A
Shin-Ra Fic
by Teri Stearns
Pairing: Tseng/Reno
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Graphic, consensual m/m sex. Language.
Categories: Humor, Romance, Established Relationship, Pre-game, Bottom!Reno, Reno's POV
Notes: Epilogue to Tough Love.
Well, after the week I’d had, it turns out getting suspended wasn’t bad.
It was infinitely worse.
In the space of two whole days, I’d gone from having a secret school-boy crush on my boss, to having a full-blown affair with the man. As if that wasn’t enough to swallow (no pun intended), the very next day, I had front row seats to see him—and my best friend, Rude—nearly bite the dust when a deal with a con who calls himself the “Salamander” went horribly, horribly wrong.
Of course, I actually managed to one-up both of them on the injury list. Never let it be said I don’t love a good competition. But escaping with a few nasty bruises and scrapes and one broken wrist wasn’t anything compared to the alternative of being a Turk Force of One. I’d rather have broken every bone in my body than lose either Tseng or Rude.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t sore as hell the day after, though.
So, you think I’d love a little time off. Time I never get to sleep in, catch a few good flicks on video I’ve been meaning to see, and just generally enjoy being a bum while I sit around in my own filth.
Wrong
What it did do was give me too much time to think. Oh, I managed to sleep in. That was not and never will be a problem...at least once I was able to get to sleep. Every time I shut my eyes the same scenes of Tseng getting tossed across the room to crash down on a tabletop, or Rude catching a bullet in the gut while I stood by and just watched kept repeating in my head like a bad movie.
That last one in particular really got to me for some reason. Sure, I knew Rude had never actually been shot, but for that one split second when time seemed to stop as the revolver had been drawn and pointed right at him, I remember cringing and gritting my teeth, just standing there and waiting for it to happen. Just waiting... Of course, maybe two seconds after the fact I realized there hadn’t even been any bullets loaded in that revolver, and Rude was still in one whole piece. I guess my subconscious was just still having a tough time accepting that.
Tseng was right. I have gotten emotionally attached. To both of them. But we’re talking about my best friend here. Rude’s like a brother to me, dammit. How could I not be attached? Christ, even as much as he pisses me off sometimes, I know my life would be a lot emptier without him. At least a lot more boring.
And my lover. Tseng... My lover. I kept rolling around the phrase in my head, half-convincing myself I didn’t even have any right to call him that. That he was still Tseng the Perfect, and I was still Reno the Chump, and we were a million miles away from being real lovers. But he’d wanted me. He’d said so. He let me have him, and I hadn’t even asked for it. I’d still been trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I was kissing him—the idea of being inside him nearly made me blow a gasket. Never even fucking mind how it had felt. God... Attached? You better damn believe I was.
I’d left Tseng’s office that night with a fresh cast on my arm, one week’s suspension, and one shirt less, but a grin so wide it nearly wrapped around the back of my head. I’d felt pretty damn great then. But after I’d gotten home, the little aches and pains had started to kick in and the euphoria from my ‘review’ with Tseng began to wear off. It wasn’t until I’d started to drift to off to sleep later that night that I kept hearing a single gun shot ring in my ears followed by the distinct vision of Rude crumpling to the floor, blood collecting underneath him in a huge red pool. It shook me wide awake. After about the third time of this, I finally caved in and gave Rude a call at 3:00 in the morning.
“Hey, where’d you go?” he asked. He didn’t sound the least bit phased, not even for 3:00 in the morning. I’ve called him late before, and he never sounds phased. I have a theory that he sleeps all day, you just can’t tell behind those dark glasses of his. “I didn’t see you after you left the infirmary.”
“Tseng suspended me for a week,” I ruefully told him.
“Jesus...”
“Yeah...”
“So what are you gonna do?” he said then.
“I dunno. Guess I’ll just hang around here for the week.”
“No. About Tseng.”
“Oh. Well...we had a talk,” I said casually, thankful he wasn’t there to see the blush creeping up my ears. “We came to an understanding. He still wouldn’t retract the suspension, but his reasons sounded legit enough for me not to press it. We’re cool now.” Rude grunted in a way that sounded like he wasn’t entirely convinced, so I changed the subject. “Say, he didn’t give you any shit, I suppose, did he?”
“Nope,” said Rude, “but your name’s been Tseng’s favorite curse word since then. Says I was forced to go after you to avoid breaking up the team or some such crap, and who am I to argue?”
“Asshole,” I smirked, and Rude grunted again for what might have been a chuckle.
There was a long pause on the line before he finally asked, “You okay?”
I sighed tiredly, not really sure how to answer that question. It’s not the easiest thing in the world to share to a person that every time you try to sleep, the only thing you can see is their death. I’d already had a sense of closure with Tseng earlier that night, but right then I was just relieved and thankful to be hearing Rude’s voice on the other side. “Yeah...I’m all right. You?”
Another pause. “Mostly. Just tired I guess.”
