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“Zulu... Hotel... Echo... November... Golf... Zulu... Hotel...”
[ Faint traces of Aerith's flower-sweet presence linger in the car. His gaze drifts out toward the bar's entrance. As the engine idles quietly beneath dim lights, Tseng's eyes fall shut for a breath too long. With his left hand light on the wheel, he covers the smooth face of his watch with his thumb, counting the quiet seconds by feel.
His gaze lifts the instant she reappears, sooner than anticipated, and he watches as she crosses the street with purposeful steps. Tseng accepts the cup without a word. He lets warmth seep into his fingers, rather than drinking it just yet. There's something faintly self-effacing in his expression when she says why. ]
Thank you. [ The coffee isn't necessary, strictly speaking—but Aerith always seems to know when practicality isn't the point. ] You didn't have to. [ It's not admonishment. The sharp edges of weariness are dulled, and Tseng's focus ebbs just enough to suggest that his mind isn't entirely occupied with the task at hand, of hurrying her home. ]
His gaze lifts the instant she reappears, sooner than anticipated, and he watches as she crosses the street with purposeful steps. Tseng accepts the cup without a word. He lets warmth seep into his fingers, rather than drinking it just yet. There's something faintly self-effacing in his expression when she says why. ]
Thank you. [ The coffee isn't necessary, strictly speaking—but Aerith always seems to know when practicality isn't the point. ] You didn't have to. [ It's not admonishment. The sharp edges of weariness are dulled, and Tseng's focus ebbs just enough to suggest that his mind isn't entirely occupied with the task at hand, of hurrying her home. ]
[ Later, she'll realize just how much of this she's committing to memory; from the soft spot below his collarbone where her cheek brushes against his skin, to the first little tingles of anticipation that ping over her senses once he pulls her close and makes it apparent he feels the same. The hands he maps her back with provide her with all the reason Aerith needs to mirror that attention, indulging the urge to run her fingers through his hair with one hand while the other curves over his shoulder blade.
He's as lean and strong to the touch as he looks, and her chest feels almost uncomfortably tight in the wake of all the affectionate warmth that seeps through it. After a moment spent flush against him and still enough to take in all the places they fit so well together, Aerith tilts her head up and lets her lips brush against his jaw, doing her best not to grin over the contact when his question shocks a laugh out of her. ]
Shouldn't you know that already? Tonight's the only time you were asleep while I looked. You couldn't have missed it every other time! [ And in the wake of his asking, Aerith can't deny that it's been many times indeed. ]
It's been a while. [ She declares gently after a moment of consideration as she draws back enough to steal a look up at his face. ] What about you, Tseng?
He's as lean and strong to the touch as he looks, and her chest feels almost uncomfortably tight in the wake of all the affectionate warmth that seeps through it. After a moment spent flush against him and still enough to take in all the places they fit so well together, Aerith tilts her head up and lets her lips brush against his jaw, doing her best not to grin over the contact when his question shocks a laugh out of her. ]
Shouldn't you know that already? Tonight's the only time you were asleep while I looked. You couldn't have missed it every other time! [ And in the wake of his asking, Aerith can't deny that it's been many times indeed. ]
It's been a while. [ She declares gently after a moment of consideration as she draws back enough to steal a look up at his face. ] What about you, Tseng?
[ If her hands keep moving, she'll inevitably find some well-healed scar or another. Tseng’s lips press together as a subtle shift ripples through him under her caress, but there’s no trace of discomfort. His breath brushes her temple.
Tseng’s fingers touch the salted ends of her hair. His role has always demanded vigilance and restraint, but now he knows that the latter was never entirely honest. The way Aerith has changed over the years—grown into her womanhood—hasn’t gone unnoticed. Meanwhile, he’s seen and heard her laugh a dozen times, but never felt it so intently against his own skin. When she laughs he can’t help but still tighten his grip on her, his body reacts instinctively to the sound.
