"Mine," Tseng repeats, coasting his fingers over the lotus he's carved over Rufus's ribs. The shaping of it was purely incidental; two cuts and the rest had resolved itself purely because the initial cuts matched. But now, it seems so apt, so perfectly suited to what has transpired here tonight.
He grasps Rufus's wrist, disentangles his fingers. He wraps his own hand around Rufus's cock instead, stroking him in time with his brutal thrusts.
"You're mine," he says again, breath and voice clipping as he goes faster, faster. The scent of blood is so thick, permeating every last one of his senses. All he can see is red. "Come for me."
He hangs onto Tseng's words, each one echoing in his mind as he felt his grasp on the world weakening. He wasn't sure if he was dying, it didn't matter since he wanted to feel every last bit of pleasure and pain that he could get. Precum mixes with the blood on his cock when Tseng's fingers replace his and Rufus doesn't hold back the moans and whimpers that escape his lips. This was dangerous, he could very well bleed out but he needed to feel this, to feel alive even on the verge of possible death.
His skin was pale and clammy by now, sweat running down his cheeks as he finally reaches his climax in Tseng's hand with a loud cry. "Mine..." he echoes faintly as he looks up at Tseng. He had never felt anything so intense but it threatened to pull him under as he struggles to retain consciousness.
"Always-" he collapses back onto the blood-soaked sheets, his grip on Tseng loosening.
The moment that Rufus spills over his hands, the instant that those shudders subside, Tseng acts. It is time to package everything away where it belongs, to put aside all thought and feeling and draw away from Rufus. He lets one hand trail over his bare chest so that his presence is not entirely absent, but he needs to focus.
The wounds on Rufus's ribs are his first priority. He's lost a lot of blood here. Tseng waves his hands over the wounds, haloed with the glow of materia magic. It is a quick mend, almost a novice's job, but it is intentional: he wants to leave these scars, wants them to heal as slowly as possible so that they might blossom into something beautiful. Hubris, maybe; perhaps Rufus will think twice about decisions made in bed when he is in a better state of mind. Tseng does not give him that option.
The rest is hardly of any concern. The wounds on his hips are not deep. One is broken and torn by his own hands, and he pours the rest of his magic into that, swallowing them into freshly-knit skin, disappeared forever.
And then he brushes back Rufus's hair. The tenderness seems appropriate.
Rufus feels Tseng pull out of him but he also feels the hand on his chest so he knows Tseng hasn't gone far. Everything feels warm as the materia closed the wounds and he feels like he's drifting in a haze. He reaches down to touch the freshly healed cuts on his chest, feeling the raised scar tissue. He's not sure what Tseng carved into his skin yet but he smiles, pleased.
He doesn't ask if Tseng has come just yet, he knew that they had to stop the bleeding before he bled out. He reaches out to touch Tseng's face with blood-stained hands as Tseng brushes back his hair, giving him a pleased smile. The worst of the pain had faded as the cuts were healed but the new scar on his chest was tender.
"Maybe I should rinse off first." He's not sure how they are going to replace the mattress and sheets so he can sleep in his bed tonight but he assumes Tseng can handle the logistics. "You can come on me if you want, Tseng."
That's tempting. Tseng's stomach bottoms out at the thought of it. But no. Duty before pleasure.
"You need to recover," he tells him, pressing a kiss to those fingertips tracing across his face. No. This is much more important.
He takes Rufus's hand and gently replaces it upon his chest. He strokes his cheek as he carefully slips off of the bed and into the kitchen. It's there that the gravity of everything they've done hits him.
He cannot dwell on it. There isn't time. There are powders to mix into his drink, vitamins to fortify and refresh him at this critical juncture. When he returns, he is as calm and composed as ever, no matter the blood streaking his body and hardening on his face.
Carefully, he slides back into bed and helps Rufus lean into him, raising him up. "Drink," he says, holding the cup to his lips.
