Fractured - Chapter 3
Title: Fractured
Authors: madisuzy and calvi_sama
Pairing: Vincent x Tseng
Point In Canon: Two years after FFVII, immediately before Advent Children
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: We do not own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of Final Fantasy
Warning: Eventual Yaoi, oral, anal, y'know... the good stuff! X3... some violence, some insults, oh, and angst, but that comes standard ;3
Summary: Vincent revisits his past looking for an explanation to the nightmare, only to discover an unexpcted intruder looking for his own answers. As a result, both men find more than they could have ever expected.
A/N: Simply put, this is an RP with madisuzy writing Tseng and calvi_sama writing Vincent (surprised? thought not *snickers*). It was an interesting challenge to bring Vincent back to character (with a little stretching), but well worth it by the end I think X3. Our writing style has matured a bit since the last (ongoing) fic, and due to length, this story is four chapters. It is also the first story in the Salvaged Fate Trilogy.
Chapter 3
Panic flared in the Turk’s eyes before he could conceal it, his lust-fogged mind clearing as he realized that this whole encounter was slipping further and further beyond his control. “Release me,” Tseng growled, scowling up at Vincent’s amusement and taking a step backwards. “There is no need for this!” he added, holding up his bound hands, as he concealed his fear with anger.
“Is your control so easily broken, Tseng?” Vincent asked softly, looking down at the Turk. “How disappointing. How far the Turks have fallen, if this is the best they have to offer.” He grabbed Tseng’s bound hands and jerked the man forward so that Tseng’s face was mere inches from his own as his red eyes bored into black. “Look at your eyes, how quick they fill with fear,” he whispered, entranced as the sleeping beasts in him demanded he go for the Turk’s throat. “It’s heady isn’t it? Fear. It’s like a drug… it takes over your body until you hardly recognize it!”
“Fuck you,” Tseng whispered hoarsely, his eyes focusing on the ex-Turk’s lips. “I’d be a fool not to be afraid of you. I fear no human but human is something you haven’t been for a very long time.” It was a low shot but Tseng was getting desperate. His will to fight against his attraction was slipping away, his pride the only thing keeping up his walls. He wanted Valentine so badly that his body kept trying to edge closer of its own accord, his hips pressing forward as he flicked his glaring eyes up to meet Vincent’s once more.
“There’s that ‘fuck you’ again,” Vincent said in amusement, barely containing a laugh. “Careful Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. You’re going to start sounding desperate in a moment.” He sobered a little at the ‘human’ taunt. “Cheap shot, Tseng. Is that the best you can do?” His gloved hand grabbed Tseng’s jaw and he said sadly, “I think you’ve forgotten just what it means to be human. It’s taken it being stripped from me to make me remember. What might it take to remind you, I wonder.” he said coldly. “What can I strip from you to make you remember?” And with that his right hand dropped to Tseng’s shirt and with little effort he ripped the Turk’s shirt open, sending buttons flying in every direction. His eyebrow lifted as he took in the pale skin that was now revealed to him.
The defined muscles of the Turk’s heaving chest, the peaked, dark nipples then further down a toned abdomen to a dusting of fine, dark hair that disappeared into the waistline of silk boxers. “Very nice,” he murmured, his eyes dilating to near black, surrounded by a thin ring of red.
“Ruining my clothes is not going to re-instate my humanity, Valentine,” Tseng retorted, lifting his chin defiantly, true anger shining through his gaze at the damage to his shirt. His pulse was hammering a too-fast beat in his ears as his nipples hardened in the chilly air. “You talk of remembering what it is to be human and yet you turn your back and claim indifference when asked to hand over information that would help millions. Your self awareness is warped, at best. Besides, I was speaking of physical humanity before, not mental. I fear you to a point because I know you are capable of killing me with very little effort.”
“So vain,” Vincent sighed, blinking back his sudden and unexpected arousal. “I’m not surprised. And stupid. I said I remembered, I never said I learned. And here you are concerned with the state of your clothes. I’ll take ‘warped self awareness’ over such appalling vanity. You really are Shinra's little pet, aren’t you. And physical humanity?” He laughed outright at that. “Look at me, Tseng. I look human, I’ve just been… modified. A little forgotten byproduct of Shinra’s legacy.” He gave a sadistic little grin, no more than the toothy up-turn of his lips. “But you did get one thing right.” He pinned Tseng with a stare and said with a hiss, “I most certainly can kill you, and I won’t hesitate if you give me a reason.”
“There is nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s appearance. Maybe you have spent too long in dusty, dirty cellars to remember that, Valentine,” Tseng began, smirking at the other man’s anger. Angry Valentine was preferable to Seductive Valentine right now, in Tseng’s opinion. The anger he could handle… “Veld told me that you were once rather vain yourself. You had a weakness for the finest quality when it came to everything.”
“Once perhaps, I won’t deny that,” Vincent said, shrugging a shoulder noncommittally. “But getting murdered and then abandoned by the very people I had sworn my loyalty too made me readjust my priorities a little. Not that I expect you to understand that.” He sighed, lifting Tseng’s bound wrists over the man’s head with a feral grin. “I’ll give you credit, trying to bait me. It worked once, but I grow bored with that.” He decided to work Tseng’s vanity a little more. He wanted to see that fear come back.
“But I believe I was in the process of stripping you, wasn’t I?” Reaching forward with his gauntleted hand, he worked a claw into the waistband of Tseng’s boxers and snapped the elastic, splitting some of the silk below it so that the material parted, revealing more of Tseng’s pubic hair, and the base of the man’s penis. “Oooohhh, look at what I’ve found,” he purred appreciatively.
Tseng began to struggle, pulling against the hand holding his up in the air as he turned his hips to the side, trying to hide from Vincent’s eyes. “You are a fucking twisted pervert,” he growled, his face heating with shame as his wriggling brought nothing but frustration.
“And you love it,” Vincent hissed, switching his hand so that the gauntleted one held Tseng’s bound hands and his right hand was free. He then roughly reached into Tseng’s ruined boxers and withdrew the man’s cock. His hand then returned to Tseng’s jaw, holding the Turk’s face still and forcing him to meet his eyes. “Look at you; you’re half-hard already. That’s why you’re red.” He leaned in and down slightly to lick along Tseng’s jaw and then to hold his forehead against the man’s temple so that his lips were by the Turk’s ear. “What more is it going to take to get that cock hard and weeping for me, Tseng? You’re making this far too easy.”
“I’m not… I mean…,” Tseng stuttered uselessly, trying to grasp onto an argument while his thoughts whirled. He wanted Vincent to touch him and it was the only thought that was clear in his head. Tseng couldn’t say that though, his pride still pushing him to fight against the need that was quickly over taking him. “Fuck… fuck,” he whispered, as shame and helplessness combined to make his cock do exactly as Vincent had asked.