Tseng’s mind pulls back to every time he has watched her watch him. Was it just a consequence of noticing each other? He lingers where her waist curves under his hand. His thumb sweeps in a slow, deliberate arc beneath her breast. ]
I’ve always watched you. [ The dull explanation of his job. This isn’t what she means, though. Instead of stalling: ] Something changed that I wasn’t prepared for. Does that make sense?
[ He watches her through half-lidded eyes, sharp but softened in ways only she can manage. She should know... it’s harder to stop looking than she thinks. ]
Tseng’s fingers touch the salted ends of her hair. His role has always demanded vigilance and restraint, but now he knows that the latter was never entirely honest. The way Aerith has changed over the years—grown into her womanhood—hasn’t gone unnoticed. Meanwhile, he’s seen and heard her laugh a dozen times, but never felt it so intently against his own skin. When she laughs he can’t help but still tighten his grip on her, his body reacts instinctively to the sound.
Tseng’s mind pulls back to every time he has watched her watch him. Was it just a consequence of noticing each other? He lingers where her waist curves under his hand. His thumb sweeps in a slow, deliberate arc beneath her breast. ]
I’ve always watched you. [ The dull explanation of his job. This isn’t what she means, though. Instead of stalling: ] Something changed that I wasn’t prepared for. Does that make sense?
[ He watches her through half-lidded eyes, sharp but softened in ways only she can manage. She should know... it’s harder to stop looking than she thinks. ]
( a breath of amusement escapes, a little smirk of it, pushed through his nose--relatively soundless, the curl of his lips has to tell the story, a smile of satisfaction as his brow lifts: )
Of course you will.
( and it's not as though he would have forced tseng into it--maybe years ago, maybe as a petulant child, he would have made demands like that, would have dragged tseng into the bath fully clothed if he'd had to, just to get what he wanted; there are still things that he claims with a strong hand, whether they want to be there or not, but he's learned that there's something to be said about the enjoyment of slowly allowing something to crawl right into the palm of his hand, instead. he's not quite sure when they made that change: he can't exactly pinpoint where it was, when tseng stopped resenting the hold that he has over him, over the turks themselves. maybe he never did, and it's all a ruse. he wouldn't fault him for that either.
one of his hands lowers, but it's only so that he can snap dark nation back into attention; with a low little whine, she lumbers back onto her feet, pressing herself in between the two of them for a moment like a cat hoping to mark its owners with its scent. with one bloodied hand lifted back up again, in gesture: )
Are you going to take us to the elevator, Tseng? Don't just stand there all starry-eyed.
( it's a somewhat gentle tease, and despite his words, it's him and dark nation that lead the way past the door to his office, certain that tseng will at least kill the lights and lock the door in their wake. at this time of night, he doubts that anyone will be wandering around hoping to take something from the president's desk, but with people like avalanche still out there, it's hard to say, despite his generous backing; once they're at the elevator, he steps in past the open doors, keying in the code that will take them to his suite--and graciously, he keeps one hand against the elevator doors to keep them from closing, so that tseng can catch up.
dark nation waits just next to his legs, eager, her tentacle wagging only once she's got tseng in her sights again, and even rufus seems pleased, lips curled again as he lets the door shut once tseng joins them. )
...I'm afraid it will be an early morning, tomorrow. That doesn't bother you either, does it?
Of course you will.
( and it's not as though he would have forced tseng into it--maybe years ago, maybe as a petulant child, he would have made demands like that, would have dragged tseng into the bath fully clothed if he'd had to, just to get what he wanted; there are still things that he claims with a strong hand, whether they want to be there or not, but he's learned that there's something to be said about the enjoyment of slowly allowing something to crawl right into the palm of his hand, instead. he's not quite sure when they made that change: he can't exactly pinpoint where it was, when tseng stopped resenting the hold that he has over him, over the turks themselves. maybe he never did, and it's all a ruse. he wouldn't fault him for that either.
one of his hands lowers, but it's only so that he can snap dark nation back into attention; with a low little whine, she lumbers back onto her feet, pressing herself in between the two of them for a moment like a cat hoping to mark its owners with its scent. with one bloodied hand lifted back up again, in gesture: )
Are you going to take us to the elevator, Tseng? Don't just stand there all starry-eyed.
