![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
[Final Fantasy VII] "Unknotted" - Barret/Tifa
Summary: Building a HQ for Avalanche is a lot of work. Tifa soaks in the shower after a hard day. Barret offers her a massage. Smut with a couple of pages of buildup.
Length: 4300 words
Rating: M for explicit M/F
Notes: Some time ago, I scribbled down an idea along the lines of Barret and Tifa, non-penetrative and non-romantic sex, because you don't have to have that kind of relationship to offer a helping hand, or a soapy titwank. Which may not be the most tasteful thing I've ever written, but it seems to get the point across. First started writing this about a year ago - hopefully that's not too obvious, but I've stared at this for much too long to be able to notice things like that anymore.
Tifa groaned as the first drops of warm water from the shower spattered on her skin. She leaned her head against the wall, wincing at the contact with still-cold tiles, but didn't have the energy to stand up straight. Her arms hung limp at her sides, aching from the day's activities.
Trying to restore the beat-down old building Barret had bought to a serviceable condition was different from martial arts. She had ached a lot when she first started training with Master Zangan, too, but it had been another kind of soreness. She couldn't imagine what this would have been like if she didn't have that training already. Goodness, but she probably couldn't even have lifted some of those things back then, much less carried them around the way she had during the day.
But as the water washed over her, turning her long brown hair dark and heavy, she decided it still felt pretty good, building something. She had learned how to fight so that she might protect herself, and others. But it was still something destructive. Even knowing what the place would be used for, she would be proud of the work she had done here.
She tried to move, and groaned again. Even with the hot water soothing her tired muscles, her arms, back and shoulders complained loudly.
Just a little while longer, she decided, and remained as she was, leaning slightly forward, forehead against the wall, and closed her eyes.
She had no idea how long that 'little while' had stretched when a rap on the door startled her out of her reverie.
"You okay in there?"
Barret's voice was deep and loud, and carried well over the sound of the running shower. She wasn't quite so sure about her answer, which was barely a grunt.
"Yeah," she managed, a bit louder. "'s open."
The door opened a crack. She shivered a little at the sudden waft of cool air, but the water ran over most of her body, so it shielded her from the worst of it. There was a chuckle from the room outside.
"Gonna feel that in the morning, huh?"
She let out another grunt.
"Told you to take it easy. It takes some gettin' used to."
She turned her head slightly, so she'd be able to glare at him, but she didn't have much for it - it was dark in the next room, and she could barely make out the man outside.
But he could see her, and maybe the glare had been effective, because he sounded almost apologetic when he offered to rub her back. Even so, she hesitated for a moment. Part of her - an admittedly childish part - wanted to insist that she'd be fine, tell him she didn't need any help, but in the end the offer was too tempting, and she knew she'd be kicking herself tomorrow if she missed out.
"'d be nice," she mumbled, turning her head back.
There was a rustling noise from the other side of the door, thick, heavy clothes being pulled off, requiring just a little more time and effort than one might expect.
She managed to turn her head again as the door opened wider to let Barret into the shower, which had never been meant for more than one person and suddenly seemed rather cramped. He looked nowhere near as worn out as she felt, but his skin was dusty and his movements perhaps a bit ginger. The ever-present dogtag glittered on his broad chest, but her gaze was drawn to his right arm. It was such a small detail, but the base of his prosthetic arm, the part permanently grafted to his body, was dusty and flecked with dirt, while the robotic hand at the end glinted as if recently polished. The work during the day had required sturdier tools, and he had only just changed the attachment back. Must be useful, she thought occasionally, even knowing that she'd never willingly give up a hand, a real flesh-and-bone hand, for that kind of convenience.
When he touched her, it was only with his left hand. It was large - even now it amazed her how big he was - and rough, thick and heavy, but the touch was light and careful when he brushed her hair aside and began to rub her back and shoulders.
"Here," he said, "lean your arms 'gainst the wall. You got no balance like that."
Tifa just groaned. He chuckled. "That bad, huh? Gonna have you an' Wedge runnin' some errands tomorrow. Get you off the heavy liftin' for a bit."
She was about to protest, tell him she was every bit as capable of continuing the work on the building as Biggs and Jessie, but then Barret slid his hand up to her left shoulder and began to knead it - still gently, but with a little more pressure than before - and she had to bite back a yelp instead.
No, she realized, perhaps running errands wasn't so bad after all.
Barret gave another chuckle behind her and continued massaging her, continuing down her arm. She was stronger, had more muscle mass than most girls, but Barret's hand still easily encircled her arm. As used to it as she was, a tiny part of her was still amazed by it, and another, even tinier part found it... she wasn't sure if it was frightening or exhilarating. Right now, she didn't care. Whatever it was, it felt good. He slowly worked his way down her arm, and she shivered.
Without comment, Barret continued, down to her wrist, then back up again, gradually increasing the pressure. She groaned again, but it wasn't just from pain this time.
When he reached her shoulder, she slowly lifted her arm, moving everything experimentally. It still hurt, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when she first stepped into the shower.
