[The Tens floor should, by all rights, be a comfortable — even luxurious — place to live. The suites are big, consisting of multiple rooms, and full of sufficient amenities for any average person to feel supremely taken care-of. Which in turn means that for Rufus, it's a couple notches below what he's accustomed to, but...well, it'll do. For a while, anyway, while he bides his time.
The knocks comes just as his guest said it would; even so, he's cautious to check for a visual before opening the door to permit entrance. He's dressed down a little from what he usually walks around the resort in, having foregone his suit and coat for a dark high-neck sweater and crisp white trousers, and a pair of comfortable house slippers instead of his typical boots.]
You're punctual.
[And agitated, clearly. He beckons Wriothesley inside and closes the door behind him, careful to keep his expression even and not try to catch a breath of him as he steps past, just in case he happens to be wearing that ocean-scented cologne.]
And willing to pay to get something out of me, so let's have it.
[Wriothesley had grown used to being in the suites meant for the rank 10s. It helps that he consistently ends up crashing at someone's room just as much as he sleeps in his own. The layouts do differ from room to room, he's finding.
The man looked, well, tired. The lingering smell of cigarette smoke lingers on his clothes. He's dressed in slacks and waistcoat and would look well kept if not for small signs. The slight wrinkling of his dress shirt underneath that implies he hadn't bothered to press it and the way he didn't even bother to button the top most button of his waistcoat.
He nods his head in greeting as he steps inside.]
I wasn't about to make someone wait when it was I who asked for their time. How unbecoming if I did. [He gives a cursory look around, mostly out of habit to quickly access the space. Paranoia runs deep after all.
He purses his lips before turning to look at the other.] I just don't want to think for a little bit. [And while things like drugs could easily get him that, he also was someone who liked a clear mind. It was a frustrating dichotomy.]
You're free to let me know what you would like as payment and we can find a compromise that works for the both of us.
[What a trajectory the world is on, when someone is evidently coming to Rufus Shinra as though he's a fucking therapist. It'd be a lie to say that the stated purpose of the visit doesn't startle him a little; given the...everything that's gone on between the two of them up until this point, he would've assumed that whatever request Wriothesley was bringing with him was somewhat more tangible, and considerably less vulnerable. (Surely, surely, this man has had his fill of being vulnerable around him, reduced to a shaking mess in a collar, reduced to lazy smiles and linked arms —)
And yet — there's something to the way he frames it, I don't want to think. The chance to switch one's mind off is the siren song of the overworked and overburdened, resigned to the necessity of whatever it is they carry, yet desperate to put it down in the short term just to ensure they can survive it a little longer in the greater one.]
You're asking for a repeat performance.
[He'd made him drink the green potion. He'd put him on his hands and knees and dragged noises out of his throat and again and again it'd always been the same, I want to be good, I want to be a good boy.]
Well. If we're negotiating a bargain, then my compensation is going to be contingent on my obligation. So let's be clear — just how much control are you willing to cede to me?
[He smiles faintly, tilting his head at the slightest angle.]
There must be something you won't let me do to you.
[Wriothesley shrugs in response.] It doesn't have to be a repeat performance. It doesn't have to even be sexual. I just want a moment. [A moment can mean anything. To Wriothesley, he just wants to feel like he can breath easy even if it's for a minute.
He had pointed it out to Tseng once. Sometimes there was something freeing about submitting to someone and letting them hold the reigns. It had already happened once between them. Why not another time?]
A business man, huh? I appreciate that. [It makes it easy for someone to be concise and to the point. He likes that.] You're right though.
[Wriothesley is someone who knows his limits pretty well.] I refuse to have my hands bound. I don't want any kind of drugs. No permanent physical alterations. [The last one was kind of just a precaution. He doesn't think that it would come up, but it was better to be honest than for things to go too far and for him to be dragged back into reality.
But Wriothesley didn't have a lot of things he refused. As long as he felt like he didn't feel completely at Rufus' mercy, giving up control was different than feeling like he lost control, and he didn't like using substances.] I don't think there's anything else.
[There's something unusually resonant in the way he says that — I just want a moment. Not a favor, not an experience, not even an orgasm. Just...a moment, when he can shut his mind off, and not have to think, and leave himself entirely in the care of someone else's direction.
It's a startlingly compelling notion, not least of which because Rufus of all people can appreciate just how much trust is requisite for an ask like that. He certainly wouldn't be so quick to put himself up at anyone's mercy, mostly because he's long since learned to never expect mercy from anyone. And yet...
And yet, there's something to it. Something just compelling enough that he thinks, maybe he wants to explore a little more of this — albeit from the safety of being the one on his feet, and not the one on his knees.]
