It doesn't feel liberating. Not right away. Just makes him feel weak and pathetic. Surrounded by the type of people he's constantly around, he always feels like the odd man out. Of course he wouldn't be there if he couldn't turn it on and off as quickly as flipping a light switch, but in comparison he feels like he requires more moments of letting things out than the others. Killing thousands of people doesn't usually elicit the same response as the death of one (or two, but Rufus doesn't know about that one) person he's close to.

He wants to wring Sephiroth's neck using his own hair so badly that it hurts every moment that he's not doing exactly that, but he trusts that there's going to be a plan in place to track and hunt him down. Tseng would know what to do.

Rude sighs, allowing himself to be momentarily distracted by the kiss despite the wetness of his face. He returns it slowly at first, and then with growing intensity as he snakes his leg between Rufus' thighs while his tongue dips into his mouth.