When he finished with her right arm, she raised that too, steadying herself with both elbows on the wall, hands folded together and her forehead resting on them. It felt a little better than the wall.
Barret grunted approval and started working on her back instead. That was worse off. She had been careful, knew how to lift properly, but some of those things had been heavy and awkward, and with stuff scattered all over the place, it hadn't always been possible to get in the best position.
As nice as it felt to be part of building something, Tifa decided, the massage was still the best thing to happen to her all day. In another world, in a different time, Barret might have found himself another profession. She imagined the building looking a little cleaner, a Wallace Massage Parlour sign over the entrance and Barret in civilian clothes standing in the door, and found herself laughing quietly, shoulders shaking. It still hurt a little, but not enough to dampen her good mood. Barret stopped what he was doing, however, and placed his hand on her shoulder.
"You doin' okay?"
She nodded. "Just had a funny thought. Say, Barret, how did you get so good at this?"
He squeezed her shoulder before moving on down to her back again. "Practice," he said as he dug his fingers in a little harder, making her jump. "Try workin' a mine for a few years and you'll be an expert real quick."
That made sense. It also made the image of the Wallace Massage Parlour stronger in her mind, except now with the bonus of a bunch of burly miners lining up outside. She giggled.
"Lots of manly affection, huh?"
Barret poked her with a thick finger, and she yelped and jumped. He pretended nothing had happened and continued to knead her stubborn muscles.
"Yeah, maybe," he said after a while. "Mostly unmarried guys needin' it. Once they got hitched, it's the kinda thing husbands an' wives do for each other."
"I imagine," Tifa said with a chuckle, and tried to come up with something to distract Barret from the subject of married life. This was far too pleasant to go in the direction of the more depressive subjects.
"So," she continued, "how long do you think it will take? Before we're done with the house, I mean."
Barret laughed softly, a deep, rumbling sound. "I 'preciate the thought, but it's fine." He squeezed her shoulder, firm but gentle, thumb stroking the back of her neck.
She felt like she should say something, but in the end she did not, and somehow that felt fine, too. Barret continued to ply her aching back and shoulders, his fingers large, rough and careful. She closed her eyes, and had no idea how much time passed.
Finally, some minutes later, or maybe hours, Barret's hand came to a stop, resting on her left shoulder, thumb once more on the back of her neck, fingers curling around her collarbone. He squeezed her lightly, and she shivered. She had been too distracted to appreciate it before, but she was amazed at how strong he felt, even when he was only using a fraction of that strength. It was impressive, beautiful, and still just a tiny bit frightening. And she'd never be able to find the words to tell him that.
"Thanks," she said, lowering her arms and rotating her shoulders. It was surprisingly easy, even given the weight on one side. "I feel a lot better."
"Need anythin' else?" he rumbled behind her, a bit coy; thumb beginning to stroke her neck again. And again she shivered.
It tingled, all the way down her spine, all the way up in her head.
"That'd... be nice," she said, feeling like an echo of herself. A slightly hoarser echo, warm with the smile forming on her lips.
"Really nice," she added. He chuckled, hand tightening a little. Still not enough to hurt, but enough to make her knees weak.
"Wanna lean back?"
She Mmed and let him pull her away from the wall.
Her head fell back against his chest, broad and hard. Her shoulders dug into - tried to dig into - his stomach. Barret's body was only marginally softer than the wall she'd been leaning against earlier. For a few moments she just remained still and silent, taking in the sensation of him breathing behind her, deep and slow - though still a little faster than usual, she thought, her smile widening.
After that brief moment, she raised her arms, reaching high up and behind her, latching on to his shoulders, pressing herself harder against him. (Certainly not pulling him closer! She might as well have tried to move that wall.)
As she moved, his hand slid off her shoulder and she next felt it on her hip, easily curling around it, fingertips stroking her stomach. She barely heard it, but she could feel a rumble in his chest, and chose to believe it was a hum of appreciation. She couldn't deny that she took pride in the strength of her body, and it was... nice to think that he appreciated it, too.
Humming in response, she leaned back harder and tightened her muscles under his grasp. He chuckled, another deep rumble against her. Further down, against the small of her back, she could feel something stir, something warm and smooth.
Barret's hand slid down from her belly, lower fingers stroking the dark hair slicked against her skin by the water. She had been prepared for it, and she didn't think she'd be so sensitive there, but the touch made her draw in a short, sharp breath through her nose, nails momentarily digging into Barret's shoulders, legs flexing as she rose on her toes, trying to pull away from it. The tip of his cock, still not fully hard, pressed in between the upper slopes of her buttocks as she ground against him; she felt it twitch and then she was sinking down again, relaxing.
"Easy," he said, fingers retreating a little, back up her stomach, where they lay still.
"Sorry. Sensitive." The water, she thought, and certainly the massage. Hell, mostly the massage! It was probably the best kind of foreplay she'd ever had.
"Again," she said, rather than try and explain. "Please."
She still shuddered when she felt it, but kept her heels on the ground even though her legs clenched.
