Dog Will Hunt (9)
Oct. 12th, 2008 10:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jaded_grinThis is my first ever Reno x Rufus fiction, so here it goes.
Warnings: 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!
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9
A/N: Here is your warning! Bad words: pussy, cunt, faggot, queer (clearly not in alphabetical order) Bad deeds: smoking, drinking, and fisting (non-graphic, not even seen but mentioned) Bad news: more emotional bullshit because Rufus can't figure himself out and Reno is a prick
Please let me know if I missed anything.
PS--In case you missed the description, this is a dark fic, so if this kind of stuff gives you a case of the squicks, you might be happier elsewhere.
Rufus thought about what he’d done.
He thought about it very hard and examined it from every angle and still had no answer to the question, ‘why?’ Why had he agreed to such a thing? Why hadn’t he just been able to say no and show Reno to the door? What was it about that man that made him so desperate for more when he’d hardly had glowing remarks about their first encounter?
At the heart of it—Reno intrigued him. Before the man’s easy comment in his car, Rufus had never given two shakes about his Turks as people, and it amazed him that he’d never noticed how blatantly sexual and confident Reno was. He’d always taken him at face value: lazy, sloppy, not particularly loyal but reliable to a point, and rather prone to getting into trouble on his off time. Now that he’d loomed up on Rufus’s radar, the man had a rather difficult time ignoring him, and it had oddly translated into a sexual interest that still shocked him. He’d never lusted after anyone before, he’d never had to—he snapped his fingers, his bed was filled, it was just life. He hadn’t considered that he might be distractedly reserved with women because he didn’t really enjoy them, and the memory of his rather brief clash with his Turk had smashed that point straight into his high-bred backside. It made him a little dizzy to know that he was far more interested in men—in this man—than he’d ever been in any ditzy woman of his acquaintance.
Yet he’d done the unthinkable. Reno had made it extremely clear that he only liked women, and that his interactions with Rufus would be on a purely business basis. If Rufus had told him no, Reno would’ve just melded back into the background like nothing had ever happened. Which brought Rufus back to his question of why he cared, why it mattered?
And the only answer he could find was that it mattered because it was Reno.
He wanted to know more about him, wanted to find out what circumstances had created this violent and almost sociopathic individual. He was morbidly curious about the man’s life and wanted to know more.
So when Reno showed up at his apartment that night—no guard duty, he was covered—Rufus asked him what it was like on the underside.
Reno just sucked on his cigarette and let his blue eyes wander lazily over Rufus’s casual clothing before saying, “I’ll show you, yo—but you gotta find something decent to wear, I ain’t going nowhere with some high-profile prick looking to get dicked, yo.”
Rufus had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but a quick skim of his wardrobe yielded a worn hoodie from his university days, and Reno said it would do.
They took a cab to one of Reno’s haunts, Rufus nervously fidgeting next to him, helplessly wondering if there would be a repeat of the other night and how on earth he would handle it sober. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at him, taking small and surreptitious glances at the relaxed and oblivious man.
They got out at some rotten hole in the wall whose falling down sign proclaimed it to be Spot Fourteen. Someone had graffitied a smiley face into the “O” and yet another person had painted a woman’s nude body around it. It was more than just nominally disturbing, and Rufus had his first thought that this was so not a good idea.
The bar was packed with a filthy press of humanity, but Reno elbowed them through to a few seats at the bar and promptly ordered two drinks, four shots, and keep them coming. He didn’t spare Rufus so much as a glance, gave no indication that they even knew one another.
Rufus fondled his glass with nervous hands, wishing he’d taken off his rings—they twinkled in the light, obviously expensive and no doubt screaming for various low-life individuals to come mug him. Reno ignored him and put away the drinks like nobody’s business. Rufus watched him from the corner of his eye, wondering where the man got such patrician bone structure when he was one hundred percent below-plate trash. Still, it was hard not to admire such elegance, and he started guiltily when Reno’s sharp blue eyes suddenly landed on him.
The man smirked and told him, “Quit starin’ at me, you goddamned queer.”
Rufus blushed, offended, and tightly responded with, “Do not speak to me with such disrespect, Reno! I still sign your paychecks!”
“Yeah?” Reno laughed, and slammed one of his shots, chucking the small glass down in a jumble with the others. “Well, we keep up, yo, that paycheck is gonna get a lot fuckin’ fatter.”