“Yeah, me too. I’ll let you go then. Hey, try not to get into too much trouble without me next week, eh?”
That got a big snort in my ear from Rude. “I don’t think that’s possible, Reno,” he said dryly. “Later, man.”
“Yeah... Later.”
Just a nice, short, to-the-point conversation, appropriately subdued to keep our masculine pride squarely in check. God forbid Rude and I should ever try to express affection for one another beyond a caveman grunt. But just hearing his voice did seem to make me feel better. At least when I closed my eyes the next time, the images seemed to fade somewhat.
The rest of the time when I was actually awake, I moped around my apartment feeling completely useless and isolated. And horny, thanks to Tseng. And with a broken right arm, that wasn’t an easy matter to fix.
The first day was actually not that bad. I got up at the crack of noon, showered and sat down to watch Big Trouble in Little Wutai, one of my all-time favorites. I laughed in the right places, cheered in the right places and bit my nails during all the action scenes. It was a great way to pass the time. But after it was over, I found my thoughts drifting back to Tseng. How was he, what was he doing...when would he call? Would he call? And back around the circuit again. The second time watching the movie, I paid less attention to the movie and more attention to my thoughts about Tseng. The third time watching the movie, I actually began drawing comparisons between Tseng and the main villain. I knew then that it was seriously time to move on to something else.
Day two was essentially the same, except this time I watched Harold the Duck, a film I’d never seen before that I’d picked up on Rude’s recommendation; he said it had been the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Figuring I could’ve used a good laugh, I popped it in and watched the whole thing all the way through… Let’s just say it was not ever going on my favorites list. If it had been the only movie ever made, it still wasn’t going on there. Funniest thing ever, huh? The laugh was obviously on me. There’s no way even Rude has taste that bad. Now I was going to have to kill him for the 90 some-odd minutes I’d never get back in my entire freaking life.
More moping, more guessing, add in a little second-guessing, and still no visit or phone call. After the third day, my walls began to watch me. I was almost certifiably batshit insane from being cooped up in the place, and to my absolute horror, I found myself actually cleaning my apartment. I threw out all the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, recycled a massive tower of newspapers that I’d never read and picked up all my dirty laundry. I even managed to shelve some CD’s I’d bought nearly six months ago—I’d been wondering what happened to those—and drag a vacuum cleaner I’d forgot I owned across the carpet.
During my little cleaning extravaganza, I actually discovered something very interesting...besides my floor, that is: that when all the trash and junk was cleared and put away, I really don’t own much of anything. A couple pieces of furniture, some stereo equipment and a TV, and an old beat up, out-of-tune guitar that was missing three strings. That’s pretty much it in a nutshell. No smiling, cheery photos of friends and loved ones, no interesting collectibles, no little shoeboxes stuffed full of old love-letters... I chewed this over for some time, not sure if I should feel sorry for myself about it or not. I’d been transient for so long, I never gave thought to throwing out anything that might weigh me down. After a while, though, I decided that it probably wasn’t such a bad thing—after all, less possessions means less mess to clean up…in theory anyway—but resolved to at least get some new guitar strings when my arm was better.
Day four, I stared at the phone all day and willed it to ring. Three times it actually did. I am happy to say that I was not desperate enough to switch my long-distance carrier any of those three times. Fuckers. ‘Mister Reno’ this. I got your calling card plan right here.
That night, I checked my e-mail, picked through all the amusing stuff like the dirty jokes Rude forwards to me, and ditched the corporate crap I could’ve cared less about. I thought about writing Tseng a quick note, and ended up drafting a three-page letter that I, in the end, didn’t have the balls to send.
Still no word from him.
Day five, I was sick of my apartment. Every corner of it felt empty and hollow and actually echoed when I had the TV on. I should’ve never cleaned it in the first place. Just as I had finally convinced myself to actually get out and go somewhere—to buy some pictures for the wall or some new piece of furniture I didn’t need—I got a call around three o’ clock that afternoon.
“Are you enjoying your time off?” It was Tseng’s über-calm, ultra-cool, super-collected voice on the other line, which at first I was ecstatic to hear, but half-a-second later remembered I just spent 5 days pissed off at him.
“No,” I sulked, resisting the urge to nag him for half-an-hour straight for not calling sooner. I reminded myself that things were still new between us, too new for me to go and start whining about the ‘little things.’ Plus, he had that pesky job he had to attend to, which, as I knew first-hand, could be quite demanding. I actually can talk myself out of a lot of stupid things when I stop and think about them in advance.
Not to mention my suspension was supposed to be a punishment not a reward, and that was working quite effectively. After all, he was my boss and had been the one to serve it to me. Tseng probably knew right off I’d beat myself up more than he would ever have to. “Good,” he carelessly remarked. “Glad to hear it’s working out then.” He took a deep and audible breath before I could respond. “I have a little something for you.”
Please return all complaints and nagging to their full, up-right positions. A ‘little something,’ eh? “What is it?” I asked warily, half-steeling myself for another week’s suspension or maybe something even worse.