If Barret noticed, he did not show. His fingers continued as before, caressing her lower belly on their way down; then combing through the dark hair below. He stopped there, toying with it, stroking it between his fingers until she began to relax again.
If relax was the word for it. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation and she felt a curious awareness of her own body, her skin, as if she could identify every drop of warm water falling on her, trickling down her body. Barret's body behind her seemed more solid, more real. His chest and stomach rising and falling as he breathed. His cock, hard now, straining against her lower back and buttocks.
Water fell on her face, washed down her cheeks, dripped from her chin. It fell on her breasts, made her want to squirm and touch - no, to have them touched. Barret never did, unless she asked him. Knew all too well the kind of attention they got her.
Unaware of her thoughts, Barret continued down, hand sliding down her thigh, thumb barely avoiding her sex on the way; thick enough that even when he stroked her left leg, she could feel him against her right as well, inner thighs tingling. Her toes wanted to curl, tried to dig into the wet, tiled floor. The insides of her thighs were a weakness, made her feel all frizzy and tingly. Her fingers straightened and curled, kneading Barret's shoulders, and she rolled her head left and right, back and forth over his chest.
If she had wanted to ask him to pay attention to her breasts, the thought vanished from her mind.
Barret said nothing, did nothing more than continue what he was doing. Slid his hand down her thigh, as far as he could reach. Then up again, fingers nearly encircling her leg, thumb on the inside, leaving, she could just swear, a trail of sparks in its wake, glittering golden.
Her legs trembled. He kneaded her muscles as they flexed under his touch, once more waiting for her to settle down before he continued.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut until weird patterns started flashing before them. Let go with her left hand, slid it down Barret's arm, savouring the sensation of hard shapes under her palm. He did not react, not until she reached his hand.
Then, he allowed her to guide it higher.
Tifa's pleasure had always been small, quiet, private. She made more noise during the massage before than she usually did being touched here. But when Barret's middle finger curled between her thighs and in underneath her, covering her entire sex top to bottom, side to side - when she felt it press against her, even without any force behind it, just enough that she knew it was there - she whimpered, a needy, nearly desperate sound. Her thighs clamped hard around the thick finger between them. Light flashed before her eyes; thunder echoed in her ears, short and sharp.
That finger curled, tip parting her slick, swollen folds, across the entrance between, and then, finally, up against her clit, stiff with arousal, only partly concealed under its hood. The initial touch sent a shock through her entire body, made her freeze, breath catching in her throat. And then he continued to move. Friction.
Tifa's head thumped against Barret's chest as she shuddered, nails raking his skin. Her hips jerked, grinding her wet, sensitive flesh against that thick, callused finger. Friction, raw and jagged, resonated through her. Down her trembling legs, up her stomach and chest. It filled her head, filled it until she could feel nothing else.
Without a sound, Tifa yielded to the sensation, and it washed her away.
She couldn't remember much of it later. Just the sensation of that friction filling her entire body until it seemed about to burst.
The next thing she knew, she had slumped against Barret's chest and he was still stroking her clit, but through the hood this time, avoiding direct contact. Her heart pounded in her ears, her body ached, her sex pulsed, Barret's touch turning each aftershock into something more like a new tiny orgasm of its own.
"Barret," she breathed, clinging to him with whitened knuckles. "Both hands. Please."
There was no reaction. She arched her back, tilted her head back, looking up, trying to meet his gaze.
"Please," she whispered.
Slowly, he began to raise his right arm, and she sighed happily as she felt it fold over her stomach, pressing her tightly against his body.
The metal was warm, and barely seemed harder than the flesh and blood arm wrapped around her to the left. It felt different, but it wasn't as important to her as it was to him. It was Barret's arm, and she liked his arms. She wished she could find the words to explain how being held like this made her feel, frightened and excited and still safe, but her head still rang with light and thunder, and she just looked up at him again, smiling.
"Now," she said, "do it again."
Barret chuckled, the sound and rumble seeming to echo through her chest.
His finger slid a little further down, gliding across her naked clit.
Held firmly in place by his right arm, Tifa shuddered and writhed, knowing full well she could never escape that grip, and the helpless struggle sent jolts through her, hot and quick, merging with the sensation of friction and she felt light-headed already, prepared for something even more intense, even more pleasurable.
Barret pinched her clit between thumb and middle finger, pulling the hood back and exposing as much of her as he could. She held her breath, heart pounding, clit twitching in his grip, and he brought this index finger down, running its rough tip across the entire length of sensitive, exposed flesh. It was almost too much, almost painful, but it was entirely beautiful, so beautiful it almost made her want to cry. Her body sang. She melted into the second orgasm, nothing like the fierce, bursting sensation of the first, but washing over her in steady, unrelenting waves, each filling her head with glittering fireworks, each shaking her entire being.
When she became aware of the real world again, it was just Barret's left arm on her again, this time wrapped securely around her waist, holding her much like the right had before. Her body ached, tender and sensitive, but she certainly had no room to complain.