“Jesus,” Rufus breathed, looking away, trying to drown himself in booze. He didn’t want to be reminded of their deal. He didn’t want Reno on such terms, but he hadn’t had any choice. It was pay to play or nothing, and Rufus was once again horrified that he’d been so weak…and that he would be so weak in the future.
A woman came shoving up next to Reno then and reached across him to snag Rufus’s sleeve. She was drug-abuse skinny, her skin sallow, her teeth bad. She had heavily painted her face to hide the fact that she was lined and used up, though Rufus doubted she was any older than thirty. He recoiled from her horrific make-up, from her frizzy, bleached hair, from her skimpy clothes and the loose, flaccid flesh it revealed.
“Hey, mister, you want to have some fun?” she asked, swaying against Reno, so drunk she could hardly keep her feet on those high heels. She looked up at him and crooned a little, like she’d just found a plateful of brownies and no one was claiming them.
“Fuck off, you skanky skunk,” Reno told her, and nudged her away from Rufus. “Ain’t nobody here wants any of that worn out old pussy.”
The woman laughed, the noise harsh and brittle with too many cigarettes and a life lived too hard. She leaned against Reno, who ignored her, and purred at both of them, “Age equals experience, boys.”
“Experience?” Reno mocked, one brow lifted, though he didn’t seem to mind the woman hanging on his shoulder. He laughed at her and asked, “Is that what you call having a truck-stop for a cunt? You could probably get a football team in there, you tossed whore. Get spent.”
“I had a football team,” the woman said, as if this was something to be proud of. Her almost servile persistence in trying to get Reno’s attention vaguely irritated Rufus, and he tried valiantly not to be jealous. Imagine, handsome and powerful Rufus ShinRa jealous of a used up old barfly—ghastly.
“Oh yeah?” Reno asked, and sounded dangerously interested. “You got a pretty loose pussy, huh, sweetheart? How loose?”
She cackled and filched a cigarette from his pack. As if he was even slightly in danger of becoming a gentleman, Reno lit it for her, his keen blue eyes on her face.
Rufus started to get uncomfortable, knowing what that interest meant. Reno saw a game to be played, a mark to be had, an opportunity for mischief. Whatever happened tonight, the last thing Rufus wanted was this…this creature coming home with them. Charlie was one thing, but this was something else altogether!
“Pretty loose, pretty boy,” the woman crowed, and her laughter turned into a deep, hacking cough that made Rufus wince.
“Make you a bet, momma,” Reno said, and pulled his wallet out. “I bet you two hundred gil that you can’t take a fist.”
“Oh Christ!” Rufus whispered, and downed his drink, his pulse pounding. He was vaguely sick to his stomach and nauseatingly aware that Reno meant what he said. He had absolutely no intentions of this happening. He didn’t want to see it, he didn’t want to know about it, and he wanted to pretend he’d never even heard of it! This was beyond indecent and bordered on downright deviant, something he wanted absolutely nothing to do with.
“Two hundred gil for a girly little hand like yours?” the woman asked, and laughed again. “You got a deal, baby.”
“Not mine,” Reno told her. “You’re a champ, you try him. I bet you can’t, though. Guy’s got monster fists, yo. One look and you’ll wish you were being fucked by a bulldozer instead. I betcha.”
The woman, too drunk for her own good and clearly not fully in charge of her senses, slurred, “You got yourself a deal, you mouthy little fucker.”
“Cash on the barrel head, momma,” Reno told her, and waited while she fumbled in her purse, managing to scrape out two hundred gil.
“Reno,” Rufus murmured, tugging on his sleeve. “Don’t do this. Let’s go, okay? This isn’t what I had in mind—”
“Shut your shit, bitch,” Reno absently murmured, not taking his attention from the woman’s hands, watching like a hawk in case she decided to make off with the money. “You wanna see how the under-plate live, you deal, yo.”
Rufus gestured frantically for another drink and gulped it greedily while Reno whipped out his slender cell and dialed.
“Me, yo. Got a bet goin’ so where you at?” he asked.
“Home.” Rufus could hear that deep, low voice from where he sat and realized which man Reno knew who had monster fists.
“Got a washed-out gully wants a fist, yo,” Reno told him. “Bet her it’s a no-go. Need you, pal.”
“…”
“Two hundred,” Reno said, apparently just as telepathic with Rude as he was with Rufus. “You make it, yo—all of it, I just wanna see this cunt shut her yap, she needs a lesson.”
“…where…”
“Spot Fourteen, down from Nina’s, you know it,” Reno told him. “The place where we ran a train with the boys on that cheeky biker bitch. ‘Member?”
