[For you, I am, Rufus almost says, startled after the fact by how much he means it, by how much it feels like something compelled out of his chest but it's not the heat that prompted it. Of course he's not ready for this, not in the truest sense of the word; most authorities on the subject would agree that to force an omega like him through half the things he's required to do would be abhorrent at best and torture at worst, but he's ready to survive it anyway. He's ready to do what has to be done.
(It's just easier, like this, to do it for someone who can be proud of him. Who wants him. Who might even...who might spoil him, maybe, once they're safe and alone. Again, he imagines the decadence of that particular fantasy. Again, he shivers from want of it.)
He leans forward one last time, bumping their foreheads together before rubbing his cheek against Tseng's, like he's returning the courtesy of being scented with a subtle, pacifying gesture of his own.]
I'm tired, Director. That fire alarm was a blessing in disguise; the best birthday gift I can imagine right now is to make for my quarters and sleep.
[He closes his eyes. Breathes in slowly. Alpha. Confident. Strong. Ruthless.
He can do it. He can do it, but he's not going to be able to hold it for long, and so he moves as rapidly as he can, dragging himself out of Tseng's arms with a last mournful whine before making for the door of the helicopter and signaling Rude through the window to get it open for him in perfect cadence, so he doesn't have to pause even an instant in the smooth trajectory of his departure.
His legs feel like jelly the moment he lands on them. He's so sure he's going to wobble or stumble. But the night air is cold and devoid of the thick and drowsy aroma of his scent commingling with Tseng's, and it drives him to get one foot in front of the other, drawing up the ache of his heat into his chest and alchemizing it into powerful annoyance in its place.
Security, however light it may be at this time of night, is expecting him; evidently, reports of the fire alarm and evacuation made it back to the building in advance. It helps, because it means they all keep a wide berth from the clearly annoyed (clearly, clearly he's annoyed) Shinra heir as he storms back to his rooms after a festive night cut short. It means he has every reason to sweep past, to not bother to wait for doors to be opened for him. Let him be moody and frustrated and prickly; there are plenty of other excuses for it, none of which let on anything about the truth.
Just a little farther, he reminds himself as he crosses the foyer, hyperaware of Tseng's eyes on him, the hair on the back of his neck standing up with the weight of it. Just a little farther and Shiva he's not even going to make it to his bed, not even going to make it to his room, if he makes it three steps in the door before howling to be fucked against the wall it's going to be a damned miracle.
[ the night air is practically freezing in contrast to the sweet, muggy heat of the helicopter. it shocks some sense into tseng's system, blessedly, allows him to land on his feet when he hops down from the cabin and gestures to rude through the window that final shutdown procedures can begin. it will take a few minutes for rude to run through the checklist, but even so, he knows better than to follow them into rufus' quarters. like all the turks, he keeps track of rufus' heat schedule, so he knows that for the next several days, this wing of the building will be entirely off-limits.
it is, tseng thinks, a minor miracle that they make it into the building. two steps behind rufus and to his left, tseng follows him through the lobby doors and past the flustered-looking security guards, who he dismisses with a curt nod; down the stairs towards rufus' private residence, past an administrative assistant with a neat bob and sensible heels who looks at tseng, opens her mouth, and then wisely thinks better of it and closes it again. ]
Clear the vice president's schedule through Tuesday.
[ tseng's voice comes out blessedly steady, devoid of the alpha growl that's been simmering there all evening. the assistant manages a clipped yes, sir! and then turns on her heel to go back the way she came, and tseng continues on, lengthening his stride to keep up with the pace rufus sets.
he has never been so aware of every inch of his body. a bead of sweat forms between his shoulderblades and runs slowly down his spine; his cock throbs with every step, trapped as it is along the crease of his thigh in an effort to stop it being patently obvious to everyone they pass. he feels feverish, not like his skin is overwarm but like his core hass heated up, a furnace inside him driving his steps.
just a little farther.
down the hallway toward rufus' rooms. tseng's gaze drops unbidden to his ass, perfect, hidden beneath the layers of fabric that comprise his formalwear. at this distance his scent is nearly overwhelming, and it's only the long-worn habit of putting one foot in front of the other regardless of circumstance that keeps tseng walking, instead of pinning rufus to the wall to fuck him front of everyone.