Ignoring my question, he asked, “Are you going to be there tonight?”
I sighed peevishly and made no attempt to hide the annoyance in my tone. “Well, I had some engagements marked on my calendar for this evening,” I said sarcastically. “But I suppose my award acceptance ceremony for Biggest Sucker in the World can be postponed.”
“Excellent.” He sounded cool and neutral as always. Not a single damn inflection came through his voice over the phone. I think I would’ve at least been happier if he’d been a little cheeky, or sarcastic, or mad, or some damn thing. “I’ll see you at seven.” He hung up before I could even respond. The entire conversation had taken place in less than a minute.
I growled into the receiver and slammed down the phone in frustration. Screw him…
Of course, that thought naturally brought a wide and devious grin to my mouth.
Good thing I’d cleaned up after all.
~**~
Over the next four hours I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out what to wear. So far, I’d barely made the effort to slip on a pair of sweatpants all week once I’d managed to fall out of bed, and now I was facing the challenge that almost every single pair of blue jeans I owned were button-fly. Looks great…when you have the use of both hands to dress yourself. Finally I found an old, baggy pair of dark gray denim jeans that I think had been black at some point in their career. They had a normal working zipper, and the top button that I just left undone for simplicity’s sake. Most pants were not designed for people without the use of opposable thumbs. I gave thanks out loud to the fact that I wasn’t required to tie a shoe next. The shirt was a whole lot easier: a long-sleeved dark grey t-shirt I was able to easily pull over my head and shove my arms through. It did a pretty nifty job hiding the cast, too, which I wasn’t inclined to parading around in front of Tseng in the first place. Jesus knows he was already well enough aware of it without me waving around in front of him as a constant reminder.
Once I’d figured out how to dress myself, I’d pretty much ran out of any other options for entertainment for the next two hours. I plopped myself down on my couch and promptly fell asleep. Never let it be said I don’t know how to waste time constructively. After all, life is just a series of events that take place between naps.
The sharp knock on my door jarred me from my coma.
I shook the fog from my head wondering who in hell would be at my door. I hadn’t ordered dinner yet, and I wasn’t in the mood to get up just to go shoo away some ornery fucking kid selling magazine subscriptions. Can’t con a con, dammit. And who would have the balls to go knocking randomly on doors in this neighborhood at...exactly...7...PM....?
Shit!!
Tumbling off the couch, I straightened my shirt and made half an effort to finger-comb the bed-head out of my hair, knocking myself in the temple with my cast as I did so. Ow-fuck! I was never going to get used to this goddamn thing and I couldn’t wait ‘till it was off. And once it was cut off, I had plans to take the husk and put it through a shredder and feed the pieces to the fish in the Tower’s lobby aquarium.
Slightly dazed and slightly rumpled, I opened my front door—a door that swung open just like every other door, from left to right—with my left hand. Twisting the knob felt rather awkward, and opening it required conscious thought; I was beginning to see why Lefties are generally psychotic people.
Tseng stood in the threshold with his arms clasped behind his back, dressed in his typical navy Turk suit with starched white collar and black, pressed tie, and pressed dress pants and shined shoes, and dry-cleaned black overcoat hanging open, and pressed underwear and socks, no doubt... Jesus. He looked exactly like he does every single day: Perfect. I grinned.
He didn’t. “What are you doing out of bed?” he growled.
My jaw dropped in exasperation. “You knocked. What was I supposed to do?”
He stared hard at me for a long moment, his eyebrows knotted in disappointment. Suddenly the harsh glare vanished replaced with an amusing gleam in his eye, and then he grinned, stepping inside and pushing me back inside my apartment with a hand against my chest. I rolled my eyes and snorted. I almost liked Tseng more before he’d had a sense of humor, if that’s what you wanna call it. And seeing him smile is still a little unnerving. I haven’t gotten used to it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I hate it…not in the least.
Both of us securely inside my apartment, he kicked the door closed in back of him, grabbed a fistful of my shirt with the hand that was pressed against my chest, and dragged me close, promptly sealing his mouth over mine. No hellos, no nice-to-see-you’s or lengthy how-are-you’s... What was I? A piece of meat? Honestly.
Tseng moved his hand behind my head and deepened our kiss, his tongue leisurely exploring my mouth, then pressed the length of his whole body against mine. I could feel the searing heat of his skin, even through all those clothes, and he felt so damn good, I forgot entirely about the last five days, the cast on my arm, everything, except that fact that he was there and this is what I’d been dying for.
Make that one Reno, very well-done piece of meat.
Slowly, he pulled away. “So, how are we feeling?” he asked with a self-satisfied little smirk.
“Fine,” I answered curtly.
Then his gaze softened as he ran his hand gently over the top of my shoulder and down my arm to my cast as if checking to be sure I was still in one piece. “And the bruises?”