Rufus can't argue with that and he lays back on the bed as Tseng goes into the kitchen. His body feels limp and heavy, he looks down at the sheets and sees that they're soaked around him. That was going to be While Tseng works in the kitchen, he allows his eyes to drift closed until he hears him come back in.
He pulls himself up the best he can with Tseng's help, trying to take the cup himself but his fingers fail to grasp it, shaking as he finally just lets Tseng help him drink. He 's not sure what's in it, it tastes weird, but he knows that he needs something to help him recover after losing so much blood. He can see the full extent of how much blood covers his stomach and thighs, blood smeared down his arms. "I think my bed is ruined now," he laughs, leaning against Tseng as he reaches out to brush some dried blood from Tseng's cheek.
"It almost certainly is," Tseng concedes. He doesn't like this, the lack of strength in Rufus's hands. He wonders if this is what the future holds for him. Imagine that, with no reassurance that it will ever get better.
Or not. Tseng does not want to think about that. It's why it is imperative that their pact holds.
He presses his fingers to Rufus's throat. They clench, just for a second, while Tseng's eyes remain focused on his face, completely void of emotion.
"Do you see how vulnerable you are?" he asks, smoothing his fingers over the places he was just grasping, almost as if in apology.
His breath catches as Tseng presses his fingers to his throat but he doesn't flinch or look away from Tseng. He is vulnerable, the last two years had taught him that he had limits that even he couldn't overcome through sheer willpower alone.
"I understand." His voice is quiet as he carefully lets Tseng help him finish the drink. He wants to sleep but sleeping in bloody sheets was not appealing. "You're not going to lose me, Tseng. Not in the future, not now." Though he remembered the days when they all thought that they would lose him, when the pain and the symptoms were severe he could tell the others were preparing to say good-bye.
Tseng says nothing. He's not sure that is a promise Rufus can make. Because what if...
It doesn't matter. He helps Rufus finish his drink and watches while he does it. Once that is done, he presses a hand to Rufus's cheek, a warning before he slowly lays him back down and takes the cup from him, depositing it in the kitchen on his way to the bathroom.
He'll draw a bath for his president, silent and stony while he measures the temperature and waits for it to fill. There's a cleaner he can call to take care of the bed, which he figures they can do while Rufus is soaking. All that's left then is to retrieve him, striding silently back into the bedroom, reaching for Rufus's hand.
While Tseng returns the cup to the kitchen and starts running the bath, Rufus pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He's not going to try walking without help right away while he's still recovering from the blood loss, he's sure that Tseng will be back to help him to the bath.
And as soon as he does return, Rufus reaches out to take his hand. His legs feel slightly week but he manages to stay on his feet as he leans against Tseng. Over the last two years, he had developed a dislike of being carried since it made him feel helpless. "Thank you, Tseng," he murmured as he sinks into the water of the bath once Tseng helps him in. The water turns red as he starts to wash off the now dried blood. He could finally see the lotus on his chest more clearly, pleased with how it turned out.
Tseng turns on the jets to cycle through the water. No sense in marinating the president in his own blood. He offers helpful ministrations here and there, soaping up the spots that Rufus's cannot reach, his fingers kneading and scrubbing.
The similarities between this night and the night that started this whole thing are not lost on him. He'd been so resolute. He'd had no idea.
"Better?" he asks, scrubbing the flecks of blood from Rufus's hair. He can hear someone coming up the hall, feels his phone in his pocket vibrate, requesting entry. Must be the cleaners. He confirms with a brief tap and turns back to his work.
Rufus hears the sounds of someone in his room moving things around but he's not worried. No one can get in without being granted access by Tseng and he assumes his bed is being prepared. He relaxes in the water under Tseng's hands, letting out a sigh.
"Much better, though you need to get cleaned up as well," he remarks as he reaches up to touch Tseng's cheek to wipe away a little bit of the blood. He's not going to order Tseng to stay the night but this is his way of asking if he could. "Can't have you get the clean sheets dirty."
