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Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our new inn for all new arrivals. Wildcards are invited to enjoy rest and relaxation while getting to know their fellow inn patrons. Current guests are encouraged to make reservations at the inn for some self-care. Prices are discounted to celebrate the new year.
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[ there's nothing they can do out here in the open. would that tseng could reach out to touch rufus, to reassure him and allow himself to be reassured as well—to tell rufus that he's all right and that no lasting damage has been done. but there is a certain image to be maintained even, or perhaps especially, in a place like this, and it's easier to fall back on the framework they both know intimately than it is to try and forge something new on the fly. tseng can see the unspoken words that linger in rufus' gaze, and it aches fiercely that he can do nothing to soothe that roiling sea of emotion.
the next best thing is, of course, to get the fuck out of here. rufus turns on his heel to make for the door; tseng lingers for a scant handful of seconds, his unblinking glare resting on the cowering trainer for a little longer before he, too, turns to follow in rufus' wake. his hair tie is gone, and the unbound strands of it fall around his bare shoulders, but tseng doesn't feel any sort of chill, not when there's a lingering heat still coiled low in his belly, the smoldering coals of adrenaline and rage.
as far as the elevators, tseng follows two steps behind rufus just off his right hand, his customary and well-worn place at the shinra heir's side. that is, until the doors to the penthouse elevators slide shut behind them and rufus offers out his coat—which tseng takes and wraps around his shoulders, his cognizance of propriety between turk and president warring with the possessiveness of rufus as his boyfriend. ]
Thank you, [ tseng says, and, as the elevator begins to ascend, throws away what remains of his good breeding in favor of shoving rufus back against the wall (perhaps a little too hard) and sealing their mouths together in a hungry, punishing kiss.
it's a little fucked up, maybe, tseng thinks. that his fury has been subsumed entirely into desire, that his adrenaline has channeled itself into an aching erection that presses against rufus' hip as they kiss. it's just that—fuck, rufus would have killed for him, if tseng had wanted him to. he would have slit that trainer's throat for the sin of putting his hands on tseng and hell if that doesn't do it for tseng, if he doesn't feel half out of his mind, nearly feral with how badly he wants to fuck rufus right now. ]
[Rufus is still seething when the elevator doors slide closed, brooding behind stormy eyes and frigid expression, buried so far beneath the refuge of his upbringing that he might as well be carved of marble for how still and unflinching he is. It's all there, the fury and the hurt and the indignation, bottled so tightly behind his facade that the force of it could cut diamonds were it not so carefully, relentlessly controlled.
That's why, in a rare moment for him, he doesn't see it coming when Tseng puts him into the wall and covers him with his body, claims his mouth and steals his breath and transforms him back from marble to man, wide-eyed and disoriented from the immediacy of the transition.]
Tseng —
[He hears the thank you belatedly, like it's filtered down through water, and he's eerily hesitant in his movements as he lifts his hands and presses the flats of his palms to the front of Tseng's coat-covered shoulders. He doesn't push him away — could never push him away, not ever but especially not after everything that's happened — but the touch is moderating, almost. Responsible. Tender.
Tseng is hard. He's hard, and bare, and wearing his coat, and kissing him breathless and it's all so fast that he doesn't want to breathe and swallow and stop but there's a rare protective hook in him that drags until he listens.]
I need your status. Are you drugged? Hurt?
[Not "injured", conspicuously — "hurt". And Shiva, Tseng's hair is loose, so much for being responsible — it's barely an instant before his fingers are woven through the silken black strands, not just possessive but selfish in how he knows what a privilege it is to touch them.]
[ it's understandable that rufus asks. tseng pulls enough far away to allow him to speak, although he stays close, caging rufus in against the wall of the elevator with the breadth of his shoulders and his hands still framing rufus' face. it takes every iota of restraint within him to hold back when rufus' hands push through his hair, but tseng is nothing if not ironclad in his control and no matter how his hunger aches he can't allow himself to be ruled by it.
he shakes his head minutely, not enough to dislodge rufus' hands, and says, ] I'm fine. My only injury is to my pride.
