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Breathless, Cloud grasped at the pillow in front of him, not entirely sure why he was bringing it closer to his body. He held it tightly as strong fingers gripped his hips, move than likely leaving marks that would be a bit tender the next day.

Wheatever magic the night held, its spell had been cast over the pair. Cloud couldn't believe how sensitive he was, able to feel each tiny movement, each inch of his lover's arousal entering and retreating from his body, slicked and slippery to give nothing but pleasure.

Everything was as Cloud remembered, just a thousand times more intense. As those strong hands moved down to stroke his own aching arousal, Cloud gathered every ounce of available willpower to hold off the inevitable. Still, his lover reached climax first, but only by seconds.

Afterward was when the true awkwardness began. Those bright, piercing eyes weren't the ones he wanted to see. And that silver hair that shimmered in the now-permeating moonlight was not the hair on his mind, either.

Yet in no way could Cloud find the beginnings of regret.