"Think that's about all," he said. It sounded far off, even though she felt the sound through his chest. "Don't wanna wear you out too much." It sounded warm, like a smile. She didn't have the energy to look up and see. She simply hummed instead. It meant a lot of things, but mostly happy, sated gratitude and agreement, and she hoped that came across. He hummed back, and she thought she understood what he meant, too.
She remained standing there, held carefully upright, leaning back and letting the water wash over her, and gradually her strength began to recover. A few minutes later, she stretched and rolled her shoulders and, smiling, reached in behind her for what she had felt there before.
Barret wasn't as hard as he'd been when she was writhing orgasmic in his arms, but his cock was still nice and heavy in her hands, and stiffened quickly under her light touch.
"Easy," he said, stroking her hip with his thumb. "You don't have to..."
"Shush," she said, and tightened her grip a smidgen, kneading his shaft until she could feel it straining against her back and ass again. She squirmed out of his grip and turned around, facing him for the first time, letting him see her smile and enthusiasm. One hand still stroking, she ran the other over his chest.
"I'll just let you do most of the work."
She turned the shower down a bit and grabbed the soap, running it deliberately up and down between her breasts, making sure she had a generous amount of lather on her skin before she dropped it and began to spread the suds.
Barret stared, and tried not to show it. She felt her grin widening. Sometimes he could be a little too sensitive. Strangers cat-calling her on the town was one thing, but knowing Barret appreciated her body, that was different. It was... nice.
She sank down, easing her feet to the sides and bracing them against the sides of the shower cabin. The room was barely wide enough to fit Barret in it, but it did allow her to sink a bit lower, low enough for what she had in mind.
Looking up at Barret through her lashes, she ran her hands over her soap-slick breasts before pushing them together invitingly. Her fingers stroked them lazily, plucking at her nipples, hard and slippery and sensitive.
Barret gave her one last hesitant look, but he was far too turned on to think about turning down the invitation for long. She could tell, as she watched him, watched his erection twitching with every rapid heartbeat.
He gave in and took the one step he needed to take, stood right in front of her and slid his thick, hard cock between her slicked-up breasts.
Tifa's legs shook, arousal bubbling through her at the sight and sensation, but she did her best to hide it. Of course she had fantasized about it at times, and she was certain he had as well. What it would feel like to wrap her legs around him and take that inside her, deeper than his fingers could ever reach, to feel fully and truly connected. To embrace him and run her tongue over his nipples, which were hard just like her own, and, she liked to imagine, sensitive as well. Maybe even to kiss, properly, lips on lips and tongue on tongue, although the image seemed strange, even among those other fantasies.
But they were just fantasies. It was not what either of them wanted or needed right now. And so all they did was touch, and sometimes just a little more, like this.
She licked her lips and concentrated on the scene in front of her. On the tip of Barret's cock emerging over her breasts, then sinking down between them. The sensation of his hard, solid shaft shaping her soft, pliable flesh around it. She tightened her grip, squeezing that flesh almost painfully, making sure her breasts were as snug around him as they could be, and Barret groaned. His body rippled and glistened as he moved, thrusting his hips against her, and it took a conscious effort not to just stop what she was doing and run her hands over those abs, those pecs.
Instead all she did was pump her slippery breasts up and down his cock, up and down as best she could, meeting his thrusts, adding to the friction.
Barret's eyes were half closed, his left hand firmly clenched into a fist at his side. She could hear him breathing, quick and shallow, shoulders heaving. His thrusts swiftly grew longer, his hips smacking the lower slopes of her breasts, a sensation she decided was surprisingly pleasant. It felt urgent, just a tiny bit desperate, and there was something in that, the knowledge that it was because of her, that made her ache and yearn for more. His shaft seemed to grow even thicker, and she knew by now what that meant. Rising slightly, she adjusted her movements to concentrate on stimulating the sensitive head, and after only a few more thrusts Barret stiffened and shuddered, cock twitching hard between her breasts, again and again, adding more and more to the slickness on her skin.
Finally he slumped, hand rising to steady him against the wall, spent. Still smiling, she gave her breasts one last squeeze, her nipples one last little pinch, before she slid her hands down. Turned the shower up again and began to wash him clean - soap was a poor lubricant, would irritate sensitive skin if they kept at it for more than a short while, but it was all they had and, she thought with a widening grin, it was most certainly worth it.
Next she turned her attention to herself. She'd have liked to play with it some more, but come turned swiftly into a sticky gunk in the water and she scrubbed it off with the remaining soap.
By the time she was done, Barret had straightened up again and was looking down at her with a grin. She returned it without a word being spoken, and they finished cleaning themselves in silence, bumping into each other in the cramped space, but it seemed merely a fact of life. Tifa had been almost trembling with desire when he came, and had seriously considered asking for another round, but the sensation had faded since and she knew it would be best not to push herself too hard, even after having all her muscles unknotted by those large, gentle fingers.
In the end, there was only soap and water, and two towels that were barely big enough for her and nowhere nearly enough for Barret. They said good night and went to bed in separate rooms. Come tomorrow, they would both pretend nothing had happened. Maybe one day, they would want it to be more, want it to be different. But for now, it was what it was, and what it was had softened the ache in her body into something not entirely painful and left her falling asleep with a smile on her face.