“They look a whole lot worse than they feel,” I said, offering him a sincere little smile. He nodded gravely, and reached down to give the fingers poking out of my cast a fond squeeze. “Tseng,” I sighed, “it’s a broken arm. Not a heart transplant.” I caught his gaze and looked unwaveringly into his eyes. “I think I’m gonna pull through.”
The smirk crept back in its usual position. “Well, you have been resting...haven’t...you…?” His words absently trailed off as he glanced peculiarly around my apartment, as if something wasn’t quite right, or as if something had been misplaced. But Tseng had never seen the inside of my apartment before. He’d always known where I lived, but I’d always been too self-conscious to invite him in. “Are we in the right apartment?”
I drew back at the question and frowned. “Yeah. Why?”
“It’s just...I expected your place to be a little more, well...chaotic.”
I looked at him wryly. “You think I’m that much of a slob?” Dumb question. “Don’t answer that.” He detached himself from me, slowly walking around my living room to inspect it carefully. I didn’t feel the need to tour him through it; it’s not a very big place. Any chimpanzee could’ve memorized the entire layout within thirty seconds of walking in. But I did feel a little awkward, watching him pad around my living room. Tseng was very detail oriented, and I’m sure he was picking up more about me than just what kind of fabric patterns I prefer on my furniture.
“Wanna drink?” I casually offered, trying to divert his attention.
“Funny you should ask...” He walked back over to me and brought out a bottle covered in a brown paper bag that he’d been carrying around behind his back. Jesus. I hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding anything. He always moved so fluid-like and confident, like a seasoned magician, sometimes I really wondered if Tseng wasn’t just literally pulling this stuff from up his sleeve. He pulled off the bag and held out the bottle for me to see—a squat, contoured bottle with a long neck filled with a warm, honey-colored liquid. “A present,” he said, and turned the bottle so I could read the label.
My jaw dropped.
The elegant label was stamped ‘Kingston Rum,’ a name I easily recognized. An ordinary liter of Kingston V will run you at about 15 gil, and it’s a pretty damn fine tasting rum if you’re into mixing the stuff. X is about twice the price, and by itself, is very not bad. And on down the line until the highest I’ve ever seen available was a bottle of XXV that went for 250 g. Not that I’d ever actually pay for that. Somehow paying 250 g seemed a little too classy for my slum-rat blood. I typically drink for efficiency not quality. But this wasn’t Kingston V or X. This wasn’t even XXV. Up at the top in a small little stamp were the Roman numerals XVL. The label read, in neat cursive print: Kingston’s 45-Year Reserve.
Kingston’s XVL was a legend in alcohol. A liter of it goes for about 2000 g, and that’s IF you can smuggle it out of Costa del Sol without being arrested. It’s illegal to export since it’s so rare, and pretty much only high-level dignitaries and celebrities have ever tasted it. This was the good stuff. The stuff you savor and sniff and hold on your tongue until it practically evaporates on its own. Mixing it with anything would be a mortal sin.
This bottle was still sealed.
I swooned as though Tseng had just handed me a solid gold brick. It was probably a good thing he didn’t trust me enough to hand me the entire bottle. “What...what the...? How...?” I stammered.
“Found it at the Charlie’s place we turned over today.” ‘Charlie’ was our word for ‘target’ we’d picked up from an old hunting term that meant ‘fox.’ “Actually, Rude found it,” he amended. “He thought you might be interested.”
“Rude?” I gasped. “Wanted me to have it?” My god, what a guy. This completely made up for the Harold the Duck movie, and then some. Hell, I was gonna end up owing him if it was really as good as I’d heard it was. Let me just say once again for the record, what a guy. I straightened and mockingly wiped an imaginary tear from my eye. “I will never, ever make fun of him again,” I pledged.
Tseng wasn’t fooled. “Yes you will.”
“No matter how funny I think his name is...”
“Don’t start...” he warned.
“...for at least half-a-day,” I finished grinning widely at Tseng, who was wearing a rather wicked, knowing smile of his own. I’d promised to withhold my knowledge of Rude’s real name under any and all circumstances for the rest of my life, punishable by death should I accidentally reveal it. Suicide was mandatory if I was coerced. Didn’t mean I still didn’t know it, though, or find it amusing as hell. I mean, I love the guy to pieces, but what some parents do to their kids is just evil.
“So you want some of this?” Tseng sobered, jarring me from my reverie. He walked into my kitchen, making himself at home right away.
“I don’t know,” I answered reverently, settling myself on a barstool on the opposite side of the counter. “I think I just might want to stare at it for a while. Shame Rude’s not here to try some of it.”
“Oh, he had some already,” Tseng explained, shrugging out of his overcoat and draping it over the counter. “This wasn’t the only bottle we found. It was just the only unopened bottle. We found one that was almost full and had a few drinks back in my office before giving the rest to the Old Man.” He peeled off his navy blazer and set it on top of his coat. I watched, feeling my mouth begin to water, as he tackled his necktie next, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt collar and rolled up his sleeves. I kept silently willing for him to keep going, but he didn’t. “Where do you keep your glasses?” he asked.