Tseng understands the question. He frowns, though that is all the effect that he will reveal from the deep pang of guilt seizing in his chest. He should stay. He knows he can't, but he should do it anyway.
"I would," he says, softening his tone, his fingers in Rufus's hair, for as long as it takes for him to explain. "I have to make preparations, sir. What transpired today cannot happen again."
He brushes his fingers over a mass of stains collected at the back of Rufus's neck. This was too much blood. He'll have to rein it in next time.
"I understand." And he did, he knew they had to be practical. They both had their respective duties that would come first. He was sure that Sephiroth would retaliate against anything they did to Zack, things were going to escalate very soon.
"Alright." He didn't hear any sounds from his room as he stood, putting his hand out for Tseng to take so he could carefully step out of the tub once the last of the blood had been washed away. He felt steadier on his feet now, though still exhausted. He was going to sleep well tonight.
"I have some early morning meetings tomorrow with some contractors but I'll contact you in the afternoon so we can coordinate our efforts," he remarks as he grabs a towel. He was supposed to have gotten through some proposals tonight but he figured he would just plan to wake up early instead.
It feels very wrong to speak outright against Rufus like this, but this situation... It's not normal. This is not even a death threat. The Turks could handle an assassin. They could outmaneuver whoever intends to do Rufus harm and put them down forever.
But there is no putting anyone down forever, not anymore. No matter what they do, they have to play a very, very long game here. One that is absolutely unprecedented.
"I'll reschedule your meetings. You can be nowhere that the enemy could find you, sir. Because he will be looking, when he discovers what we have planned." He knows. He knows that Rufus does not like hiding, he knows that he wants to be at the forefront with his men, he knows that he wants to be different than his father. It's his hope that all of those protests will be subverted by the gentle, lingering kiss that he presses to his lips, by his low voice insisting, "You promised."
All it took was that single word for Rufus to wake up slightly, narrowing his eyes at Tseng as he was pulling on his robe. "Tseng- I-" but before he could say anything else Tseng's lips met his and as much as he wants to argue, he knows he can't.
He had promised.
And he would uphold that. He's quiet for a moment when their lips parted and he looks at Tseng, his head resting against his. He can't refuse even though every part of him wants to. "Just don't let me become my father, Tseng. Don't let me become someone who is so weak they have to hide behind everyone else. I won't become that."
He already felt trapped by his father's legacy, he didn't want it to consume him as well. He pulled his robe closed, tying the sash as he made his way towards the bed. Everything was spotless once more and he didn't question how that happened as he sank into the clean sheets.
Tseng watches Rufus as they journey into the room. He does not have to check to ensure the sheets are up to standard; his men do not make mistakes. Everything will be cleaned as if it never was.
Automatically, he holds his hand out for Rufus to take, to stabilize him as he slips into bed. He draws the covers down and tucks the cool sheets around his shoulders. And then he stands for a moment, looking at Rufus, curled in his bed and blue eyes gleaming. He is as beautiful as he is powerful—no one could ever aspire to match these two enviable gifts that are his birthright.
"You will never be your father," he says. "You will never be like anyone, because there is no one like you in this world."
"You're biased since I gave you a budget increase yesterday," he remarks with amusement as he yawns, letting Tseng pull the covers over him. But Tseng knows him better than anyone else sometimes, his words are not simply empty flattery to get what he wants. He looks up at Tseng for a few moments before yawning once more and rolling over on his side to hug his pillow comfortably.
"Have housekeeping give me my wake up call at 7, I need time to organize everything to pass others to take care of while I'm gone," he murmurs sleepily, eyes drifting closed.
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no subject
He grasps Rufus's wrist, disentangles his fingers. He wraps his own hand around Rufus's cock instead, stroking him in time with his brutal thrusts.