[ and he has no reason to lie to rufus about that. he wouldn't lie to rufus either way, tseng being what he is and rufus being who he is. but there was no aphrodisiac, and other than the slight ache where the cuffs bit into his wrists, tseng is completely unharmed.
but it's understandable that rufus asks. it's out of character for tseng to be so openly avaricious, least of all when moments before they were slotted perfectly into their respective roles. he doesn't entirely understand it, either, only knows that the thought of rufus being willing to spill blood for him makes him feel like he's losing his fucking mind. tseng leans forward to press his nose into rufus' cheekbone, drags his lips along the line of rufus' jaw, breathes in the scent of soap and the warmth of rufus' skin. ]
[Even just the mention of Tseng's pride makes an odd flush of rage bloom hot within Rufus again. Maybe that just comes with the territory of being a Shinra — physical injury, status affliction, it all can be dealt with so long as one keeps his pride. But to be brought low, to be made weak —
The blood rushes in his ears. His heart is pounding fast, and for once it has little to do with the way Tseng is nosing at him.]
I should've killed them.
[He insists, ragged, unmindful of how that's going to do nothing to alleviate Tseng's current insane status.]
Every fucking finger they laid on you, I should've —
[Unthinkable. That they dared, that they even dared, they muzzled Tseng and bound him and forced him to his knees and put him in front of Rufus, as though there could be any other outcome than certain death at the end of such a transgression.
And he was powerless to stop it until it was already too late. Maybe that's the part that sits so heavy, that he can't excise no matter how many times he runs his hands through Tseng's hair and opens up his body for the fervent attention.]
We're going back to my room. You'll take D with you when you — when you —
[His shoulders drop. Frustrated. Lost. What doesn't make it to his lips is all but radiating off him in other ways: I want you to be safe and I don't know how.]
[ despite the fire behind his sternum, tseng's hands are gentle on rufus' face, his throat, down the slopes of his shoulders and then up again. touches that are halfway careful, and halfway a distraction for himself, a little way to keep himself moving so he doesn't lose his mind. ]
Rufus. [ tseng pulls back just far enough to catch rufus' gaze and hold it for a long moment, letting him look into the amber of tseng's gaze and gauge for himself that tseng is telling the truth—that there is no influence of the resort here, no aphrodisiac at work that would impact his cognition. ] Look at me.
[ they didn't cover this in the how-to-be-boyfriends manual. tseng doesn't have the right words to express himself, the right gestures to smooth things over until rufus looks less unhappy, less like a bowstring drawn taut. all he has is the raw emotion he's keeping barely caged behind his teeth, desire as sweet as honey and as sharp as poison on his tongue. he kisses rufus again, a barely-there brush of lips. ]
I know you're looking out for me. I appreciate that. I need you to know I feel safe with you.
[ these are all true, and yet also only half the truth. tseng draws a breath and exhales it, his mouth tracing the sharp line of rufus' jaw until he can murmur against the soft place just below rufus' ear, ]
Nothing in my entire godsdamned life has gotten me hard as fast as the idea that you would kill for me. [ just saying it aloud is almost enough to make tseng moan, the sound threaded through his words no matter how stably he tries to pronounce them. even now, his cock is still stiff and aching, pressed to rufus' hip, the top of his thigh. tseng knows he doesn't need to draw attention to it, knows that rufus is aware of its presence there. ] And I will let you take care of me, after, but I really think I might die if you don't let me fuck you.
[There aren't many things that could act as a viable siphon to Rufus's ability to bottle up fury, but it turns out that the moan rumbling in the underpinnings of Tseng's reassurances is one of those rare exceptions. Maybe that's another way they've both failed the how-to-be-boyfriends seminar, that soft reassurances don't carry half the mitigating power that the press of an erection against his body can. Maybe they're both just crazy, and it's easier to be crazy about each other than it is to try to figure out what it looks like to be good at this.
Whatever it is, the heat in Tseng's voice eases the knotty tension in him like it's a matter of physics, drawing him down out of icy affront and back into a place where it can occur to him, significantly, that an extremely attractive and mostly-naked man is all but grinding on him because apparently his willingness to break bones is an aphrodisiac like none the House has ever come up with.
Good to know that's something that runs both ways with them, Rufus thinks almost sheepishly, as his cheeks go flush with pleasure and heat of his own.]
"Anyone who dared to treat you as less than a king", wasn't it...?
[Tseng's doing better than he had, under the same circumstances. But who can blame him for being driven to an unexpected orgasm over such a declaration? Tseng's always been the far more controlled of the two of them.
His eyes flit briefly to the elevator's panel, and linger briefly on the emergency stop. It would be crazy, certainly. But they're both crazy, aren't they? Too crazy to give even the slightest of a damn about anything but getting as close together as it's possible for two bodies to achieve.]
