Early Valentine's Day Present - Tseng/FTM!Rufus smut
Hilde and I have been having some totally epic conversations. Now, normally I like Rufus and the Turks alright, but I don't really ever write about them except as humorous side characters. This is because Rufus and Reno scared me in the original game. :(
Anyways, this happened:
hildico: OH SHIT, crackbunny just got born
intravenusann: YES
hildico: You know how Rufus is small, and skinny, wears really loose clothing...
intravenusann: OH HOT DAMN
hildico: He's really female!
hildico: But NO ONE MUST KNOW.
intravenusann: WHY IS THIS SO HOT
And then this happened:
Title: The F-Word
Fandom/Pairing: FFVII (Sometime during that time when Zack is in a tube in CC), Tseng/Rufus
Rating: NC-17 for smut!
Word Count: 2700~
Disclaimer: In ze profile. Clearly I do not own Rufus and Tseng or anyone else. I really don't want to.
Summary: ... And then they had sex.
Warnings: PWP, established relationship, nonmonogamy, powerplay, and trans-issues (Female-to-Male). Also, only half-beta'd. Also, I'm not ignoring Tseng/Aeris, this is called a limited third person perspective and it's Rufus's. Sorry about the Rufus-->Sephiroth moment. And about my really inappropriate metaphors. Okay, I think all my bases are covered.
He doesn’t take his clothes off with any of his other lovers. Not all of his clothes. Not even with his other Turk lovers. After a certain point he wouldn’t even take his clothes off in front of his mother and this was all her work, wasn’t it?
It’s not them, the clothes or the lovers, it really is him--he's not just saying that so they'll stop calling. It is just a bit harder to do anything without his vest and his boxers on. Black vest, white boxers. It coordinates.
There’s one exception. The exception that has keys to his apartment, cooks him breakfast when he gets up at four thirty, spends the night, and knows how to do his shots.
They kiss violently, slamming each other into the walls of Rufus’s apartment and then into the costly softness of the mattress. They roll around as jackets are pulled away. Ties are undone, turtlenecks pulled up and off mussing blond hair, buttons torn apart without a lot of concern for the occasionally torn button hole and projectile button.
Their bulletproof vests scratch against each other as they kiss and Rufus grinds down against Tseng’s leg.
Tseng forces him onto his back, one hand pining his shoulder and the other tearing open the velcro of the vest. He claws at the straps of Tseng’s white vest and then at the tan skin underneath it. Tseng plucks at Rufus’s nipples with an experienced hand and sends him bucking up hard. Tseng comes down then, Rufus arching is back till their chests slide against each other. Tseng is bigger than he is and heavier. His cock is hard, pressing into the seam of Rufus’s pants right between his legs. Rufus tugs on the waist of Tseng’s slacks without undoing the belt. It leaves red marks on the sides of his hips, the scratch of fabric and fingernails.
“Get your fucking pants off, why don’t you?” Rufus demands. Tseng sits up and undoes his belt and fly as calmly as Rufus undoes his own with great urgency. Rufus is pulling off his silk socks while Tseng is still pulling off his pants.
“Hurry up,” Rufus snaps, pawing at his own arousal.
“No need to be impatient,” Tseng tells him calmly. Slowly presses him into the mattress and grind their naked hips together. Rufus growls and whines into slow, deep kisses. Tseng’s teeth dig into his lower lip and pull it back till it comes scraping out, raw red and swollen. Rufus licks it tenderly and then lunges his mouth in for another kiss.
Rufus is rocking his hips methodically now, Tseng’s hand coming between them to jerk him off.
“Lube,” Rufus begs. “Condoms. Now.”
But Tseng torments him a moment longer, making a point to tug on a nipple while he bites at Rufus’s mouth.
“You bastard,” Rufus snarls when Tseng finally climbs away to dig out condoms and lubricant. He tosses the bottle to Rufus, who catches it with one hand and turns smoothly onto his knees and elbows.
Rufus fingers him roughly, curling his fingers and pressing towards the front of his pelvis until he sees stars.
“Get over here and fuck me already,” Rufus says.
“You want it like that?” Tseng asks.
Rufus just looks at him.
Tseng’s foreskin is pulled back to show how dark the tip of his cock is. It makes Rufus ache inside, a familiar and appetizing feeling.