( it's a somewhat gentle tease, and despite his words, it's him and dark nation that lead the way past the door to his office, certain that tseng will at least kill the lights and lock the door in their wake. at this time of night, he doubts that anyone will be wandering around hoping to take something from the president's desk, but with people like avalanche still out there, it's hard to say, despite his generous backing; once they're at the elevator, he steps in past the open doors, keying in the code that will take them to his suite--and graciously, he keeps one hand against the elevator doors to keep them from closing, so that tseng can catch up.
dark nation waits just next to his legs, eager, her tentacle wagging only once she's got tseng in her sights again, and even rufus seems pleased, lips curled again as he lets the door shut once tseng joins them. )
...I'm afraid it will be an early morning, tomorrow. That doesn't bother you either, does it?
[ He lifts the coffee away, freeing her hand up to wave dismissively at him after Tseng tells her she wasn't obligated to bring him anything. ]
It's the least I can do, isn't it? Considering how I'm keeping you up late.
[ If Aerith stopped to think about it, she would notice her own sleepiness beginning to encroach, but she's too busy trying to push aside that pang of remorse that lingers on the edge of her consciousness, a reminder that he'll drive her home quickly, and that will be that.
Her efforts aren't good enough to stave off the tightness in her jaw, or the dour look in her eyes that contradicts the bright tone of voice she's been trying for ever since she returned to the car. The thought of how wrong she was to think he wanted to draw this out as much as she did sitting heavy on her mind, ignoring all attempts to push past it. ]
It's the least I can do, isn't it? Considering how I'm keeping you up late.
[ If Aerith stopped to think about it, she would notice her own sleepiness beginning to encroach, but she's too busy trying to push aside that pang of remorse that lingers on the edge of her consciousness, a reminder that he'll drive her home quickly, and that will be that.
Her efforts aren't good enough to stave off the tightness in her jaw, or the dour look in her eyes that contradicts the bright tone of voice she's been trying for ever since she returned to the car. The thought of how wrong she was to think he wanted to draw this out as much as she did sitting heavy on her mind, ignoring all attempts to push past it. ]
[ Every detail etches itself deep into her memory. The warmth of his breath and the flutter of a few strands of hair tickling high on her cheekbone, what his skin feels like under her hands, all of it taking root in her imagination – a place this morning stands a high chance of living for a very long time. Aerith feels Tseng's hold tense at the sound of her laughter and almost melts into the gesture, ]
Yes. [ A hand finds its way to his face, where the pads of her fingers slowly trace over the gracefully high planes of his cheek. ] It makes sense. [ Even though when all is said and done, none of this has any business making sense, but right now the part of her that knows that doesn't seem to be present. Aerith's too preoccupied with the way his eyelashes fan out against his skin while he watches her like that, and the subsequent way her heart pounds in response. With her chest snug against his, there's no hiding that fact either.
Like common sense, it's unimportant.
The fingers against his jaw grow more sure in the way they touch him, until she's guiding his face down, as warmth creeps up the back of her neck, curving her lips into an anticipatory little smile. ]
If you keep me like this, you'll always know where I am.
[ Aerith's eyes narrow playfully before she lifts her head, drawing him into a kiss. ]
Yes. [ A hand finds its way to his face, where the pads of her fingers slowly trace over the gracefully high planes of his cheek. ] It makes sense. [ Even though when all is said and done, none of this has any business making sense, but right now the part of her that knows that doesn't seem to be present. Aerith's too preoccupied with the way his eyelashes fan out against his skin while he watches her like that, and the subsequent way her heart pounds in response. With her chest snug against his, there's no hiding that fact either.