Sometimes, that was really all you could ask for.
Length: 4300 words
Rating: M for explicit M/F
Notes: Some time ago, I scribbled down an idea along the lines of Barret and Tifa, non-penetrative and non-romantic sex, because you don't have to have that kind of relationship to offer a helping hand, or a soapy titwank. Which may not be the most tasteful thing I've ever written, but it seems to get the point across. First started writing this about a year ago - hopefully that's not too obvious, but I've stared at this for much too long to be able to notice things like that anymore.
Tifa groaned as the first drops of warm water from the shower spattered on her skin. She leaned her head against the wall, wincing at the contact with still-cold tiles, but didn't have the energy to stand up straight. Her arms hung limp at her sides, aching from the day's activities.
Trying to restore the beat-down old building Barret had bought to a serviceable condition was different from martial arts. She had ached a lot when she first started training with Master Zangan, too, but it had been another kind of soreness. She couldn't imagine what this would have been like if she didn't have that training already. Goodness, but she probably couldn't even have lifted some of those things back then, much less carried them around the way she had during the day.
But as the water washed over her, turning her long brown hair dark and heavy, she decided it still felt pretty good, building something. She had learned how to fight so that she might protect herself, and others. But it was still something destructive. Even knowing what the place would be used for, she would be proud of the work she had done here.
She tried to move, and groaned again. Even with the hot water soothing her tired muscles, her arms, back and shoulders complained loudly.
Just a little while longer, she decided, and remained as she was, leaning slightly forward, forehead against the wall, and closed her eyes.
She had no idea how long that 'little while' had stretched when a rap on the door startled her out of her reverie.
"You okay in there?"
Barret's voice was deep and loud, and carried well over the sound of the running shower. She wasn't quite so sure about her answer, which was barely a grunt.
"Yeah," she managed, a bit louder. "'s open."
The door opened a crack. She shivered a little at the sudden waft of cool air, but the water ran over most of her body, so it shielded her from the worst of it. There was a chuckle from the room outside.
"Gonna feel that in the morning, huh?"
She let out another grunt.
"Told you to take it easy. It takes some gettin' used to."
She turned her head slightly, so she'd be able to glare at him, but she didn't have much for it - it was dark in the next room, and she could barely make out the man outside.
But he could see her, and maybe the glare had been effective, because he sounded almost apologetic when he offered to rub her back. Even so, she hesitated for a moment. Part of her - an admittedly childish part - wanted to insist that she'd be fine, tell him she didn't need any help, but in the end the offer was too tempting, and she knew she'd be kicking herself tomorrow if she missed out.
"'d be nice," she mumbled, turning her head back.
There was a rustling noise from the other side of the door, thick, heavy clothes being pulled off, requiring just a little more time and effort than one might expect.
She managed to turn her head again as the door opened wider to let Barret into the shower, which had never been meant for more than one person and suddenly seemed rather cramped. He looked nowhere near as worn out as she felt, but his skin was dusty and his movements perhaps a bit ginger. The ever-present dogtag glittered on his broad chest, but her gaze was drawn to his right arm. It was such a small detail, but the base of his prosthetic arm, the part permanently grafted to his body, was dusty and flecked with dirt, while the robotic hand at the end glinted as if recently polished. The work during the day had required sturdier tools, and he had only just changed the attachment back. Must be useful, she thought occasionally, even knowing that she'd never willingly give up a hand, a real flesh-and-bone hand, for that kind of convenience.
When he touched her, it was only with his left hand. It was large - even now it amazed her how big he was - and rough, thick and heavy, but the touch was light and careful when he brushed her hair aside and began to rub her back and shoulders.
"Here," he said, "lean your arms 'gainst the wall. You got no balance like that."
Tifa just groaned. He chuckled. "That bad, huh? Gonna have you an' Wedge runnin' some errands tomorrow. Get you off the heavy liftin' for a bit."
She was about to protest, tell him she was every bit as capable of continuing the work on the building as Biggs and Jessie, but then Barret slid his hand up to her left shoulder and began to knead it - still gently, but with a little more pressure than before - and she had to bite back a yelp instead.
No, she realized, perhaps running errands wasn't so bad after all.
Barret gave another chuckle behind her and continued massaging her, continuing down her arm. She was stronger, had more muscle mass than most girls, but Barret's hand still easily encircled her arm. As used to it as she was, a tiny part of her was still amazed by it, and another, even tinier part found it... she wasn't sure if it was frightening or exhilarating. Right now, she didn't care. Whatever it was, it felt good. He slowly worked his way down her arm, and she shivered.
Without comment, Barret continued, down to her wrist, then back up again, gradually increasing the pressure. She groaned again, but it wasn't just from pain this time.
When he reached her shoulder, she slowly lifted her arm, moving everything experimentally. It still hurt, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when she first stepped into the shower.
When he finished with her right arm, she raised that too, steadying herself with both elbows on the wall, hands folded together and her forehead resting on them. It felt a little better than the wall.
