insusurro | turkpile 2020

All those years they'd spent together, speaking in hushed tones under the blanket of stolen shadows, it had always seemed like the arrangement between them would be a partnership. Now Tseng is watching from afar as Rufus uproots the company without his consultation. It feels like a barb, one that he wholly deserves, no less. He spends much of his time contemplating how Rufus must feel exactly the way he does now, cut off and cast in darkness, the last one privvy to major corporate decisions.

It is a very Rufus move, and Tseng appreciates it for that, at least.

He stands when Rufus enters. His president sets the tone, so he follows suit, bowing slightly, greeting him with, "Welcome, Mr. President. Thank you for joining me."

It is a silly game, he thinks, but he has no recourse. Dark Nation seems to pick up on the tension between them, her tail swishing for a moment when she recognizes Tseng, then curving, her muscles tensing as she reads her master's energy. Much as she knows and abides by Tseng, he knows that she would not hesitate to snap at his throat if Rufus was to give the order.

She's a better dog than he, certainly.

He steps around his desk and pulls out a chair for Rufus to settle in, placing a cell phone on the desk before it.

"We've altered our network, as you've no doubt surmised. I thought that this might offer you the transparency you desire." He sweeps his fingers over the device, setting it alight. "You will have unrestricted access to all official Turk operations with this."

Rufus doesn't respond to Tseng at first, only glancing at Dark Nation to tell the dog to go lay down which she does, laying at his feet as he sat down in the chair Tseng offered him, crossing his legs.

He looks at the cell phone before looking at Tseng. He missed them working side by side while there was so much upheaval, Tseng's counsel had always been vital and he depended on it. He knew what direction he wanted to take Shinra in, he had talked over his plans with Tseng in whispers when he had been exiled and the days had stretched out into an endless blur. He had Tseng by his side almost constantly over the last two years so this separation was difficult when he had to do everything once again but by himself.

"I read what you forwarded to me earlier. Scarlet is unhappy with your latest requests and asked me to intervene on her behalf." Rufus's flat tone indicates that he intends to do no such thing even though his expression doesn't change. He honestly didn't care if she was unhappy so long as he could keep her under control. He hadn't forgotten that she tried to take over when he had 'died' nor would he allow it again. "Tell me more about this project."

"I see," Tseng says, regarding the Scarlet comment. Before this, he likely would have rolled his eyes, made some unflattering remarks about her that Rufus could titter over. Not so much right now.

It isn't like he's strictly adhering to protocol. He ought to retreat to his space behind the desk now that Rufus is seated. He does not, lingering beside him instead, at his place to Rufus's right.

"Here." He taps the phone, swipes, shows Rufus the various menus to navigate through in order to retrieve the information he's requested. A passcode is required somewhere along the way, which he doesn't bother to impart. Rufus will know it the second he presses the first key. The screen is flooded with images and data then, depicting Sephiroth and the wealth of knowledge they've collected so far on his various iterations.

"We were hoping to research the disparities between Sephiroth in his fully realized form and the one that comes before." He is not sure that Rufus realizes what sort of stake he has in this study. There are differences between all of their timelines, it seems. Not that it matters; once he has brought up the data, he takes his hand away and focuses his gaze on Rufus instead. "I did not ask you here to discuss our projects, Mr. President."

Rufus watches what Tseng is doing intently, there is a little quirk at one corner of his lips when he's able to get the passcode right the first time without thinking. But his attention is caught by the mention of Sephiroth and he frowned as he lowered the phone. "How many-" but he stops, lowering the phone to the desk.

This wasn't a surprising request despite the formal nature of Tseng's message. He looks at Tseng quietly, taking a moment close the phone carefully, tucking it into an inner pocket of his coat so it wouldn't get misplaced, deciding that they could talk about the projects later because they needed to be working together if they were going to be successful.

"Yes, Tseng?" His expression only relaxes slightly around his eyes but he was going to wait for Tseng to continue.

It isn't often that Tseng has to say sorry. Practically never, in fact. Even when he pushes his men too hard, there are ways that he can repay them without ever saying a word, and they know beyond a shadow of a doubt what he truly intends for them. This is different. Rufus is no subordinate, for one, and while he is sure that what they have is unbreakable, it wouldn't do well to leave it strained, either. Rufus is worth the conflict that consumes him now.