Oh how quickly the human will could be broken once the appropriate triggers were found, Vincent thought sadly. And he had found Tseng’s, as he watched the man’s body tremble in both denial and need. Looking up, he spied an outcropping of rock that was perfect for hanging the Turk up so he wouldn’t have to hold him anymore. Lifting Tseng he slid the rocky outcropping in between Tseng’s arms so that the Turk either had to hang or stand on his toes. It was an ideal position to discourage retaliation, but then again if the Director really wanted to retaliate he would find a way. Vincent almost hoped that he would as this really was too easy. He then went back to twisting the knife.
“Look at you,” he murmured, openly staring at Tseng’s glistening cock as it stood out from his body, erect and flush. “Hanging out like that. You disappoint me, Tseng. Where is this ‘control’ you spoke of before? Or were you referring to your resilience to pain and not pleasure?” He reached out and dragged one gloved finger up the underside of Tseng’s sex, smirking as the organ twitched in reaction. “Do you want me to suck it? Wrap my lips around it and tease that fat dick with my tongue? Or are you afraid I’d bite it off, since I am just a lowly animal.”
“Why would one want to resist pleasure?” Tseng muttered, ignoring his exposed cock as he tried to regain what little dignity he could, considering the circumstances. Unfortunately the cold air wasn’t doing anything to lessen his obvious desire, especially after the last things Vincent had said. “Are you offering to suck my cock, Vincent?” Tseng murmured, looking at the ex-Turk with one eyebrow raised.
Vincent looked up at the bound Turk out from under thick black bangs, his lips pulling back in a near feral grin, displaying perfect white teeth. He let his red gaze roam over the flesh that had been bared to him before stepping in close. Bringing up his leather-covered hand, he ran it over Tseng’s chest slowly. He leaned in close to Tseng’s face, his thigh brushing the man’s erection. “Is that what you want?” he rumbled roughly, sliding his hand around Tseng’s side to caress the Turk’s lower back firmly. “Does it excite you? The idea of me on my knees?”
“Yes… to all of your questions,” Tseng answered, staring at Vincent as he tried to work out whether the ex-Turk was serious or not. At the moment, he didn’t see the point in lying, his interest in the other man being so obvious for all to see. “Question is, what do you want, Vincent… and how do you want it?” His body was beginning to tremble a little, but Tseng was sure it was from the cold air and his awkward position, not the gunman who was standing so close, looking at him like he was considering the best way to either fuck him or kill him.
Grin widening as he held his forehead against Tseng’s temple to keep the other man from seeing his increasingly interested expression, Vincent reached down and roughly grabbed the man’s erection. Squeezing and tugging on the turgid member, he breathed into the Turk’s ear, “I haven’t decided what I want yet. Perhaps I should just try things until something appeals to me, yes?”
Tseng gasped at the touch, biting his lip to stop any more sounds from tumbling forth. A part of him wanted to argue with Vincent, call the man on his constant teasing and demand to know where this was headed, but his hormones quickly overruled that line of thought, picking another. “Not like I’m going to… stop you,” Tseng mumbled, biting his lip so hard when the gunman twisted his hand a certain way, that the Turk could taste blood in his mouth.
There was something about being restrained and at the gunman’s mercy that gave an extra spark to what was happening, but the way his body was reacting so strongly was a little frightening to Tseng. “If you freed my hands, I could return the favor,” he ventured, finally releasing his lip to speak, only to have his hips buck up into his tormentor’s touch.
“What, and give you the ability to hit me with something else? I think not,” Vincent purred, rolling Tseng’s cock around with his hand then pressing it up against the man’s belly to firmly rub the underside. “And no, you are not going to stop me. You are going to accept whatever it is I have to give you. Do you have a problem with that? Be honest now, because I can smell a lie.”
“I… don’t seem to have much choice… at present,” Tseng responded, ignoring the movement of his own hips, pressing up into Vincent’s touch. He could feel his face flush, his breaths becoming labored as his body’s needs took over. “What are you planning to give me?” he whispered, biting his lip to hold back a moan.
“You make it sound like I’m doing this for free,” Vincent rumbled, smirking into Tseng’s neck.
“What do you want then… to not stop?” Tseng mumbled, hating himself for not fighting this and for being so weak.
“Your pride,” Vincent hissed. “I want you to beg. I want you to know that I broke you with so little effort.” He slid his hand down around Tseng’s cock, over the Turk’s balls and back towards the tight puckered ring of muscle that he wanted quite suddenly to own. He pressed up hard with the heel of his hand into Tseng’s scrotum while simultaneously giving the man’s neck a sharp little nip.
Gasping, Tseng wriggled in Vincent’s hold, his body trembling in reaction to the other man’s words. “I’m not… I’m not broken,” he whimpered, his voice coming out weak and desperate. Every touch from the beautiful gunman was like poison, filling his veins and rendering him helpless to resist.
“Oh, but you are,” Vincent whispered. “I can see the cracks beginning Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. You’re fractured, desperate and needy. Your body’s betrayal is but physical proof of your mind’s fragility.” He pulled back and his red eyes bored into Tseng’s black ones. “I want you to watch me, Tseng. Watch me very carefully.” He grinned again, flashing his perfect teeth out from behind a curtain of wild dark hair as he slowly sank to his knees. When his mouth was even with the Turk’s straining sex, the man’s musky scent filling his nostrils and exciting his sexual aggression, he looked up at Tseng and asked in a deep, rough voice, “Who has the power here, Tseng? And you know exactly what I mean by that.”
Tseng’s eyes were locked onto Vincent, as he hung limply from his restraints, the realization that he was already defeated, haunting his thoughts. “You do,” he whispered, quiet enough to be missed by most, but he knew the enhanced man before him would hear it.
“That’s right,” Vincent said softly, but without any vindictive malice. He stared into Tseng’s face a moment longer before his eyes flicked back to the engorged penis before him. He then leaned forward and with his gloved hand holding Tseng’s erection in place he slowly ran his tongue up the underside of the shaft. He lightly traced the flared head with the tip of his tongue before he slowly drew the length into his mouth, relaxing his jaw to accommodate the girth of it.
Tseng’s eyes fell closed as soon as Vincent’s tongue touched him, the sensation almost too intense to take. He didn’t notice the sounds he was making, his whole consciousness focused on trying not to come too soon as he fought to keep still, drowning in the feel of Vincent’s mouth upon him. “Vincent,” he hissed, body tense and shivering as he tried to grasp onto his pride, which was slowly crumbling before him.
It was almost too easy. Tseng was all talk, but in the end he was a slave to his body’s desires. Vincent felt an uncharacteristic surge of fondness; a desire to protect the carefully guarded weakness that he could plainly see being displayed by the other man. It didn’t last long, devoured by the reaction of his own body to the soft moans and pants that Tseng was letting loose. He allowed the sly, devious thoughts to slide away as he brought up his gauntleted hand to wrap around the man’s hip, holding the body under his mouth steady. He pressed with the bladed claws into a firm buttock while his gloved hand assisted the attention given by his mouth.
