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Summer had come to Gaia, the sun beating down on the concrete and metal of Edge, heating the city to uncomfortable temperatures. Infrequent rains did little to cool the cramped, confined spaces between buildings, moisture turning to steam as it hit hot pavement, making the air muggy and humid.
In Seventh Heaven, ceiling fans turned continually in every room, shifting the still, heavy air as much as possible.
It wasn't enough.
Giving up on sleep, Tifa padded down to the bar in just her bra and panties, grateful that Marlene and Denzel were spending the summer in Costa del Sol with Barret. Cloud was the only one home, and should he happen to get an eyeful, it wouldn't be anything he hadn't already seen and was eager to see again.
Glass of ice water in hand, she hoisted herself up to sit on the granite bar while she drank. Bliss was chill stone beneath her thighs, cold liquid down her throat, and a frosty glass to run gently over her cheeks and forehead. After long moments she set the glass aside, gathered her hair away from her neck, and lay back to press overheated flesh to wonderfully cool granite from nape to knee. It was wonderful. She let herself go boneless, and almost moaned at the sense of relief.
She was still there, legs dangling off the end of the bar, when Cloud came in search of a drink half an hour later. His quiet footsteps faltered a bit when he saw her, but his voice was as composed as ever when he spoke. "Tifa? What are you doing?"
"Wondering if it would be irresponsible to use an ice spell to cool the bar down again." She'd been wondering it for awhile, and if the materia hadn't been located upstairs in the stifling heat of Cloud's office, she might have moved on to trying it out instead of just thinking about it.
He huffed a small laugh in response, and she watched him through her lashes as he reached above the counter for a glass. Blond spikes were sleep tousled, messier than usual in some places, flatter in others. Like her, he was stripped down in deference to the heat, wearing nothing but a thin pair of shorts. Muscles in his chest, thighs, and calves were clearly delineated in the dim light filtering through the blinds, and as always, she felt her pulse speed up and her toes tingle at the sight.
Closing her eyes, Tifa listened to the chink of ice against glass, the sound of the faucet and the trickle of running water. "You couldn't sleep either?" she asked as he fixed himself a drink.
"I was sleeping fine. I woke when you came down here." And had remained awake, listening, worried and curious about why she was up and wandering the house.
"I hate you." The words were pouty, without any heat, and he chuckled again. Tifa was not amused. "It's too hot to sleep!"
He made a sympathetic sound, then completely negated the effect by dropping an ice cube on her belly. "Maybe this will help."
"Cloud!" Eyes flying open, she rose up on one elbow in protest, but his hand stopped her, pressing her back down flat. Fingers light and barely there, he sent the cube skating across her stomach, drawing figure eights and random patterns, and – if she wasn't mistaken – a heart. She giggled at the thought, even as she relaxed under his ministrations. It did feel nice.
When the first cube melted, he pressed a fresh one into her hand, and she took over where he left off, dragging it across the curves of her breasts, the sharp jut of her collarbone. Her eyes had long since fallen shut when she felt him move away, and heard the scrape of a barstool across the floor. Eyelashes fluttering open, she found him perched comfortably on said chair, having shifted it to the end of the bar between her legs.
"What are you doing?" The question sounded breathy to her own ears.
He smiled, just the corner of his mouth turning up, and took a long drink from the glass in his hand. "Watching you."
Tifa moaned, all the arousal she'd been studiously ignoring from the moment he touched her surging forward to demand attention. Tilting her head back, knowing it was teasing, she ran the ice cube along her throat even as she protested, "It's too hot for that, too!"
Palms, cool from the glass he'd been holding, curled around her ankles. "Are you sure?" His breath was light and tinged with chill as well, brushing her knee as he spoke. "Don't you want me to help you fall asleep?"