Barret grunted approval and started working on her back instead. That was worse off. She had been careful, knew how to lift properly, but some of those things had been heavy and awkward, and with stuff scattered all over the place, it hadn't always been possible to get in the best position.
As nice as it felt to be part of building something, Tifa decided, the massage was still the best thing to happen to her all day. In another world, in a different time, Barret might have found himself another profession. She imagined the building looking a little cleaner, a Wallace Massage Parlour sign over the entrance and Barret in civilian clothes standing in the door, and found herself laughing quietly, shoulders shaking. It still hurt a little, but not enough to dampen her good mood. Barret stopped what he was doing, however, and placed his hand on her shoulder.
"You doin' okay?"
She nodded. "Just had a funny thought. Say, Barret, how did you get so good at this?"
He squeezed her shoulder before moving on down to her back again. "Practice," he said as he dug his fingers in a little harder, making her jump. "Try workin' a mine for a few years and you'll be an expert real quick."
That made sense. It also made the image of the Wallace Massage Parlour stronger in her mind, except now with the bonus of a bunch of burly miners lining up outside. She giggled.
"Lots of manly affection, huh?"
Barret poked her with a thick finger, and she yelped and jumped. He pretended nothing had happened and continued to knead her stubborn muscles.
"Yeah, maybe," he said after a while. "Mostly unmarried guys needin' it. Once they got hitched, it's the kinda thing husbands an' wives do for each other."
"I imagine," Tifa said with a chuckle, and tried to come up with something to distract Barret from the subject of married life. This was far too pleasant to go in the direction of the more depressive subjects.
"So," she continued, "how long do you think it will take? Before we're done with the house, I mean."
Barret laughed softly, a deep, rumbling sound. "I 'preciate the thought, but it's fine." He squeezed her shoulder, firm but gentle, thumb stroking the back of her neck.
She felt like she should say something, but in the end she did not, and somehow that felt fine, too. Barret continued to ply her aching back and shoulders, his fingers large, rough and careful. She closed her eyes, and had no idea how much time passed.
Finally, some minutes later, or maybe hours, Barret's hand came to a stop, resting on her left shoulder, thumb once more on the back of her neck, fingers curling around her collarbone. He squeezed her lightly, and she shivered. She had been too distracted to appreciate it before, but she was amazed at how strong he felt, even when he was only using a fraction of that strength. It was impressive, beautiful, and still just a tiny bit frightening. And she'd never be able to find the words to tell him that.
"Thanks," she said, lowering her arms and rotating her shoulders. It was surprisingly easy, even given the weight on one side. "I feel a lot better."
"Need anythin' else?" he rumbled behind her, a bit coy; thumb beginning to stroke her neck again. And again she shivered.
It tingled, all the way down her spine, all the way up in her head.
"That'd... be nice," she said, feeling like an echo of herself. A slightly hoarser echo, warm with the smile forming on her lips.
"Really nice," she added. He chuckled, hand tightening a little. Still not enough to hurt, but enough to make her knees weak.
"Wanna lean back?"
She Mmed and let him pull her away from the wall.
Her head fell back against his chest, broad and hard. Her shoulders dug into - tried to dig into - his stomach. Barret's body was only marginally softer than the wall she'd been leaning against earlier. For a few moments she just remained still and silent, taking in the sensation of him breathing behind her, deep and slow - though still a little faster than usual, she thought, her smile widening.
After that brief moment, she raised her arms, reaching high up and behind her, latching on to his shoulders, pressing herself harder against him. (Certainly not pulling him closer! She might as well have tried to move that wall.)
As she moved, his hand slid off her shoulder and she next felt it on her hip, easily curling around it, fingertips stroking her stomach. She barely heard it, but she could feel a rumble in his chest, and chose to believe it was a hum of appreciation. She couldn't deny that she took pride in the strength of her body, and it was... nice to think that he appreciated it, too.
Humming in response, she leaned back harder and tightened her muscles under his grasp. He chuckled, another deep rumble against her. Further down, against the small of her back, she could feel something stir, something warm and smooth.
Barret's hand slid down from her belly, lower fingers stroking the dark hair slicked against her skin by the water. She had been prepared for it, and she didn't think she'd be so sensitive there, but the touch made her draw in a short, sharp breath through her nose, nails momentarily digging into Barret's shoulders, legs flexing as she rose on her toes, trying to pull away from it. The tip of his cock, still not fully hard, pressed in between the upper slopes of her buttocks as she ground against him; she felt it twitch and then she was sinking down again, relaxing.
"Easy," he said, fingers retreating a little, back up her stomach, where they lay still.
"Sorry. Sensitive." The water, she thought, and certainly the massage. Hell, mostly the massage! It was probably the best kind of foreplay she'd ever had.
"Again," she said, rather than try and explain. "Please."
She still shuddered when she felt it, but kept her heels on the ground even though her legs clenched.
If Barret noticed, he did not show. His fingers continued as before, caressing her lower belly on their way down; then combing through the dark hair below. He stopped there, toying with it, stroking it between his fingers until she began to relax again.
