-1Title: Wild Night
Summary: Alcohol has a lot to answer for.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Squaresoft/Unix. Am only borrowing them for my own perverted desires!
A/N: This fic is for Bleuwyn. She gave me this fantastic challenge and I just hope this doesn't disappoint. So Bleuwyn my love, grab your sweet self a cuppa coffee, relax and read. Many hugs and much love, S xxx
Sunlight of the cruellest kind filtered through the curtains to wash a pale face with gold, bringing colour to the deathly still form partially hidden by bed sheets. Birds chirped and tweeted outside; the noise penetrated her world of slumber and eased her back into the land of the living.
Tifa's dry lips smacked together and her body unsuccessfully attempted to roll onto her side. For some odd reason, her eyes felt like ten ton sand bags and her mouth felt like a Chocobo trough. Her shoulders felt like a weight had been removed and she momentarily wondered if her head was still there. Not that she'd know, of course, because she couldn't feel it.
So very gently, a single eye cranked open and immediately slammed shut. Oh holy lifestream. "Oooh…" Tifa moaned, or tried to moan rather. Now she could feel her head.
What the hell was going on in there? And what the hell was wrong with her voice? She didn't feel like Tifa Lockheart, didn't sound like Tifa Lockheart, so who was she and where was the real Tifa Lockheart?
A heavy hand came up to rub away the throb increasing in her brain. Her fingers shook as she coughed, her throat growing more and more parched. Both eyes slowly opened and she groaned as the evil light half blinded her. "Holy planet!"
Tifa covered her face with trembling hands in a good effort to block out the sun and coughed, feeling a not so nice surge of nausea bubble up inside her stomach. She swallowed thickly but it didn't do much good as that bubble quickly turned into a balloon. "Oh God!"
She scrambled up off the bed and barely made it towards the bathroom before she threw up. A few minutes later found the brunette sat, half dead, on cold tiles and holding onto the toilet seat for dear life. Running a semi successful bar had ensured Tifa had experienced various stages of hangovers, but this… This took the cookie.
She got up on numb feet and staggered to the sink, completely unprepared for the sight she would face. It took all the strength she had not to scream in terror at the image reflected in the glass. Her make-up was streaked all over her cheeks and eyes, her lipstick was everywhere but her lips and her neck…
Her neck looked like a vampire had used her as a five course dinner and gone back for seconds. It was only then did Tifa begin to notice the soreness between her legs and her morning went from bad to dramatically worse. Unsurely, she touched herself and cringed when she felt liquid coating her skin. In fact, her entire body seemed to be sticky.
A part of her, some sadistic and sick side of her wondered how and why. The sane half told her she most definitely did not want to know.
"Okay." She croaked and then coughed. "This is a dream. You're dreaming. Any second now, you're gonna wake up, and everything will be fine." Tifa waited and continued to stare at the fright in the mirror. "Any second now…"
When the nightmare refused to end, she pinched her arm and yelped in pain. Nope, this was definitely no dream. She was wide awake and dealing with the aftermath of a one night stand. Whoever he was should be gone by now, well, she hoped anyway.
Tifa struggled to turn the faucet and grabbed the complimentary glass. Dehydration was one thing, vomit breath was quite another. She thoroughly rinsed her mouth out and turned the water off, only pausing to commit the sight of her hangover to memory. "I'll never touch alcohol ever again."
Now she needed to find some aspirin or a Chocobo tranquiliser, or anything to cure the hangover of the century. A decapitation from Sephiroth would be better than this!
Still clinging to the sink and counter for stability, Tifa began to slowly shuffle her way back to the bedroom only to still in horror at the sight of layers black hair peeking out from under the covers.
Her loud gasp obviously hadn't disturbed him as he didn't move a muscle, that's if he had any. Inching quietly forward on tiptoes and with a cringe on her face, the twenty year old focused all attention on grabbing her clothes and escaping.
"Argh!" The yelp, caused by something sharp stabbing her foot, slipped out louder than she wanted and a toned arm slid out from under the covers. The shiny ring circling his fourth finger on his left hand had the nightmare turning into a living hell.
"Please, please let that ring be a family heirloom or a present from his parents." Tifa beseeched, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. Even as she prayed, she knew the likelihood of that was slim to none. She'd gotten blind drunk and had a one night stand with a married man, and to top it all off, she couldn't remember a single thing about it!
At least the arm belonged to a man.