"I have spent some time contemplating the things you told me." Some of them stung worse than others. But others were workable, manageable, easily packaged into gestures he could make. Like the phone, which he vaguely indicates in its place in Rufus's pocket with a sweep of his hand. "Consider this the first of however many gestures I need to make to prove to you that you are my first priority."

"Give me your hand." He knows he doesn't have to explain which one as he held out his own hand to take Tseng's as he stands up. He's gentle as he peels off the leather glove, rubbing his thumb along the scar on Tseng's palm as he looks at him.

The knows he could ask almost anything of Tseng and he wouldn't be refused but he's not interested in playing that game. "This will be sufficient." He brings Tseng's palm to his lips, never breaking eye contact as he kisses that scar.

"I need you by my side more than ever right now." This glimpse into the image of strength he presents to the world is only offered to Tseng and it's not an entirely professional request either. He doesn't hide the emotion in his eyes as he meets his gaze, still holding Tseng's hand in his.

There are many things between them that require no explanation, and this is one. Almost before Rufus is finished asking, Tseng is lifting his hand. It is what he expects.

What he does not expect is how quickly Rufus sheds the veil of control. As always, he has overplanned, counting on complications and conflict where there is none. All Rufus has ever wanted is this.

He meets Rufus's gaze all the same. Understated though it is, there is a touch of gratitude to the look that passes between them. His fingers open wide to bare that promise he made to Rufus further.

"Always," he says, leaning over Rufus's chair, sinking down to his level until they are nose-to-nose. His free hand rises, his fingers stroking the curve of Rufus's cheek, collecting at the tip of his chin. Before, he would wait for Rufus's cue, let him set the pace. But things are different now; he takes the kiss instead, capturing Rufus's lips against his own, pressing harder for all the moments they've lost in the midst of their disagreement.

Rufus doesn't let go of Tseng's hand as Tseng leans over to kiss him, his thumb still lightly rubbing against the scar. His lips part to allow Tseng a little deeper but after a moment he puts a hand on his chest to push him away gently as a thought occurs to him.

"On the couch." The tone of his voice indicates it's an order but there is a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes that makes it clear he has something more in mind.

He pushes Tseng back a little further as he stands, unbuttoning his coat to place it over Tseng's desk. He loosens his tie next but doesn't take it off yet as he watches Tseng, already pleased with himself with what he has plans. "I trust you have no meetings soon."

As in, he expected that Tseng freed up the afternoon for them already.

Tseng takes the pushback as gracefully as he can. Nothing shows on his face, as clear and impassive as ever, though the dog sets her eyes on him in warning.

Regardless, he does as he's told. He sits primly on the couch, not in repose, but in wait. He nods along to Rufus's supposition; with the various ranks and executives in turmoil over Rufus shaking things up so, no meetings have been scheduled, period. And if they have been, which they likely are, he was not invited.

It makes him think they are getting careless, that they've given the old guard far too much time to catch up to them. It's his fault too. They have—not wasted, Tseng cannot bring himself to think that, but they have lost a lot of time.

Rufus leaned over to put his hands on Tseng's knees, moving them apart before kneeling between his legs. He's sure that upstairs that there are plots to overthrow him and possibly put Scarlet in his place but right now he doesn't particularly care. Any attempts will be mercilessly dealt with.

He looks up at Tseng with even, cold eyes as he pulls the zipper of his slacks down, every moment precise. He's never been in this position but there is no fumbling or awkwardness as he took the head of Tseng's cock into his mouth. He takes his time to tease him with his tongue along the slit, watching Tseng's reaction intently.

Rufus goes down on his knees before him, and a furrow appears between Tseng's brow. For a moment, he is uncertain what is going to happen, his mind spinning fast and nothing catching. Again, overthinking things. Rufus's hands move to his zipper.

"Sir—" he begins, but it happens so quickly. He isn't ready for the shock it is to be shallowly submerged in Rufus's mouth, for the open chill in Rufus's eyes as he gazes up at him. His breath catches in his throat. Rufus's tongue strokes him until his cock is hard and quivering and of course he needs more, wants to lift up his hips and drive into the warmth and wetness Rufus is keeping from him, but he would never. Instead, he trains his breathing and keeps his eyes locked on Rufus, unwavering and unerring.