Tseng doesn’t pause here, he doesn’t tease. He just goes right in, splitting Rufus open and, from this angle with his legs pulled tight together, makes him feel like he’s getting fucked right straight to the back of the throat. It would explain the sound he makes.
“Oh fuck,” Rufus growls out. “Fuck!”
Tseng is only slow and gentle in comparison to what Rufus knows it can be. Hands holding Rufus’s hips in place, he fucks at his own pace. Rufus pants and bites into the pillow as Tseng’s hand slide down to his belly and then further to jerk him off.
Rufus just shrieks when Tseng slaps him, sudden pain jostling up against the unrelenting pleasure. The first time Tseng had hit him he had been so indignant about it, turning around and trying to get a word out when Tseng slapped him in the face for trying to complain.
“You do worse to people all the time,” Tseng had pointed out. “Besides, you liked it.”
Tseng hits him again, harder this time. Rufus buries his scream in one of his very expensive pillows.
Then Tseng gives in, bends over Rufus with his chest pressed into Rufus’s back and fucks him hard and fast. It feels even deeper and Tseng barely pulls out, just presses in harder. Balls slap against his skin, pressed close to inside him. A hand grabs at Rufus’s chest.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rufus chants, each sound taking on so much more than the word it makes. He’s shaking and crying and coming until he whimpers. It hurts to have Tseng fuck him so hard when he’s like that. Makes him feel raw inside until he dry sobs into his own folded arms.
Tseng bites hard into Rufus’s shoulder and presses in so hard that there is no doubt he got off.
Rufus is shivering and shoving Tseng off and out of him. He hugs himself, head tossed back in exhaustion. Tseng’s face is horribly flushed and he’s breathing hard, wild-eyed and almost shocked looking.
There’s a lot of deep breaths before the cold sets in over their sex-sweaty body, then Rufus hurries to get under the sheets with the obscene thread count and Tseng, gracefully follows. It is oppressively dark and warm there, one hand trapped under the sharp of his hip bone and one arm curling around his back, fingers brushing the ends of his hair at his neck.
It is impossible to resist kissing and that’s always what gets them in trouble.
Rufus is violence, all teeth and trying to suck Tseng’s tongue out by the root, and he is met with a steadfast unwillingness to give in.
Rufus is panting and trying to glare through the darkness to see if he can force these feelings on Tseng as well. Not that it matters. He’s sore inside and doesn’t really want to get fucked again tonight. But he’s still turned on, hard and eager to get off just from a little bit of post-coital biting and sucking.
It’s always awkward as fuck to be laying on their sides, one arm is always crushed and incapable. Rufus tugs on Tseng’s immobilized hand, cups the fingers towards his groin and bites down hard on Tseng’s lower lip.
“Do something about it,” he says. Tseng roughly jerks him off, but it’s not easy from that angle. It isn’t enough by far.
Rufus lets out a frustrated, entitled sound and rolls them over. He climbs up Tseng’s body until his legs are pining Tseng’s shoulders to the bed.
His back is cold, like the sweat that Tseng got running down his spine is freezing. Tseng’s hands come up and pull down on his upper thighs, fingers tangling in the soft blond hair there. Tseng smoothes it down and digs his fingers into the tense muscles of Rufus’s thighs.
“Oh come on,” he whines. “Just suck me off already.”
Tseng runs the flat of his tongue up the bottom of Rufus’s cock and elicits a groan of relief. Tseng’s hands work their way up Rufus’s thighs and then grab him by the ass and pull him down, till he’s all the way in Tseng’s mouth and squirming like crazy.
He can’t keep track of what Tseng is doing to him, just knows it feels fucking amazing. Rufus bends over forward, his blond hair falling down and brushing against Tseng’s long hair, which is getting terribly tangled against the pillows. Rufus digs both his hands in and when he goes arching back like an overpass, pulling on Tseng’s hair. It’s thick and soft and it slips in his clenched fists.
“Oh fuck! Fuck!” he says to the ceiling, eyelids fluttering and eyes threatening to roll back up into his head.
“You’re so good at this, Tseng, so fucking good at this.”
He can feel Tseng’s hum of approval and it shakes through his bones and makes him sob. He curls back in then. Short, trim, fashionable nails dig into Tseng’s scalp and Rufus keens, feeling his abdominal muscles spasm from how tensely he is coiled.
“Fucking Hel. Fuck everything. Fuck!”