If relax was the word for it. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation and she felt a curious awareness of her own body, her skin, as if she could identify every drop of warm water falling on her, trickling down her body. Barret's body behind her seemed more solid, more real. His chest and stomach rising and falling as he breathed. His cock, hard now, straining against her lower back and buttocks.
Water fell on her face, washed down her cheeks, dripped from her chin. It fell on her breasts, made her want to squirm and touch - no, to have them touched. Barret never did, unless she asked him. Knew all too well the kind of attention they got her.
Unaware of her thoughts, Barret continued down, hand sliding down her thigh, thumb barely avoiding her sex on the way; thick enough that even when he stroked her left leg, she could feel him against her right as well, inner thighs tingling. Her toes wanted to curl, tried to dig into the wet, tiled floor. The insides of her thighs were a weakness, made her feel all frizzy and tingly. Her fingers straightened and curled, kneading Barret's shoulders, and she rolled her head left and right, back and forth over his chest.
If she had wanted to ask him to pay attention to her breasts, the thought vanished from her mind.
Barret said nothing, did nothing more than continue what he was doing. Slid his hand down her thigh, as far as he could reach. Then up again, fingers nearly encircling her leg, thumb on the inside, leaving, she could just swear, a trail of sparks in its wake, glittering golden.
Her legs trembled. He kneaded her muscles as they flexed under his touch, once more waiting for her to settle down before he continued.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut until weird patterns started flashing before them. Let go with her left hand, slid it down Barret's arm, savouring the sensation of hard shapes under her palm. He did not react, not until she reached his hand.
Then, he allowed her to guide it higher.
Tifa's pleasure had always been small, quiet, private. She made more noise during the massage before than she usually did being touched here. But when Barret's middle finger curled between her thighs and in underneath her, covering her entire sex top to bottom, side to side - when she felt it press against her, even without any force behind it, just enough that she knew it was there - she whimpered, a needy, nearly desperate sound. Her thighs clamped hard around the thick finger between them. Light flashed before her eyes; thunder echoed in her ears, short and sharp.
That finger curled, tip parting her slick, swollen folds, across the entrance between, and then, finally, up against her clit, stiff with arousal, only partly concealed under its hood. The initial touch sent a shock through her entire body, made her freeze, breath catching in her throat. And then he continued to move. Friction.
Tifa's head thumped against Barret's chest as she shuddered, nails raking his skin. Her hips jerked, grinding her wet, sensitive flesh against that thick, callused finger. Friction, raw and jagged, resonated through her. Down her trembling legs, up her stomach and chest. It filled her head, filled it until she could feel nothing else.
Without a sound, Tifa yielded to the sensation, and it washed her away.
She couldn't remember much of it later. Just the sensation of that friction filling her entire body until it seemed about to burst.
The next thing she knew, she had slumped against Barret's chest and he was still stroking her clit, but through the hood this time, avoiding direct contact. Her heart pounded in her ears, her body ached, her sex pulsed, Barret's touch turning each aftershock into something more like a new tiny orgasm of its own.
"Barret," she breathed, clinging to him with whitened knuckles. "Both hands. Please."
There was no reaction. She arched her back, tilted her head back, looking up, trying to meet his gaze.
"Please," she whispered.
Slowly, he began to raise his right arm, and she sighed happily as she felt it fold over her stomach, pressing her tightly against his body.
The metal was warm, and barely seemed harder than the flesh and blood arm wrapped around her to the left. It felt different, but it wasn't as important to her as it was to him. It was Barret's arm, and she liked his arms. She wished she could find the words to explain how being held like this made her feel, frightened and excited and still safe, but her head still rang with light and thunder, and she just looked up at him again, smiling.
"Now," she said, "do it again."
Barret chuckled, the sound and rumble seeming to echo through her chest.
His finger slid a little further down, gliding across her naked clit.
Held firmly in place by his right arm, Tifa shuddered and writhed, knowing full well she could never escape that grip, and the helpless struggle sent jolts through her, hot and quick, merging with the sensation of friction and she felt light-headed already, prepared for something even more intense, even more pleasurable.
Barret pinched her clit between thumb and middle finger, pulling the hood back and exposing as much of her as he could. She held her breath, heart pounding, clit twitching in his grip, and he brought this index finger down, running its rough tip across the entire length of sensitive, exposed flesh. It was almost too much, almost painful, but it was entirely beautiful, so beautiful it almost made her want to cry. Her body sang. She melted into the second orgasm, nothing like the fierce, bursting sensation of the first, but washing over her in steady, unrelenting waves, each filling her head with glittering fireworks, each shaking her entire being.
When she became aware of the real world again, it was just Barret's left arm on her again, this time wrapped securely around her waist, holding her much like the right had before. Her body ached, tender and sensitive, but she certainly had no room to complain.
"Think that's about all," he said. It sounded far off, even though she felt the sound through his chest. "Don't wanna wear you out too much." It sounded warm, like a smile. She didn't have the energy to look up and see. She simply hummed instead. It meant a lot of things, but mostly happy, sated gratitude and agreement, and she hoped that came across. He hummed back, and she thought she understood what he meant, too.
