Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 7
Notes: Part of a larger arc, /Blue Monday/, which Finding Beauty and I are in collaboration.
Disclaimer: Don't own them ... obviously.
Discourse
Eight-fifteen in the morning and Rufus finds himself rightfully bored as he sits positioned between the President and Heidegger at the board table. Reeve is making some speech about developmental planning, droning on about costs and expenses, all of which turn into a blur of figures and statistics. He doesn't see why he needs to be here, knowing well that his father would disregard any input he might make.
He reaches for his cup of coffee and leans back in the leather chair. Tseng leans down from his position behind the Vice President and murmurs something in his ear, and Rufus does his best not to spew his coffee on the glossy table top. The President shoots him a quick glance, silently reprimanding before affording the Turk a glance. Tseng is always there, a reassuring presence behind the young heir. No one questions his purpose other than having been assigned as his personal bodyguard, nor do they question the small, muffled words they exchange. Perhaps it is assumed that Tseng is adding his own personal commentary to the topics of discussion. No one has ever asked.
One would be quite shocked to learn what words were truly exchanged.
Rufus settles back into the chair, quietly sipping his coffee. A few moments pass before Tseng is at it again, discreetly leaning forward, lips bare inches away from the shell of Rufus's ear, breath moist and balmy. Rufus suppresses a whimper at the words, and he feels the rush of blood to his cheeks. Tseng's tongue darts along his ear and Rufus feels his blood flow shift slightly. He starts to swat the Turk away, but better judgement states otherwise; he shifts in the chair half anticipating Tseng's hand to slide along his thigh. He murmurs something more and then withdraws as if nothing has happened.
Rufus feels the blood drain from his face, and Reeve pauses mid-sentence at the Vice President's sudden pallor, and Rufus quickly rises from his seat, hand to his clammy brow, and utters a clipped, "Excuse me," before dismissing himself.
Tseng offers a respectful nod to both Reeve and the President, before trailing after his charge.
Rufus is halfway down the corridor when Tseng falls into step with him. "... you should go back to the meeting, sir," he offers, and Rufus spins around on his heels, eyes blazing with fury and desire.
And then Rufus is on him, dragging him into a kiss, hot and demanding, seizing Tseng's lower lip in his teeth. He presses against Tseng, half straddling his thigh before breaking away from the kiss and growling, "You'd better back up your words."
Tseng almost smiles.
They fall back together, hands clutching and groping and it occurs to Tseng that they will never make it to the elevator, much less Rufus's apartment. They break apart, once more and Rufus proceeds to drag him down the corridor looking for an empty office, a storage room, anything to give them enough privacy to take care of their sudden needs.
Rufus backs Tseng flat against a door, lips and teeth at his throat as their hands fumble for the handle, and they fall into what appears to be a closet. Tseng searches for a light switch.
"Leave it off." Rufus says breathlessly. There is no objection; the atmosphere of the place is almost definitely preferable in the dark. There is enough light filtering from beneath the door to make the situation workable.
Rufus's hands find Tseng's jacket and quickly push it off his shoulders, lips once more finding his throat as Tseng's hands undo the buttons on his suit jacket with practiced efficiency. He removes the jacket and duster, discarding them in a drape of fabric, and half-gloved hands slide beneath the knit turtle-neck to trail along Rufus's fragile spine.
Rufus reaches for Tseng's tie, pulling him into another heated kiss; fingers sliding it from around his neck. Tseng's hands catch Rufus's wrist and backs him against the wall, pinning him against it with his weight. A soft whimper escapes his lips as Tseng binds his wrists with the strip of silk. Hands trail lower to work with his belt, before nudging the pants down his hips.
Tseng kisses Rufus, pausing to nibble lightly on his throat before turning him and pressing him against the wall once more. Rufus hears the clink of Tseng's belt, and softly begs, "Take me." Tseng gladly complies.
They fall into an oft-practiced rhythm, Rufus moaning, gasping and begging beneath him. Tseng pauses to nibble Rufus's ear, and murmurs something that sends a jolt through Rufus's body. Satisfied with the reaction, he continues, telling Rufus all the dirty little ways he'd like to have him until Rufus can no longer suppress the building sensations assaulting his body and muffles his cry against bound hands.
Tseng joins him moments later, stifling a sound against Rufus's shoulder. They fall together breathless, allowing a moment to regain their bearings before Tseng withdraws and crushes Rufus against him. His lips brush golden hair, resting against Rufus's temple feeling the steady pulse. He murmurs something more, before Rufus captures his lips, silencing him.
Two minutes later they return to the meeting, Rufus looking slightly more dishevelled than usual, Tseng wearing a faint, decidedly smug look. Reeve looks up at them once more as Rufus returns to his seat, assuming that the young Vice President must have been ill, but says nothing.
Rufus reaches for his still warm coffee and settles back into place.