He flops back exhausted and on edge. He is so close, so close his whole body is shivering and his mouth is wet and hungry and his whole body is sensitive to it. He idly plays with his own nipples, and it feels good on his chest, but it also feels good for his hands to be touching something.
Through the sheets he can feel Tseng’s cock pressing against his shoulder. He arches his back to grind into it and his hips angle just right. He twitches and screams an empty, quiet scream.
But Tseng doesn’t quite get it.
“Stop,” Rufus begs. “Stop!”
Reluctantly, almost, Tseng takes his mouth away. Rufus curls up and rolls away, uncurling in a different direction so that he can press against Tseng above the sheets.
“You’re so good to me,” he whispers, his compliments hinging on himself as always.
“That’s what you pay me for,” Tseng jokes. Rufus licks the taste of himself off Tseng’s lips.
“Are you calling yourself my whore?” Rufus purrs.
“No, just your capitalistic good sense.” It makes Rufus laugh as he cups Tseng’s cock teasingly through the sheets.
“Aren’t you cold, sir?” And he is, so he climbs under the sheets again and doesn’t even make a snide comment about what a terrible pick of line that is.
Tseng is all over him, oppressively hot and bigger and stronger than he is. He resists that, turning his head away from kisses and keeping his hands to himself. Tseng’s hands are all too interested though, and his mouth is hot on Rufus’s neck, his cock hot against Rufus’s leg.
“I’m not going to let you fuck me again,” Rufus tells him. “I don’t care if you want it.”
“I’m fine,” Tseng assures him. He doesn’t even sound like it upsets him. Rufus would hate it-being told what to do, being told one second that he can and the next that he can’t. But loves the power to do it to someone else and Tseng takes it better than anyone.
Tseng grinds his hips into Rufus’s leg with such enthusiasm that Rufus can’t help but get interested. They kiss, hard with teeth clacking against each other. Tseng groans.
“Wait a moment,” Rufus whispers right into the shell of Tseng’s ear. His lips are wet with their spit and himself, hot from their kissing.
He slips out of bed and rushes for the lights and the heat and all those important things they probably should have done before they started fucking. Rufus fucks with Tseng under the dim emergency lights of the room. As if he can be naked with Tseng, but he still can’t stand being naked with himself.
But the lights blaze up and he’s smirking and Tseng is smirking back already. The sheets thrown back, the whole bed looks like a war-torn country in the wake of corporate takeover.
Tseng’s body is broken over in goosebumps, one hand behind his head and the other hand wrapped enthusiastically around his cock.
Rufus loves how cut Tseng’s body is: Sharp musculature lines in his legs, still strong coming out of his hips and then making a sculpture of his abs and his chest and his arms. Tseng still has a thinner build over all, one that speaks of a lot of fighting and hurting rather than pointless hours at a gym.
“I love seeing you in my bed,” Rufus tells him, forgetting to feel at all bothered by how skinny and weak and strange he must look.
Still, Tseng’s dark eyes are intensely looked. Rufus can see them drag over his body and it makes him pause a moment to be looked at as he never allows anyone to see him.
His hair is sweat-darkened and terribly mussed. His pale pink skin is too cold for the healthy color and broken out in goosebumps that raise every blond hair on his body like a quill.
“Please, come here,” Tseng says, stretching out a hand. Rufus slides into bed one knee at a time.
Tseng reaches for Rufus’s jaw, gently lures him in for a kiss. Then he hand is exploring Rufus’s body. First, groping at his chest, then stroking his breastbone, finally grabbing him around his tensed upper arm. Tseng digs his rough fingertips into Rufus’s abs and into the flat side of his waist. It strokes down the line of pubic hair that starts just above Rufus’s navel and follows it off into the sharp point of a hipbone. Tseng gropes one of his thighs and then pulls their legs together.
“Do you know how you look to me?” Tseng says, low and quiet with a wet and hot mouth.
“No,” Rufus answers plainly. “Tell me.”
He wants to know.
“Powerful,” Tseng says. It makes Rufus want to fuck him all over again.
Because he feels powerful like this. No need for a shotgun or a suit or the perfect hair and the perfect poise to make up for an imperfect body. It isn’t that he could ever imagine anything else, or that he wants anything else. This is how he was raised, but the hormone shots and the potential surgeries and the lifestyle-these are all his own choices. But he doesn’t see power in many places anymore and he’s never seen it in women. When Sephiroth was alive he could see that power and androgyny looked good together. He’d have given anything to have a piece of that. But somehow the failure feels all the worse.