“…be there in ten…”
“See ya,” Reno said, satisfied. He flipped his phone shut and looked back at Rufus while that horrid excuse for a woman rooted for something in her oversized bag. “Now, what’re you on, you whiney twat?”
“Reno, I don’t want to see something like that,” Rufus lowly muttered, yanking his hood lower over his face. Christ, this had been a bad idea! “I’m leaving!”
“Got a bet on, yo,” Reno told him, a smirk curving his fine lips up as he barred Rufus’s escape. He lit a cigarette for himself and leaned back, hooking his elbow over the back of his chair so that he sat just as sprawled and inviting as he did in Rufus’s office. It was hideously distracting, and Rufus struggled not to be side-tracked. “We can’t go now.”
“Aren’t you here with me because if this very same thing?! I’ll cover it,” Rufus offered. “I’ll pay it three times over, let’s just go!”
Reno’s big, sultry blue eyes flared with dull anger and his smirk fell into a sneer. In carefully drawled words he said, “It’s a matter of principle now, yo. Bitch takes a fist or Rude gets the gil—the end. We ain’t fucking moving from here ‘til the shit is done, you understand, yo? I ain’t gonna walk outta here with that wasted cunt laughing that she got the best of me.”
“Oh, sweet mercy,” Rufus breathed, and polished off his drink, gesturing for another. When Rude finally showed up, Rufus kept his face lowered and his hood pulled close around him, hoping like hell that the big man wouldn’t recognize him.
He needn’t have worried.
Rude came straight to the bar and stood at Reno’s other side, and the man promptly crowed, “You’re in it now, sweetheart!”
“Where?” Rude inquired.
The woman was in a state of shocked silence, and Rufus didn’t dare lift his head to see if her face reflected her panic.
“Table show!” Reno shouted, and cheers went up all over the bar.
“Oh my god…” Rufus stumbled away from the bar and flung himself through the doors out onto the cold street, gasping for breath.
There was a roar of laughter from inside that made him grit his teeth and hunch his shoulders, willing himself not to mentally picture what was going on. He hardly heard the ruckus in the bar, intent on his own misery. He didn’t want this kind of thing to be a hobby for his Turks! He didn’t want Reno to be the dangerous, dirty deviant that he was! Christ, why had he even come out here? This whole thing was insane! It had been since the moment Reno had so casually dropped that paperweight on the floor between his spread knees…
“Now here’s a sight,” came that lazy, drawling voice. He heard Reno’s boots crunch on broken glass and slap into a puddle of puke or piss, one. Whatever his immoralities, Reno was a vigilant watch-dog—Rufus hadn’t been outside alone for a full five minutes yet.
“Is it—” he caught his breath on a gag and swallowed hard, eyes watering to even think of such a thing. “Is it over?”
“Bout to be. Fuckin’ delicate cunt,” Reno called him, and stood staring at him with those impassionate, unmoved blue eyes. He took a thoughtful drag off of his cigarette, his head cocked, that lazy body poised for action. “Look at you, yo. Zero survival skills, Rufus—stupid little shit. You seen enough? You got all your nice little assumptions confirmed, yo?”
“What?” Rufus asked, bewildered. He’d only wanted to see what Reno’s life was like, to see what had shaped the man he found so intriguing. It had been honest curiosity, not an opportunity to feel superior…
“Don’t play with me, yo,” Reno growled, and tapped ashes onto the toe of Rufus’s expensive running shoe. “You wanted to see disgusting humanity at its worst…you got it…”
Rufus just stared at him, confounded. His only intention had been to at least attempt to understand where his Turk was coming from. He didn’t want it to be a paying relationship with himself as the john and Reno as the whore. He wasn’t comfortable with that on any level and was ashamed that such a transaction had even occurred…If Reno had just asked him for the money, Rufus would’ve gladly paid it off for him…
“Reno, should you continue to speak to me in such a disrespectful and intolerable manner, I will not hesitate to have Tseng write you up,” Rufus tightly told him, angry that Reno acted as if he were the one doing the favor! As if he were the one slumming! “I have kept my side of our little deal, Reno—you have been insulting, aggravating, and bullying and I’ve had all of it that I’m going to take.”
Reno’s brows rose again and he smirked at Rufus, clearly amused by his attempt to be haughty and stern.
“Well,” he said, and spat his cigarette out to land on the ground. “At least you got some balls, fucker.”
Rufus glared at him, whispering, “And if I were you, Reno, I wouldn’t be so quick to call someone a faggot when I’m the one doing the plowing—do you understand? That term goes both directions, dog, and it doesn’t give two shits if you’re pitching or catching.”