"You're mine," he says again, breath and voice clipping as he goes faster, faster. The scent of blood is so thick, permeating every last one of his senses. All he can see is red. "Come for me."
no subject
His skin was pale and clammy by now, sweat running down his cheeks as he finally reaches his climax in Tseng's hand with a loud cry. "Mine..." he echoes faintly as he looks up at Tseng. He had never felt anything so intense but it threatened to pull him under as he struggles to retain consciousness.
"Always-" he collapses back onto the blood-soaked sheets, his grip on Tseng loosening.
no subject
The wounds on Rufus's ribs are his first priority. He's lost a lot of blood here. Tseng waves his hands over the wounds, haloed with the glow of materia magic. It is a quick mend, almost a novice's job, but it is intentional: he wants to leave these scars, wants them to heal as slowly as possible so that they might blossom into something beautiful. Hubris, maybe; perhaps Rufus will think twice about decisions made in bed when he is in a better state of mind. Tseng does not give him that option.
The rest is hardly of any concern. The wounds on his hips are not deep. One is broken and torn by his own hands, and he pours the rest of his magic into that, swallowing them into freshly-knit skin, disappeared forever.
And then he brushes back Rufus's hair. The tenderness seems appropriate.
"Tell me what you need," he says softly.
no subject
He doesn't ask if Tseng has come just yet, he knew that they had to stop the bleeding before he bled out. He reaches out to touch Tseng's face with blood-stained hands as Tseng brushes back his hair, giving him a pleased smile. The worst of the pain had faded as the cuts were healed but the new scar on his chest was tender.
"Maybe I should rinse off first." He's not sure how they are going to replace the mattress and sheets so he can sleep in his bed tonight but he assumes Tseng can handle the logistics. "You can come on me if you want, Tseng."
no subject
"You need to recover," he tells him, pressing a kiss to those fingertips tracing across his face. No. This is much more important.
He takes Rufus's hand and gently replaces it upon his chest. He strokes his cheek as he carefully slips off of the bed and into the kitchen. It's there that the gravity of everything they've done hits him.
He cannot dwell on it. There isn't time. There are powders to mix into his drink, vitamins to fortify and refresh him at this critical juncture. When he returns, he is as calm and composed as ever, no matter the blood streaking his body and hardening on his face.
Carefully, he slides back into bed and helps Rufus lean into him, raising him up. "Drink," he says, holding the cup to his lips.
no subject
He pulls himself up the best he can with Tseng's help, trying to take the cup himself but his fingers fail to grasp it, shaking as he finally just lets Tseng help him drink. He 's not sure what's in it, it tastes weird, but he knows that he needs something to help him recover after losing so much blood. He can see the full extent of how much blood covers his stomach and thighs, blood smeared down his arms. "I think my bed is ruined now," he laughs, leaning against Tseng as he reaches out to brush some dried blood from Tseng's cheek.
no subject
Or not. Tseng does not want to think about that. It's why it is imperative that their pact holds.
He presses his fingers to Rufus's throat. They clench, just for a second, while Tseng's eyes remain focused on his face, completely void of emotion.
"Do you see how vulnerable you are?" he asks, smoothing his fingers over the places he was just grasping, almost as if in apology.
no subject
"I understand." His voice is quiet as he carefully lets Tseng help him finish the drink. He wants to sleep but sleeping in bloody sheets was not appealing. "You're not going to lose me, Tseng. Not in the future, not now." Though he remembered the days when they all thought that they would lose him, when the pain and the symptoms were severe he could tell the others were preparing to say good-bye.
"I promise you, Tseng."
no subject
It doesn't matter. He helps Rufus finish his drink and watches while he does it. Once that is done, he presses a hand to Rufus's cheek, a warning before he slowly lays him back down and takes the cup from him, depositing it in the kitchen on his way to the bathroom.