It should have been simple to detach himself from his task at hand, after all a Turk was a master manipulator, but he was finding it difficult. He was slowly beginning to realize that he wanted to feel something other than the hollow cold that had become his existence ever since he had woken up that final time; reanimating in order to help Cloud save the world. Looking up at Tseng, meeting those black eyes, he slowly let the thick cock slide from his mouth until only the tip rested against his closed lips. “What is it you want, Tseng?” he rumbled, running his lips back and forth over the velvety tip while stroking under the man’s scrotum lightly with a gloved finger. Tseng could be played with so little effort.
Tseng stared, breathing hard as he tried to form a response. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this, so long since he’d allowed his body to just feel and overtake his common sense with sensation. “I… I want,” he began, swallowing to try and steady his shaking voice. “I want you to take me,” he finally whispered, drowning in Vincent’s fiery eyes, feeling like prey for the first time since he’d become a Turk. It should have made his defenses flare and his instincts fight to regain the upper hand but instead it made his body tremble in submission and want, as if finally he’d found the one worthy of yielding to. There was still fear, but now it was more a fear of rejection, of this beautiful, deadly man before him crushing what was left of his self respect into nothing but a memory.
It should have sickened him, the speed with which Tseng gave in to him, but it didn’t. Instead, a massive shudder wracked his body as he issued a low moan. Just what was happening here? Who was playing whom? Vincent’s mind was savage as it ran through countless scenarios that left him once again the victim. In the end, he too was nearly helpless to deny his own body’s cravings. Thirty years of dormant emotions; of dry, dusty needs gone unfulfilled came crashing down onto his shoulders, nearly knocking the breath out of him. Rising to his feet, he stood before Tseng, face emotionless, but crimson eyes sharp and shrewd. His eyes burned with tortured passion, reflecting all of the turmoil he had felt and undergone at his own hand.
What did he feel? The answer was easy: nothing, no need to bond, to form a commitment, only his basic biological need to fuck. However, there was something else, something fleet and teasing that would warrant further thought at a time when his brain, now wracked by nearly out of control hormones, could function properly. He kissed Tseng then. Not the demanding, dominant kiss of before, but one borne more of that dying passion he thought he had lost. His lips were firm and commanding, clearly drawing the line between master and slave, but when he slid his tongue into Tseng’s mouth it was gentle, caressing. While his lips were occupied, his hand did not remain idle, instead taking up a firm stroking motion on the other man’s cock.
When they broke apart, he was panting lightly, his lips curled up in a predatory grin. He nuzzled by Tseng’s ear. “You want me to take you?” he asked redundantly, voice made deeper and rougher by lust. “Where do you want me to take you? Are we going somewhere?”
“W… what?” Tseng stuttered, his brain trying to decipher what Vincent had said through the fog of lust. Finally it sunk home and Tseng blushed, working out that he was being made fun of. “Bastard,” he muttered, trying for an angry tone but failing as his words ended up mixed with a moan. “Don’t you know… its bad manners to play with… your prey?” Tseng gasped, his hips moving in time with Vincent’s hand.
With an eyebrow arching up slowly Vincent’s grin grew. Quick come back, very impressive. His respect for Tseng rose a notch. “Perhaps,” he breathed, running his lips along Tseng’s jaw. “But I’m just a beast, remember? Manners mean nothing to me.” His hand ceased its stroking and traveled lower to slide in between Tseng’s thighs. Fingers within reach of the soft, tender flesh of Tseng’s ass, he pressed two just past the globes of the Turk’s buttocks and against the puckered ring of muscle. “But something tells me you enjoy being played with, am I right?” He nipped Tseng’s neck again, rubbing his fingers against Tseng’s opening. “Do you want something else right here?” He pressed a little more firmly, humming as he felt the reflexive clench of muscle. “Come now; use your words Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. What shall I place here instead of my fingers?”
Tseng’s legs spread apart at the touch, trembling as he tried to hold them in place. “Y… your cock,” he whimpered, his hips trying to push down on the digits but failing with the limited movements he could manage. His legs twitched with the urge to lift and wrap around the ex-Turk’s waist, but he didn’t know if it was allowed and was too worried about doing something to cause Vincent to stop. “Please… oil in jacket pocket… please,” he added, head tilted to expose more of his neck in a show of submission he hoped would garner the mercy of Vincent at least using lube.
“Hmph,” Vincent snorted softly, a faint note of scorn coloring his voice as he withdrew his hand. “Do you always carry such a convenience around with you?” He fell silent as he studied the flushed and panting face of the Director. Was the man’s control really that weak? “Is it so easy to break you?” he murmured more to himself than to Tseng. This quick submission, this lack of fight in the face of sex was enough to break through his own slowly growing desire, though lessen it, it did not. Had the Turks really grown so infantile since his departure from the department, if this was the best they could offer? He had known Veld, once, fleetingly at an intimate level, knew how the man had worked; the discipline he had commanded of those under him and this- this was not it.
If what he had read of Sephiroth and the implications it meant towards his slowly formulating hypothesis of Geostigma, the Turks needed strength now, not this easy weakness. Still… this presented a unique situation. If he could get a hold of the Turks, put his mark on them, his control… their strength might yet be reclaimed.
Stepping back he reached out and with one hand lifted Tseng off of the outcropping of rock and dropped the Director back onto his feet. He put his gauntleted hand on the man’s shoulder, steadying him as his gloved one went to his mantle and began to unbuckle it. A grin slowly formed on his face, dark and promising. “Then by all means, retrieve it Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’.”
Tseng glared, his bound hands managing to fumble the small bottle out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “The oil is not usually used for sex. I brought it in case any doors where jammed. Some of us aren’t augmented,” Tseng muttered. “As for being easy to break, the few times I have been captured, nobody has approached me quiet like you have.” Looking down at the oil bottle in his hands, Tseng frowned as the reality of the situation suddenly became all too clear as the blind lust began to ebb.
Vincent paused in the removal of the mantle, the garment half-on, and raised an eyebrow. “With all the rotten wood in this place, one wouldn’t have to be ‘augmented’ to get a jammed door open.” He finished removing his mantle and tossed it against the wall. He stood in front of Tseng, his arms by his sides easily as he watched the Turk’s face. “As a Turk, you should be ready for anything, including ‘my type’ of advance.” He cocked his head, grin returning. “Does it bother you?”
“No,” Tseng retorted immediately, his eyes lifting enough to look over all the now revealed leather before him. It was such a rare sight to see these days, Sephiroth and Genesis being the only other two people he’d ever seen in so much of it. “Isn’t it hot in that?” he asked, trying to cover for the fact that he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away, Vincent’s steady gaze ensuring that his attention had been noted.