in the end, he manages to hold back until the door swings shut behind him. the latch clicks into place, tseng reaches back to turn the deadbolt, and then before he's even really conscious of his actions he has rufus by the hips, turning him, pinning his back up against the wall so tseng can seal their mouths together in a thorough, punishing kiss. ]
[It all happens so fast. Through the haze of heat and need he can mark the footsteps behind him, the faint whisper of door hinges, the way his clothes feel like a barrier that's trying to hold his radiant body heat in and there's sweat beginning to bead about his joints, in the junctures of his limbs. The sound of the latch clicking has barely faded from the air when all of a sudden he's not where he thought he was anymore, moved too fast for his desire-addled senses to track; one moment he's thinking of how many more steps it will take to reach his bedroom and the next his shoulderblades are digging into the entry wall, pinned up so snug and tight that he yowls into Tseng's mouth from it.
And he gives way — it feels so good to give way, here in the safety of his own quarters, where he can be as loud and as needy as he wants. They'd soundproofed the walls long ago on the excuse of company security, in case the vice president should need to conduct business within the comforts of his own rooms. Really it's so that he can howl as loud as he wants when he's got an alpha seeing to him — one of the few rare courtesies his father has ever shown him, not that he did it for his son's sake to begin with.]
Tseng!
[His legs leave the ground almost on instinct — one at first, testing, as he hooks it around Tseng's waist to help keep him close, then the other once he figures out that Tseng will hold him if he does it, will hold him up with nothing but the press of his body alone. His arms drape over Tseng's shoulders like it's a lover's embrace; the rest of their conduct is anything but saccharine, as his scent starts to flood the air unrestrained.
His nails, blunt though they are, shove down the back of Tseng's collar, beneath his coat and his shirt, looking for skin to dig into and mark. When he finally manages to drag himself away from the kiss far enough to talk, his eyes are dark and wild, unfocused with desire and desperation.]
Are you excited...?
[His lips are slick and wet from the force of the kiss; he licks at them, his mouth still open like he's expecting another to claim it at any moment.]
[ oh, hells, if it doesn't make tseng's knees weak to hear his name in that tone from rufus' mouth. they're pressed so closely together that tseng thinks he can feel every inch of rufus' body, down to the beat of his heart and the vibration of his voice in his chest; it's intoxicating, devastating, just like the press of rufus' thighs as he lifts his legs to circle tseng's waist. rufus' estimation is right, and tseng does hold him up against the wall with nothing but his hands on rufus' ass and the firm press of his own body. their mouths meet, and meet again, and rufus' scent floods the air around them with a sweet tang so perfect it makes tseng's molars ache.
when rufus pulls back from the kiss, tseng drops his mouth to rufus' throat instead. his tongue drags over a bare stripe of skin at the base of his throat, just above his collarbone, and then tseng bites a bruise into the curve of his shoulder that will necessitate higher collars until it's gone. he wants to take rufus apart. he wants to strip him piece by piece until he learns exactly what makes him tick.
with some force of effort, tseng drags his face away from the intoxicating scent in the hollow of rufus' throat and manages a response. ]
Can't you tell? [ surely rufus can feel the heat and pressure of tseng's cock where it's right up against his ass. he shifts just right and the hot length of it rubs insistently along the curve of one cheek. ] I haven't stopped thinking about it since I smelled you.
[ by some miracle, tseng doesn't stumble when he pulls rufus away from the wall to carry him to the bedroom instead. whether they'll make it remains to be seen, truly, but at least tseng knows the way and at least for now it seems like his legs will hold them. ]
[There are no words for how good it feels to be wrapped up in Tseng in that moment, with his heat raging and their mingling scents thick in the air and the freedom to be as loud as he wants — to not have to think about how he looks or acts or snarls, free to bare his throat to Tseng's attention and whine audibly as his teeth sink home into a mark that isn't going away anytime soon. It's dizzy and feverish and soon it feels like he's lost control of his limbs a bit, too insensible to move them with any sort of intent because he's so busy clinging and trilling and trying to get more of everything Tseng offers and then some.
Fuck, but his cock feels big when he grinds it against him, full and thick and just what he wants. He's had alpha studs before but he's never wanted like he wants this, panting and whimpering and convinced that there's nothing in the world that could possibly feel as good as Tseng will feel when he takes him — hells, he hasn't even come close to it yet and already he's certain of it beyond a shadow of every doubt.]
Don't stop. Don't stop thinking about me — !