Then keep your money. I'm not rendering a service like a whore.
[Though the premise really isn't that far off from the sorts of things that go on in Wall Market, dreams sold to paying customers and carried out by charming little honeybees. Not that he's ever been let anywhere near such places, but still.]
But I will do it for loyalty. In a place like this, an ally is worth their weight in chips — so those are my terms.
[He can't help the bark of laughter that escapes his lips. It's something tired but there's something genuine about the laugh. Something he really needed because he definitely struggling with the concept of loss here. It isn't like this is the first time nor the last, but a handful of people whom he had kept close were now gone so quickly caught him off guard. Enough to knock him off his feet.
Rufus' words were amusing though. At least said to him, whom had easily offered services of all kinds while in prison from credit coupons. That, at the end of the day, he was still seeking some sort of service from Rufus. It might not be sex, but the concept was there.]
Monsieur. You already had that.
[Loyalty isn't quite the right word, he thinks. At the end of the day, they still have their own goals and plans. But Wriothesley, despite what hiccups of their relationship, did like Rufus. Sure, he basically barked for the man, but the man seemed to respect him enough not to treat him like shit after. Hell, if his relationship was bad with them, he wouldn't be here in their room asking for their time.
As it is, he didn't intend to not at least treat the other as some respectable business associate.] It's a deal then.
If I already had it, then shouldn't I get to ask for something else?
[There's a note of dry irony in the remark, even as he finally moves into Wriothesley's space and brings his hand up to frame his face, aiming to rest his palm lightly against his cheek. In large part, it's an attempt to see if he can get away with it at all, or if he'll be deflected away; call it an opening foray to test the waters of this agreement they've just struck, to see how willing Wriothesley is to bend — and how hard he's going to have to work to put him under.]
But since you're an ally, let's let it wait until afterward — and you can offer me what you think all this was worth to you. For now, I think it's time you stopped using that clever mind of yours.
[He leans a little closer, his voice taking on a more velvet tone — lulling, deep, and easy to listen to.]
Nod, or shake your head, but no words. You're not going to need them for a while.
Isn't it what you wanted though? [His tone is mostly playful. Rufus should have considered asking for something else. Honestly, though, Wriothesley's loyalty is a vague concept if the both of them were being honest. What actually entailed in something like that was murky water.
Whatever it meant, there was something that was consistent. If Rufus ever needed a helping hand in anyway, Wriothesley would not leave the man wanting.
And Rufus apparently didn't intend to leave him wanting either. Wriothesley shivers and he opens his mouth to respond before snapping his mouth shut. A half-lidded gaze before he nods in silent affirmation.]
[Ah, so that landed, did it? Interesting — he really does want to just...stop thinking, evidently. And that's something that Rufus will dwell on later, will turn over and over in his head as he contemplates it from all angles, but for right now settling into the helm of control is easy and as natural as breathing.]
You're not as cute without your tail, puppy. I wonder if you're still as obedient without it.
[Just a moment, he'd said, and it didn't have to be anything sexual. Just a means of getting outside of his thoughts, then — yes, all right, Rufus can certainly work with that.]
Let's see how much you remember. Sit.
[He makes a slight, almost imperceptible motion with his hand — evidently, it's habitual for him to give nonverbal commands along with spoken ones, for some reason — and yes, seems to indicate that Wriothesley ought to lower himself down to the ground right there in the midst of the carpet.]
[What Wriothesley probably needed rest. Not sleep. Rest. Just some time to catch his breath and maybe relax and not feel like the weight on his shoulders felt so heavy. And he can maybe get that right now. He's not the Duke or the Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide or even Wriothesley.
Hell, right now, he's apparently just some dog taking orders. And he was alright with that.
He doesn't hesitate to obey, getting down to his knees until he's seated in front of Rufus. He looks up at the other and waits for Rufus' next order.]
[There's a different air to this than the last time; it's a subtle change in atmosphere that Rufus isn't oblivious to. But that only makes sense, really, when the last time was about tensions running hot and the fervent burn of desire, and this variation on the theme is meant to be quieter, slower.
It's that thought that guides his decisions of how to move next, of how to exercise the level of control Wriothesley seems to want without injecting an overtly sexual component into it. It's that notion that has him thinking of what he has available around the room, and what he can best make use of with it.
What he decides on, ultimately, is another of those quick hand commands — though he doesn't speak it aloud, this one most likely interprets to stay — and briefly leaves the room in the direction of his bedroom before returning with the soft plush tie from his luxury bathrobe.]
Close your eyes.