She remained standing there, held carefully upright, leaning back and letting the water wash over her, and gradually her strength began to recover. A few minutes later, she stretched and rolled her shoulders and, smiling, reached in behind her for what she had felt there before.
Barret wasn't as hard as he'd been when she was writhing orgasmic in his arms, but his cock was still nice and heavy in her hands, and stiffened quickly under her light touch.
"Easy," he said, stroking her hip with his thumb. "You don't have to..."
"Shush," she said, and tightened her grip a smidgen, kneading his shaft until she could feel it straining against her back and ass again. She squirmed out of his grip and turned around, facing him for the first time, letting him see her smile and enthusiasm. One hand still stroking, she ran the other over his chest.
"I'll just let you do most of the work."
She turned the shower down a bit and grabbed the soap, running it deliberately up and down between her breasts, making sure she had a generous amount of lather on her skin before she dropped it and began to spread the suds.
Barret stared, and tried not to show it. She felt her grin widening. Sometimes he could be a little too sensitive. Strangers cat-calling her on the town was one thing, but knowing Barret appreciated her body, that was different. It was... nice.
She sank down, easing her feet to the sides and bracing them against the sides of the shower cabin. The room was barely wide enough to fit Barret in it, but it did allow her to sink a bit lower, low enough for what she had in mind.
Looking up at Barret through her lashes, she ran her hands over her soap-slick breasts before pushing them together invitingly. Her fingers stroked them lazily, plucking at her nipples, hard and slippery and sensitive.
Barret gave her one last hesitant look, but he was far too turned on to think about turning down the invitation for long. She could tell, as she watched him, watched his erection twitching with every rapid heartbeat.
He gave in and took the one step he needed to take, stood right in front of her and slid his thick, hard cock between her slicked-up breasts.
Tifa's legs shook, arousal bubbling through her at the sight and sensation, but she did her best to hide it. Of course she had fantasized about it at times, and she was certain he had as well. What it would feel like to wrap her legs around him and take that inside her, deeper than his fingers could ever reach, to feel fully and truly connected. To embrace him and run her tongue over his nipples, which were hard just like her own, and, she liked to imagine, sensitive as well. Maybe even to kiss, properly, lips on lips and tongue on tongue, although the image seemed strange, even among those other fantasies.
But they were just fantasies. It was not what either of them wanted or needed right now. And so all they did was touch, and sometimes just a little more, like this.
She licked her lips and concentrated on the scene in front of her. On the tip of Barret's cock emerging over her breasts, then sinking down between them. The sensation of his hard, solid shaft shaping her soft, pliable flesh around it. She tightened her grip, squeezing that flesh almost painfully, making sure her breasts were as snug around him as they could be, and Barret groaned. His body rippled and glistened as he moved, thrusting his hips against her, and it took a conscious effort not to just stop what she was doing and run her hands over those abs, those pecs.
Instead all she did was pump her slippery breasts up and down his cock, up and down as best she could, meeting his thrusts, adding to the friction.
Barret's eyes were half closed, his left hand firmly clenched into a fist at his side. She could hear him breathing, quick and shallow, shoulders heaving. His thrusts swiftly grew longer, his hips smacking the lower slopes of her breasts, a sensation she decided was surprisingly pleasant. It felt urgent, just a tiny bit desperate, and there was something in that, the knowledge that it was because of her, that made her ache and yearn for more. His shaft seemed to grow even thicker, and she knew by now what that meant. Rising slightly, she adjusted her movements to concentrate on stimulating the sensitive head, and after only a few more thrusts Barret stiffened and shuddered, cock twitching hard between her breasts, again and again, adding more and more to the slickness on her skin.
Finally he slumped, hand rising to steady him against the wall, spent. Still smiling, she gave her breasts one last squeeze, her nipples one last little pinch, before she slid her hands down. Turned the shower up again and began to wash him clean - soap was a poor lubricant, would irritate sensitive skin if they kept at it for more than a short while, but it was all they had and, she thought with a widening grin, it was most certainly worth it.
Next she turned her attention to herself. She'd have liked to play with it some more, but come turned swiftly into a sticky gunk in the water and she scrubbed it off with the remaining soap.
By the time she was done, Barret had straightened up again and was looking down at her with a grin. She returned it without a word being spoken, and they finished cleaning themselves in silence, bumping into each other in the cramped space, but it seemed merely a fact of life. Tifa had been almost trembling with desire when he came, and had seriously considered asking for another round, but the sensation had faded since and she knew it would be best not to push herself too hard, even after having all her muscles unknotted by those large, gentle fingers.
In the end, there was only soap and water, and two towels that were barely big enough for her and nowhere nearly enough for Barret. They said good night and went to bed in separate rooms. Come tomorrow, they would both pretend nothing had happened. Maybe one day, they would want it to be more, want it to be different. But for now, it was what it was, and what it was had softened the ache in her body into something not entirely painful and left her falling asleep with a smile on her face.
Sometimes, that was really all you could ask for.