Like common sense, it's unimportant.
The fingers against his jaw grow more sure in the way they touch him, until she's guiding his face down, as warmth creeps up the back of her neck, curving her lips into an anticipatory little smile. ]
If you keep me like this, you'll always know where I am.
[ Aerith's eyes narrow playfully before she lifts her head, drawing him into a kiss. ]
[ He left his question hanging on thin thread, Tseng realizes, after asking and just when her answer tangles it up and knots it around and around itself again, to make it seem like something more sturdy than it really is. Common sense can tug and pull and even wrench it, and still the complicated knots may never again come apart. Only every split thread of a rational thought about their case is snipped away from the tangle of their close held bodies, by her roaming touch.
Beneath half-lidded eyes, Tseng feels the thin calluses on her fingertips on his face. He has seen her work in gloves when stripping thorns or handling cuttings that ooze staining sap, and again other times when she wouldn’t wear them. He, instead, never puts his bare hands on anything or anyone while at work.
Aerith’s arm wedges his fingers between it and the side of her chest, heavy where her trace along his jawline is light. He’s sure that her thumb ghosts at his bottom lip.
Tseng tilts his chin down and at that angle gives Aerith the plain view of something both possessive and tender flitting across his features, at her nomination. The idea of holding her like this and keeping her near is startling and an undeniable want. Their relationship has become a paradox overnight.
Not only against his chest but past her clavicle, where his other hand slides up the side of her neck, he can feel Aerith’s heart beating. Behind her ear, his fingers dip into the roots of her hair and cradle her at the nape when she leans up along the pillow. Tseng’s mouth opens, his tongue warms against hers. Under the shared cover, his thigh presses firmly next to and would slip between hers. ]
Beneath half-lidded eyes, Tseng feels the thin calluses on her fingertips on his face. He has seen her work in gloves when stripping thorns or handling cuttings that ooze staining sap, and again other times when she wouldn’t wear them. He, instead, never puts his bare hands on anything or anyone while at work.
Aerith’s arm wedges his fingers between it and the side of her chest, heavy where her trace along his jawline is light. He’s sure that her thumb ghosts at his bottom lip.
Tseng tilts his chin down and at that angle gives Aerith the plain view of something both possessive and tender flitting across his features, at her nomination. The idea of holding her like this and keeping her near is startling and an undeniable want. Their relationship has become a paradox overnight.
Not only against his chest but past her clavicle, where his other hand slides up the side of her neck, he can feel Aerith’s heart beating. Behind her ear, his fingers dip into the roots of her hair and cradle her at the nape when she leans up along the pillow. Tseng’s mouth opens, his tongue warms against hers. Under the shared cover, his thigh presses firmly next to and would slip between hers. ]
[ The small smirk, the light taunt—the room tilts 45° into more playful tension. Short of Rufus drowning him in the bathtub, Tseng would not even have tried breaking from that grip. But just like Rufus can’t pinpoint the moment, he doesn’t know when he became more drawn to rather than simply enduring this. Penance for the years spent as his jailor? No, Tseng doesn’t operate under such beliefs, and if he did he’d need to start elsewhere.
With Dark Nation nudging between them, Tseng steps back, giving the space before he moves into place. His hand brushes over the door panel, turning out the lights and pausing for a moment, allowing the darkness to settle, locking the room before following. Tseng puts his hand on the elevator door just under Rufus’, so close and unnecessarily so when it’s already held open, as he steps into the cabin, that it might as well be teasing on his part.
The doors close with a soft, metallic hum, and as they get on the ascent, Tseng brings his hands together behind his back. Rufus’s fair features and the dark smears of blood catch in the harsh overhead lights. Beneath it Tseng can see another unmistakable detail of satisfaction on the other man’s face. He answers bluntly. ]
You know it’s never been an issue.