[He flicks the squarish end of the cloth against the tip of Wriothesley's nose, letting him feel its sleek caress — and buying a second for him to indicate whether this is out of bounds, if for some reason he doesn't want to be blindfolded.]
[Wriothesley doesn't say anything nor questions Rufus' actions as they leave the room for a moment. He sits there, perfectly still, waiting obediently for the other to return. Despite having a nature that wasn't tamable, Wriothesley knew how to be an obedient dog.
He closes his eyes at Rufus' words and waits. There's a stiffening of his shoulders as Wriothesley seems to be making out what he was feeling and what the implication meant. Eventually, the man lets his shoulders relax, hands settling on his lap.
Relaxed. Accepting. He waits for Rufus to tie it around his eyes.]
[When no reluctance comes, he carefully ties the long, narrow strip of cloth around Wriothesley's head, leaving the knot to sit at the back of his skull while the soft expanse of it fits snug but not tight against his eyes. A little sensory deprivation can go a long way toward enhancing obedience, he muses to himself, reaching to free the ends of Wriothesley's bangs from the trap of the makeshift blindfold and let them return to dangling comfortably instead.]
[The fabric is thick enough that even as he opens his eyes, all he can see is blackness. The strange things about senses is that when you are denied one, your other senses try to make up for it. It makes his mind want to focus on other things. The rustling of fabric or the other man's breathing. Wherever every touch lingers on his body, leaving him warm.
A shuddering breath and he finally nods in response.]
[There's a strange sort of lull that comes over the room, in the moments that follow — it's not just Wriothesley that's been coaxed into the rhythm of this, into the warm drowsy cadence of forgetting about everything else. There's something to the submissiveness and silence that's starting to ensnare Rufus, too, in the tempting allure of a softer sort of dominance, absent the adrenaline rush and jagged edges.
Before he quite realizes it, he's sunk down onto one knee, letting him draw closer to where Wriothesley remains still and crouched on the carpet; it lets him lower his voice, feeding into that remark — yes, it's quieter like this, soft and easy and quiet, and there's something so powerfully compelling about that.]
A good dog can heel without a leash.
[He runs the pad of his thumb over Wriothesley's lower lip, as if to add a tactile element to the moment to help keep him grounded against the risk of drifting off on his thoughts.]
So let's go for a walk.
[It's a healthy-sized apartment, after all, with multiple rooms. Plenty of space to work in a little following.]
[With his sight taken, the only thing he can focus on is the sound of Rufus' voice and the feeling of the man's gentle touch. It's easy for his mind to latch onto it. Rufus speaks softly, like each and every word is just for him. And isn't it? Who else is here but them?
And he finds his body crave those sweet touches. The man's attention. Affection. Real or not. He leans into it, searching for that hand.
If he hadn't asked for this in the first place, he might balk at Rufus' words. Instead though, he obeys the other like a good pet. He crawls on all fours, ears straining to listen for the blond's steps and to follow after them loyally.]
[There's one thing, significantly, that Wriothesley won't overhear as they move through the suite: there's no rattle of a lock or whisper of hinges that might be indicative of the main door opening. This game is about release, not about humiliation; he's not about to be paraded around where others might see, their activities kept safe in the confines of his own four walls.
And there are tells, as he walks, that make it possible to track — but with the carpets being plush as they are, and Rufus in house slippers, it's definitely something that Wriothesley will have to focus on to attend to. He leads him smoothly, methodically, around the living room a few times — as much to throw off his sense of direction as anything else — before guiding him in the direction of the bedroom, making his footfalls a little more pronounced as they get close to the doorway.]
[It’s good of Rufus to know not to let this go passed closed doors. Had Wriothesley felt like his trust of the scene been pushed too far, it would be unlikely that the man would ever put himself in such a situation with Rufus again. He didn’t want to be dragged into the public eye when his mental was in such a precarious spot. He wanted respite.
He’s not quite used to the layout of Rufus’ room, even if he had took in the space carefully. Paranoia and wariness making him want to always be aware of what’s around him. Like this though, it’s easy for him to slowly lose track as he tries to focus on where Rufus is going.
He notes the slight change in how they walk and knows the other must be leading him somewhere specific now. He doesn’t hesitate to follow.]
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no subject
The knocks comes just as his guest said it would; even so, he's cautious to check for a visual before opening the door to permit entrance. He's dressed down a little from what he usually walks around the resort in, having foregone his suit and coat for a dark high-neck sweater and crisp white trousers, and a pair of comfortable house slippers instead of his typical boots.]
You're punctual.
[And agitated, clearly. He beckons Wriothesley inside and closes the door behind him, careful to keep his expression even and not try to catch a breath of him as he steps past, just in case he happens to be wearing that ocean-scented cologne.]