I pointed to a cabinet behind him, and he turned around to help himself while I very much enjoyed the view from where I was. “So how much was left?” I asked.
Tseng shrugged as he pulled down two small juice glasses. “‘Bout a third of the bottle,” he casually shrugged. “Shinra never even suspected. Said it was the best thing anyone had brought him all week.”
“Jesus, two bottles?” I shook my head. “Who was this ‘Charlie?’“
“Just a little blast from recent past,” he smirked as he cracked the seal on the top of the bottle and unscrewed the lid. “You might remember him as the Salamander...”
“Sal! “ I blurted. “You got him?”
Tseng’s smirk widened into a genuine grin. “Rude’s the one that caught up with him after we found out where he lived. He actually lacked the intelligence to avoid the place. On a whim, Rude decided to go check it out, and the Salamander was just hanging out there cool as a cucumber.”
“Well, holy shit,” I mused, thoughtfully. The Salamander... ‘Sal’ was more or less responsible for my broken arm, the remaining bruises I had all over my body, and somewhat to blame for my suspension. At least I was willing to blame him for it as he was as good a reason as any. He was also indirectly responsible for the fact that Tseng and I had recently discovered there was more to our relationship than boss/lackey stereotype. I guess I kind of felt like I owed the guy for that, at least. Not that I was going to be sending him a pick-me-up bouquet to thank him or anything, not after those nightmares I’d kept having. “I had no idea he even had that good a taste.”
“Well...he won’t be missing it now,” he said, humorlessly. “Right about now, Sal is laying in Midgar General learning how to eat through a tube. In about seven months when he’s finally discharged, I’m sure he’ll be one of Shin-Ra Electric’s biggest supporters.” Tseng poured the amber liquid into one of the two glasses, and stopped, his expression darkening suddenly. “Especially since Shin-Ra Inc. is so generously paying for his recovery. I guess it’s the least we could do for giving us all that valuable Materia.” He poured the other glass and spattered a little on his hand as he lifted the neck of the bottle. His mouth covered the spill at once and sucked on it, and his eyelids fluttered closed.
“Give?” I echoed in mild disbelief. “So you got both the Materia and the money?” Tseng didn’t answer right away; he was still sucking on his hand.
“I’m sorry, you say something?” he finally asked with a contented look glazing over in his eyes.
I scoffed. “Oh, please... It can’t be that good.” It was just rum, right? How freaking great could it be?
Tseng picked up both glasses and gave me a harsh, reprimanding look. “Watch it,” he warningly. “You are in the presence of greatness.” I watched idly as he walked out of the kitchen and over toward my sofa.
“I can’t speak for the rum,” I said quietly, “but I could’ve told you that.”
Tseng stopped and looked over his shoulder at me for a moment, regarding me with that same neutral expression. But after a second look, it wasn’t quite neutral. His eyes narrowed briefly as he searched me, and I felt my face grow hot under his intense gaze. But I didn’t look away. Slowly, a faint but genuine smile curled at the edge of his mouth and he swallowed thickly. “Reno...” he said affectionately, his voice calm and soft. “Get over here and drink this before I pour it down your throat.”
Obeying at once, I slid off the barstool and walked over to where he was standing. Who am I to disagree when there’s a free drink involved? He handed me the glass, which I was about to take with my right hand, then switched when I realized it would be impossible to grasp the glass. Goddamn ‘lefties.’ I was never gonna get used to this.
We sat down next to one another on the couch and I sank low into the cushions. Tseng sat just to my left reclining in a natural position that left no space between us. Feeling pretty damn smug, I lifted the glass pompously into the air and took a generous sip...
And angels sang.
Frankly, it was fan-fucking-tastic. I’ve never tasted a better, smoother more pleasant spirit in my entire life. I guess price really does make a difference. Then again, for 2000 gil, it better damn well be good. It better all but offer to sleep with me. And that I was hoping it would at least help me out a little with.
“Arrrrrrrrrrrrr,” I growled like a pirate. “That’s some mighty fine rum ye got thar, matie!”
Tseng snorted, and clinked my glass. “Drink up me hearties, yo ho,” he added, and took another drink.
“Who you callin’ a ho?” I smirked.
Tseng quickly slapped his hand over his mouth, attempting not to spit rum everywhere as he choked. I shifted my drink and propped it up on the couch by my thigh to give him a few hearty pats on the back with my good hand. Finally he managed to recover fairly gracefully. I wasn’t the least bit sorry. I’d still owed him for the last time at the bar where he’d pulled the same shit with me when he’d told me he’d been married. We were tied now; Tseng one, Reno one. Not that I was keeping score or anything...
We drank together again, slowly this time, savoring it, holding it on the tongue for a moment before swallowing and exhaling through the nose, just like a couple of real connoisseurs who pretend to know what they’re doing. For a moment we didn’t say anything to one another, we just each stared into the air in front of us, completely and utterly euphoric. And alcohol or not, for the first time in five days, I finally felt myself truly relax.