Reno laughed, but said nothing, amused by having been called dog by his stiffly formal boss.
Another loud roar of the crowd came from inside and a few moments later Rude came waltzing out.
Rufus got a glimpse of stark black before he dropped his head, hiding beneath his hood as the man neared them. He saw Rude reach out, saw Reno lift his slender hand.
“Partners,” the huge man lowly said, an apparent explanation for sharing his winnings.
A handful of gil slapped wetly into Reno’s palm.
“Gross,” Reno sniggered, and laughingly said, “Go wash your paw, yo—stinks like rank pussy.”
Rufus seriously thought he was going to throw up, especially when Reno just pocketed the gil and idly wiped his wet palm down his thigh.
Rude just started to laugh, the sound low and purring, but he made no move to go clean himself off. Rufus stared stupidly at his large, scuffed boots and wished him away.
“Ain’t no thing, yo,” Reno said in answer to some silent question. He really was a master at reading body language, or else he could read minds. “Lightweight, he can’t take the heat.”
Rude laughed again and uttered one word, “Delicate.”
“You got it, yo,” Reno agreed, and gave Rufus a shove before clamping a hand down on his nape and shaking him. “Come on, Priss, let’s get you home, yo.”
Rufus was inclined to be sulky, and tried to ignore Reno on the ride home. They dropped Rude off on the way and headed back towards civilization.
The man was angry and hurt that his curiosity had been twisted to such ends. Reno had just assumed that Rufus only wanted to see the worst and most sordid things, but he’d really only wanted to get to know him a little better. He’d tried to find a way to relate to his Turk on a personal level, and Reno had slapped him in the face with flagrant delinquency. It was too horrid to be borne!
“Took all the bitch right outta ya, yo,” Reno remarked, slinking along behind Rufus as he made his way to the elevators.
They rode up in silence, Rufus still too angry and oddly shamed to speak rationally. It was easy to let his anger make him forget that this man had slipped up behind him and fucked him hard, had rode him straight into a blindingly amazing orgasm. It seemed unreal; the stuff of dreams, not something this sarcastic and debasing man was even capable of.
“Cat got your tongue?” Reno inquired, and leaned on the door once he locked it behind them.
Rufus turned his back on him and went to shower off the night’s festivities, if they could be called such a thing. He’d had more fun at a funeral, and wished he’d never gone at all. Not only had he been exposed to something that he would, otherwise, be blissfully ignorant of, he hadn’t come to understand a thing about Reno.
Reno caught him by the arm before he even got a good step in.
“Get your hands off me!” Rufus hissed.
“Not what you’re payin’ me for, boss,” was his quick reply.
“Well, I wasn’t paying you for your attitude or your insults, either!” Rufus snapped, rounding on him. “But it certainly didn’t stop you then, now did it?”
They stared at one another, one of them angry and the other amused.
Rufus shifted, suddenly aware of that strong, slender hand on his arm. He did his best to glare into Reno’s eyes, but it was distracting to even look at him when he had that jaded expression on his face—eyes half-lidded and sleepy, a soft smirk curving the corners of his thin lips, his head cocked just slightly to the left so that his red hair fell over his face. He looked at Rufus as if he were studying something new with the capacity to be dangerous, something whose claws should be avoided but would be dissected nonetheless. It was extremely disconcerting for Rufus to be looked at in such a way, as if his Turk was comparing what he saw before him with some report he’d memorized.
“Stop that!” he snapped, and jerked his arm away. “I’m not one of your fucking missions, Reno!”
The man’s smirk widened into an actual smile, and he murmured, “Aren’t you?”
Jesus, just like that Rufus wasn’t angry anymore.
He licked his lips and tried to hide that fact from Reno, turning his head away, trying not to give away that his thoughts had veered from irritation to arousal.
He really needn’t have bothered—Reno saw through him without any effort. Rufus may as well have been made of glass…
“You done being a twat?” he lazily inquired, shoving off of the door to light a cigarette.
“That depends,” Rufus said, and turned back to glare at him. “Are you done being a goddamned prick?”
Reno snorted a little and laughed before giving Rufus a not-so-gentle shove towards his suite.
Wondering just what on earth had possessed him and hoping that his common sense would return once it stopped being so offended, Rufus moved down the hallway in a daze of nervous expectation and downright panic, his body already hard beneath his concealing clothing.
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Warnings: 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!
