Dog Will Hunt (2)
Sep. 28th, 2008 06:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jaded_grinWarnings: This is a very dark fiction, so please don't read this if you have a problem with emotional intensity, use of the word "cunt" or any general sort of squickishness.
Title: Dog Will Hunt
Rating: Mature (for adults only, so if you aren't one, I take no responsibility for any scarring you may receive!)
Description: Rufus ShinRa finds himself oddly drawn to his Turk, Reno. This is a dark fic that explores several issues for both men and isn't at all a pretty, happy story--but it ends well, I can promise that, and there' s loads of good smut!
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of the Square Enix characters which appear in my story, nor do I make money off of my writing. I do it for the love, people! For the love!
He found himself giving more and more little missions to
Rufus gave him these missions under the pretense of him being the most reliable, which was a joke to both of them. His monstrous pride—the only thing he could rightly still call his own after the cataclysm of Meteor-Fall—would not allow him to admit that he assigned them simply to have Reno come slump in that godless, sin-inducing chair and stare sullenly at him, his handsome face in a permanent scowl, his restless body always moving.
It gave him a perverse, almost physical pleasure to irritate him, though he knew from long experience that
He even instituted a rotating personal guard, careful to put
When
From the second
He was thirty minutes late and when Rufus opened the door to let him in he was leaning negligently against the doorjamb, half-asleep. It was a misleading façade.
“I’m going to prorate your pay,” Rufus threatened, ignoring the sinking sensation in his stomach accompanied by startling bursts of warmth.
“You may as well pay us in dimebags, yo,”
“Keep it up and you won’t have a job to complain about,” Rufus snapped, slamming and locking the door.
“You need to watch what you say,
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Rufus purred, moving regally past him to don his long coat. “Now, you have made me embarrassingly late for an evening with a woman who is nothing like the disgusting filth I’m sure you’re used to. Let’s go.”
“I’m sure,”
His evening driver was a dependable man on salary to attend his after-hours needs—i.e.: he worked nights for Rufus ShinRa, carting him to and from events and publicity meetings, and anywhere else he needed to be while his Turks were largely off duty. He did not, however, allow anyone else to sit up front with him. Considering that he was roughly the size of Rude without even a hint of his charming sense of humor, Rufus never pushed this matter, though he was on the verge this evening as he made his way down to the waiting car. He wasn’t sure he could deal with
“You had best behave tonight,
Christ, he was turning into a teenager, all right—a teenaged girl.
“Damn it all to hell, anyway,” he cursed, and cranked the window down just to be able to complain, “You stink like a bar room floor,
“I ain’t been home yet,” the man said, taking advantage of the lowered window to light a cigarette.
Rufus glared at him but could find no convincing reason to get into a verbal spar. He was feeling off-kilter and out of his element. Trying his best not to sound nosy or, worse, jealous, he asked, “Oh? Out earning some extra lunch money?”
“I don’t sell it, boss,” he said, and then gave Rufus a piercing look, adding, “But if the pay gets much worse, I might start.”
“You’d starve,” Rufus murmured, feeling superior again.
“You wish,”
Rufus huffed a little, irritated by him. “Reno, you are my employee. Of course, I don’t want you starving in the gutter…that would be very inconvenient for me.”
“Would it, now?”
“Keep your idiot opinions to yourself,” Rufus reminded him, uncomfortable with
Unfortunately, neither was
The Turk knew he was hiding something, and he’d very cleverly figured out that it had only to do with himself, not with any of Rufus’s other Turks. From there, it was hardly a stretch of the imagination—
“What’s gotten into you, Turk?” Rufus asked, brushing his pant leg off when
“The gentler gender,” he mimicked, mocking. “Don’t be so goddamned sensitive, you twat. You cracked, I made it wider—it’s what I do.”
“Not to your boss,” Rufus reminded. “And for your information I did not crack, thank you. Whatever it is that you think you’re seeing, you’re wrong. Now, be still. I want to compose myself before we get to Monica’s house.”