“Can you hang out for a while?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“I could be persuaded,” Tseng answered silkily.
I looked over at him and grinned. “I have some movies we could watch,” I innocently suggested. “There’s this great one I rented you can’t miss called Harold the Duck—”
I guess Tseng must’ve already seen that movie, since I didn’t get to finish that thought. Tseng had leaned over and kissed me again, pressing against me insistently. Kissing Tseng was almost a full-contact activity, a technique that involves not only lips, teeth and tongue, but hands, limbs and whole body, as well. This from a guy whose temperature I’d thought topped out at absolute zero during a heat wave. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
His hand roamed over my chest while his tongue slid over mine. I responded by arching into his hand, and in turn he brushed his fingers lightly over my nipple, an action that sent a shock right to my dick. He swallowed my groan and cradled the back of my head, pulling me closer to him as if were possible. I tore my mouth away from his and met his eyes, eyes that glinted dangerously and almost made me feel faint. “Or,” I panted, broke off and started again. “Or...we could just have wild, messy sex right here on my sofa.”
His lips twisted in a feral grin. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he said, and attacked my mouth again.
I tasted the rum from his mouth, sweet and intoxicating, and then his lips broke from mine and trailed a path down my jaw to trace a wet line around the edge of my ear with his tongue, stopping to nibble on each one of my earrings before moving on to the next. Who said jewelry was just for decoration? Self-mutilation can come in handy. Made me think twice about that nipple-ring I’d talked myself out of.
He pulled away from my mouth and took the drink from my hand, setting both our glasses on the end table. With no further words, he raised up and straddled my lap, threading his fingers through my hair and continuing our kiss. Ah, this position was much better, now. I could easily reach his neck and chest, which I did, licking down his long throat and tonguing the notch between his collarbones. I felt the vibrations deep in his throat hum against my face as he growled his satisfaction. He thrust his hips forward against me on reflex, just once, grinding his need into mine. Ah, shit... Time to get rid of some of these damn clothes...
I tugged awkwardly at his shirt, trying to pull the ends from his pants one-handed. Of course, I wasn’t getting very far, but this was only partially due to my handicap this time; I’d never actually realized just how tight Tseng’s pants were. Not that I hadn’t tried to look before, but trying to catch a glimpse of your boss’ ass during a normal working shift can be somewhat risky. Especially when that boss happens to notice every goddamn thing you do, even the most trivial damn little things. Of course, in light of recent events, I regretted not doing it sooner...
Eventually, Tseng helped me out with his shirt. He gave a cunning grin as he lifted the shirttails and unfastened the waistband around his pants. I felt my lip twitch in anticipation. Slowly, his long fingers then traveled up to the buttons on his shirt, and eyeing me under his lashes, began to unbutton them. Abruptly, I smacked his hand away. “I wanted to do that,” I growled.
Tseng gave me a haughty look, then shifted on my lap to allow me better access. “Well. If you think you’re really up to it. Didn’t want you to strain yourself or anything,” he remarked dryly.
“Oh, I’m strained, alright,” I muttered thickly, reaching up with my left hand and carefully working the buttons loose one at a time. I allowed my fingers to brush lingeringly over his smooth skin before continuing on to the next. “Five days without this...I’m plenty strained.” At the next button, I slid my hand under the shirt and passed it over his chest, grazing his nipple and rolling it slightly between my fingers.
“The idea was to punish you,” he said, completely unfazed.
Punish me, huh? We’ll see who’s punished. Mercilessly, I pinched his nipple harder and twisted it just enough to make his eyes clamp shut, evoking a surprised yelp. “Care to make it another five days?” he growled, his eyes narrowing.
I smiled coyly, pushed his shirt aside and softly kissed the offended area in apology. And if my tongue flicked out between my lips just slightly to taste him, I swear it wasn’t on purpose...well, not entirely. There was no mistaking the slight shudder than ran through him as I did so, though. Then I drew back and neatly tucked his shirt closed. “Well,” I sighed in wounded resignation, “if you really think it’s for the best.”
Placing both arms on each side of my head and gripping the couch cushion behind me, he trapped me in his unwavering gaze and heaved a great, disapproving sigh, ruffling my hair with his breath as he exhaled. “Reno, what am I going to do with you?”
I gazed deep in his eyes. “I’m sure I could think of a few things,” I breathed.
The dark eyes flashed minutely for just a fraction of a second, even though his expression never changed. “You’ll never learn if I just give you what you want,” he said.
I felt the corner of my mouth twist into a devious grin. “I’m sure I’ll learn something.”
He seemed to seriously consider this for a while. As he debated, I subtly peeled his shirt open again and continued to unbutton it. He didn’t attempt to stop me, nor was he quick to hide the knowing little smile of amusement inching its way over his mouth as he proceeded to ignore me. I released the last button and let his shirt fall open as I brushed my knuckles over his hard stomach, then moved my hand to encircle his waist. I pulled myself forward and nuzzled his neck, which he teasingly tried to shrug me away from. But I persisted, nudging up to his ear and removing my hand from around his waist to run my fingers through long, dark, silken hair. “I want you...” I rasped, licking the spot right behind his ear.