And Tseng's lips brush his ear with softly spoken words.
fin
Disclaimer: Don't own them ... obviously.
Discourse
Eight-fifteen in the morning and Rufus finds himself rightfully bored as he sits positioned between the President and Heidegger at the board table. Reeve is making some speech about developmental planning, droning on about costs and expenses, all of which turn into a blur of figures and statistics. He doesn't see why he needs to be here, knowing well that his father would disregard any input he might make.
He reaches for his cup of coffee and leans back in the leather chair. Tseng leans down from his position behind the Vice President and murmurs something in his ear, and Rufus does his best not to spew his coffee on the glossy table top. The President shoots him a quick glance, silently reprimanding before affording the Turk a glance. Tseng is always there, a reassuring presence behind the young heir. No one questions his purpose other than having been assigned as his personal bodyguard, nor do they question the small, muffled words they exchange. Perhaps it is assumed that Tseng is adding his own personal commentary to the topics of discussion. No one has ever asked.
One would be quite shocked to learn what words were truly exchanged.
Rufus settles back into the chair, quietly sipping his coffee. A few moments pass before Tseng is at it again, discreetly leaning forward, lips bare inches away from the shell of Rufus's ear, breath moist and balmy. Rufus suppresses a whimper at the words, and he feels the rush of blood to his cheeks. Tseng's tongue darts along his ear and Rufus feels his blood flow shift slightly. He starts to swat the Turk away, but better judgement states otherwise; he shifts in the chair half anticipating Tseng's hand to slide along his thigh. He murmurs something more and then withdraws as if nothing has happened.
Rufus feels the blood drain from his face, and Reeve pauses mid-sentence at the Vice President's sudden pallor, and Rufus quickly rises from his seat, hand to his clammy brow, and utters a clipped, "Excuse me," before dismissing himself.
Tseng offers a respectful nod to both Reeve and the President, before trailing after his charge.
Rufus is halfway down the corridor when Tseng falls into step with him. "... you should go back to the meeting, sir," he offers, and Rufus spins around on his heels, eyes blazing with fury and desire.
And then Rufus is on him, dragging him into a kiss, hot and demanding, seizing Tseng's lower lip in his teeth. He presses against Tseng, half straddling his thigh before breaking away from the kiss and growling, "You'd better back up your words."
Tseng almost smiles.
They fall back together, hands clutching and groping and it occurs to Tseng that they will never make it to the elevator, much less Rufus's apartment. They break apart, once more and Rufus proceeds to drag him down the corridor looking for an empty office, a storage room, anything to give them enough privacy to take care of their sudden needs.
Rufus backs Tseng flat against a door, lips and teeth at his throat as their hands fumble for the handle, and they fall into what appears to be a closet. Tseng searches for a light switch.
"Leave it off." Rufus says breathlessly. There is no objection; the atmosphere of the place is almost definitely preferable in the dark. There is enough light filtering from beneath the door to make the situation workable.
Rufus's hands find Tseng's jacket and quickly push it off his shoulders, lips once more finding his throat as Tseng's hands undo the buttons on his suit jacket with practiced efficiency. He removes the jacket and duster, discarding them in a drape of fabric, and half-gloved hands slide beneath the knit turtle-neck to trail along Rufus's fragile spine.
Rufus reaches for Tseng's tie, pulling him into another heated kiss; fingers sliding it from around his neck. Tseng's hands catch Rufus's wrist and backs him against the wall, pinning him against it with his weight. A soft whimper escapes his lips as Tseng binds his wrists with the strip of silk. Hands trail lower to work with his belt, before nudging the pants down his hips.
Tseng kisses Rufus, pausing to nibble lightly on his throat before turning him and pressing him against the wall once more. Rufus hears the clink of Tseng's belt, and softly begs, "Take me." Tseng gladly complies.
They fall into an oft-practiced rhythm, Rufus moaning, gasping and begging beneath him. Tseng pauses to nibble Rufus's ear, and murmurs something that sends a jolt through Rufus's body. Satisfied with the reaction, he continues, telling Rufus all the dirty little ways he'd like to have him until Rufus can no longer suppress the building sensations assaulting his body and muffles his cry against bound hands.
Tseng joins him moments later, stifling a sound against Rufus's shoulder. They fall together breathless, allowing a moment to regain their bearings before Tseng withdraws and crushes Rufus against him. His lips brush golden hair, resting against Rufus's temple feeling the steady pulse. He murmurs something more, before Rufus captures his lips, silencing him.
Two minutes later they return to the meeting, Rufus looking slightly more dishevelled than usual, Tseng wearing a faint, decidedly smug look. Reeve looks up at them once more as Rufus returns to his seat, assuming that the young Vice President must have been ill, but says nothing.
Rufus reaches for his still warm coffee and settles back into place.
And Tseng's lips brush his ear with softly spoken words.
fin
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