“I just couldn’t stand to have you forgotten,” his mother had explained. “And I couldn’t stomach having to sleep with that man again. You’ll understand someday.”
“You’re not here,” Tseng whispers. His voice is begging and pleading Rufus to be here in the moment with him. Rufus kisses him sharp and forcefully.
“Why would I be anywhere else?” he asks without words.
He doesn’t understand-except that his father is a pig-but he also doesn’t care anymore. He likes his life just fine the way it is. It’s one convenient heart attack or assassination attempt away from perfect.
Tseng suddenly goes from panting to trying to hold his breath in desperately.
“Please,” he beseeches. “Your mouth?”
A slightly callused thumb, one marked with old scars and rough patches, pulls slightly at Rufus’s lower lip.
He turns the thought over in his mind very rapidly. He could just not do it, but it’s always sort of a mess and he wants to be able to just fall asleep right after this-or after whatever they do before they fall asleep. He does not want that to involve laundry. Tseng has been very good to him. He feels a thrill at the thought of holding Tseng down by the hips and-
He’s down like a shot, mouth wrapped around just the head, sucking as hard as he can. The key is to just swallow immediately and keep swallowing. Then there’s only the faintest taste. Besides, Tseng makes such an awed, strangled sound every time they do it like this. There is no sound the other way around.
The back of Rufus’s throat feels both dried out and slippery at the same time. Tseng is hoisting him up by the shoulders and kissing him gratefully. He still tastes like Rufus. Rufus tastes like Tseng. It is warmly perverse and intimate. Rufus lays his full weight down, his toes stretching to scratch the tops of Tseng’s feet. He feels the way their leg hair rubs against each other with too much friction and their groins almost line up, but don’t quite. If Tseng got hard again his dick would come up right between Rufus’s legs, which isn’t suggestive at all.
Mocking his own fears so long forgotten that they’ve become an old, intimate joke between them, Tseng licks slightly at the corner of Rufus’s mouth and says, “Sir, I worry still that we are growing all too attached to one another.”
“Maybe we are,” Rufus drawls back. “But I like it and you work for me, so shut up.”
Anyways, this happened:
hildico: OH SHIT, crackbunny just got born
intravenusann: YES
hildico: You know how Rufus is small, and skinny, wears really loose clothing...
intravenusann: OH HOT DAMN
hildico: He's really female!
hildico: But NO ONE MUST KNOW.
intravenusann: WHY IS THIS SO HOT
And then this happened:
Title: The F-Word
Fandom/Pairing: FFVII (Sometime during that time when Zack is in a tube in CC), Tseng/Rufus
Rating: NC-17 for smut!
Word Count: 2700~
Disclaimer: In ze profile. Clearly I do not own Rufus and Tseng or anyone else. I really don't want to.
Summary: ... And then they had sex.
Warnings: PWP, established relationship, nonmonogamy, powerplay, and trans-issues (Female-to-Male). Also, only half-beta'd. Also, I'm not ignoring Tseng/Aeris, this is called a limited third person perspective and it's Rufus's. Sorry about the Rufus-->Sephiroth moment. And about my really inappropriate metaphors. Okay, I think all my bases are covered.
He doesn’t take his clothes off with any of his other lovers. Not all of his clothes. Not even with his other Turk lovers. After a certain point he wouldn’t even take his clothes off in front of his mother and this was all her work, wasn’t it?
It’s not them, the clothes or the lovers, it really is him--he's not just saying that so they'll stop calling. It is just a bit harder to do anything without his vest and his boxers on. Black vest, white boxers. It coordinates.
There’s one exception. The exception that has keys to his apartment, cooks him breakfast when he gets up at four thirty, spends the night, and knows how to do his shots.
They kiss violently, slamming each other into the walls of Rufus’s apartment and then into the costly softness of the mattress. They roll around as jackets are pulled away. Ties are undone, turtlenecks pulled up and off mussing blond hair, buttons torn apart without a lot of concern for the occasionally torn button hole and projectile button.
Their bulletproof vests scratch against each other as they kiss and Rufus grinds down against Tseng’s leg.
