that muscled bartender evermore.
Yet Tifa had grown distant in the last few days, alarmingly so. A few scant messages here and there, tiny formalities mostly, wasn't enough. Something was wrong.
Was it her words? Had she not been able to prove to her how much she loved her? Was the phrase that she made her happy not enough? Or was it something more? Had she found someone else? Was she fucking someone else? Aerith might not have initially minded, though given the way Tifa had acted previously, Aerith had half a mind to rib her to no end, teasing on and on... But it was unlike her.
Aerith, ever the taker of initiative, cornered Tifa, meeting her at her home, to uncover the truth. Tifa was awkward, colder, more avoidant than the norm... but Aerith's perception proved better than that, and tearfully, Tifa expressed the concern.
Her hand glossed gently over her navel. Aerith's eyes glanced there immediately, and she already knew, but Tifa had confirmed it anyway. "A-Aerith.... I'm pregnant...."
The flower girl's mind was spinning to no end. Her people, her DNA, and the power of materia had guaranteed all of this? Had it really been true? Aerith looked at her, asking the obvious more for the sake of posterity. "The father must be a lucky guy...."
Tifa shook her head, and approached the flower girl, placing her hands upon the woman's shoulders. "No!... Aerith... I..." Tifa restrained herself, keeping the tears at bay. "I haven't... been with anyone else, not since you and I started..."
Aerith's eyes widened somewhat, taken aback by the ordeal. Tifa explained that her distance was due to not only the anxiety of what their relationship was and where it would potentially lead; but the newfound prospect of motherhood that could soon blossom. Tifa at first refused to accept her, she didn't want to bear the weight of such a burden, but...
Aerith hushed her, warning that stress was a terrible thing for a baby. "Stop worrying so much!" she proclaimed. Tifa gave her a look, almost comically, and then the flower girl redoubled her efforts: "Tifa... you've spent these last few weeks with your mind in a tizzy, worrying incessantly and here I thought you didn't like me anymore... Tifa," she caressed her cheek, "it... It's going to be okay." She paused. "Okay?"
There was sincerity in her eyes. Tifa saw it, felt it, but could she accept it?
Suddenly, the tears she previously refrained from had given way. Aerith embraced her firmly as the bartender broke in a quiet sob, with the flower girl holding her closely. Aerith's whisper was all that she needed. "I love you, Tifa Lockhart..."
There were no further words needed. Aerith's grip upon her, the reassurance, the finality of such words being broached; it left the bartender, the fighter, the lovestruck woman's head spinning. She didn't want a future, much less a future with child, without Aerith.
And now, in the wake of overcoming their mutual misunderstanding, she wouldn't have to.
---
What once began as a meager meeting of carnality, so many months ago, had blossomed into something more -- a love, deep and true, festered and cultivated well between two women. Tifa was in love with Aerith and, in kind, Aerith was in love with her all the same. There was a child along the way, soon enough, which meant a new journey would be upon them; one they were willing to take together, hand in hand. These days, Aerith had retired from her nightlighting as a flower girl offering more than simply flowers -- and though a part of her missed it, the love and affection Tifa had given more than made up for it. Through her best efforts, Aerith was attempting to be more open with her - slowly but surely.
Doubly so, when one of Aerith's older clients, a person whom had enjoyed her delicacies quite often, had fallen to failing health and left her a large sum of gil; as thanks for their time together. This time wasn't spent with just heaps of fucking, but conversation, too. Aerith was good at poking at people, getting to know them, getting them to open up and show more of themselves to her in a way she so seldom had. She mourned their passing, but saw fit to use the boon given to her to allow for as much time with Tifa and their child as she could. It was the least she could do.
She had her hands full, after all.
....
Shafts of sunlight shone through the collection of flowers by the window, pushing through and slowly glossing over the wealth of their bed. Fingers rolled carefully across the expansive real estate of her larger, more ample, and perky bosom. A soft gasp fell from her lips, and that gasp had soon devolved -- or evolved, by her estimation -- into a more earnest moan as the hand thrust forward in a gentle, yet hunger-filled, motion. The pads of Aerith's fingers, just three, were barely able to contain the swell of breast beneath her grip. Tifa's eyes were closed shut, had been the entire time, as she lay back in the comfort of Aerith's embrace. The struggles of a pregnant woman were enough in and of themselves, a difficult life, but the pair were making it, they were getting by; being responsible with savings where need be, and tending to 7th Heaven and the selling of flowers elsewhere.
Another, much softer coo fell from her lips, forming to part, having snuck up through the confines of her throat, whilst her flower girl performed her work - her sense of admiration.
"Don't stop," said Tifa, "please-"
There was a soft shade of crimson over her face now, in light of her pleas. Who was she to deny the prettiest girl that she knew? It was then that her other hand had come into play, sinking into the soft and succulent flesh of her other tit, and began to squeeze in unison. Tifa cried out, soothing the tension held within her ample chest; she'd rolled her head back, calling Aerith's name. It came as a series of weak-willed, throaty pleas. Interspersed with the soft, unbecoming sounds of a woman being milked as though she were a mere sow. Something in Tifa, in the way that she was, bore credence to the idea that it was a kink she'd always been into, but never was she strong enough to admit it--until now.
Aerith's lips closed in, capturing one nipple as her grip upon the other had lessened. And still, the lengths of Tifa's slender fingers came to rake through the back of her head, threading through the mess of hair therein. She'd giggled, softly, as the bartender petted her head. There was a soft whimper in her throat, something affectionate and wanting, endearing her to lighten the pressure she'd felt. "I love you so much," she'd whispered, the raking continued. Before long, she pressed a kiss to the wealth of Aerith's forehead, a soft and gentle motion. And, in that moment, the pair were at peace. No thought of potential consequence, nothing to dwell upon but all the throbbing from the results of her tender ministrations. Aerith groped and fondled at the wealth of Tifa, her tits, the wealth of her pregnant tummy, and that backside. She could never forget how tasty that ass of hers was. Tifa, foregrounded by the silhouette of a nearly trimmed and curated collection of flowers behind her, glimmered under the light beautifully.
Aerith worked Tifa over until, under the throes of several minutes of passion, she had the bartender coming hard; so much so that the pair had nearly collapsed into the mess of their sheets, the air still as they both lay panting and with a mild sheen of sweat.
Aerith leaned over, lazily peppering her partner with a litany of kisses. Tifa remained in heaven, laying flat upon her back, hand glossing over the pregnant slope of her stomach, as Aerith came up to join her. She pressed a loving kiss to her lips and, after a moment of pause, of stillness and rest, Aerith finally spoke with a greater honesty than from before.
"So," she started, "let me tell you a little more about where I come from..."