[ And if Rufus didn’t know what to look for, Tseng’s expression would still remain unchanged at that, tone just as even. But his gaze softens, his eyes dark with a mix of curiosity and challenge, for Rufus to see. ]
...Unless you’re hoping to wear me out.
With Dark Nation nudging between them, Tseng steps back, giving the space before he moves into place. His hand brushes over the door panel, turning out the lights and pausing for a moment, allowing the darkness to settle, locking the room before following. Tseng puts his hand on the elevator door just under Rufus’, so close and unnecessarily so when it’s already held open, as he steps into the cabin, that it might as well be teasing on his part.
The doors close with a soft, metallic hum, and as they get on the ascent, Tseng brings his hands together behind his back. Rufus’s fair features and the dark smears of blood catch in the harsh overhead lights. Beneath it Tseng can see another unmistakable detail of satisfaction on the other man’s face. He answers bluntly. ]
You know it’s never been an issue.
[ And if Rufus didn’t know what to look for, Tseng’s expression would still remain unchanged at that, tone just as even. But his gaze softens, his eyes dark with a mix of curiosity and challenge, for Rufus to see. ]
...Unless you’re hoping to wear me out.
Edited 2024-12-18 16:06 (UTC)
[ He puts the cup in the console holder. Keeping him up late isn’t the problem, he’d like to tell her. He should sound grateful and mild, but all that Tseng manages is factuality. ]
But you didn’t need to go out of your way. [ For the coffee. Or his, with the scarf.
As much as he tries to speak free of sentiment or reprimand, this is as redundant as telling her not to stay out late at all. There’s only so much he can (and will) do. Of course, she’ll cut a hole in the fence of her boundaries, only to fall back into the moat the Turks keep digging deeper and wider around her. It’s a small concession that this isn’t their first night to end like this, and Tseng has slept on an even more bitter conscience. ]
I’m taking you home now. [ He says, coinciding with her unsung awareness that the night needs to end here. He’ll bring her to Leaf House; Tseng takes the street with the long red light again. ]
But you didn’t need to go out of your way. [ For the coffee. Or his, with the scarf.
As much as he tries to speak free of sentiment or reprimand, this is as redundant as telling her not to stay out late at all. There’s only so much he can (and will) do. Of course, she’ll cut a hole in the fence of her boundaries, only to fall back into the moat the Turks keep digging deeper and wider around her. It’s a small concession that this isn’t their first night to end like this, and Tseng has slept on an even more bitter conscience. ]
I’m taking you home now. [ He says, coinciding with her unsung awareness that the night needs to end here. He’ll bring her to Leaf House; Tseng takes the street with the long red light again. ]
[ His hand trapped against her side makes her shift, her body almost arching towards it like a lazily affectionate cat, her skin prickling in anticipation everywhere he's touched her. She can't lose herself like this forever, but she can let this moment catch hold of her as firmly as possible right now and make the present count tenfold for all she intends to wrest from it.
Tseng makes that selfish desire all too easy to long for. The soft possessiveness in his eyes is new, and vibrantly beautiful – so much so that all it takes is a look for Aerith to be sure she'll yearn to catch this exact light in his eyes forever. The line between being a Shinra asset, and being his, has never mattered less. She can want to be one and hate being the other, even if that does introduce layers and layers of complexity to an already intricate situation.
It's hard to puzzle over that when he's this close, the brush of his tongue and the nudge of his thigh lighting up her awareness, a sharp, sweet ache blossoming between her thighs. With a soft sigh, her thumb sweeps across his cheek as she parts her lips, her tongue light as it brushes against his, licking into his mouth with another soft, happy sigh.
Aerith wastes no time letting her thighs part, the want of him pairing too perfectly with the joy of touching and being touched to bother with restraint. She brackets him between her legs in one fluid motion, the hand on his cheek sinking into his hair with relish as she continues to let her mouth claim his in a voracious flood of kisses. ]
I want you to touch me everywhere, Tseng.
