Tifa's breath comes in a series of strained whimpers, eyes wide and body taught and trembling as heat rolls through her. "N-Nami," she stammers, brushing the other woman's hair. She's touched herself, of course, but it never felt anything like this. She struggles not to give in too hard, or she knows she'll finish in another breath. And she doesn't want to -- she wants to savor this. She doesn't feel like some object that makes someone else feel good. She feels precious, revered, and exchange -- just like when they kissed.

She presses her lips together, nodding as she stares down at Nami, having trouble processing her there between her legs. "I'd -- ah -- like that." She flushes at Nami's order, crying out as the other returns to her sensitive folds. She was going to say she's not sure how she likes it, but it doesn't matter, because all she can think about is how good Nami feels, and her body is rocking forward, demanding more closeness, more pressure, regardless of whether she means to.

"I like -- this -- " she stammers, her body tensing with an orgasm already so close, her fingers digging into Nami's hair and trying to pull them close, even as she tries not to crush the other with her thighs.