[identity profile] rufus-sama.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] shinrayear25

Tseng bows stiffly. "Rufus-sama...."

Rufus looks up from his paperwork. "Good morning, Tseng."

"I..." The words stick in his throat and the Turk trails off, frowning.

Rufus looks up. "What's wrong?"

"Rufus-sama...," he tries again. You must do this, Tseng. For his safety. "I… I feel that I am a danger to you. That I should be switched with someone else."

"What?" Rufus drops the file he is holding, and the pages scatter across the desk.

"I... fear," he admits, forcing the words out, "I might fall victim to my desires."

"What are you talking about?" He collects the papers again, putting them in order without looking at them.

Tseng is blushing, staring at his feet. "I desire you, Rufus-Sama. Which is why I should not be guarding you, lest my feelings…."

Rufus clears his throat. "You can't leave me, Tseng." He stands up and walks over to the older man with the utter self-possession of royalty. "You are my bodyguard and head of the Turks. I won't hear another word on the subject."

Tseng sputters protest. He is visibly, painfully hard; Rufus carries himself like a man twice his age, and it is this that he has fallen in love with.

Rufus chews on his bottom lip. He comes to a decision, and takes the three steps between them, embracing him.

"Rufus... I ...," he sputters, trying to turn so he was not pressed up against his hard-on. He is suddenly staring directly across the top of Rufus's head. The boy had gotten taller, seemingly overnight. "Rufus-sama... I..."

Rufus clings to him. "I love you, Tseng," he admits, flushing.

"Rufus-Sama...," he protests, "It's not proper."

"How could it not be proper?" he demands, pulling back a little to look him in the eye. "You are the heir to the throne of Wutai; I am the President of the most powerful company in the world. What could be more proper than an alliance between our nations?"

Tseng has no answer to this. The impropriety lies in the age difference; five impossible years between them, but if Rufus declares it irrelevant, than irrelevant it will be.

Rufus stands on tiptoes to kiss him, and he surrenders to it. "Rufus...."

"Tseng," he moans, and Tseng is suddenly tearing at his clothes, pulling both his and the President's shirts off at the same time. Beneath his suit, the boy's fair skin is covered with round bruises, mottled blue along his arm and back. "What....what's happened to you?"

Rufus shrugs. "Nothing, it's not important. Please...."

"What's going on... is that....geostigma?" He runs his fingers across the bruise on his arm, gently.

"I dunno. I bruise easily. It doesn't hurt."

Tseng, shirtless, frowns and jumps to the other conclusion. "Did someone hurt you?"

Rufus looks startled. "No! Really, Tseng, nobody could lay a hand on me with you around." He presses against him. "I'm fine."

Tseng allows himself to be distracted by his ever-growing hard-on. "I... Later..." He is upon him, mouth on his, hands sliding over his slim body. Rufus arches into his touch and groans. "Do you... do you want me?"

"Very much yes." He is trembling under Tseng's hands and panting.

Tseng is trying not to rush; Rufus's first time should be slow and gentle. His arousal is making it hard to focus, however, as he draws off the boy's pants. Rufus has developed sparse golden curls, definite signs of early puberty. "Rufus...," he moans, stripping off his own pants, and lets himself be dragged to the bed. They are tangled together, kissing and rubbing and touching, and Rufus is making high-pitched little noises that leave Tseng dizzy and gasping. "I need you. Now. I can't be gentle... I can't hold myself back..."

"Tseng. Please. Please." Rufus's eyes are dilated, shining in the dim room. He reaches down and touches Tseng, then crawls across the bed and rustles in the drawer of his nightstand. Tseng watches, a little confused. He is floored when Rufus extracts a tube of lube and hands it to him.

"Rufus-sama," he says, unsure if it is protest or benediction. Rufus sprawls on his stomach, legs spread. He looks back over his shoulder and smiles. Tseng resolves to ask where he learned about the mechanics of this particular act later, but for now he slicks his finger and slips it into him, quickly, working, plying him open. He groans.

Rufus is squeaking. Tseng fingers him softly, sliding another finger in. Rufus arches into it, moaning.

Tseng quickly shifts him, then slides his cock in, slipping his fingers out as he enters.
Rufus makes a strangled cry of mixed pleasure and pain, and Tseng shivers. "Oh gods, Rufus...." Tseng slides in, stretching him, amazed at how easy it is. "Have you... ." He groans as he hilts himself.

"Oh, Tseng. Oh, gods." He is whimpering, twitching.

"It's like you were ready for me," he murmurs. Red runs across Rufus's shoulders and down his back. Tseng presses his cheek against the hot flesh. "Rufus...?" he asks in a throaty whisper.

"Yes?" His voice cracks.

"Do you... pleasure yourself?" he asks. He has worked into a soft pace.


Tseng groans and moves faster at the admission.

"I've been ... preparing myself. For you. So it wouldn't... hurt, because... I know... you wouldn't want... to hurt me." The red is back, darker, hotter against Tseng's cheek.

Tseng thrusts harder, until he is consumed by the action, by the feeling. He chants Rufus's name like a litany, in time with his movement and Rufus's squeaking cries. The President meets him with every thrust. It is too much all at once, and he closes his eyes.

Rufus shrieks his name and spills across the sheets. He is crying as Tseng collapses, pulling him down and curling around him.

"Did I hurt you?"

Rufus shakes his head, unable to speak, clinging to the bigger man.

Tseng kisses his tears away. "Don't cry, love. I'm with you. You have me. I'm yours now..."

Rufus smiles. "It was just... so overwhelming."

Tseng half-closes his eyes, pulling his boy closer, and listens to him breathing until he falls asleep.
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Shinra Year Twenty-Five

July 2006

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