“Monica,”
Rufus rolled his eyes. Just his luck, a drunk Turk. No amount of threats or punishments could force
“Monica Anne Whitney,” he breathed in a sing-song voice, and Rufus froze next to him. “Monica, Monica—”
“Shut up,” Rufus snapped, not sure how
“At the Grand Opening party, yo,”
His wicked, ugly snigger did little to allay Rufus’s fears. Still, looking at the man sprawled next to him, Rufus could not imagine that a woman of Monica’s quality would find anything appealing in this drunk, sloppy, careless, wreck of a man…not when she had someone like Rufus, after all. Surely breeding and culture counted for something? Surely that made him a catch? Someone to whom shoddy, dangerous
When they arrived at Miss Whitney’s, Rufus found himself doubly nervous. He slid over farther, forcing
“Rufus!” Monica breathed, wriggling into the car in a waft of expensive perfume, her tastefully slinky dress clinging to every substantial curve. She twined around him like a vine, ignoring
“It’s been ages since we’ve gone to dinner,” Monica sighed, fitting to him as tightly as possible.
Rufus felt the press of her soft breast against his arm, the brush of her silky thigh against his. He absently wondered why he’d never slept with her. Perhaps there had just never been time? There was always work to be done, always something else that seemed more important. He knew his elusiveness only added to his reputation as a hard man to catch and made women desperate to pierce his arrogant disregard.
‘Well, tonight it changes,’ Rufus thought, and briefly wondered if sex was really something that could be scheduled and planned, executed methodically like any other meeting. Surely, he should feel passion? Excitement? God, even a twitch of what stirred him during lonely midnight hours when his imagination ran away with his common sense and left him panting with the force of his lust…
Thinking of those heated, half-asleep fantasies gave him a jolt and he absently let his hand rest on Monica’s slender leg, not even noticing when she pressed closer, purring possessively.
Unfortunately, he was more sensitive to the press of
Rufus was almost embarrassingly grateful when they arrived at the restaurant. He couldn’t get out of the car fast enough and didn’t miss
Disturbed, he took Monica’s arm, doing his best to ignore the dark, dangerous, and skulking presence at his back.
The date had been a bad idea. His patience was worn thin after a long week and this was in no way a relaxing venture.
They were shown immediately to his private booth and seated.
Rufus made small talk with Monica without even being aware of it, his feverish and rebelling mind returning time and again to that benign office chair, to that bored announcement, “I can show it to you if you want.” Would he have? If Rufus had had the balls to call him on his insolent offer, would
His eyes kept flicking to his careless bodyguard, taking in the unkempt hair, the wrinkled suit. He’d come straight to work from some woman’s bed—thirty minutes late because fucking was more important than protecting his boss. Bad dog.
“Rufus? Are you alright, darling?”
Monica’s voice brought him back from his thoughts, her concerned glance at
“You look furious,” she added.
“I really need fresh employees,” Rufus told her, heaving a superior sigh and regaining his equilibrium. “I have a problem child I could do without.”
Monica looked studiously bewildered, her expression one of practiced, little-girl cuteness.
They ate their meal and Rufus made an effort to pay attention to Monica and ignore that silent presence at the door. He’d have had better luck ignoring a rabid, rampaging wolf,
“Excuse me, darling,” Monica purred, caressing his cheek in a possessive way that vaguely offended him. Rufus ShinRa did not belong to anyone—others belonged to him.
He gave her a cool smile and watched her slip out of the booth. She moved gracefully past
The second she was gone Rufus found her seat filled by his moody bodyguard, who put his cigarette out in Monica’s unfinished dessert and swallowed down her glass of wine.
Rufus watched him with wary, hooded eyes, willing to allow his outrageous behavior. Before
“I told you to behave,” Rufus reminded.
His sly blue eyes cut to Rufus’s, a taunting and satisfied smile on his face. There was just enough of a malicious, gleeful aura about him that Rufus became at once annoyed and leery. He was not, however, prepared for what
“You know I fucked her, right?”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-11-08 03:40 pm (UTC)Reno: You know I fucked her... *snorts* Fuckin classic, yo.
Kerri: Oh, you would think so. *amused* This Reno is sort of scary...but he's hot.
Reno: *eyes narrow* You'll keep your distance like a good little wifey, babe.
Kerri: Like a WHAT?
Reno: *sighs* I'm ridin the couch again tonight, ain't I?
See what I put up with? lol Anyway, sorry for the distraction. I love the way your Reno is written, very dangerous and very much his own man despite having to follow Rufus's orders. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the story.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-08 11:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-09 03:29 am (UTC)