Her hair shines under the moon, long and loose, kinked by long confinement in her braid. She's utterly relaxed and peaceful in the middle of the small clearing and Tifa is the first to cross to her. Cloud is still a little too fond of hanging back, but when they both turn to reach for him he comes easily enough.
Light is almost surreal, casting his eyes into reflective glow and drawing Aeris in fey, curving lines; the swell of cheekbone touched by spiky shadows of her lashes, her mouth curved into a smile that midnight shades in mystery until Tifa has to kiss her, taste her until Aeris is trembling and warm and familiar in her arms again, a husky and unsteady laugh vibrating between them. Cloud is quieter--his hands on Tifa's hips, his mouth on the curve of her shoulder or neck--but he's sharper, tenser, the hint of teeth in the softness of the kisses, especially when they've been fighting and moving for too long. He's a bundle of urgency and reticence and Tifa pushes back into him to urge him on, bites Aeris on the throat to make her moan. They're not that fragile, and he should remember that.
The grass is wet and cold and should be more uncomfortable than it is. "I brought a blanket--" Aeris says breathlessly into Cloud's mouth, but they never quite manage to untangle it, Tifa bending over it an excuse for Aeris to run her hands up her stomach and cup her breasts and Cloud to draw her back up and mold her against his body.
Aeris's hands slip between her thighs and she leans forward and kisses Cloud over her shoulder, smelling like earth and crushed grass, and Tifa breathes out on a moan.