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A/N: Here is your warning! Bad words: pussy, cunt, faggot, queer (clearly not in alphabetical order) Bad deeds: smoking, drinking, and fisting (non-graphic, not even seen but mentioned) Bad news: more emotional bullshit because Rufus can't figure himself out and Reno is a prick
Please let me know if I missed anything.
PS--In case you missed the description, this is a dark fic, so if this kind of stuff gives you a case of the squicks, you might be happier elsewhere.
Rufus thought about what he’d done.
He thought about it very hard and examined it from every angle and still had no answer to the question, ‘why?’ Why had he agreed to such a thing? Why hadn’t he just been able to say no and show Reno to the door? What was it about that man that made him so desperate for more when he’d hardly had glowing remarks about their first encounter?
At the heart of it—Reno intrigued him. Before the man’s easy comment in his car, Rufus had never given two shakes about his Turks as people, and it amazed him that he’d never noticed how blatantly sexual and confident Reno was. He’d always taken him at face value: lazy, sloppy, not particularly loyal but reliable to a point, and rather prone to getting into trouble on his off time. Now that he’d loomed up on Rufus’s radar, the man had a rather difficult time ignoring him, and it had oddly translated into a sexual interest that still shocked him. He’d never lusted after anyone before, he’d never had to—he snapped his fingers, his bed was filled, it was just life. He hadn’t considered that he might be distractedly reserved with women because he didn’t really enjoy them, and the memory of his rather brief clash with his Turk had smashed that point straight into his high-bred backside. It made him a little dizzy to know that he was far more interested in men—in this man—than he’d ever been in any ditzy woman of his acquaintance.
Yet he’d done the unthinkable. Reno had made it extremely clear that he only liked women, and that his interactions with Rufus would be on a purely business basis. If Rufus had told him no, Reno would’ve just melded back into the background like nothing had ever happened. Which brought Rufus back to his question of why he cared, why it mattered?
And the only answer he could find was that it mattered because it was Reno.
He wanted to know more about him, wanted to find out what circumstances had created this violent and almost sociopathic individual. He was morbidly curious about the man’s life and wanted to know more.
So when Reno showed up at his apartment that night—no guard duty, he was covered—Rufus asked him what it was like on the underside.
Reno just sucked on his cigarette and let his blue eyes wander lazily over Rufus’s casual clothing before saying, “I’ll show you, yo—but you gotta find something decent to wear, I ain’t going nowhere with some high-profile prick looking to get dicked, yo.”
Rufus had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but a quick skim of his wardrobe yielded a worn hoodie from his university days, and Reno said it would do.
They took a cab to one of Reno’s haunts, Rufus nervously fidgeting next to him, helplessly wondering if there would be a repeat of the other night and how on earth he would handle it sober. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at him, taking small and surreptitious glances at the relaxed and oblivious man.
They got out at some rotten hole in the wall whose falling down sign proclaimed it to be Spot Fourteen. Someone had graffitied a smiley face into the “O” and yet another person had painted a woman’s nude body around it. It was more than just nominally disturbing, and Rufus had his first thought that this was so not a good idea.
The bar was packed with a filthy press of humanity, but Reno elbowed them through to a few seats at the bar and promptly ordered two drinks, four shots, and keep them coming. He didn’t spare Rufus so much as a glance, gave no indication that they even knew one another.
Rufus fondled his glass with nervous hands, wishing he’d taken off his rings—they twinkled in the light, obviously expensive and no doubt screaming for various low-life individuals to come mug him. Reno ignored him and put away the drinks like nobody’s business. Rufus watched him from the corner of his eye, wondering where the man got such patrician bone structure when he was one hundred percent below-plate trash. Still, it was hard not to admire such elegance, and he started guiltily when Reno’s sharp blue eyes suddenly landed on him.
The man smirked and told him, “Quit starin’ at me, you goddamned queer.”
Rufus blushed, offended, and tightly responded with, “Do not speak to me with such disrespect, Reno! I still sign your paychecks!”
“Yeah?” Reno laughed, and slammed one of his shots, chucking the small glass down in a jumble with the others. “Well, we keep up, yo, that paycheck is gonna get a lot fuckin’ fatter.”
“Jesus,” Rufus breathed, looking away, trying to drown himself in booze. He didn’t want to be reminded of their deal. He didn’t want Reno on such terms, but he hadn’t had any choice. It was pay to play or nothing, and Rufus was once again horrified that he’d been so weak…and that he would be so weak in the future.