[Tseng pulls them away from the wall, just takes hold of him and moves him because fuck, he's so strong — he hides it beneath those trim-tailored suits but pressed up against him, there's no hiding how it's all muscle underneath and fuck, he wants to trace each one with his tongue, taste his sweat, bite little omega claims of his own into his flesh — and he wraps around Tseng like it's the most natural thing in the world, purring audibly from the unparalleled pleasure of being held.]
My alpha. My Tseng. You're mine, too — mine, mine —
[ as if there's a snowflake's chance in ifrit's fires. as far as tseng is concerned, the entire universe is the size of the two of them, rufus in his arms, their joined mouths, their bodies pressed so close together it's hard to know where one ends and the other begins. at least until tuesday, there's nothing that could draw tseng's focus away from rufus, not a single thing that could interrupt the strength of his attention.
he manages not to stumble as they make their way down the hall, but it's a close thing, especially when rufus presses his face to tseng's neck and lets him feel the vibration of one of those sweet little trills he keeps making in the back of his throat. he wants to dig his teeth into rufus. desire closes its fist around the base of his spine and pulls hard, makes it a minor miracle that tseng kicks the door of rufus' bedroom halfway closed before he deposits rufus onto the irresponsibly soft, large mattress of his bed.
tseng is on him again in an instant. his hands are steady as they work at the buttons and fastenings of rufus' clothes, his coat, the belts that hold it closed. he's wearing too much. tseng wants to dig his nails into the fabric and tear it to shreds, and it's only the barest recollection of expense reporting that stays his hand. ]
Tell me what you want. What you like.
[ tseng could figure it out, but he wants to hear it from the source—and besides that, he likes the tone of rufus' voice when he's trying to talk through his own desperation, how pitched and needy it gets, especially now that he has no reason to keep it modulated. ]
[That first instant of landing on the thick deep comfort of his mattress — it's unparalleled bliss, so much so that even his raging need briefly takes a backseat to bask in the way it feels. He hadn't even realized how much it'd abraded, all the pretensions he's forced to wear like armor when he's pretending to be alpha. He'd drawn them in so close he'd forgotten how desperately he'd been craving this, the pillowy sweetness of a place that reads as soft and safe and nest.
For a second, he's lost in it; even the heady musk of Tseng's scent isn't enough to overpower the flood of relief that saturates him, rubbing his cheek against the cashmere comforter, the thousand-count sheets. This room, this bed, this nest smells like him, accentuated in the best possible way by his alpha's presence — and that's all there is, no competing influences, no unpleasant distractions.
It's why he doesn't help at all when Tseng reaches for his clothes, half because he's too far gone in the release of relief to even think of it, and half because it is what he wants. His alpha should get his hands on him, should pamper him so. At long, long last, the pieces are falling into place; finally there's rightness in his world, the long struggles set aside to make room for his reward.]
You, you, you.
[That's not helpful, and doesn't come close to addressing the question he's been pressed with, but this isn't offered up as an answer to Tseng's demand; quite the contrary, it's a reward for good behavior, praise for the lovely perfect alpha who delivered him into this bliss, who's seeing to his needs just like he's supposed to.
His eyes open a bit, dark as a stormy ocean beneath long lashes and half-lids, and another course of purring spills from his throat as Tseng's clever hands free him from the awful confines of his clothes, as the scent of his slick and his need fills the air more and more as the linen peels away.]
You said — your cock, I want your cock —
[His mouth falls open, soft and wet, tongue rolled out like a red carpet against his lower lip. Obscene. Inviting.]
Scent me — ah, mmmn — while you give it, give it to me —
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(It's just easier, like this, to do it for someone who can be proud of him. Who wants him. Who might even...who might spoil him, maybe, once they're safe and alone. Again, he imagines the decadence of that particular fantasy. Again, he shivers from want of it.)
He leans forward one last time, bumping their foreheads together before rubbing his cheek against Tseng's, like he's returning the courtesy of being scented with a subtle, pacifying gesture of his own.]
I'm tired, Director. That fire alarm was a blessing in disguise; the best birthday gift I can imagine right now is to make for my quarters and sleep.
[He closes his eyes. Breathes in slowly. Alpha. Confident. Strong. Ruthless.
He can do it. He can do it, but he's not going to be able to hold it for long, and so he moves as rapidly as he can, dragging himself out of Tseng's arms with a last mournful whine before making for the door of the helicopter and signaling Rude through the window to get it open for him in perfect cadence, so he doesn't have to pause even an instant in the smooth trajectory of his departure.