His breathing deepened, and as I pulled back slightly to kiss a line along his jaw, I noticed his eyes were now closed. I continued to kiss down his neck, smiling against his skin. “Teach me, Tseng,” I breathed. “Show me what you like so I can make you feel good.”
Pulling back he glanced at me, arousal and affection glittering in his eyes. “You already make me feel better than I have in years,” he answered sincerely, moving his hand to thread through the back of my own hair.
I shook my head slowly. “I want to know more.”
His hand tightened briefly in my hair and his eyes flared once again. But he hesitated for a moment. “Anything?” he warily asked.
“Anything,” I said.
Tseng searched my face for a moment, reading I-don’t-know-what there. I tried not to let any of my apprehension show through. I admit that giving Tseng carte blanche made me a little nervous...but I trusted him not to hurt me or do something against my will. I trusted him. Just how far gone was I?
Reaching up, he began to stroke my throat with a feather-light touch and my eyelids drifted shut on their own. My apprehension vanished. All that was left was a warm feeling of trust and desire. He leaned in to mumble vague sweet-nothings into my ear in a deep, breathy voice that got me in the worst way. “Got any high heels and net stockings?”
“Mmmmhmmm...” I hummed absently, loving the way his lips were just brushing ever so lightly on my ear. Then suddenly, it hit me what he’d said. I choked and pushed him back to get a better view of his face. “W...WHAT?!?”
“You said anything,” he replied honestly.
I sputtered, my mouth hanging wide open in shock but I couldn’t even respond. Then I thought—hoped…prayed—he was joking, but the look on his face said he was completely serious. This was so wrong... Did he say...net stockings??
I gulped audibly.
A wide grin slashed across his face and he made a half-assed attempt to disguise a laugh as he coughed into his fist.
I was not laughing. Not in the least bit. Not even a little smirk. I swung my arm around and pushed him off my lap and back onto the couch, where he curled up in a ball and actually laughed. “Asshole,” I muttered.
After a moment or two of listening to Tseng unravel in front of me, I guess I couldn’t help but feel a little warmed by it. Sure, his sense of humor needed a little work...okay, a lot of work...but Tseng isn’t the type of person that laughs easily or often. Ever, if I remember, prior to last week. That alone said something to me...besides that I’m a completely laughable buffoon, who could blame him? That at least Tseng trusted me enough to see this side of him, too. How could I not feel good about that?
And there was a really infectious sound to his laugh.
My mouth twitched once and I clamped my lips in a tight line determined not to make a sound.
Tseng gave a charming little giggle. “So you cross-dress often, do you?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, still trying to front a scowl and not doing it very successfully.
“Reno the drag queen. What do they call you? Rena? Red? Oh, wait. I got it... Roxanne.” He snickered again, nudging my leg with his foot.
“Fuck you!” I returned cheerfully, turning to look at him. I grabbed his foot and wrestled him flat, while he continued to laugh at my expense.
I crawled up not too gracefully and stretched out over him as he threw his head back and wailed as loudly and as horribly as he could, “ROOOOOOOXAAAAAANNE!!! You don’t hafta put on a red wig...” He reached up and tousled my hair affectionately, and I finally had to laugh with him. Tseng is very good at a lot of things, but singing, as I was finding out in a very painful way, was not one of them.
“You really know how to kill a mood, Tseng,” I quipped once his laughter had died. His eyes still had a humorous glint within them as he scanned my face and idly played with the end of my ponytail.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I couldn’t help myself. You just looked a little nervous when you said you’d do anything.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
He tightened his arms around me and gave me a brief squeeze. “Do you really think I’m that sick?”
“Yes,” I drawled. “But it doesn’t mean I love you any less—”
Aw, Jesus. I’d said it. Said it like it was something I say every day of the week.
The ‘L’ word.
I hate the ‘L’ word. I’d never gotten used to saying it before—in fact I don’t think I ever had said it before—why all of the sudden did I seem to think I knew what it meant? The two or three times someone had said it to me, I’d freaked out and all but run for the hills screaming the whole way. I’d spent the better part of the last five days convincing myself I hadn’t meant it before when I’d just thought it. That whatever this was between Tseng and I was just a ‘thing.’ A good thing, a needed thing, but a ‘thing’ and nothing more. And here I’d gone and said it out loud to him... Definitely an all time low in my stupidity. Jesus.
“Er...like,” I corrected, once I’d seen all traces of humor in Tseng immediately evaporate into thin air to be replaced with pure astonishment. “Like,” I repeated firmly, as if I were trying to puzzle out the difference of the words. That’s right...just a common mistake. Slip of the tongue. A blunder, faux pas, a ‘verbal misconception.’ I make ‘em all the time. Hell, I’m the king of ‘em. I froze and held my breath as I looked into his face, realizing with an alarming sense of terror that he wasn’t buying any of it.