“No,” Vincent breathed, reaching down to cup and rub briefly between his legs. “Temperatures don’t affect me like they do humans. It helps being dead.” He raised an eyebrow and his grin widened. “Are you going to use that, or just hold onto it for a while?” he asked, jerking his chin at the oil Tseng clutched in his hand.
Tseng’s eyes had followed Vincent’s hand down, flicking back up to the gunman’s face when he’d mentioned the oil “What do you want me to do with it?” he asked, managing to keep his expression flat. He knew it was going to be used to ease penetration, not being completely ignorant of male on male sex, but he wasn’t sure why he’d need it if he was the one being fucked.
Wait a minute, Vincent hesitated, suddenly cautious. Had Tseng even done this before? If not, then things just got very dangerous. The man’s desire was evident in the straining erection in front him, but Tseng’s question spoke far more tellingly than what his eyes now saw. He was in a precarious position now indeed if Tseng’s body was innocent to this kind of activity. He could gravely hurt the Turk, and a part of him, the dark part of him, seriously considered it. Likewise, if the Turk hadn’t done this before, he was put into a position where he could bind the man to him on a visceral level. On the other hand, Tseng could just be playing with him and the worst case scenario would end in Tseng’s broken neck. He decided to proceed very carefully.
Better to err on the side of caution than blindly assume otherwise. “What do you think I want you to do with it?”
“You want me to put it on you,” Tseng answered, shifting nervously. His eyes looked up at the gunman’s, trying to gauge where this was going and if he had been brought to this point just to be humiliated. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making sure we’re clear,” Vincent replied, red gaze never wavering from the Director’s. “We wouldn’t want you to forget your place. The weak bows down for the strong, isn’t that right?”
Tseng raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply, wondering just what the hell he was getting himself into. Walking over to stand in front of Vincent, he swallowed, feeling completely unprepared for what he was about to do. “You want me to do it here?” he asked, wondering if he sounded as stupid to the gunman as he did to himself.
Vincent fought a chuckle. “Would you prefer we get a room?” he asked wryly, but before he could give Tseng a chance to reply he reached out and wrapped a hand around the back of Tseng’s neck and dragged the younger man in for a kiss. It was slow and deep and while he slid his tongue into Tseng’s mouth, he reached his gauntleted hand around to cup and squeeze Tseng’s firm, bare backside, much as he had before. When he pulled back he said huskily, “Yes, here, is that going to be a problem?”
“N…no,” Tseng stuttered after the kiss, trying to ignore his flushed cheeks as he put the oil back into his pocket to free up both hands. Kneeling down he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and began undoing the two buckles in his way, his bound wrists not hampering him too much. Once they were done, he pulled down the zipper and paused, noting the black silk boxers he found underneath. “Hypocrite,” he murmured, slipping both hands through the window in the front and drawing out Vincent’s cock. It was a strange feeling to hold another man in his hands like this and Tseng couldn’t help but stare.
The fingers of Vincent’s right hand twitched when he felt the warm slightly calloused skin of another touch his flesh, flesh he hadn’t felt himself in too long… too long! His vision narrowed to encompass only Tseng, on his knees and staring, and he couldn’t resist an equally soft, “Old habits, Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’, old habits.” He then raised an elegant black brow and said wryly, “It’s not going to go away no matter how hard you stare at it.”
“Ha, Ha,” Tseng retorted, releasing Vincent’s cock to retrieve the oil from his pocket. Flipping open the top, he squeezed some onto his hands, flipping the lid closed again and dropping it to the floor. Rubbing his hands together, he decided to just imitate what felt good on himself as he let both hands gently slide up and down Vincent’s length, coating it carefully with oil. He could only hope he was doing it correctly, but didn’t doubt the gunman would inform him if he wasn’t.
Vincent hissed in a breath and gritted his teeth when he felt the pressure of Tseng’s fingers on his sex. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he couldn’t stop the small, involuntary thrust of his hips into the tentative contact. The other man’s touch alone told him what he needed to know: Tseng had never done this before. He struggled to keep that thought in mind as the intimate touch sent a shiver up his spine. He let his breath out slowly and his eyes rolled up as his lids shut. The fact that Tseng was virginal in this regard only served to arouse him even more. It was a rush of power, to know that he could either completely crush the other man, or give him exquisite pleasure. He opened his eyes and looked down, watching those manicured nails slide over his stiffened flesh.
He reached out and gently touched Tseng’s face, his own unreadable. But his eyes didn’t lie and neither did his breathing. The other man was affecting him, and he was not ignorant to his own precarious position. The strong had their own weaknesses, and the trick was to not be overcome by them.
Tseng looked up at the touch, concerned that he was doing something wrong but keeping his hands moving. One look into Vincent’s eyes told him otherwise, his own breath hitching as he found himself caught in the ruby gaze. Although he would never admit it out loud to the infuriating man, Vincent was beautiful and standing here, stroking his cock was enough to make Tseng moan. The head Turk would not allow himself to show that weakness though, choosing to speak instead. “Tell me when you want me to stop.”
It was a fine idea, except for the fact that Vincent didn’t want Tseng to stop. The Turk’s hands were too light and going too slow for him to get any kind of relief and he was getting harder with each stroke. It was more than enough and he stilled Tseng’s hands with one of his own. “That’s enough,” he said softly. “Stand up,” he instructed.
Doing as he was told, Tseng moved his hands away and stood up, a little worried about what came next but too proud to ask. Instead he concentrated on keeping his eyes on Vincent’s face, refusing to let them drop down to the gunman’s exposed cock. Unfortunately, just thinking about it had his eyes betraying him and they flicked downwards before he could stop them.
Vincent let him stare, watching Tseng watch his body. “Turn around.” When Tseng did, he stepped up behind the man and pulled Tseng’s pants up to enable him to walk. He then pulled off the Turk’s jacket and tossed it over against the wall with his mantle. “Now walk,” he ordered, picking up the oil and steering the Turk with gentle touches until they were in the abandoned study. Just in front of the desk, he pressed up against Tseng, sliding his gloved hand down inside Tseng’s pants to press fingers against the seam of Tseng’s buttocks. Bringing his mouth close to the Turk’s ear he breathed, “You’ve never felt a man like this before, have you?” He pressed against Tseng’s entrance with his gloved finger; press and release, press and release, rubbing suggestively with his finger each time. “Are you nervous?”
Tseng nearly lied, before common sense reminded him what was about to happen. He knew enough about the process to know that it could be very painful if Vincent wasn’t gentle. “No I haven’t and yes, I’m nervous,” he whispered, breath speeding up. Despite his fear, he wanted this to happen, his cock still hard and twitching in reaction to the teasing touches.