And willing to pay to get something out of me, so let's have it.
no subject
The man looked, well, tired. The lingering smell of cigarette smoke lingers on his clothes. He's dressed in slacks and waistcoat and would look well kept if not for small signs. The slight wrinkling of his dress shirt underneath that implies he hadn't bothered to press it and the way he didn't even bother to button the top most button of his waistcoat.
He nods his head in greeting as he steps inside.]
I wasn't about to make someone wait when it was I who asked for their time. How unbecoming if I did. [He gives a cursory look around, mostly out of habit to quickly access the space. Paranoia runs deep after all.
He purses his lips before turning to look at the other.] I just don't want to think for a little bit. [And while things like drugs could easily get him that, he also was someone who liked a clear mind. It was a frustrating dichotomy.]
You're free to let me know what you would like as payment and we can find a compromise that works for the both of us.
no subject
And yet — there's something to the way he frames it, I don't want to think. The chance to switch one's mind off is the siren song of the overworked and overburdened, resigned to the necessity of whatever it is they carry, yet desperate to put it down in the short term just to ensure they can survive it a little longer in the greater one.]
You're asking for a repeat performance.
[He'd made him drink the green potion. He'd put him on his hands and knees and dragged noises out of his throat and again and again it'd always been the same, I want to be good, I want to be a good boy.]
Well. If we're negotiating a bargain, then my compensation is going to be contingent on my obligation. So let's be clear — just how much control are you willing to cede to me?
[He smiles faintly, tilting his head at the slightest angle.]
There must be something you won't let me do to you.
no subject
He had pointed it out to Tseng once. Sometimes there was something freeing about submitting to someone and letting them hold the reigns. It had already happened once between them. Why not another time?]
A business man, huh? I appreciate that. [It makes it easy for someone to be concise and to the point. He likes that.] You're right though.
[Wriothesley is someone who knows his limits pretty well.] I refuse to have my hands bound. I don't want any kind of drugs. No permanent physical alterations. [The last one was kind of just a precaution. He doesn't think that it would come up, but it was better to be honest than for things to go too far and for him to be dragged back into reality.
But Wriothesley didn't have a lot of things he refused. As long as he felt like he didn't feel completely at Rufus' mercy, giving up control was different than feeling like he lost control, and he didn't like using substances.] I don't think there's anything else.
no subject
It's a startlingly compelling notion, not least of which because Rufus of all people can appreciate just how much trust is requisite for an ask like that. He certainly wouldn't be so quick to put himself up at anyone's mercy, mostly because he's long since learned to never expect mercy from anyone. And yet...
And yet, there's something to it. Something just compelling enough that he thinks, maybe he wants to explore a little more of this — albeit from the safety of being the one on his feet, and not the one on his knees.]
Then keep your money. I'm not rendering a service like a whore.
[Though the premise really isn't that far off from the sorts of things that go on in Wall Market, dreams sold to paying customers and carried out by charming little honeybees. Not that he's ever been let anywhere near such places, but still.]
But I will do it for loyalty. In a place like this, an ally is worth their weight in chips — so those are my terms.
no subject
Rufus' words were amusing though. At least said to him, whom had easily offered services of all kinds while in prison from credit coupons. That, at the end of the day, he was still seeking some sort of service from Rufus. It might not be sex, but the concept was there.]
Monsieur. You already had that.
[Loyalty isn't quite the right word, he thinks. At the end of the day, they still have their own goals and plans. But Wriothesley, despite what hiccups of their relationship, did like Rufus. Sure, he basically barked for the man, but the man seemed to respect him enough not to treat him like shit after. Hell, if his relationship was bad with them, he wouldn't be here in their room asking for their time.
As it is, he didn't intend to not at least treat the other as some respectable business associate.] It's a deal then.
no subject
[There's a note of dry irony in the remark, even as he finally moves into Wriothesley's space and brings his hand up to frame his face, aiming to rest his palm lightly against his cheek. In large part, it's an attempt to see if he can get away with it at all, or if he'll be deflected away; call it an opening foray to test the waters of this agreement they've just struck, to see how willing Wriothesley is to bend — and how hard he's going to have to work to put him under.]
But since you're an ally, let's let it wait until afterward — and you can offer me what you think all this was worth to you. For now, I think it's time you stopped using that clever mind of yours.
[He leans a little closer, his voice taking on a more velvet tone — lulling, deep, and easy to listen to.]
Nod, or shake your head, but no words. You're not going to need them for a while.
no subject
Whatever it meant, there was something that was consistent. If Rufus ever needed a helping hand in anyway, Wriothesley would not leave the man wanting.