Panicked eyes scanned the room in a final and very desperate attempt to locate her clothes. Where the hell were they? Ohgodohgod, she probably ended up having a one night stand with a pervert who intended on keeping her clothes as a souvenir.
"Think, Lockheart." Tifa hissed. "You've been doing that very thing for twenty years, it can't be that hard." Unless thinking was what got her into this in the first place. There was no sign of her clothes and so she cautiously glanced at the black hair, wondering if she dared wake him up.
"Okay, here I go…" Damn, she needed something to cover herself up and save what little dignity she had left. "Bit late for that, isn't it?" She sniped sarcastically. He'd probably seen more of her than she had of herself. Still, she couldn't exactly wake him up naked and looking like the Midgar train graveyard.
Back to the bathroom and complimentary soap it was. With a bit of luck, there'd be a large fluffy towel in there.
While Tifa was getting somewhat presentable, the man in bed huskily groaned and tugged the sheets from over his head. Like the brunette, he hid away from the bright and cheery sunshine, muffling his next moan with a cover.
"Kill me." Vincent Valentine choked and coughed, turning a sickly shade of green when the bed bounced in response to the tiny movements. What the hell had he done last night? If the feeling in his groin was any indication, the better question was who had he done last night.
Thumb and forefinger squeezed the bridge of his nose and he tried to rub away the oncoming truck. "Uh," the gunslinger grunted when it did nothing but increased the size of the truck tyres and added a fog horn to the mix. God, his ears were ringing and his legs felt like lead.
Using weak and shaky arms to ease himself upright, Vincent dazedly glanced around to notice he was in his room. Odd, he thought, he would never normally invite a stranger into his domain. Then again, this obviously wasn't a normal situation. He hadn't done anything like this in thirty some years.
The first time he managed to get his rocks off in decades and he couldn't remember a damn thing about it. Still, it must have been some night judging by the wild galloping chocobos in his head.
She'd obviously left before he woke up as there was no sign of a woman's clothes anywhere… His blurry eyes went wide with shock as he took in the state of his floor. Bottles, mostly empty were strewn around carelessly; two bowls with a white and brown residue were next to his boots, and… A picture frame?
Perhaps in his drunken night, he'd agreed to a photograph. Vincent gave a helpless shrug. Whoever she had been was gone now, and half of him was relieved while the other half wanted to know about her. He shook his head to try and clear the fog, or at least some of it, in an effort to remember something.
Nope, no good. The memories of what happened were staying well and truly buried under the contents of the empty bottles.
Vincent tried to move his legs again but his stomach revolted against such a strenuous activity. Immediately, he stopped moving and took a deep breath, feeling it do nothing to help his fuzzy head and dodgy stomach. He waited a moment or six before attempting that feat again, and this time he eased his legs over the edge of the bed and placed both feet unsteadily on the floor.
Elbows went to rest on his knees and only when he placed face in hands did he look down to notice red nail shaped welts on his thighs. There were a few positions that sprang to mind which would explain how claw marks got there. While the images were very nice, they would be nicer if he had a face for the woman.
God, he couldn't even remember her name, let alone what she looked like! Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. What was done, was done, and couldn't be reversed. He sighed and sat straight, his legs stretched out in front of him and feet minding the bottles. The world, despite the hangover, didn't seem like such a bad place to be after all.
"Best get dressed." Vincent uncurled his lethargic body and stood. Soreness that only came from pleasurably rough sex spread through him and a smirk couldn't be helped. He only hoped she'd enjoyed herself as much as he obviously had.
Enough of that, he had to meet the rest of Avalanche later and as there was a lot of tidying up to do, he'd better get a move on. Something occurred to him when he made for the bathroom; not once this morning had he thought of Lucretia.
Vincent frowned. Until now, that is. Again, there was no use in dwelling on the past, especially not with the current situation of the planet. He turned to the bathroom door just as the lock clicked open, and he paused.
The door opened and he got an amazing view of a pair of toned legs. Slowly, he followed those legs up over some knees and firm thighs. That tanned skin looked so soft, so lickable… And Vincent kept travelling up over the fluffy white towel until he reached a generous set of breasts that pulled the fabric tight.
A neck covered in love bites was next, then a defined jaw line, shapely cheekbones and finally…
Vincent Valentine found himself staring into a widened pair of startled crimson eyes. Suddenly, all memories of the night before came rushing back.