Tseng makes that selfish desire all too easy to long for. The soft possessiveness in his eyes is new, and vibrantly beautiful – so much so that all it takes is a look for Aerith to be sure she'll yearn to catch this exact light in his eyes forever. The line between being a Shinra asset, and being his, has never mattered less. She can want to be one and hate being the other, even if that does introduce layers and layers of complexity to an already intricate situation.
It's hard to puzzle over that when he's this close, the brush of his tongue and the nudge of his thigh lighting up her awareness, a sharp, sweet ache blossoming between her thighs. With a soft sigh, her thumb sweeps across his cheek as she parts her lips, her tongue light as it brushes against his, licking into his mouth with another soft, happy sigh.
Aerith wastes no time letting her thighs part, the want of him pairing too perfectly with the joy of touching and being touched to bother with restraint. She brackets him between her legs in one fluid motion, the hand on his cheek sinking into his hair with relish as she continues to let her mouth claim his in a voracious flood of kisses. ]
I want you to touch me everywhere, Tseng.
[ Trailing his hands over her body, Tseng draws a map, but it isn’t one that will help him find the way back. They’ve simply gotten lost together, not in an eerie or unpleasing place. Her words unmoor him, Tseng will be further lost if she lets him drift like that. His fingers thread deeper into her hair, he grounds himself against the tide. They might not actually be that much farther than on the outskirts of their previous relationship.
Tseng breaks the deluge of kisses, but only barely. ] Aerith... [ It’s soft and velvety to say without admonishment or warning or, in further depths, even concern attached. His voice is low, rough, and edged with the need to have her name on it. And his eyes are sharp and intent. She doesn’t know what she’s asking of him, or perhaps she does... She surely does. The kiss he returns to her is searing, possessive, a declaration of everything he’s been holding back in exchange for hundreds of hers.
Aerith, too, is in possession of him. She pulls him close by the hair and entraps him between her thighs, contracting any millimeter of space still gaping between them. Tseng’s breath shudders. She must feel him growing hard against her.
He answers her plea with action instead of hesitation. He pulls his hand out of her hair and slides his thumb back down her throat and to her breast. Squeezing hardly, her skin still dents in the shape of his fingertips. Keeping her beneath his palm other side, he runs it from her chest to her back, to the small of it, and to her buttock. And lower still. Slipping between her legs and his thigh, Tseng’s long fingers pass by her entrance. ]
Tseng breaks the deluge of kisses, but only barely. ] Aerith... [ It’s soft and velvety to say without admonishment or warning or, in further depths, even concern attached. His voice is low, rough, and edged with the need to have her name on it. And his eyes are sharp and intent. She doesn’t know what she’s asking of him, or perhaps she does... She surely does. The kiss he returns to her is searing, possessive, a declaration of everything he’s been holding back in exchange for hundreds of hers.
Aerith, too, is in possession of him. She pulls him close by the hair and entraps him between her thighs, contracting any millimeter of space still gaping between them. Tseng’s breath shudders. She must feel him growing hard against her.
He answers her plea with action instead of hesitation. He pulls his hand out of her hair and slides his thumb back down her throat and to her breast. Squeezing hardly, her skin still dents in the shape of his fingertips. Keeping her beneath his palm other side, he runs it from her chest to her back, to the small of it, and to her buttock. And lower still. Slipping between her legs and his thigh, Tseng’s long fingers pass by her entrance. ]
I wonder if that's even possible, Tseng.