Tseng forces him onto his back, one hand pining his shoulder and the other tearing open the velcro of the vest. He claws at the straps of Tseng’s white vest and then at the tan skin underneath it. Tseng plucks at Rufus’s nipples with an experienced hand and sends him bucking up hard. Tseng comes down then, Rufus arching is back till their chests slide against each other. Tseng is bigger than he is and heavier. His cock is hard, pressing into the seam of Rufus’s pants right between his legs. Rufus tugs on the waist of Tseng’s slacks without undoing the belt. It leaves red marks on the sides of his hips, the scratch of fabric and fingernails.
“Get your fucking pants off, why don’t you?” Rufus demands. Tseng sits up and undoes his belt and fly as calmly as Rufus undoes his own with great urgency. Rufus is pulling off his silk socks while Tseng is still pulling off his pants.
“Hurry up,” Rufus snaps, pawing at his own arousal.
“No need to be impatient,” Tseng tells him calmly. Slowly presses him into the mattress and grind their naked hips together. Rufus growls and whines into slow, deep kisses. Tseng’s teeth dig into his lower lip and pull it back till it comes scraping out, raw red and swollen. Rufus licks it tenderly and then lunges his mouth in for another kiss.
Rufus is rocking his hips methodically now, Tseng’s hand coming between them to jerk him off.
“Lube,” Rufus begs. “Condoms. Now.”
But Tseng torments him a moment longer, making a point to tug on a nipple while he bites at Rufus’s mouth.
“You bastard,” Rufus snarls when Tseng finally climbs away to dig out condoms and lubricant. He tosses the bottle to Rufus, who catches it with one hand and turns smoothly onto his knees and elbows.
Rufus fingers him roughly, curling his fingers and pressing towards the front of his pelvis until he sees stars.
“Get over here and fuck me already,” Rufus says.
“You want it like that?” Tseng asks.
Rufus just looks at him.
Tseng’s foreskin is pulled back to show how dark the tip of his cock is. It makes Rufus ache inside, a familiar and appetizing feeling.
Tseng doesn’t pause here, he doesn’t tease. He just goes right in, splitting Rufus open and, from this angle with his legs pulled tight together, makes him feel like he’s getting fucked right straight to the back of the throat. It would explain the sound he makes.
“Oh fuck,” Rufus growls out. “Fuck!”
Tseng is only slow and gentle in comparison to what Rufus knows it can be. Hands holding Rufus’s hips in place, he fucks at his own pace. Rufus pants and bites into the pillow as Tseng’s hand slide down to his belly and then further to jerk him off.
Rufus just shrieks when Tseng slaps him, sudden pain jostling up against the unrelenting pleasure. The first time Tseng had hit him he had been so indignant about it, turning around and trying to get a word out when Tseng slapped him in the face for trying to complain.
“You do worse to people all the time,” Tseng had pointed out. “Besides, you liked it.”
Tseng hits him again, harder this time. Rufus buries his scream in one of his very expensive pillows.
Then Tseng gives in, bends over Rufus with his chest pressed into Rufus’s back and fucks him hard and fast. It feels even deeper and Tseng barely pulls out, just presses in harder. Balls slap against his skin, pressed close to inside him. A hand grabs at Rufus’s chest.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rufus chants, each sound taking on so much more than the word it makes. He’s shaking and crying and coming until he whimpers. It hurts to have Tseng fuck him so hard when he’s like that. Makes him feel raw inside until he dry sobs into his own folded arms.
Tseng bites hard into Rufus’s shoulder and presses in so hard that there is no doubt he got off.
Rufus is shivering and shoving Tseng off and out of him. He hugs himself, head tossed back in exhaustion. Tseng’s face is horribly flushed and he’s breathing hard, wild-eyed and almost shocked looking.
There’s a lot of deep breaths before the cold sets in over their sex-sweaty body, then Rufus hurries to get under the sheets with the obscene thread count and Tseng, gracefully follows. It is oppressively dark and warm there, one hand trapped under the sharp of his hip bone and one arm curling around his back, fingers brushing the ends of his hair at his neck.
It is impossible to resist kissing and that’s always what gets them in trouble.
Rufus is violence, all teeth and trying to suck Tseng’s tongue out by the root, and he is met with a steadfast unwillingness to give in.