Encouraged, Rufus takes Tseng a little bit more into his mouth but never quite enough, grasping the base of his cock in one hand as he steadies himself with his hands on Tseng's hips. He wonders how long he could draw this on for but they can't stay down here all night. It was something he would have to find out later.

He drew up, smirking as he slowly licked the bead of precum that leaked from the tip of Tseng's cock. He flicks his tongue to the corner of his mouth to get any excess before he moves to suddenly take Tseng's cock entirely into his mouth, as far as he could. Further than Tseng might expect him to be able to.

Tseng isn't sure if it is ever going to end. If this is some form of retribution for the things he's done. Watching Rufus open up his mouth, wash him over with his tongue, is a new sort of torment. No one has ever dared to toy with him like this before—nor have they had the opportunity to.

It's one of those rare things that Rufus is afforded because of who he is, what he means to Tseng. To suffer beneath his lewd mouth is fine if it is him. No matter what, it means they are together again.

He is dragging so much out of Tseng with these teasing little licks, his cock drooling so badly it looks almost as if he's come already. Tseng watches him clean it on the tip of his tongue, reaches out to stroke his jaw, his cheek. He is still watching, and then Rufus descends and his cock disappears down Rufus's throat and he can feel the depth, the wetness, and his eyes are closing, his breathing stuttering on how different it feels. He can feel every motion of Rufus's mouth echoing down. His whole body buzzes electric, and the fingers pressing into Rufus's face turn a little harder, clasp a little tighter.

Satisfaction is practically radiating from Rufus as he feels more than hears the reactions he's getting from Tseng. He doesn't flinch as Tseng's fingers press against his face, looking up at him to meet his gaze once more. His fingers curled against Tseng's hips, a silent order for him to stay where he was even if he did want to thrust into his mouth.

He slowly runs his tongue along the underside of Tseng's cock with a soft moan against skin, determined to enjoy every moment of this, every single stutter of Tseng's breath, the way his fingers were digging into his cheek. Every time he gets Tseng's composure to crack even just a little is a victory for him when it's just these intimate moments that are just for them to share.

Tseng barely needs the touch; he refuses to move. He's so deep into Rufus's throat that the slightest twitch could throw Rufus off his rhythm, and he doesn't want that for him. He likes this: Rufus, pleased and full-mouthed and watching.

His tongue climbs and Tseng's mouth twitches. He knows that Rufus's eyes are upon him, but it takes him a moment to clear his mind and open up his own eyes. The image, he knows, will just be too much. The stretch of Rufus's mouth, the glitter of lips gone red, it's as intoxicating as any drug.

"Come here," he says, fingers wisping through Rufus's hair. It doesn't feel right to have so much attention for so long, even if it seems like it would be the most painful thing in the world to slip from Rufus's mouth.

Rufus gives a hum around Tseng's cock as he moves up, running his tongue along the head to get any precum there before sitting back on his heels. He doesn't have to ask if Tseng liked it as he licked the corner of his lips. He had a few ideas he wanted to try in the future when they had more time and a better setting. It wasn't a bad first try if he said so himself.

He was painfully hard but he didn't touch himself yet as he stands, taking his time to pull off his tie and start to undress in front of Tseng. He doesn't pay attention to where he drops his clothes as he strips down, only leaving his shirt on completely unbuttoned as he slides onto Tseng's lap, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.

At least Rufus has enough compassion to leave him slowly. It is still a shock, the kiss of too-cold air on his spit-soaked flesh, but it's not as bad as it could have been. He watches Rufus undress, gaze dark as ever, and holds out his hands when he is through.

Rufus has always fit so perfectly on his lap, as if he was made to be here. Tseng's hand slides up his back, steadies around his waist. The other is lifted to his lips, slicked with his tongue before he lowers it between them.

"You loved that," he remarks, slipping his fingers up the aching length of Rufus's cock, squeezing around it when he reaches the tip. He lets himself wonder, grinning privately, where the inspiration came from. How telling it is that in his absence, Rufus has found a new favorite trick. "What is it that does it for you?" he murmurs into Rufus's ear, fist tunneling over his cock, slow and sliding.