( with a warm, lofty sort of tone--past the glass of the elevator, he can see the city of midgar sparkling beneath them, his little playground tucked away into sleep for the late hour. the reactors glow, large beacons that draw with them the tiny speckled lights of bars and brothels and other places, open so late at night, and there's a sort of satisfied smile that smooths over his features, as though he's content to leave it just like that. another night where nothing too pressing will happen: or at least that's his hope. for now, the only pressing issue is tseng, and dark nation, and the comfort of a bath that's waiting for all of them.
with a slight glance, sidelong, he lets tseng's expression speak for itself. the shadows of the floors rising with them cast themselves out across tseng's dark eyes, and there's a comfort to be found in the depths there, too, something that has him feeling remarkably contented, as the elevator door split open to the hallway to his suite.
dark nation, ignorant of the both of them, lumbers forward to sniff along the path, as though reassuring it's safe for the both of them: with a quirked, playful brow at tseng, he follows after her, letting tseng round out their party at the back. another code, keyed in to the suite door, and a confirmation of his fingerprint over the lock, and the door opens; he reaches to turn on the lights, letting dark nation trod ahead of them to find her bed--with a soft, almost fond sigh, he turns to look over his shoulder at tseng, already sliding the heavy shoulders of his jacket down to let them hook in at his elbows. )
Will you wipe her mouth off, at least? She'll rub blood all over the carpets.
( it's not a command, though it might sound like one--here, safe behind a locked door, he doesn't mind the muddying of the lines between them, blurring them for his own benefit; his jacket gets tossed onto the back of a chair, reaching up to loosen his tie, next, shoes kicked off, leaving an obvious path of his discarded clothing on the way to the bathroom door.
there, he doesn't close it behind him: rather, he turns on the light and leaves it open, tie lost onto the floor, fingers working open the buttons of his shirt with delicate care--and then, with a moment of forethought, he pauses so that he can reach to turn on the shower, first, heating up the water while he continues to peel out of his shirt. it would be nicer to start with the bath, but: while he doesn't necessarily mind soaking in pink water, tinged with blood, a shower to start is far more beneficial. )
( with a warm, lofty sort of tone--past the glass of the elevator, he can see the city of midgar sparkling beneath them, his little playground tucked away into sleep for the late hour. the reactors glow, large beacons that draw with them the tiny speckled lights of bars and brothels and other places, open so late at night, and there's a sort of satisfied smile that smooths over his features, as though he's content to leave it just like that. another night where nothing too pressing will happen: or at least that's his hope. for now, the only pressing issue is tseng, and dark nation, and the comfort of a bath that's waiting for all of them.
with a slight glance, sidelong, he lets tseng's expression speak for itself. the shadows of the floors rising with them cast themselves out across tseng's dark eyes, and there's a comfort to be found in the depths there, too, something that has him feeling remarkably contented, as the elevator door split open to the hallway to his suite.
dark nation, ignorant of the both of them, lumbers forward to sniff along the path, as though reassuring it's safe for the both of them: with a quirked, playful brow at tseng, he follows after her, letting tseng round out their party at the back. another code, keyed in to the suite door, and a confirmation of his fingerprint over the lock, and the door opens; he reaches to turn on the lights, letting dark nation trod ahead of them to find her bed--with a soft, almost fond sigh, he turns to look over his shoulder at tseng, already sliding the heavy shoulders of his jacket down to let them hook in at his elbows. )
Will you wipe her mouth off, at least? She'll rub blood all over the carpets.
( it's not a command, though it might sound like one--here, safe behind a locked door, he doesn't mind the muddying of the lines between them, blurring them for his own benefit; his jacket gets tossed onto the back of a chair, reaching up to loosen his tie, next, shoes kicked off, leaving an obvious path of his discarded clothing on the way to the bathroom door.
there, he doesn't close it behind him: rather, he turns on the light and leaves it open, tie lost onto the floor, fingers working open the buttons of his shirt with delicate care--and then, with a moment of forethought, he pauses so that he can reach to turn on the shower, first, heating up the water while he continues to peel out of his shirt. it would be nicer to start with the bath, but: while he doesn't necessarily mind soaking in pink water, tinged with blood, a shower to start is far more beneficial. )
[ The temperature has dropped enough in due time to produce large, falling snowflakes. A white Christmas, yet, because of the pipes and ducts winding on the plates' underside, the ground is too warm to let them hold their shape. Festive, scenic snowfall only leaves the asphalt wet, reflecting the lights strung across every street. Their warm, yellow beads compete with the pale green glow emanating from the reactors, adding a rare warmth to the mechanical city.