A woman came shoving up next to Reno then and reached across him to snag Rufus’s sleeve. She was drug-abuse skinny, her skin sallow, her teeth bad. She had heavily painted her face to hide the fact that she was lined and used up, though Rufus doubted she was any older than thirty. He recoiled from her horrific make-up, from her frizzy, bleached hair, from her skimpy clothes and the loose, flaccid flesh it revealed.
“Hey, mister, you want to have some fun?” she asked, swaying against Reno, so drunk she could hardly keep her feet on those high heels. She looked up at him and crooned a little, like she’d just found a plateful of brownies and no one was claiming them.
“Fuck off, you skanky skunk,” Reno told her, and nudged her away from Rufus. “Ain’t nobody here wants any of that worn out old pussy.”
The woman laughed, the noise harsh and brittle with too many cigarettes and a life lived too hard. She leaned against Reno, who ignored her, and purred at both of them, “Age equals experience, boys.”
“Experience?” Reno mocked, one brow lifted, though he didn’t seem to mind the woman hanging on his shoulder. He laughed at her and asked, “Is that what you call having a truck-stop for a cunt? You could probably get a football team in there, you tossed whore. Get spent.”
“I had a football team,” the woman said, as if this was something to be proud of. Her almost servile persistence in trying to get Reno’s attention vaguely irritated Rufus, and he tried valiantly not to be jealous. Imagine, handsome and powerful Rufus ShinRa jealous of a used up old barfly—ghastly.
“Oh yeah?” Reno asked, and sounded dangerously interested. “You got a pretty loose pussy, huh, sweetheart? How loose?”
She cackled and filched a cigarette from his pack. As if he was even slightly in danger of becoming a gentleman, Reno lit it for her, his keen blue eyes on her face.
Rufus started to get uncomfortable, knowing what that interest meant. Reno saw a game to be played, a mark to be had, an opportunity for mischief. Whatever happened tonight, the last thing Rufus wanted was this…this creature coming home with them. Charlie was one thing, but this was something else altogether!
“Pretty loose, pretty boy,” the woman crowed, and her laughter turned into a deep, hacking cough that made Rufus wince.
“Make you a bet, momma,” Reno said, and pulled his wallet out. “I bet you two hundred gil that you can’t take a fist.”
“Oh Christ!” Rufus whispered, and downed his drink, his pulse pounding. He was vaguely sick to his stomach and nauseatingly aware that Reno meant what he said. He had absolutely no intentions of this happening. He didn’t want to see it, he didn’t want to know about it, and he wanted to pretend he’d never even heard of it! This was beyond indecent and bordered on downright deviant, something he wanted absolutely nothing to do with.
“Two hundred gil for a girly little hand like yours?” the woman asked, and laughed again. “You got a deal, baby.”
“Not mine,” Reno told her. “You’re a champ, you try him. I bet you can’t, though. Guy’s got monster fists, yo. One look and you’ll wish you were being fucked by a bulldozer instead. I betcha.”
The woman, too drunk for her own good and clearly not fully in charge of her senses, slurred, “You got yourself a deal, you mouthy little fucker.”
“Cash on the barrel head, momma,” Reno told her, and waited while she fumbled in her purse, managing to scrape out two hundred gil.
“Reno,” Rufus murmured, tugging on his sleeve. “Don’t do this. Let’s go, okay? This isn’t what I had in mind—”
“Shut your shit, bitch,” Reno absently murmured, not taking his attention from the woman’s hands, watching like a hawk in case she decided to make off with the money. “You wanna see how the under-plate live, you deal, yo.”
Rufus gestured frantically for another drink and gulped it greedily while Reno whipped out his slender cell and dialed.
“Me, yo. Got a bet goin’ so where you at?” he asked.
“Home.” Rufus could hear that deep, low voice from where he sat and realized which man Reno knew who had monster fists.
“Got a washed-out gully wants a fist, yo,” Reno told him. “Bet her it’s a no-go. Need you, pal.”
“…”
“Two hundred,” Reno said, apparently just as telepathic with Rude as he was with Rufus. “You make it, yo—all of it, I just wanna see this cunt shut her yap, she needs a lesson.”
“…where…”
“Spot Fourteen, down from Nina’s, you know it,” Reno told him. “The place where we ran a train with the boys on that cheeky biker bitch. ‘Member?”
“…be there in ten…”
“See ya,” Reno said, satisfied. He flipped his phone shut and looked back at Rufus while that horrid excuse for a woman rooted for something in her oversized bag. “Now, what’re you on, you whiney twat?”