Chapter 4
Authors: madisuzy and calvi_sama
Pairing: Vincent x Tseng
Point In Canon: Two years after FFVII, immediately before Advent Children
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: We do not own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of Final Fantasy
Warning: Eventual Yaoi, oral, anal, y'know... the good stuff! X3... some violence, some insults, oh, and angst, but that comes standard ;3
Summary: Vincent revisits his past looking for an explanation to the nightmare, only to discover an unexpcted intruder looking for his own answers. As a result, both men find more than they could have ever expected.
A/N: Simply put, this is an RP with madisuzy writing Tseng and calvi_sama writing Vincent (surprised? thought not *snickers*). It was an interesting challenge to bring Vincent back to character (with a little stretching), but well worth it by the end I think X3. Our writing style has matured a bit since the last (ongoing) fic, and due to length, this story is four chapters. It is also the first story in the Salvaged Fate Trilogy.
Chapter 3
Panic flared in the Turk’s eyes before he could conceal it, his lust-fogged mind clearing as he realized that this whole encounter was slipping further and further beyond his control. “Release me,” Tseng growled, scowling up at Vincent’s amusement and taking a step backwards. “There is no need for this!” he added, holding up his bound hands, as he concealed his fear with anger.
“Is your control so easily broken, Tseng?” Vincent asked softly, looking down at the Turk. “How disappointing. How far the Turks have fallen, if this is the best they have to offer.” He grabbed Tseng’s bound hands and jerked the man forward so that Tseng’s face was mere inches from his own as his red eyes bored into black. “Look at your eyes, how quick they fill with fear,” he whispered, entranced as the sleeping beasts in him demanded he go for the Turk’s throat. “It’s heady isn’t it? Fear. It’s like a drug… it takes over your body until you hardly recognize it!”
“Fuck you,” Tseng whispered hoarsely, his eyes focusing on the ex-Turk’s lips. “I’d be a fool not to be afraid of you. I fear no human but human is something you haven’t been for a very long time.” It was a low shot but Tseng was getting desperate. His will to fight against his attraction was slipping away, his pride the only thing keeping up his walls. He wanted Valentine so badly that his body kept trying to edge closer of its own accord, his hips pressing forward as he flicked his glaring eyes up to meet Vincent’s once more.
“There’s that ‘fuck you’ again,” Vincent said in amusement, barely containing a laugh. “Careful Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. You’re going to start sounding desperate in a moment.” He sobered a little at the ‘human’ taunt. “Cheap shot, Tseng. Is that the best you can do?” His gloved hand grabbed Tseng’s jaw and he said sadly, “I think you’ve forgotten just what it means to be human. It’s taken it being stripped from me to make me remember. What might it take to remind you, I wonder.” he said coldly. “What can I strip from you to make you remember?” And with that his right hand dropped to Tseng’s shirt and with little effort he ripped the Turk’s shirt open, sending buttons flying in every direction. His eyebrow lifted as he took in the pale skin that was now revealed to him.
The defined muscles of the Turk’s heaving chest, the peaked, dark nipples then further down a toned abdomen to a dusting of fine, dark hair that disappeared into the waistline of silk boxers. “Very nice,” he murmured, his eyes dilating to near black, surrounded by a thin ring of red.
“Ruining my clothes is not going to re-instate my humanity, Valentine,” Tseng retorted, lifting his chin defiantly, true anger shining through his gaze at the damage to his shirt. His pulse was hammering a too-fast beat in his ears as his nipples hardened in the chilly air. “You talk of remembering what it is to be human and yet you turn your back and claim indifference when asked to hand over information that would help millions. Your self awareness is warped, at best. Besides, I was speaking of physical humanity before, not mental. I fear you to a point because I know you are capable of killing me with very little effort.”
“So vain,” Vincent sighed, blinking back his sudden and unexpected arousal. “I’m not surprised. And stupid. I said I remembered, I never said I learned. And here you are concerned with the state of your clothes. I’ll take ‘warped self awareness’ over such appalling vanity. You really are Shinra's little pet, aren’t you. And physical humanity?” He laughed outright at that. “Look at me, Tseng. I look human, I’ve just been… modified. A little forgotten byproduct of Shinra’s legacy.” He gave a sadistic little grin, no more than the toothy up-turn of his lips. “But you did get one thing right.” He pinned Tseng with a stare and said with a hiss, “I most certainly can kill you, and I won’t hesitate if you give me a reason.”
“There is nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s appearance. Maybe you have spent too long in dusty, dirty cellars to remember that, Valentine,” Tseng began, smirking at the other man’s anger. Angry Valentine was preferable to Seductive Valentine right now, in Tseng’s opinion. The anger he could handle… “Veld told me that you were once rather vain yourself. You had a weakness for the finest quality when it came to everything.”
“Once perhaps, I won’t deny that,” Vincent said, shrugging a shoulder noncommittally. “But getting murdered and then abandoned by the very people I had sworn my loyalty too made me readjust my priorities a little. Not that I expect you to understand that.” He sighed, lifting Tseng’s bound wrists over the man’s head with a feral grin. “I’ll give you credit, trying to bait me. It worked once, but I grow bored with that.” He decided to work Tseng’s vanity a little more. He wanted to see that fear come back.
“But I believe I was in the process of stripping you, wasn’t I?” Reaching forward with his gauntleted hand, he worked a claw into the waistband of Tseng’s boxers and snapped the elastic, splitting some of the silk below it so that the material parted, revealing more of Tseng’s pubic hair, and the base of the man’s penis. “Oooohhh, look at what I’ve found,” he purred appreciatively.
Tseng began to struggle, pulling against the hand holding his up in the air as he turned his hips to the side, trying to hide from Vincent’s eyes. “You are a fucking twisted pervert,” he growled, his face heating with shame as his wriggling brought nothing but frustration.
“And you love it,” Vincent hissed, switching his hand so that the gauntleted one held Tseng’s bound hands and his right hand was free. He then roughly reached into Tseng’s ruined boxers and withdrew the man’s cock. His hand then returned to Tseng’s jaw, holding the Turk’s face still and forcing him to meet his eyes. “Look at you; you’re half-hard already. That’s why you’re red.” He leaned in and down slightly to lick along Tseng’s jaw and then to hold his forehead against the man’s temple so that his lips were by the Turk’s ear. “What more is it going to take to get that cock hard and weeping for me, Tseng? You’re making this far too easy.”
“I’m not… I mean…,” Tseng stuttered uselessly, trying to grasp onto an argument while his thoughts whirled. He wanted Vincent to touch him and it was the only thought that was clear in his head. Tseng couldn’t say that though, his pride still pushing him to fight against the need that was quickly over taking him. “Fuck… fuck,” he whispered, as shame and helplessness combined to make his cock do exactly as Vincent had asked.