Rufus is panting and trying to glare through the darkness to see if he can force these feelings on Tseng as well. Not that it matters. He’s sore inside and doesn’t really want to get fucked again tonight. But he’s still turned on, hard and eager to get off just from a little bit of post-coital biting and sucking.
It’s always awkward as fuck to be laying on their sides, one arm is always crushed and incapable. Rufus tugs on Tseng’s immobilized hand, cups the fingers towards his groin and bites down hard on Tseng’s lower lip.
“Do something about it,” he says. Tseng roughly jerks him off, but it’s not easy from that angle. It isn’t enough by far.
Rufus lets out a frustrated, entitled sound and rolls them over. He climbs up Tseng’s body until his legs are pining Tseng’s shoulders to the bed.
His back is cold, like the sweat that Tseng got running down his spine is freezing. Tseng’s hands come up and pull down on his upper thighs, fingers tangling in the soft blond hair there. Tseng smoothes it down and digs his fingers into the tense muscles of Rufus’s thighs.
“Oh come on,” he whines. “Just suck me off already.”
Tseng runs the flat of his tongue up the bottom of Rufus’s cock and elicits a groan of relief. Tseng’s hands work their way up Rufus’s thighs and then grab him by the ass and pull him down, till he’s all the way in Tseng’s mouth and squirming like crazy.
He can’t keep track of what Tseng is doing to him, just knows it feels fucking amazing. Rufus bends over forward, his blond hair falling down and brushing against Tseng’s long hair, which is getting terribly tangled against the pillows. Rufus digs both his hands in and when he goes arching back like an overpass, pulling on Tseng’s hair. It’s thick and soft and it slips in his clenched fists.
“Oh fuck! Fuck!” he says to the ceiling, eyelids fluttering and eyes threatening to roll back up into his head.
“You’re so good at this, Tseng, so fucking good at this.”
He can feel Tseng’s hum of approval and it shakes through his bones and makes him sob. He curls back in then. Short, trim, fashionable nails dig into Tseng’s scalp and Rufus keens, feeling his abdominal muscles spasm from how tensely he is coiled.
“Fucking Hel. Fuck everything. Fuck!”
He flops back exhausted and on edge. He is so close, so close his whole body is shivering and his mouth is wet and hungry and his whole body is sensitive to it. He idly plays with his own nipples, and it feels good on his chest, but it also feels good for his hands to be touching something.
Through the sheets he can feel Tseng’s cock pressing against his shoulder. He arches his back to grind into it and his hips angle just right. He twitches and screams an empty, quiet scream.
But Tseng doesn’t quite get it.
“Stop,” Rufus begs. “Stop!”
Reluctantly, almost, Tseng takes his mouth away. Rufus curls up and rolls away, uncurling in a different direction so that he can press against Tseng above the sheets.
“You’re so good to me,” he whispers, his compliments hinging on himself as always.
“That’s what you pay me for,” Tseng jokes. Rufus licks the taste of himself off Tseng’s lips.
“Are you calling yourself my whore?” Rufus purrs.
“No, just your capitalistic good sense.” It makes Rufus laugh as he cups Tseng’s cock teasingly through the sheets.
“Aren’t you cold, sir?” And he is, so he climbs under the sheets again and doesn’t even make a snide comment about what a terrible pick of line that is.
Tseng is all over him, oppressively hot and bigger and stronger than he is. He resists that, turning his head away from kisses and keeping his hands to himself. Tseng’s hands are all too interested though, and his mouth is hot on Rufus’s neck, his cock hot against Rufus’s leg.
“I’m not going to let you fuck me again,” Rufus tells him. “I don’t care if you want it.”
“I’m fine,” Tseng assures him. He doesn’t even sound like it upsets him. Rufus would hate it-being told what to do, being told one second that he can and the next that he can’t. But loves the power to do it to someone else and Tseng takes it better than anyone.
Tseng grinds his hips into Rufus’s leg with such enthusiasm that Rufus can’t help but get interested. They kiss, hard with teeth clacking against each other. Tseng groans.
“Wait a moment,” Rufus whispers right into the shell of Tseng’s ear. His lips are wet with their spit and himself, hot from their kissing.
He slips out of bed and rushes for the lights and the heat and all those important things they probably should have done before they started fucking. Rufus fucks with Tseng under the dim emergency lights of the room. As if he can be naked with Tseng, but he still can’t stand being naked with himself.