His legs feel like jelly the moment he lands on them. He's so sure he's going to wobble or stumble. But the night air is cold and devoid of the thick and drowsy aroma of his scent commingling with Tseng's, and it drives him to get one foot in front of the other, drawing up the ache of his heat into his chest and alchemizing it into powerful annoyance in its place.
Security, however light it may be at this time of night, is expecting him; evidently, reports of the fire alarm and evacuation made it back to the building in advance. It helps, because it means they all keep a wide berth from the clearly annoyed (clearly, clearly he's annoyed) Shinra heir as he storms back to his rooms after a festive night cut short. It means he has every reason to sweep past, to not bother to wait for doors to be opened for him. Let him be moody and frustrated and prickly; there are plenty of other excuses for it, none of which let on anything about the truth.
Just a little farther, he reminds himself as he crosses the foyer, hyperaware of Tseng's eyes on him, the hair on the back of his neck standing up with the weight of it. Just a little farther and Shiva he's not even going to make it to his bed, not even going to make it to his room, if he makes it three steps in the door before howling to be fucked against the wall it's going to be a damned miracle.
But he'll make it. He'll make it.
Just a little farther.]
no subject
it is, tseng thinks, a minor miracle that they make it into the building. two steps behind rufus and to his left, tseng follows him through the lobby doors and past the flustered-looking security guards, who he dismisses with a curt nod; down the stairs towards rufus' private residence, past an administrative assistant with a neat bob and sensible heels who looks at tseng, opens her mouth, and then wisely thinks better of it and closes it again. ]
Clear the vice president's schedule through Tuesday.
[ tseng's voice comes out blessedly steady, devoid of the alpha growl that's been simmering there all evening. the assistant manages a clipped yes, sir! and then turns on her heel to go back the way she came, and tseng continues on, lengthening his stride to keep up with the pace rufus sets.
he has never been so aware of every inch of his body. a bead of sweat forms between his shoulderblades and runs slowly down his spine; his cock throbs with every step, trapped as it is along the crease of his thigh in an effort to stop it being patently obvious to everyone they pass. he feels feverish, not like his skin is overwarm but like his core hass heated up, a furnace inside him driving his steps.
just a little farther.
down the hallway toward rufus' rooms. tseng's gaze drops unbidden to his ass, perfect, hidden beneath the layers of fabric that comprise his formalwear. at this distance his scent is nearly overwhelming, and it's only the long-worn habit of putting one foot in front of the other regardless of circumstance that keeps tseng walking, instead of pinning rufus to the wall to fuck him front of everyone.
in the end, he manages to hold back until the door swings shut behind him. the latch clicks into place, tseng reaches back to turn the deadbolt, and then before he's even really conscious of his actions he has rufus by the hips, turning him, pinning his back up against the wall so tseng can seal their mouths together in a thorough, punishing kiss. ]
no subject
And he gives way — it feels so good to give way, here in the safety of his own quarters, where he can be as loud and as needy as he wants. They'd soundproofed the walls long ago on the excuse of company security, in case the vice president should need to conduct business within the comforts of his own rooms. Really it's so that he can howl as loud as he wants when he's got an alpha seeing to him — one of the few rare courtesies his father has ever shown him, not that he did it for his son's sake to begin with.]
Tseng!
[His legs leave the ground almost on instinct — one at first, testing, as he hooks it around Tseng's waist to help keep him close, then the other once he figures out that Tseng will hold him if he does it, will hold him up with nothing but the press of his body alone. His arms drape over Tseng's shoulders like it's a lover's embrace; the rest of their conduct is anything but saccharine, as his scent starts to flood the air unrestrained.
His nails, blunt though they are, shove down the back of Tseng's collar, beneath his coat and his shirt, looking for skin to dig into and mark. When he finally manages to drag himself away from the kiss far enough to talk, his eyes are dark and wild, unfocused with desire and desperation.]
Are you excited...?
[His lips are slick and wet from the force of the kiss; he licks at them, his mouth still open like he's expecting another to claim it at any moment.]