Oh how quickly the human will could be broken once the appropriate triggers were found, Vincent thought sadly. And he had found Tseng’s, as he watched the man’s body tremble in both denial and need. Looking up, he spied an outcropping of rock that was perfect for hanging the Turk up so he wouldn’t have to hold him anymore. Lifting Tseng he slid the rocky outcropping in between Tseng’s arms so that the Turk either had to hang or stand on his toes. It was an ideal position to discourage retaliation, but then again if the Director really wanted to retaliate he would find a way. Vincent almost hoped that he would as this really was too easy. He then went back to twisting the knife.
“Look at you,” he murmured, openly staring at Tseng’s glistening cock as it stood out from his body, erect and flush. “Hanging out like that. You disappoint me, Tseng. Where is this ‘control’ you spoke of before? Or were you referring to your resilience to pain and not pleasure?” He reached out and dragged one gloved finger up the underside of Tseng’s sex, smirking as the organ twitched in reaction. “Do you want me to suck it? Wrap my lips around it and tease that fat dick with my tongue? Or are you afraid I’d bite it off, since I am just a lowly animal.”
“Why would one want to resist pleasure?” Tseng muttered, ignoring his exposed cock as he tried to regain what little dignity he could, considering the circumstances. Unfortunately the cold air wasn’t doing anything to lessen his obvious desire, especially after the last things Vincent had said. “Are you offering to suck my cock, Vincent?” Tseng murmured, looking at the ex-Turk with one eyebrow raised.
Vincent looked up at the bound Turk out from under thick black bangs, his lips pulling back in a near feral grin, displaying perfect white teeth. He let his red gaze roam over the flesh that had been bared to him before stepping in close. Bringing up his leather-covered hand, he ran it over Tseng’s chest slowly. He leaned in close to Tseng’s face, his thigh brushing the man’s erection. “Is that what you want?” he rumbled roughly, sliding his hand around Tseng’s side to caress the Turk’s lower back firmly. “Does it excite you? The idea of me on my knees?”
“Yes… to all of your questions,” Tseng answered, staring at Vincent as he tried to work out whether the ex-Turk was serious or not. At the moment, he didn’t see the point in lying, his interest in the other man being so obvious for all to see. “Question is, what do you want, Vincent… and how do you want it?” His body was beginning to tremble a little, but Tseng was sure it was from the cold air and his awkward position, not the gunman who was standing so close, looking at him like he was considering the best way to either fuck him or kill him.
Grin widening as he held his forehead against Tseng’s temple to keep the other man from seeing his increasingly interested expression, Vincent reached down and roughly grabbed the man’s erection. Squeezing and tugging on the turgid member, he breathed into the Turk’s ear, “I haven’t decided what I want yet. Perhaps I should just try things until something appeals to me, yes?”
Tseng gasped at the touch, biting his lip to stop any more sounds from tumbling forth. A part of him wanted to argue with Vincent, call the man on his constant teasing and demand to know where this was headed, but his hormones quickly overruled that line of thought, picking another. “Not like I’m going to… stop you,” Tseng mumbled, biting his lip so hard when the gunman twisted his hand a certain way, that the Turk could taste blood in his mouth.
There was something about being restrained and at the gunman’s mercy that gave an extra spark to what was happening, but the way his body was reacting so strongly was a little frightening to Tseng. “If you freed my hands, I could return the favor,” he ventured, finally releasing his lip to speak, only to have his hips buck up into his tormentor’s touch.
“What, and give you the ability to hit me with something else? I think not,” Vincent purred, rolling Tseng’s cock around with his hand then pressing it up against the man’s belly to firmly rub the underside. “And no, you are not going to stop me. You are going to accept whatever it is I have to give you. Do you have a problem with that? Be honest now, because I can smell a lie.”
“I… don’t seem to have much choice… at present,” Tseng responded, ignoring the movement of his own hips, pressing up into Vincent’s touch. He could feel his face flush, his breaths becoming labored as his body’s needs took over. “What are you planning to give me?” he whispered, biting his lip to hold back a moan.
“You make it sound like I’m doing this for free,” Vincent rumbled, smirking into Tseng’s neck.
“What do you want then… to not stop?” Tseng mumbled, hating himself for not fighting this and for being so weak.
“Your pride,” Vincent hissed. “I want you to beg. I want you to know that I broke you with so little effort.” He slid his hand down around Tseng’s cock, over the Turk’s balls and back towards the tight puckered ring of muscle that he wanted quite suddenly to own. He pressed up hard with the heel of his hand into Tseng’s scrotum while simultaneously giving the man’s neck a sharp little nip.
Gasping, Tseng wriggled in Vincent’s hold, his body trembling in reaction to the other man’s words. “I’m not… I’m not broken,” he whimpered, his voice coming out weak and desperate. Every touch from the beautiful gunman was like poison, filling his veins and rendering him helpless to resist.
“Oh, but you are,” Vincent whispered. “I can see the cracks beginning Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. You’re fractured, desperate and needy. Your body’s betrayal is but physical proof of your mind’s fragility.” He pulled back and his red eyes bored into Tseng’s black ones. “I want you to watch me, Tseng. Watch me very carefully.” He grinned again, flashing his perfect teeth out from behind a curtain of wild dark hair as he slowly sank to his knees. When his mouth was even with the Turk’s straining sex, the man’s musky scent filling his nostrils and exciting his sexual aggression, he looked up at Tseng and asked in a deep, rough voice, “Who has the power here, Tseng? And you know exactly what I mean by that.”
Tseng’s eyes were locked onto Vincent, as he hung limply from his restraints, the realization that he was already defeated, haunting his thoughts. “You do,” he whispered, quiet enough to be missed by most, but he knew the enhanced man before him would hear it.
“That’s right,” Vincent said softly, but without any vindictive malice. He stared into Tseng’s face a moment longer before his eyes flicked back to the engorged penis before him. He then leaned forward and with his gloved hand holding Tseng’s erection in place he slowly ran his tongue up the underside of the shaft. He lightly traced the flared head with the tip of his tongue before he slowly drew the length into his mouth, relaxing his jaw to accommodate the girth of it.
Tseng’s eyes fell closed as soon as Vincent’s tongue touched him, the sensation almost too intense to take. He didn’t notice the sounds he was making, his whole consciousness focused on trying not to come too soon as he fought to keep still, drowning in the feel of Vincent’s mouth upon him. “Vincent,” he hissed, body tense and shivering as he tried to grasp onto his pride, which was slowly crumbling before him.
It was almost too easy. Tseng was all talk, but in the end he was a slave to his body’s desires. Vincent felt an uncharacteristic surge of fondness; a desire to protect the carefully guarded weakness that he could plainly see being displayed by the other man. It didn’t last long, devoured by the reaction of his own body to the soft moans and pants that Tseng was letting loose. He allowed the sly, devious thoughts to slide away as he brought up his gauntleted hand to wrap around the man’s hip, holding the body under his mouth steady. He pressed with the bladed claws into a firm buttock while his gloved hand assisted the attention given by his mouth.
