Motion: Up and back, hitch and lift, the subtle sway of hip and curve giving way to sharper thrusts and Zack slammed his shin into a barstool, vowing never to watch Tifa while she swept again.
Cool: His swagger was cocky, his stance arrogant, and to the cadets beneath him, he was the epitome of cool.
Young: "Fifteen," she informed him, her manner proclaiming a worldly maturity only found in ones so young.
Last: She was the last Lockhart, the sole remaining survivor of tragedy; he was the last SOLDIER, the sole remaining reminder of her pain.
Wrong: She was wrong, he thought, watching her turn and walk away from him; and he intended to prove it.
Gentle: Her fingers stroked deep grooves in the thick of his hair, firm enough to stir, gentle enough to soothe.
One: He would be the best, and be great, and be the one that saved them all...he hoped.
Thousand: There was a thousand reasons it wouldn't work between them, but as his hands cupped her and his body pressed, she couldn't think of one.
King: If Sephiroth was King of the SOLDIERs, then the man beside him was the jester.
Learn: His face burned and his lip swelled and her sharp voice told him she hoped he learned his lesson, but the curve of his lip and the twinkle in his eye said he was far from schooled.
Blur: It happened so fast she couldn't say how it happened at all; one minute she's sweeping the floor, and the next she's pressed to the wall with Zack hot and hard between her thighs.
Wait: He bit his lip, slowed his hips and waited for the fracture to break and his name to fill the void in the night.
Change: Gone were lanky limbs on a budding form, and in their place muscle and curve made his mouth go suddenly dry.
Command: "Off," she hissed, fingers scrambling along cotton and cloth.
Hold: Hesitance burned, scorched his lungs and made vision blur, but when she didn't slap him, he could breathe again.
Need: It was easy to want, and he did so naturally, but it was hard for him to admit he needed anything, but he needed her like the air he breathed.
Vision: White lace and delicate bows, soft petals and a gentle smile, and his eyes misted at the vision she made walking towards him.
Attention: Zack shifted in his chair, adjusted his pants subtly and thought what a good idea it was to place the cactuar juice on the top shelf.
Soul: It didn't leave with you when you died, he mused, hand smoothing swollen skin and rounded bump; you passed it on.
Picture: Sealed in an album, in a Turk office at Shin-Ra headquarters, a Monster posed, and a SOLDIER smiled at a cowgirl.
Fool: He watched the absolute rigidity of her spine as she walked away and listened with half open ears as Barret called him out as a fool.
Mad: A quick sidestep had the teacup sailing harmlessly past to shatter on the wall behind him, and his amused, "upset?" earned him another barrage of ceramic arsenal lobbed at his head.
Child: The wind caught the short skirt she was wearing and Zack was forced to remind himself, for the hundredth time, that she was just a child and to keep his mind on rocky terrain and not smooth skin.
Now: The past was a ghost in his ear, but right now, his future was warm and pliant in his arms.
Shadow: Silver hair and glowing eyes lingered in the shadows and behind closed eyes, tainting even the good dreams with dark tendrils of what was and what could still be.
Goodbye: Her mouth opened in startled surprise when he hauled her against his chest, bending her back over his arm in a dramatic sweep before laying claim with a scorching kiss.
Hide: He pulled his shirt on quickly when she stepped into the room and her eyes flickered with silent understanding.
Fortune: Cait shook his head quickly when Zack asked for his fortune and when pressed, the small stuffed cat simply said, "Your is in her hands."
Safe: Nightmares and screams and flames from the past couldn't touch them here, in each other's arms.
Ghost: He was supposed to be dead, she thought fleetingly, but the hot press of his body against hers proclaimed him very much alive.
Book: He'd had one of those little black books with numbers and names—all the SOLDIERS did— but he'd gotten rid of it in favor of pastel pink and a sweet smile, and never regretted it.
Eye: Their faces were close, so close that the rich, turbulent blue of his irises mesmerized her.
Never: "Don't let go," she whispered into his neck, and he silently vowed: never.
Sing: The sound was grating and Tifa had to muffle her laughter in the pillow when she realized that Zack Fair sang in the shower.
Sudden: The abrupt bang on the door followed by the sudden fit of giggles had Barret rolling his eyes and making mental note to stay in the other guest room next visit.
Stop: She paused her tongue against base and pulse and Zack groaned out, "please, don't stop."
Time: She took her time, savoring each groan and spasm of muscle and when he begged her not to stop she smiled and took him deeper.
Wash: Look away, look away, look away, he chanted internally, but as the suds trailed along her athletic back all he could do was swallow and watch.
Torn: He had promised to come back to chestnut hair and moss green eyes, but staring down into cinnamon browns veiled by deep midnight Zack questioned where his heart really belonged.
History: History wouldn't remember him as anything more than a statistic, but she would remember him as a hero.
Power: Sephiroth went crazy with it, Shinra was obsessed with it, and the world listened to who held the most of it, but none of them understood that the real power came from the heart.
Bother: She swatted his hand away for the umpteenth time, and Zack pressed his lips together to stifle his chuckle and stroked against her backside again.
God: Zack couldn't remember a time that he'd ever asked for the intervention of a higher power, but with pale skin gone cold against crimson stains, he found himself praying.
Wall: The cool press of wall at her back was only made sharper by the heat that he stirred at her front.
Naked: She was a sculptor's dream with lean muscle and soft curves; a dichotomy of warrior and goddess, and Zack wished he had more to offer her than his naked admiration.
Drive: The wheel spun smoothly against leather gloves and Zack had to close his mouth as Tifa swung the car around and popped open the passenger door with a casual, "I'll drive."
Harm: It was one kiss, stolen in the shadows of a barn, and even though she was far too young, Zack couldn't see the harm.
Precious: He hated the word, spoken by Hojo in sickly sweet tones as his scalpel split skin and he screamed while the doctor crooned and crooned...
Hunger: It gnawed and chaffed and howled in his blood until he thought if he didn't have her he would go insane with it.
Believe: They would succeed; of this Zack was certain, because with Tifa at his side, he couldn't fail.