But the lights blaze up and he’s smirking and Tseng is smirking back already. The sheets thrown back, the whole bed looks like a war-torn country in the wake of corporate takeover.
Tseng’s body is broken over in goosebumps, one hand behind his head and the other hand wrapped enthusiastically around his cock.
Rufus loves how cut Tseng’s body is: Sharp musculature lines in his legs, still strong coming out of his hips and then making a sculpture of his abs and his chest and his arms. Tseng still has a thinner build over all, one that speaks of a lot of fighting and hurting rather than pointless hours at a gym.
“I love seeing you in my bed,” Rufus tells him, forgetting to feel at all bothered by how skinny and weak and strange he must look.
Still, Tseng’s dark eyes are intensely looked. Rufus can see them drag over his body and it makes him pause a moment to be looked at as he never allows anyone to see him.
His hair is sweat-darkened and terribly mussed. His pale pink skin is too cold for the healthy color and broken out in goosebumps that raise every blond hair on his body like a quill.
“Please, come here,” Tseng says, stretching out a hand. Rufus slides into bed one knee at a time.
Tseng reaches for Rufus’s jaw, gently lures him in for a kiss. Then he hand is exploring Rufus’s body. First, groping at his chest, then stroking his breastbone, finally grabbing him around his tensed upper arm. Tseng digs his rough fingertips into Rufus’s abs and into the flat side of his waist. It strokes down the line of pubic hair that starts just above Rufus’s navel and follows it off into the sharp point of a hipbone. Tseng gropes one of his thighs and then pulls their legs together.
“Do you know how you look to me?” Tseng says, low and quiet with a wet and hot mouth.
“No,” Rufus answers plainly. “Tell me.”
He wants to know.
“Powerful,” Tseng says. It makes Rufus want to fuck him all over again.
Because he feels powerful like this. No need for a shotgun or a suit or the perfect hair and the perfect poise to make up for an imperfect body. It isn’t that he could ever imagine anything else, or that he wants anything else. This is how he was raised, but the hormone shots and the potential surgeries and the lifestyle-these are all his own choices. But he doesn’t see power in many places anymore and he’s never seen it in women. When Sephiroth was alive he could see that power and androgyny looked good together. He’d have given anything to have a piece of that. But somehow the failure feels all the worse.
“I just couldn’t stand to have you forgotten,” his mother had explained. “And I couldn’t stomach having to sleep with that man again. You’ll understand someday.”
“You’re not here,” Tseng whispers. His voice is begging and pleading Rufus to be here in the moment with him. Rufus kisses him sharp and forcefully.
“Why would I be anywhere else?” he asks without words.
He doesn’t understand-except that his father is a pig-but he also doesn’t care anymore. He likes his life just fine the way it is. It’s one convenient heart attack or assassination attempt away from perfect.
Tseng suddenly goes from panting to trying to hold his breath in desperately.
“Please,” he beseeches. “Your mouth?”
A slightly callused thumb, one marked with old scars and rough patches, pulls slightly at Rufus’s lower lip.
He turns the thought over in his mind very rapidly. He could just not do it, but it’s always sort of a mess and he wants to be able to just fall asleep right after this-or after whatever they do before they fall asleep. He does not want that to involve laundry. Tseng has been very good to him. He feels a thrill at the thought of holding Tseng down by the hips and-
He’s down like a shot, mouth wrapped around just the head, sucking as hard as he can. The key is to just swallow immediately and keep swallowing. Then there’s only the faintest taste. Besides, Tseng makes such an awed, strangled sound every time they do it like this. There is no sound the other way around.
The back of Rufus’s throat feels both dried out and slippery at the same time. Tseng is hoisting him up by the shoulders and kissing him gratefully. He still tastes like Rufus. Rufus tastes like Tseng. It is warmly perverse and intimate. Rufus lays his full weight down, his toes stretching to scratch the tops of Tseng’s feet. He feels the way their leg hair rubs against each other with too much friction and their groins almost line up, but don’t quite. If Tseng got hard again his dick would come up right between Rufus’s legs, which isn’t suggestive at all.
Mocking his own fears so long forgotten that they’ve become an old, intimate joke between them, Tseng licks slightly at the corner of Rufus’s mouth and says, “Sir, I worry still that we are growing all too attached to one another.”
“Maybe we are,” Rufus drawls back. “But I like it and you work for me, so shut up.”