You're in charge. Ruin me. Make me feel it. Make sure everyone knows I'm yours. Show them all how you're the only one who gets to have me, who has me every way you want me.
[ the words are so precisely quoted that tseng can't help a low laugh in response. he remembers that evening, of course, seared like a brand into his memory and revisited time and time again. remembers how the threat of tseng's violence had been enough to make rufus spill into his slacks, brought to orgasm by nothing more than a few hard kisses and the promise of evisceration. ]
It was. [ his voice is low and promising and his teeth drag lightly against rufus' skin. ] I would still tear their throats out. Just like—
[ just like rufus would apparently do for tseng, except if tseng says that aloud he's genuinely not sure he'll be able to keep his composure. the single thread that stands between him and pushing rufus up against the wall of the elevator to fuck him right now is the fact that tseng hadn't left his suite with lube on his person and he's not about to make rufus take it dry. he groans, but doesn't reach for the emergency shutoff, keeping his hands at rufus' hips, his waist, moving along his body wherever tseng can reach in an effort to keep himself busy.
and besides, for all that tseng is being eaten up inside by ravenous hunger, he does want to fuck rufus on a bed. on rufus' bed at that, a thought both transgressive and comforting: it means access to a part of rufus that very few know, and the safety of being ensconced in the only place in the resort safer than tseng's own suite. ]
I'm going to take you to bed and then take you apart, [ he promises, and then closes his mouth over rufus' pulse point to suck a bruise there. a mark of possession, maybe. a sign that tseng was here. rufus smells sweet and warm, like sun and smoke, a little woody in a way that makes tseng want to drag his tongue over every inch of rufus' body. no, no. that's something he wants to do anyway. the cologne is just a bonus.
the elevator draws to a halt on the king floor and the doors slide open. reluctantly, tseng withdraws enough to give rufus room to move, but he stays close the entire way down the hallway, much closer than propriety demands. ]
[So much for Tseng's composure. Maybe it's all the worse for Tseng's composure, even, to hear the thought finished not in his own voice but in Rufus's, low and ragged and finally settled firmly into the realm of arousal born of passion instead of fury. They've spoken before, haven't they, about the things they can do here that could never happen in Midgar, the liberties they're finally free to take. A vow like that could never pass between them back home, at least not aloud. It's the sort of thing they might've said ten years ago, fifteen — young and stupid and too reckless to know better.
The thought blooms warm and possessive in the pit of Rufus's stomach. Where Tseng is concerned, he really does seem to land his most memorable moments in elevators.
In the last moment before Tseng withdraws, Rufus reaches for him, clasping his face and claiming his mouth in a kiss that's as much like he's out to devour him as it is anything else, rough and hungry and possessive. Just a little something to tide them over as they hurry down the hall and he keys them into his room, all but dragging Tseng inside in his haste to kick the door shut behind them.
As the door swings shut, the familiar metallic jingle of a chain collar rings out against the marble. Unsurprisingly, Darkstar has come to the door as she always does, waiting patiently to see who dares enter her master's penthouse. Fortunately, even in their chaotic state of dress and feverish haste, Rufus and Tseng check out — and Darkstar merely wags her tail in greeting until she's treated to Rufus's usual gesture dismissing her from her vigil.]
...Hurry.
[Hurry, he insists, and for good reason. It wouldn't be the first time they've fucked in the entryway. It's going to take quite a lot of dedicated focus to make it through the penthouse to his bed — particularly when Rufus is already pulling at his tie and the buttons of his shirt, seemingly content to shed pieces of his outfit like breadcrumbs all the way to their destination.]
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peacockstop2026-01-15 09:00 pm
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the next best thing is, of course, to get the fuck out of here. rufus turns on his heel to make for the door; tseng lingers for a scant handful of seconds, his unblinking glare resting on the cowering trainer for a little longer before he, too, turns to follow in rufus' wake. his hair tie is gone, and the unbound strands of it fall around his bare shoulders, but tseng doesn't feel any sort of chill, not when there's a lingering heat still coiled low in his belly, the smoldering coals of adrenaline and rage.
as far as the elevators, tseng follows two steps behind rufus just off his right hand, his customary and well-worn place at the shinra heir's side. that is, until the doors to the penthouse elevators slide shut behind them and rufus offers out his coat—which tseng takes and wraps around his shoulders, his cognizance of propriety between turk and president warring with the possessiveness of rufus as his boyfriend. ]
Thank you, [ tseng says, and, as the elevator begins to ascend, throws away what remains of his good breeding in favor of shoving rufus back against the wall (perhaps a little too hard) and sealing their mouths together in a hungry, punishing kiss.