It should have been simple to detach himself from his task at hand, after all a Turk was a master manipulator, but he was finding it difficult. He was slowly beginning to realize that he wanted to feel something other than the hollow cold that had become his existence ever since he had woken up that final time; reanimating in order to help Cloud save the world. Looking up at Tseng, meeting those black eyes, he slowly let the thick cock slide from his mouth until only the tip rested against his closed lips. “What is it you want, Tseng?” he rumbled, running his lips back and forth over the velvety tip while stroking under the man’s scrotum lightly with a gloved finger. Tseng could be played with so little effort.
Tseng stared, breathing hard as he tried to form a response. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this, so long since he’d allowed his body to just feel and overtake his common sense with sensation. “I… I want,” he began, swallowing to try and steady his shaking voice. “I want you to take me,” he finally whispered, drowning in Vincent’s fiery eyes, feeling like prey for the first time since he’d become a Turk. It should have made his defenses flare and his instincts fight to regain the upper hand but instead it made his body tremble in submission and want, as if finally he’d found the one worthy of yielding to. There was still fear, but now it was more a fear of rejection, of this beautiful, deadly man before him crushing what was left of his self respect into nothing but a memory.
It should have sickened him, the speed with which Tseng gave in to him, but it didn’t. Instead, a massive shudder wracked his body as he issued a low moan. Just what was happening here? Who was playing whom? Vincent’s mind was savage as it ran through countless scenarios that left him once again the victim. In the end, he too was nearly helpless to deny his own body’s cravings. Thirty years of dormant emotions; of dry, dusty needs gone unfulfilled came crashing down onto his shoulders, nearly knocking the breath out of him. Rising to his feet, he stood before Tseng, face emotionless, but crimson eyes sharp and shrewd. His eyes burned with tortured passion, reflecting all of the turmoil he had felt and undergone at his own hand.
What did he feel? The answer was easy: nothing, no need to bond, to form a commitment, only his basic biological need to fuck. However, there was something else, something fleet and teasing that would warrant further thought at a time when his brain, now wracked by nearly out of control hormones, could function properly. He kissed Tseng then. Not the demanding, dominant kiss of before, but one borne more of that dying passion he thought he had lost. His lips were firm and commanding, clearly drawing the line between master and slave, but when he slid his tongue into Tseng’s mouth it was gentle, caressing. While his lips were occupied, his hand did not remain idle, instead taking up a firm stroking motion on the other man’s cock.
When they broke apart, he was panting lightly, his lips curled up in a predatory grin. He nuzzled by Tseng’s ear. “You want me to take you?” he asked redundantly, voice made deeper and rougher by lust. “Where do you want me to take you? Are we going somewhere?”
“W… what?” Tseng stuttered, his brain trying to decipher what Vincent had said through the fog of lust. Finally it sunk home and Tseng blushed, working out that he was being made fun of. “Bastard,” he muttered, trying for an angry tone but failing as his words ended up mixed with a moan. “Don’t you know… its bad manners to play with… your prey?” Tseng gasped, his hips moving in time with Vincent’s hand.
With an eyebrow arching up slowly Vincent’s grin grew. Quick come back, very impressive. His respect for Tseng rose a notch. “Perhaps,” he breathed, running his lips along Tseng’s jaw. “But I’m just a beast, remember? Manners mean nothing to me.” His hand ceased its stroking and traveled lower to slide in between Tseng’s thighs. Fingers within reach of the soft, tender flesh of Tseng’s ass, he pressed two just past the globes of the Turk’s buttocks and against the puckered ring of muscle. “But something tells me you enjoy being played with, am I right?” He nipped Tseng’s neck again, rubbing his fingers against Tseng’s opening. “Do you want something else right here?” He pressed a little more firmly, humming as he felt the reflexive clench of muscle. “Come now; use your words Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’. What shall I place here instead of my fingers?”
Tseng’s legs spread apart at the touch, trembling as he tried to hold them in place. “Y… your cock,” he whimpered, his hips trying to push down on the digits but failing with the limited movements he could manage. His legs twitched with the urge to lift and wrap around the ex-Turk’s waist, but he didn’t know if it was allowed and was too worried about doing something to cause Vincent to stop. “Please… oil in jacket pocket… please,” he added, head tilted to expose more of his neck in a show of submission he hoped would garner the mercy of Vincent at least using lube.
“Hmph,” Vincent snorted softly, a faint note of scorn coloring his voice as he withdrew his hand. “Do you always carry such a convenience around with you?” He fell silent as he studied the flushed and panting face of the Director. Was the man’s control really that weak? “Is it so easy to break you?” he murmured more to himself than to Tseng. This quick submission, this lack of fight in the face of sex was enough to break through his own slowly growing desire, though lessen it, it did not. Had the Turks really grown so infantile since his departure from the department, if this was the best they could offer? He had known Veld, once, fleetingly at an intimate level, knew how the man had worked; the discipline he had commanded of those under him and this- this was not it.
If what he had read of Sephiroth and the implications it meant towards his slowly formulating hypothesis of Geostigma, the Turks needed strength now, not this easy weakness. Still… this presented a unique situation. If he could get a hold of the Turks, put his mark on them, his control… their strength might yet be reclaimed.
Stepping back he reached out and with one hand lifted Tseng off of the outcropping of rock and dropped the Director back onto his feet. He put his gauntleted hand on the man’s shoulder, steadying him as his gloved one went to his mantle and began to unbuckle it. A grin slowly formed on his face, dark and promising. “Then by all means, retrieve it Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’.”
Tseng glared, his bound hands managing to fumble the small bottle out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “The oil is not usually used for sex. I brought it in case any doors where jammed. Some of us aren’t augmented,” Tseng muttered. “As for being easy to break, the few times I have been captured, nobody has approached me quiet like you have.” Looking down at the oil bottle in his hands, Tseng frowned as the reality of the situation suddenly became all too clear as the blind lust began to ebb.
Vincent paused in the removal of the mantle, the garment half-on, and raised an eyebrow. “With all the rotten wood in this place, one wouldn’t have to be ‘augmented’ to get a jammed door open.” He finished removing his mantle and tossed it against the wall. He stood in front of Tseng, his arms by his sides easily as he watched the Turk’s face. “As a Turk, you should be ready for anything, including ‘my type’ of advance.” He cocked his head, grin returning. “Does it bother you?”
“No,” Tseng retorted immediately, his eyes lifting enough to look over all the now revealed leather before him. It was such a rare sight to see these days, Sephiroth and Genesis being the only other two people he’d ever seen in so much of it. “Isn’t it hot in that?” he asked, trying to cover for the fact that he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away, Vincent’s steady gaze ensuring that his attention had been noted.
