"You know, normally I have a hard time believing compliments," Tifa murmurs, low gasps and tensing thighs accompanying Nami's slow exploration. "But with you--oh." Her fist curls into the covers, body lurching forward as Nami's finger drags up her slit. It's sharper than her own hand has ever felt, and she aches when it's gone. Not that it lasts long; a second later it's swirling around that sensitive bud, and Tifa is moaning Nami's name breathlessly.

"With--with you, I always know--you mean it."

She shudders, trying to sit back. If this was this strong, how was she even going to handle more? But she didn't want Nami to stop, not for anything. "It feels amazing. I -- I don't know if I'm ready, but I still want more. Please." That last word is nearly a beg, her thighs tensing again as Nami's breath warms the outside of her cunt. She hadn't realized the hand in Nami's hair had tightened, and she lets it go, gently scratching her scalp.