it's a little fucked up, maybe, tseng thinks. that his fury has been subsumed entirely into desire, that his adrenaline has channeled itself into an aching erection that presses against rufus' hip as they kiss. it's just that—fuck, rufus would have killed for him, if tseng had wanted him to. he would have slit that trainer's throat for the sin of putting his hands on tseng and hell if that doesn't do it for tseng, if he doesn't feel half out of his mind, nearly feral with how badly he wants to fuck rufus right now. ]
no subject
That's why, in a rare moment for him, he doesn't see it coming when Tseng puts him into the wall and covers him with his body, claims his mouth and steals his breath and transforms him back from marble to man, wide-eyed and disoriented from the immediacy of the transition.]
Tseng —
[He hears the thank you belatedly, like it's filtered down through water, and he's eerily hesitant in his movements as he lifts his hands and presses the flats of his palms to the front of Tseng's coat-covered shoulders. He doesn't push him away — could never push him away, not ever but especially not after everything that's happened — but the touch is moderating, almost. Responsible. Tender.
Tseng is hard. He's hard, and bare, and wearing his coat, and kissing him breathless and it's all so fast that he doesn't want to breathe and swallow and stop but there's a rare protective hook in him that drags until he listens.]
I need your status. Are you drugged? Hurt?
[Not "injured", conspicuously — "hurt". And Shiva, Tseng's hair is loose, so much for being responsible — it's barely an instant before his fingers are woven through the silken black strands, not just possessive but selfish in how he knows what a privilege it is to touch them.]
no subject
he shakes his head minutely, not enough to dislodge rufus' hands, and says, ] I'm fine. My only injury is to my pride.
[ and he has no reason to lie to rufus about that. he wouldn't lie to rufus either way, tseng being what he is and rufus being who he is. but there was no aphrodisiac, and other than the slight ache where the cuffs bit into his wrists, tseng is completely unharmed.
but it's understandable that rufus asks. it's out of character for tseng to be so openly avaricious, least of all when moments before they were slotted perfectly into their respective roles. he doesn't entirely understand it, either, only knows that the thought of rufus being willing to spill blood for him makes him feel like he's losing his fucking mind. tseng leans forward to press his nose into rufus' cheekbone, drags his lips along the line of rufus' jaw, breathes in the scent of soap and the warmth of rufus' skin. ]
no subject
The blood rushes in his ears. His heart is pounding fast, and for once it has little to do with the way Tseng is nosing at him.]
I should've killed them.
[He insists, ragged, unmindful of how that's going to do nothing to alleviate Tseng's current insane status.]
Every fucking finger they laid on you, I should've —
[Unthinkable. That they dared, that they even dared, they muzzled Tseng and bound him and forced him to his knees and put him in front of Rufus, as though there could be any other outcome than certain death at the end of such a transgression.
And he was powerless to stop it until it was already too late. Maybe that's the part that sits so heavy, that he can't excise no matter how many times he runs his hands through Tseng's hair and opens up his body for the fervent attention.]
We're going back to my room. You'll take D with you when you — when you —
[His shoulders drop. Frustrated. Lost. What doesn't make it to his lips is all but radiating off him in other ways: I want you to be safe and I don't know how.]
no subject
Rufus. [ tseng pulls back just far enough to catch rufus' gaze and hold it for a long moment, letting him look into the amber of tseng's gaze and gauge for himself that tseng is telling the truth—that there is no influence of the resort here, no aphrodisiac at work that would impact his cognition. ] Look at me.
[ they didn't cover this in the how-to-be-boyfriends manual. tseng doesn't have the right words to express himself, the right gestures to smooth things over until rufus looks less unhappy, less like a bowstring drawn taut. all he has is the raw emotion he's keeping barely caged behind his teeth, desire as sweet as honey and as sharp as poison on his tongue. he kisses rufus again, a barely-there brush of lips. ]
I know you're looking out for me. I appreciate that. I need you to know I feel safe with you.