And Rufus apparently didn't intend to leave him wanting either. Wriothesley shivers and he opens his mouth to respond before snapping his mouth shut. A half-lidded gaze before he nods in silent affirmation.]
no subject
You're not as cute without your tail, puppy. I wonder if you're still as obedient without it.
[Just a moment, he'd said, and it didn't have to be anything sexual. Just a means of getting outside of his thoughts, then — yes, all right, Rufus can certainly work with that.]
Let's see how much you remember. Sit.
[He makes a slight, almost imperceptible motion with his hand — evidently, it's habitual for him to give nonverbal commands along with spoken ones, for some reason — and yes, seems to indicate that Wriothesley ought to lower himself down to the ground right there in the midst of the carpet.]
no subject
Hell, right now, he's apparently just some dog taking orders. And he was alright with that.
He doesn't hesitate to obey, getting down to his knees until he's seated in front of Rufus. He looks up at the other and waits for Rufus' next order.]
no subject
[There's a different air to this than the last time; it's a subtle change in atmosphere that Rufus isn't oblivious to. But that only makes sense, really, when the last time was about tensions running hot and the fervent burn of desire, and this variation on the theme is meant to be quieter, slower.
It's that thought that guides his decisions of how to move next, of how to exercise the level of control Wriothesley seems to want without injecting an overtly sexual component into it. It's that notion that has him thinking of what he has available around the room, and what he can best make use of with it.
What he decides on, ultimately, is another of those quick hand commands — though he doesn't speak it aloud, this one most likely interprets to stay — and briefly leaves the room in the direction of his bedroom before returning with the soft plush tie from his luxury bathrobe.]
Close your eyes.
[He flicks the squarish end of the cloth against the tip of Wriothesley's nose, letting him feel its sleek caress — and buying a second for him to indicate whether this is out of bounds, if for some reason he doesn't want to be blindfolded.]
no subject
He closes his eyes at Rufus' words and waits. There's a stiffening of his shoulders as Wriothesley seems to be making out what he was feeling and what the implication meant. Eventually, the man lets his shoulders relax, hands settling on his lap.
Relaxed. Accepting. He waits for Rufus to tie it around his eyes.]
no subject
[When no reluctance comes, he carefully ties the long, narrow strip of cloth around Wriothesley's head, leaving the knot to sit at the back of his skull while the soft expanse of it fits snug but not tight against his eyes. A little sensory deprivation can go a long way toward enhancing obedience, he muses to himself, reaching to free the ends of Wriothesley's bangs from the trap of the makeshift blindfold and let them return to dangling comfortably instead.]
It's quieter in the dark, isn't it, puppy?
no subject
A shuddering breath and he finally nods in response.]
no subject
Before he quite realizes it, he's sunk down onto one knee, letting him draw closer to where Wriothesley remains still and crouched on the carpet; it lets him lower his voice, feeding into that remark — yes, it's quieter like this, soft and easy and quiet, and there's something so powerfully compelling about that.]
A good dog can heel without a leash.
[He runs the pad of his thumb over Wriothesley's lower lip, as if to add a tactile element to the moment to help keep him grounded against the risk of drifting off on his thoughts.]
So let's go for a walk.
[It's a healthy-sized apartment, after all, with multiple rooms. Plenty of space to work in a little following.]
no subject
And he finds his body crave those sweet touches. The man's attention. Affection. Real or not. He leans into it, searching for that hand.
If he hadn't asked for this in the first place, he might balk at Rufus' words. Instead though, he obeys the other like a good pet. He crawls on all fours, ears straining to listen for the blond's steps and to follow after them loyally.]
no subject
[There's one thing, significantly, that Wriothesley won't overhear as they move through the suite: there's no rattle of a lock or whisper of hinges that might be indicative of the main door opening. This game is about release, not about humiliation; he's not about to be paraded around where others might see, their activities kept safe in the confines of his own four walls.
And there are tells, as he walks, that make it possible to track — but with the carpets being plush as they are, and Rufus in house slippers, it's definitely something that Wriothesley will have to focus on to attend to. He leads him smoothly, methodically, around the living room a few times — as much to throw off his sense of direction as anything else — before guiding him in the direction of the bedroom, making his footfalls a little more pronounced as they get close to the doorway.]
no subject
He’s not quite used to the layout of Rufus’ room, even if he had took in the space carefully. Paranoia and wariness making him want to always be aware of what’s around him. Like this though, it’s easy for him to slowly lose track as he tries to focus on where Rufus is going.
He notes the slight change in how they walk and knows the other must be leading him somewhere specific now. He doesn’t hesitate to follow.]