He'll draw a bath for his president, silent and stony while he measures the temperature and waits for it to fill. There's a cleaner he can call to take care of the bed, which he figures they can do while Rufus is soaking. All that's left then is to retrieve him, striding silently back into the bedroom, reaching for Rufus's hand.
"Hold on to me, Mr. President," he says.
no subject
And as soon as he does return, Rufus reaches out to take his hand. His legs feel slightly week but he manages to stay on his feet as he leans against Tseng. Over the last two years, he had developed a dislike of being carried since it made him feel helpless. "Thank you, Tseng," he murmured as he sinks into the water of the bath once Tseng helps him in. The water turns red as he starts to wash off the now dried blood. He could finally see the lotus on his chest more clearly, pleased with how it turned out.
no subject
The similarities between this night and the night that started this whole thing are not lost on him. He'd been so resolute. He'd had no idea.
"Better?" he asks, scrubbing the flecks of blood from Rufus's hair. He can hear someone coming up the hall, feels his phone in his pocket vibrate, requesting entry. Must be the cleaners. He confirms with a brief tap and turns back to his work.
no subject
"Much better, though you need to get cleaned up as well," he remarks as he reaches up to touch Tseng's cheek to wipe away a little bit of the blood. He's not going to order Tseng to stay the night but this is his way of asking if he could. "Can't have you get the clean sheets dirty."
no subject
"I would," he says, softening his tone, his fingers in Rufus's hair, for as long as it takes for him to explain. "I have to make preparations, sir. What transpired today cannot happen again."
He brushes his fingers over a mass of stains collected at the back of Rufus's neck. This was too much blood. He'll have to rein it in next time.
"I will see you to bed."
no subject
"Alright." He didn't hear any sounds from his room as he stood, putting his hand out for Tseng to take so he could carefully step out of the tub once the last of the blood had been washed away. He felt steadier on his feet now, though still exhausted. He was going to sleep well tonight.
"I have some early morning meetings tomorrow with some contractors but I'll contact you in the afternoon so we can coordinate our efforts," he remarks as he grabs a towel. He was supposed to have gotten through some proposals tonight but he figured he would just plan to wake up early instead.
no subject
It feels very wrong to speak outright against Rufus like this, but this situation... It's not normal. This is not even a death threat. The Turks could handle an assassin. They could outmaneuver whoever intends to do Rufus harm and put them down forever.
But there is no putting anyone down forever, not anymore. No matter what they do, they have to play a very, very long game here. One that is absolutely unprecedented.
"I'll reschedule your meetings. You can be nowhere that the enemy could find you, sir. Because he will be looking, when he discovers what we have planned." He knows. He knows that Rufus does not like hiding, he knows that he wants to be at the forefront with his men, he knows that he wants to be different than his father. It's his hope that all of those protests will be subverted by the gentle, lingering kiss that he presses to his lips, by his low voice insisting, "You promised."
no subject
He had promised.
And he would uphold that. He's quiet for a moment when their lips parted and he looks at Tseng, his head resting against his. He can't refuse even though every part of him wants to. "Just don't let me become my father, Tseng. Don't let me become someone who is so weak they have to hide behind everyone else. I won't become that."
He already felt trapped by his father's legacy, he didn't want it to consume him as well. He pulled his robe closed, tying the sash as he made his way towards the bed. Everything was spotless once more and he didn't question how that happened as he sank into the clean sheets.
no subject
Automatically, he holds his hand out for Rufus to take, to stabilize him as he slips into bed. He draws the covers down and tucks the cool sheets around his shoulders. And then he stands for a moment, looking at Rufus, curled in his bed and blue eyes gleaming. He is as beautiful as he is powerful—no one could ever aspire to match these two enviable gifts that are his birthright.
"You will never be your father," he says. "You will never be like anyone, because there is no one like you in this world."
no subject
"Have housekeeping give me my wake up call at 7, I need time to organize everything to pass others to take care of while I'm gone," he murmurs sleepily, eyes drifting closed.