The dusty storage room in the basement of Seventh Heaven was barely big enough to fit two people comfortably, but that never stopped you and Cloud from sneaking away for moments like this. Your hands were gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, while his breath came hot against your neck. It had become a routine—stolen moments between missions, between battles, when the adrenaline was still high and the weight of the world felt just a little lighter.

"We shouldn't take too long," you murmured against his lips, but the way your fingers traced down the hard planes of his chest betrayed your words.

Cloud gave you a scoff.

His lips crashed against yours, rough and desperate. His gloves had been discarded the moment you both had locked the door, and now his calloused hands roamed under your shirt, making you shudder. Every time with him was different—sometimes slow and teasing, sometimes rough and fast. Today, it was the latter, and you felt every bit of his urgency as he pressed you back against a pile of supplies.

Your clothes were quickly discarded in the dim light, and soon, all that mattered was the feeling of his skin against yours, the way his body molded into you. The scent of dust and steel mixed with the heady air of sweat and lust. The world outside ceased to exist—just you and him, tangled in each other, moving in sync as if nothing else mattered.

That was until a loud knock echoed through the storage room.

You both froze, hearts pounding in tandem. Your hands clutched at Cloud's shoulders while he turned his head towards the door, his entire body going rigid. The voice that followed made your stomach drop.

"Yo, Cloud! You in there? We need you upstairs!" Barret's unmistakable gruff voice carried through the thin wooden door.

Just a little bit later, as all Avalanche was sitting on the table, Barret came out of the storage room. Furious. "Who the hell was fuckin' in the damn storage room?!" Barret bellowed, eyes scanning the room with a mix of fury and disgust.