— To see how I look, hhh, when I take your knot?
no subject
when rufus pulls back from the kiss, tseng drops his mouth to rufus' throat instead. his tongue drags over a bare stripe of skin at the base of his throat, just above his collarbone, and then tseng bites a bruise into the curve of his shoulder that will necessitate higher collars until it's gone. he wants to take rufus apart. he wants to strip him piece by piece until he learns exactly what makes him tick.
with some force of effort, tseng drags his face away from the intoxicating scent in the hollow of rufus' throat and manages a response. ]
Can't you tell? [ surely rufus can feel the heat and pressure of tseng's cock where it's right up against his ass. he shifts just right and the hot length of it rubs insistently along the curve of one cheek. ] I haven't stopped thinking about it since I smelled you.
[ by some miracle, tseng doesn't stumble when he pulls rufus away from the wall to carry him to the bedroom instead. whether they'll make it remains to be seen, truly, but at least tseng knows the way and at least for now it seems like his legs will hold them. ]
no subject
[There are no words for how good it feels to be wrapped up in Tseng in that moment, with his heat raging and their mingling scents thick in the air and the freedom to be as loud as he wants — to not have to think about how he looks or acts or snarls, free to bare his throat to Tseng's attention and whine audibly as his teeth sink home into a mark that isn't going away anytime soon. It's dizzy and feverish and soon it feels like he's lost control of his limbs a bit, too insensible to move them with any sort of intent because he's so busy clinging and trilling and trying to get more of everything Tseng offers and then some.
Fuck, but his cock feels big when he grinds it against him, full and thick and just what he wants. He's had alpha studs before but he's never wanted like he wants this, panting and whimpering and convinced that there's nothing in the world that could possibly feel as good as Tseng will feel when he takes him — hells, he hasn't even come close to it yet and already he's certain of it beyond a shadow of every doubt.]
Don't stop. Don't stop thinking about me — !
[Tseng pulls them away from the wall, just takes hold of him and moves him because fuck, he's so strong — he hides it beneath those trim-tailored suits but pressed up against him, there's no hiding how it's all muscle underneath and fuck, he wants to trace each one with his tongue, taste his sweat, bite little omega claims of his own into his flesh — and he wraps around Tseng like it's the most natural thing in the world, purring audibly from the unparalleled pleasure of being held.]
My alpha. My Tseng. You're mine, too — mine, mine —
no subject
he manages not to stumble as they make their way down the hall, but it's a close thing, especially when rufus presses his face to tseng's neck and lets him feel the vibration of one of those sweet little trills he keeps making in the back of his throat. he wants to dig his teeth into rufus. desire closes its fist around the base of his spine and pulls hard, makes it a minor miracle that tseng kicks the door of rufus' bedroom halfway closed before he deposits rufus onto the irresponsibly soft, large mattress of his bed.
tseng is on him again in an instant. his hands are steady as they work at the buttons and fastenings of rufus' clothes, his coat, the belts that hold it closed. he's wearing too much. tseng wants to dig his nails into the fabric and tear it to shreds, and it's only the barest recollection of expense reporting that stays his hand. ]
Tell me what you want. What you like.
[ tseng could figure it out, but he wants to hear it from the source—and besides that, he likes the tone of rufus' voice when he's trying to talk through his own desperation, how pitched and needy it gets, especially now that he has no reason to keep it modulated. ]
no subject
For a second, he's lost in it; even the heady musk of Tseng's scent isn't enough to overpower the flood of relief that saturates him, rubbing his cheek against the cashmere comforter, the thousand-count sheets. This room, this bed, this nest smells like him, accentuated in the best possible way by his alpha's presence — and that's all there is, no competing influences, no unpleasant distractions.
It's why he doesn't help at all when Tseng reaches for his clothes, half because he's too far gone in the release of relief to even think of it, and half because it is what he wants. His alpha should get his hands on him, should pamper him so. At long, long last, the pieces are falling into place; finally there's rightness in his world, the long struggles set aside to make room for his reward.]
You, you, you.
[That's not helpful, and doesn't come close to addressing the question he's been pressed with, but this isn't offered up as an answer to Tseng's demand; quite the contrary, it's a reward for good behavior, praise for the lovely perfect alpha who delivered him into this bliss, who's seeing to his needs just like he's supposed to.
His eyes open a bit, dark as a stormy ocean beneath long lashes and half-lids, and another course of purring spills from his throat as Tseng's clever hands free him from the awful confines of his clothes, as the scent of his slick and his need fills the air more and more as the linen peels away.]
You said — your cock, I want your cock —
[His mouth falls open, soft and wet, tongue rolled out like a red carpet against his lower lip. Obscene. Inviting.]
Scent me — ah, mmmn — while you give it, give it to me —