“Reno, I don’t want to see something like that,” Rufus lowly muttered, yanking his hood lower over his face. Christ, this had been a bad idea! “I’m leaving!”
“Got a bet on, yo,” Reno told him, a smirk curving his fine lips up as he barred Rufus’s escape. He lit a cigarette for himself and leaned back, hooking his elbow over the back of his chair so that he sat just as sprawled and inviting as he did in Rufus’s office. It was hideously distracting, and Rufus struggled not to be side-tracked. “We can’t go now.”
“Aren’t you here with me because if this very same thing?! I’ll cover it,” Rufus offered. “I’ll pay it three times over, let’s just go!”
Reno’s big, sultry blue eyes flared with dull anger and his smirk fell into a sneer. In carefully drawled words he said, “It’s a matter of principle now, yo. Bitch takes a fist or Rude gets the gil—the end. We ain’t fucking moving from here ‘til the shit is done, you understand, yo? I ain’t gonna walk outta here with that wasted cunt laughing that she got the best of me.”
“Oh, sweet mercy,” Rufus breathed, and polished off his drink, gesturing for another. When Rude finally showed up, Rufus kept his face lowered and his hood pulled close around him, hoping like hell that the big man wouldn’t recognize him.
He needn’t have worried.
Rude came straight to the bar and stood at Reno’s other side, and the man promptly crowed, “You’re in it now, sweetheart!”
“Where?” Rude inquired.
The woman was in a state of shocked silence, and Rufus didn’t dare lift his head to see if her face reflected her panic.
“Table show!” Reno shouted, and cheers went up all over the bar.
“Oh my god…” Rufus stumbled away from the bar and flung himself through the doors out onto the cold street, gasping for breath.
There was a roar of laughter from inside that made him grit his teeth and hunch his shoulders, willing himself not to mentally picture what was going on. He hardly heard the ruckus in the bar, intent on his own misery. He didn’t want this kind of thing to be a hobby for his Turks! He didn’t want Reno to be the dangerous, dirty deviant that he was! Christ, why had he even come out here? This whole thing was insane! It had been since the moment Reno had so casually dropped that paperweight on the floor between his spread knees…
“Now here’s a sight,” came that lazy, drawling voice. He heard Reno’s boots crunch on broken glass and slap into a puddle of puke or piss, one. Whatever his immoralities, Reno was a vigilant watch-dog—Rufus hadn’t been outside alone for a full five minutes yet.
“Is it—” he caught his breath on a gag and swallowed hard, eyes watering to even think of such a thing. “Is it over?”
“Bout to be. Fuckin’ delicate cunt,” Reno called him, and stood staring at him with those impassionate, unmoved blue eyes. He took a thoughtful drag off of his cigarette, his head cocked, that lazy body poised for action. “Look at you, yo. Zero survival skills, Rufus—stupid little shit. You seen enough? You got all your nice little assumptions confirmed, yo?”
“What?” Rufus asked, bewildered. He’d only wanted to see what Reno’s life was like, to see what had shaped the man he found so intriguing. It had been honest curiosity, not an opportunity to feel superior…
“Don’t play with me, yo,” Reno growled, and tapped ashes onto the toe of Rufus’s expensive running shoe. “You wanted to see disgusting humanity at its worst…you got it…”
Rufus just stared at him, confounded. His only intention had been to at least attempt to understand where his Turk was coming from. He didn’t want it to be a paying relationship with himself as the john and Reno as the whore. He wasn’t comfortable with that on any level and was ashamed that such a transaction had even occurred…If Reno had just asked him for the money, Rufus would’ve gladly paid it off for him…
“Reno, should you continue to speak to me in such a disrespectful and intolerable manner, I will not hesitate to have Tseng write you up,” Rufus tightly told him, angry that Reno acted as if he were the one doing the favor! As if he were the one slumming! “I have kept my side of our little deal, Reno—you have been insulting, aggravating, and bullying and I’ve had all of it that I’m going to take.”
Reno’s brows rose again and he smirked at Rufus, clearly amused by his attempt to be haughty and stern.
“Well,” he said, and spat his cigarette out to land on the ground. “At least you got some balls, fucker.”
Rufus glared at him, whispering, “And if I were you, Reno, I wouldn’t be so quick to call someone a faggot when I’m the one doing the plowing—do you understand? That term goes both directions, dog, and it doesn’t give two shits if you’re pitching or catching.”
Reno laughed, but said nothing, amused by having been called dog by his stiffly formal boss.