Goddamn it. Who was I kidding? “Shit,” I exhaled, dropping my gaze.
I tried to push myself up off him, but he clung tighter and wouldn’t let me up. Before I could ask him to let go of me, he cut me off. “Did you mean it?” he asked heavily.
I didn’t answer. I shut my eyes for a moment just feeling very trapped. But Tseng wasn’t going to let it go. “Reno. Did you mean it?” he persisted.
“I don’t know,” I responded more harshly than I’d intended. I released a sharp sigh and slumped against him a bit, still not physically able to fully resist his strength. “I don’t know,” I said again, my voice full of self-reproach. “...maybe.”
Okay. This is the part where Tseng is supposed to get up and leave. Or tell me he doesn’t want that, that in fact this was just a ‘thing,’ that I need to get real, face the facts, it ain’t gonna happen, buddy, not in this lifetime... Or in a Perfect World maybe things could be different... Jeeze. Not the “Perfect World” speech. I practically invented the ‘Perfect World’ speech. I waited...for any and all of them, determined I was not going to let it get to me whatever it was going to be.
It was none of them.
Tseng simply tightened his arms around me, not to restrain me or hurt me, just...to hold me. He pressed his lips to my hair and sighed. He said nothing else. He simply gazed warmly into my eyes. And actually I was rather grateful for that. I’m not sure what I would’ve done had Tseng decided to tell me he loved me back. It would’ve been just too goddamn surreal for me to handle at the moment. But thankfully, he didn’t deck me or walk out or give me another five days’ suspension, either. I gazed down at him a little perplexed, trying to figure out just how this man worked. He gazed back with a mild expression, slowing brushing his hand across my cheek then down to trace my mouth with his index finger. I didn’t feel the need to explain myself or apologize any longer, and in fact, as I crushed my body to his and gave way to his soothing touch, I didn’t feel the need to do a damn thing but lay there and enjoy it.
“Now, about that ‘anything,’“ he murmured and pulled me close again for another deep, soul-searching kiss…
~**~
Well. Helluva lesson, I gotta say. Tseng taught me half the Karma Sutra in record time, and I showed him just how it is legs can bend that way. All in all, a good way to pass the evening, I’d say.
We lay spent, naked, sweating and breathless next to one another on my couch. Tseng placed his hand over my pounding heart as if to keep it from beating right out of my chest. It took a while before words started to make sense to me again and I wasn’t seeing stars in front of my eyes. My throat was hoarse from panting, and maybe even from the few times I’d called out during certain key moments.
Tseng, too, had held absolutely nothing back. For anyone to imagine this incredibly restrained, serious—hell, downright uptight—man to have cut loose and done the things he did… Man, it’s a wonder he didn’t break something. Or each other, for that matter.
I couldn’t help but wonder what the neighbors had thought.
“So,” he finally said when vocabulary found its way back to our oxygen-deprived brains, “will you really be okay with this?”
I considered this heavily for a moment. He wasn’t just asking about the insane monkey sex we’d just had, or the fact that I was falling in love with my superior, or even the fact that this had to be a complete secret between us forever. Finally I answered, “Well, I told you before it’s a little late to turn back now.” At least, I knew it was for me. I could only hope he felt the same. I turned my head to look him sincerely in the eye. “The hard part is over now anyway, right? We both know how we feel. Everything else is just details, right?”
His eyes shuttered a bit and a forlorn smile grew across his mouth. “I hope you’re right,” he said and ruffled my hair slightly. Yeah, I didn’t really believe it either. There was something unspoken there, but decided not to push it. Not yet. For now I was content to lie there next to him and take one day, one minute, one breath at a time. I was not going to push this. It was just too good to screw up.
Tseng gave a lengthy stretch over his head and yawned, stopping when his hand made contact with the table at the end of my couch. He felt around momentarily, then came back with a ball-point pen in his hand. He blinked sleepily at it and clicked it on. “Gimmie,” he commanded and motioned for me to give him my injured arm.
Slowly, he scrawled something over the plaster cast, deliberately going over the letters several times so the words showed up clear and bold. Funny how I’d never noticed until now that he was left-handed, which only confirms my previous theory. When he was satisfied, he quirked a little smile and then reached over his head to replace the pen while admiring his handiwork.
After a moment, he finally gave me my arm back so I could look at the little note he’d so carefully doodled there. When I read it, I couldn’t help but groan.
XOXOXO Roxanne.
To anyone else, it would’ve looked like a note from an affectionate woman named Roxanne. To me, it was a whole ‘nother meaning. It wasn’t by any means the most meaningful thing in the world, but for me, right now, it was good enough.
And when I looked into his smoky eyes and felt his breath on my face when he pulled me close for another kiss, I realized that ‘good enough’ was just exactly what I needed.
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