[ these are all true, and yet also only half the truth. tseng draws a breath and exhales it, his mouth tracing the sharp line of rufus' jaw until he can murmur against the soft place just below rufus' ear, ]
Nothing in my entire godsdamned life has gotten me hard as fast as the idea that you would kill for me. [ just saying it aloud is almost enough to make tseng moan, the sound threaded through his words no matter how stably he tries to pronounce them. even now, his cock is still stiff and aching, pressed to rufus' hip, the top of his thigh. tseng knows he doesn't need to draw attention to it, knows that rufus is aware of its presence there. ] And I will let you take care of me, after, but I really think I might die if you don't let me fuck you.
no subject
Whatever it is, the heat in Tseng's voice eases the knotty tension in him like it's a matter of physics, drawing him down out of icy affront and back into a place where it can occur to him, significantly, that an extremely attractive and mostly-naked man is all but grinding on him because apparently his willingness to break bones is an aphrodisiac like none the House has ever come up with.
Good to know that's something that runs both ways with them, Rufus thinks almost sheepishly, as his cheeks go flush with pleasure and heat of his own.]
"Anyone who dared to treat you as less than a king", wasn't it...?
[Tseng's doing better than he had, under the same circumstances. But who can blame him for being driven to an unexpected orgasm over such a declaration? Tseng's always been the far more controlled of the two of them.
His eyes flit briefly to the elevator's panel, and linger briefly on the emergency stop. It would be crazy, certainly. But they're both crazy, aren't they? Too crazy to give even the slightest of a damn about anything but getting as close together as it's possible for two bodies to achieve.]
You're in charge. Ruin me. Make me feel it. Make sure everyone knows I'm yours. Show them all how you're the only one who gets to have me, who has me every way you want me.
no subject
It was. [ his voice is low and promising and his teeth drag lightly against rufus' skin. ] I would still tear their throats out. Just like—
[ just like rufus would apparently do for tseng, except if tseng says that aloud he's genuinely not sure he'll be able to keep his composure. the single thread that stands between him and pushing rufus up against the wall of the elevator to fuck him right now is the fact that tseng hadn't left his suite with lube on his person and he's not about to make rufus take it dry. he groans, but doesn't reach for the emergency shutoff, keeping his hands at rufus' hips, his waist, moving along his body wherever tseng can reach in an effort to keep himself busy.
and besides, for all that tseng is being eaten up inside by ravenous hunger, he does want to fuck rufus on a bed. on rufus' bed at that, a thought both transgressive and comforting: it means access to a part of rufus that very few know, and the safety of being ensconced in the only place in the resort safer than tseng's own suite. ]
I'm going to take you to bed and then take you apart, [ he promises, and then closes his mouth over rufus' pulse point to suck a bruise there. a mark of possession, maybe. a sign that tseng was here. rufus smells sweet and warm, like sun and smoke, a little woody in a way that makes tseng want to drag his tongue over every inch of rufus' body. no, no. that's something he wants to do anyway. the cologne is just a bonus.
the elevator draws to a halt on the king floor and the doors slide open. reluctantly, tseng withdraws enough to give rufus room to move, but he stays close the entire way down the hallway, much closer than propriety demands. ]
no subject
[So much for Tseng's composure. Maybe it's all the worse for Tseng's composure, even, to hear the thought finished not in his own voice but in Rufus's, low and ragged and finally settled firmly into the realm of arousal born of passion instead of fury. They've spoken before, haven't they, about the things they can do here that could never happen in Midgar, the liberties they're finally free to take. A vow like that could never pass between them back home, at least not aloud. It's the sort of thing they might've said ten years ago, fifteen — young and stupid and too reckless to know better.
The thought blooms warm and possessive in the pit of Rufus's stomach. Where Tseng is concerned, he really does seem to land his most memorable moments in elevators.
In the last moment before Tseng withdraws, Rufus reaches for him, clasping his face and claiming his mouth in a kiss that's as much like he's out to devour him as it is anything else, rough and hungry and possessive. Just a little something to tide them over as they hurry down the hall and he keys them into his room, all but dragging Tseng inside in his haste to kick the door shut behind them.
As the door swings shut, the familiar metallic jingle of a chain collar rings out against the marble. Unsurprisingly, Darkstar has come to the door as she always does, waiting patiently to see who dares enter her master's penthouse. Fortunately, even in their chaotic state of dress and feverish haste, Rufus and Tseng check out — and Darkstar merely wags her tail in greeting until she's treated to Rufus's usual gesture dismissing her from her vigil.]
...Hurry.
[Hurry, he insists, and for good reason. It wouldn't be the first time they've fucked in the entryway. It's going to take quite a lot of dedicated focus to make it through the penthouse to his bed — particularly when Rufus is already pulling at his tie and the buttons of his shirt, seemingly content to shed pieces of his outfit like breadcrumbs all the way to their destination.]