Another loud roar of the crowd came from inside and a few moments later Rude came waltzing out.
Rufus got a glimpse of stark black before he dropped his head, hiding beneath his hood as the man neared them. He saw Rude reach out, saw Reno lift his slender hand.
“Partners,” the huge man lowly said, an apparent explanation for sharing his winnings.
A handful of gil slapped wetly into Reno’s palm.
“Gross,” Reno sniggered, and laughingly said, “Go wash your paw, yo—stinks like rank pussy.”
Rufus seriously thought he was going to throw up, especially when Reno just pocketed the gil and idly wiped his wet palm down his thigh.
Rude just started to laugh, the sound low and purring, but he made no move to go clean himself off. Rufus stared stupidly at his large, scuffed boots and wished him away.
“Ain’t no thing, yo,” Reno said in answer to some silent question. He really was a master at reading body language, or else he could read minds. “Lightweight, he can’t take the heat.”
Rude laughed again and uttered one word, “Delicate.”
“You got it, yo,” Reno agreed, and gave Rufus a shove before clamping a hand down on his nape and shaking him. “Come on, Priss, let’s get you home, yo.”
Rufus was inclined to be sulky, and tried to ignore Reno on the ride home. They dropped Rude off on the way and headed back towards civilization.
The man was angry and hurt that his curiosity had been twisted to such ends. Reno had just assumed that Rufus only wanted to see the worst and most sordid things, but he’d really only wanted to get to know him a little better. He’d tried to find a way to relate to his Turk on a personal level, and Reno had slapped him in the face with flagrant delinquency. It was too horrid to be borne!
“Took all the bitch right outta ya, yo,” Reno remarked, slinking along behind Rufus as he made his way to the elevators.
They rode up in silence, Rufus still too angry and oddly shamed to speak rationally. It was easy to let his anger make him forget that this man had slipped up behind him and fucked him hard, had rode him straight into a blindingly amazing orgasm. It seemed unreal; the stuff of dreams, not something this sarcastic and debasing man was even capable of.
“Cat got your tongue?” Reno inquired, and leaned on the door once he locked it behind them.
Rufus turned his back on him and went to shower off the night’s festivities, if they could be called such a thing. He’d had more fun at a funeral, and wished he’d never gone at all. Not only had he been exposed to something that he would, otherwise, be blissfully ignorant of, he hadn’t come to understand a thing about Reno.
Reno caught him by the arm before he even got a good step in.
“Get your hands off me!” Rufus hissed.
“Not what you’re payin’ me for, boss,” was his quick reply.
“Well, I wasn’t paying you for your attitude or your insults, either!” Rufus snapped, rounding on him. “But it certainly didn’t stop you then, now did it?”
They stared at one another, one of them angry and the other amused.
Rufus shifted, suddenly aware of that strong, slender hand on his arm. He did his best to glare into Reno’s eyes, but it was distracting to even look at him when he had that jaded expression on his face—eyes half-lidded and sleepy, a soft smirk curving the corners of his thin lips, his head cocked just slightly to the left so that his red hair fell over his face. He looked at Rufus as if he were studying something new with the capacity to be dangerous, something whose claws should be avoided but would be dissected nonetheless. It was extremely disconcerting for Rufus to be looked at in such a way, as if his Turk was comparing what he saw before him with some report he’d memorized.
“Stop that!” he snapped, and jerked his arm away. “I’m not one of your fucking missions, Reno!”
The man’s smirk widened into an actual smile, and he murmured, “Aren’t you?”
Jesus, just like that Rufus wasn’t angry anymore.
He licked his lips and tried to hide that fact from Reno, turning his head away, trying not to give away that his thoughts had veered from irritation to arousal.
He really needn’t have bothered—Reno saw through him without any effort. Rufus may as well have been made of glass…
“You done being a twat?” he lazily inquired, shoving off of the door to light a cigarette.
“That depends,” Rufus said, and turned back to glare at him. “Are you done being a goddamned prick?”
Reno snorted a little and laughed before giving Rufus a not-so-gentle shove towards his suite.
Wondering just what on earth had possessed him and hoping that his common sense would return once it stopped being so offended, Rufus moved down the hallway in a daze of nervous expectation and downright panic, his body already hard beneath his concealing clothing.
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no subject
Date: 2008-10-13 07:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-13 08:09 pm (UTC)Genesis Award Nom
Date: 2008-10-14 01:37 am (UTC)*crosses fingers for you*
Re: Genesis Award Nom
Date: 2008-10-14 10:01 pm (UTC)