Slim hips arched of their own accord, and he took that for his answer. Fingers skimmed up her legs to curl around her panties, eased the scrap of fabric down until she could kick her feet free. Arching her back, she let him unfasten her bra next, then removed the garment herself as he stepped away, moving behind the bar. "Close your eyes," he instructed, when her lips parted to ask what he was doing. Obedient and trusting she did, reclining naked as she waited. The sound of the freezer door opening, and the crack of plastic, told her he was getting more ice, and she shivered a bit in anticipation.
He didn't make her wait long.
The rim of a wooden bowl – the kind she used to serve peanuts – brushed her side as he placed it on the bar. The spill of water over ice let her know he was drinking, followed by the click of glass on granite as he set it aside. Then he was kissing her, lips cool and moist against her own, tongue unusually chill as it thrust inside to stroke hers. Her fingers raised to keep him close, and he obliged until the heat of her mouth warmed his. Again he drank, even as she heard his fingers dip into the bowl.
Dragging the ice over her skin in long, smooth strokes, he started at the well of her throat, giving her time to adjust to the near-shocking cold before teasing the more sensitive skin of her breasts. Down the valley between them, then up around the outer curves, spiraling inward to circle around her nipple. Rosy flesh tightened insistently, pointed and aching, and his drink-cooled tongue swirled around it, lapping up the melt the ice had left behind. He repeated the procedure on the other side, then closed lips and tongue around both her nipple and the sliver of ice that remained, sucking carefully, confusing her body with a mix of tingling cold and vibrant warmth. The only constants were pleasure and need, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, moaning his name, asking for more.
The next piece of ice he playfully chased with his tongue, nudging it down over her ribs and flat tummy to nestle in her navel, where he licked at it like an ice-cream cone. Long minutes later, when only cold skin lay beneath the caress of his mouth, he raised his head, hands stroking over her thighs to still their restless movement. Hooking an ankle around the barstool behind him, he pulled it closer and sat, shoulders between her knees, and her feet brushing his thighs. Then he reached for his glass, and drained it.
Eyes sleepy and dark with hunger and want, Tifa watched, following the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. Cloud's smile, small as it was, was wicked with promise as he set the tumbler aside, and brushed icy fingers, still damp from their latest searching foray in the bowl beside her, over the hot and swollen petals of her sex. She arched mindlessly into the too-cool touch, gasped as something frigid and long, cylindrical and delicate slipped inside her. Bottle ice, she recognized distantly, before his tongue stroked firmly between her folds, the tip nudging the ice deeper and stealing all thought.
Cloud moaned and Tifa shivered, both from the cold and the vibrations against her. Slender fingers dug into his shoulders, tugged hungrily at his hair as her hips circled minutely, trapped between cool stone and hot man. The blade of his nose slid against her clit, teasing, as he lapped at the mixture of melt and arousal between her thighs. When his tongue warmed and the ice was nearly gone, he searched in the bowl again, fingers returning to ease inside her, wonderfully chill. His mouth searched higher, cool again from yet more ice, and his bottom lip brushed lightly against her swollen bud.
The hottest thing in the room were his eyes, glowing knowingly as she cried out for more.
Arms boneless, her hands slid from his shoulders to clench around the edge of the bar, his glass and the wooden bowl both tumbling to the floor with her movement. Ignoring the noise, she arched, shoulders pressing hard into the granite beneath her, head back. Cloud shifted a bit, thighs pressing up under her feet to give her more purchase, and it was impossibly perfect. She moaned and writhed and begged under the caress of his tongue, the slick, smooth, glancing strokes of the ice melting in his mouth. Inside her, fingers curled, beckoning her to come; and she did, mouth open but silent, throat tight.
When it was all over except the lingering shivers, he pulled her slack form from the bar and carried her upstairs. Her sheets were smooth and slightly warm against cool damp skin, mind and body content and drowsy. Still, she protested when he made to leave, was answered by another of his soft, almost soundless laughs.
"Tomorrow. I can wait." His knuckles brushed her cheek as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep."
Tifa smiled, and snuggled into her pillow as her bedroom door closed behind him. Sleep.
She suspected she was going to need it.