“No,” Vincent breathed, reaching down to cup and rub briefly between his legs. “Temperatures don’t affect me like they do humans. It helps being dead.” He raised an eyebrow and his grin widened. “Are you going to use that, or just hold onto it for a while?” he asked, jerking his chin at the oil Tseng clutched in his hand.
Tseng’s eyes had followed Vincent’s hand down, flicking back up to the gunman’s face when he’d mentioned the oil “What do you want me to do with it?” he asked, managing to keep his expression flat. He knew it was going to be used to ease penetration, not being completely ignorant of male on male sex, but he wasn’t sure why he’d need it if he was the one being fucked.
Wait a minute, Vincent hesitated, suddenly cautious. Had Tseng even done this before? If not, then things just got very dangerous. The man’s desire was evident in the straining erection in front him, but Tseng’s question spoke far more tellingly than what his eyes now saw. He was in a precarious position now indeed if Tseng’s body was innocent to this kind of activity. He could gravely hurt the Turk, and a part of him, the dark part of him, seriously considered it. Likewise, if the Turk hadn’t done this before, he was put into a position where he could bind the man to him on a visceral level. On the other hand, Tseng could just be playing with him and the worst case scenario would end in Tseng’s broken neck. He decided to proceed very carefully.
Better to err on the side of caution than blindly assume otherwise. “What do you think I want you to do with it?”
“You want me to put it on you,” Tseng answered, shifting nervously. His eyes looked up at the gunman’s, trying to gauge where this was going and if he had been brought to this point just to be humiliated. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making sure we’re clear,” Vincent replied, red gaze never wavering from the Director’s. “We wouldn’t want you to forget your place. The weak bows down for the strong, isn’t that right?”
Tseng raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply, wondering just what the hell he was getting himself into. Walking over to stand in front of Vincent, he swallowed, feeling completely unprepared for what he was about to do. “You want me to do it here?” he asked, wondering if he sounded as stupid to the gunman as he did to himself.
Vincent fought a chuckle. “Would you prefer we get a room?” he asked wryly, but before he could give Tseng a chance to reply he reached out and wrapped a hand around the back of Tseng’s neck and dragged the younger man in for a kiss. It was slow and deep and while he slid his tongue into Tseng’s mouth, he reached his gauntleted hand around to cup and squeeze Tseng’s firm, bare backside, much as he had before. When he pulled back he said huskily, “Yes, here, is that going to be a problem?”
“N…no,” Tseng stuttered after the kiss, trying to ignore his flushed cheeks as he put the oil back into his pocket to free up both hands. Kneeling down he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and began undoing the two buckles in his way, his bound wrists not hampering him too much. Once they were done, he pulled down the zipper and paused, noting the black silk boxers he found underneath. “Hypocrite,” he murmured, slipping both hands through the window in the front and drawing out Vincent’s cock. It was a strange feeling to hold another man in his hands like this and Tseng couldn’t help but stare.
The fingers of Vincent’s right hand twitched when he felt the warm slightly calloused skin of another touch his flesh, flesh he hadn’t felt himself in too long… too long! His vision narrowed to encompass only Tseng, on his knees and staring, and he couldn’t resist an equally soft, “Old habits, Tseng, ‘Head of the Turks’, old habits.” He then raised an elegant black brow and said wryly, “It’s not going to go away no matter how hard you stare at it.”
“Ha, Ha,” Tseng retorted, releasing Vincent’s cock to retrieve the oil from his pocket. Flipping open the top, he squeezed some onto his hands, flipping the lid closed again and dropping it to the floor. Rubbing his hands together, he decided to just imitate what felt good on himself as he let both hands gently slide up and down Vincent’s length, coating it carefully with oil. He could only hope he was doing it correctly, but didn’t doubt the gunman would inform him if he wasn’t.
Vincent hissed in a breath and gritted his teeth when he felt the pressure of Tseng’s fingers on his sex. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he couldn’t stop the small, involuntary thrust of his hips into the tentative contact. The other man’s touch alone told him what he needed to know: Tseng had never done this before. He struggled to keep that thought in mind as the intimate touch sent a shiver up his spine. He let his breath out slowly and his eyes rolled up as his lids shut. The fact that Tseng was virginal in this regard only served to arouse him even more. It was a rush of power, to know that he could either completely crush the other man, or give him exquisite pleasure. He opened his eyes and looked down, watching those manicured nails slide over his stiffened flesh.
He reached out and gently touched Tseng’s face, his own unreadable. But his eyes didn’t lie and neither did his breathing. The other man was affecting him, and he was not ignorant to his own precarious position. The strong had their own weaknesses, and the trick was to not be overcome by them.
Tseng looked up at the touch, concerned that he was doing something wrong but keeping his hands moving. One look into Vincent’s eyes told him otherwise, his own breath hitching as he found himself caught in the ruby gaze. Although he would never admit it out loud to the infuriating man, Vincent was beautiful and standing here, stroking his cock was enough to make Tseng moan. The head Turk would not allow himself to show that weakness though, choosing to speak instead. “Tell me when you want me to stop.”
It was a fine idea, except for the fact that Vincent didn’t want Tseng to stop. The Turk’s hands were too light and going too slow for him to get any kind of relief and he was getting harder with each stroke. It was more than enough and he stilled Tseng’s hands with one of his own. “That’s enough,” he said softly. “Stand up,” he instructed.
Doing as he was told, Tseng moved his hands away and stood up, a little worried about what came next but too proud to ask. Instead he concentrated on keeping his eyes on Vincent’s face, refusing to let them drop down to the gunman’s exposed cock. Unfortunately, just thinking about it had his eyes betraying him and they flicked downwards before he could stop them.
Vincent let him stare, watching Tseng watch his body. “Turn around.” When Tseng did, he stepped up behind the man and pulled Tseng’s pants up to enable him to walk. He then pulled off the Turk’s jacket and tossed it over against the wall with his mantle. “Now walk,” he ordered, picking up the oil and steering the Turk with gentle touches until they were in the abandoned study. Just in front of the desk, he pressed up against Tseng, sliding his gloved hand down inside Tseng’s pants to press fingers against the seam of Tseng’s buttocks. Bringing his mouth close to the Turk’s ear he breathed, “You’ve never felt a man like this before, have you?” He pressed against Tseng’s entrance with his gloved finger; press and release, press and release, rubbing suggestively with his finger each time. “Are you nervous?”
Tseng nearly lied, before common sense reminded him what was about to happen. He knew enough about the process to know that it could be very painful if Vincent wasn’t gentle. “No I haven’t and yes, I’m nervous,” he whispered, breath speeding up. Despite his fear, he wanted this to happen, his cock still hard and twitching in reaction to the teasing touches.
Chapter 4