His breath catches as he watches Tseng wets his fingers and then reach down to grasp his cock. He leans down a little, thrusting his hips against Tseng's hand with each stroke. It had been difficult not to touch himself while he had Tseng's cock in his mouth so now he impatiently craved every touch.

"I've been wanting to try that for a while now." Literally years. He just never really had the chance since they were often separated after he became President and just when they finally could have more private moments together, Rufus got sick. It was almost too cruel.

But now nothing was stopping him from indulging himself in these things that they never got the chance to do before. "You weren't expecting that, were you?"

"No," Tseng says, but to be honest, he wasn't expecting much of anything but dramatics or cold shoulders. The hand upon Rufus's hip rises to his lips instead, stroking over the plush curve of them. "You look beautiful on your knees."

His thumb presses into Rufus's lower lip, opening the way for his flicking tongue. There is something heady and powerful and alluring about tasting himself in Rufus's mouth. It makes his fist move faster, in quick, blurring snaps of his wrist.

He knows—he always does—when Rufus will be at that edge. To bring him there quickly is his intention, pumping his cock until it shines with the red flush of blood, and then stop, turn his fingers into whispering brushes of touch. Rufus is best when Tseng gets him wild for it, and they so rarely have the time, but he is making it now.

He laughs breathlessly at the comment but there is more left unsaid in his eyes. He's as much as Tseng's as Tseng is his. That much as always been true since the first day Rufus had set eyes on Tseng.

Rufus is aching for release when Tseng suddenly stops stroking his cock, feeling himself right at the very edge about to release. He wasn't worried about anyone walking in on them down here so he doesn't hold back his moans and gasps.

He parts his lips for Tseng, trying to move his hips against Tseng's hand once more. Any thoughts of his own duties later in the afternoon were long forgotten now that he was in Tseng's arms once more. "Aren't you going to properly show your appreciation?"

"In due time," Tseng says, closing his fist around the base of Rufus's cock. The fingers on Rufus's lip dig into his mouth until they come up dripping wet, and he guides them down along Rufus's spine, plunges one, and then another quickly after, into Rufus's hole. The clench around his fingers makes him hum—low and directly into Rufus's ear.

"Mr. President." All these years later, his fingers are trained to curve right into that electric spot inside of Rufus, precise as his fingers are on the trigger of his gun. "I'd hoped that we could revisit a previous proposal of yours."

He shifts his hips up as he feels Tsengs slipping inside of him. Tseng always knows just how to touch him and for a moment he doesn't really register what Tseng is telling him until he can start to put words together.

"Yes- ahhh - tell me about this proposal." Business was the last thing on his mind when Tseng's fingers found just the spot that made a jolt of pleasure through his body, pulling a low moan from his lips. "I want to hear your thoughts on it."

"My thoughts are these," Tseng says, milking Rufus's walls until his cock runs slick and shiny with precum. He's always wanted the opportunity to stay and watch this, his fingers stuffed deep inside Rufus, working him until he pours, but the time has never been right. Now?

Now everything is coming together.

"You wanted something from me that I was not ready to give you." In case he has forgotten (unlikely), Tseng's fingers uncurl from his cock, roughly snatch up a fistful of Rufus's hair to draw his head back, to arch his throat. Tseng lets his teeth scrape along the lovely curve of it, and it turns his breathy words into a hiss. "I believe I am ready to give you that now, sir. Not without a few caveats, of course."

"And what would those be?" Rufus's voice is breathless and strained as Tseng grabs his hair and draws his head back. It takes all his willpower not to reach down to touch himself but instead clutches Tseng's shoulders hard to keep them in place.

He's very nearly there but he's determined to hear Tseng out before letting himself go. He shifts his hips down against Tseng's fingers, trying to fuck himself on them the best he was able to. "I'm sure we can reach an agreement."

Tseng gives Rufus a few hard thrusts in response, his fingers rough, purposefully avoiding spearing upon the places Tseng knows Rufus wants it most. And then they withdraw; he holds them away and brings them down again as a stinging slap across Rufus's cheeks.

"If I am to do these things for you," he says, eyes on Rufus and his icey blue eyes even as he drags his teeth across his skin, "then it shall be on my terms. I need complete control if I am to guarantee your safety, Mr. President."

His fingers slide within him once more, and his touches are fleeting, teasing, just enough to keep him on edge while he awaits his response.

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