Aerith stopped, stood rocking on her heels and asked if this is it, standing in front of the building entrance that is, in fact, it. The entire house isn’t older, or even as old as the Gainsborough estate, and simply nestled into a street in Sector 8. Anyone might live here, like the residents in the other apartments do—like Tseng does.
Bundled in her worn but warm coat, she doesn’t look nearly so chilled as on that rainy evening. Still, Tseng can’t quite tell whether the rosy color on her cheeks results from her standing outside, or from the roguish excitement at stepping into such a reticent part of his life. He stands next to her, letting her look at the facade or guessing which windows belong to his view, or wondering if she’s just imagined something more “like him.” Or perhaps waiting for the usual stoic version of him to break into some unexpected gesture. She finally prompts him through apparent curiosity.
Tseng pushes the heavy, tall door open into a hallway where lights flicker on with motion sensors. Stairs wind up to the next floor in a semi-circle and at the far back of the hall is an elevator. Footfalls echo between plastered brick walls and the tile floor. ]
This is it. [ He says. How ordinary and unremarkable. ]
Aerith stopped, stood rocking on her heels and asked if this is it, standing in front of the building entrance that is, in fact, it. The entire house isn’t older, or even as old as the Gainsborough estate, and simply nestled into a street in Sector 8. Anyone might live here, like the residents in the other apartments do—like Tseng does.
Bundled in her worn but warm coat, she doesn’t look nearly so chilled as on that rainy evening. Still, Tseng can’t quite tell whether the rosy color on her cheeks results from her standing outside, or from the roguish excitement at stepping into such a reticent part of his life. He stands next to her, letting her look at the facade or guessing which windows belong to his view, or wondering if she’s just imagined something more “like him.” Or perhaps waiting for the usual stoic version of him to break into some unexpected gesture. She finally prompts him through apparent curiosity.
Tseng pushes the heavy, tall door open into a hallway where lights flicker on with motion sensors. Stairs wind up to the next floor in a semi-circle and at the far back of the hall is an elevator. Footfalls echo between plastered brick walls and the tile floor. ]
This is it. [ He says. How ordinary and unremarkable. ]
[ He didn't imply that she was spending the night, but there's a bag slung over Aerith's shoulder that's large enough to contain a change of clothes, among other thing. Then again, there's a good chance she's got nothing more on her than an assortment of festive odds and ends, ready to be placed all over his apartment – it's a matter of how far Aerith thinks she can press her luck.
Given the conspiratorially smug smile she gives him after the door swings open, allowing Aerith her first look around the inside of the place, it might be safe to say she's under the impression she can continue gaining distance from the line that's always been between them. ]
You haven't even given me a tour! How can this be it?
[ Barely suppressed amusement lights up her face when she meets his eye, smiling brightly before her attention diverts to her bag instead. She's definitely got a wreath, or a large glittery ribbon for his front door in here somewhere among the fairy lights, mistletoe, and other festive bits and pieces she's brought to stick all over his apartment. ]
What are we having for dinner tonight? [ She's already stopped to hang the wreath on his door, why not continue her tirade of audacity? ]
Given the conspiratorially smug smile she gives him after the door swings open, allowing Aerith her first look around the inside of the place, it might be safe to say she's under the impression she can continue gaining distance from the line that's always been between them. ]
You haven't even given me a tour! How can this be it?
[ Barely suppressed amusement lights up her face when she meets his eye, smiling brightly before her attention diverts to her bag instead. She's definitely got a wreath, or a large glittery ribbon for his front door in here somewhere among the fairy lights, mistletoe, and other festive bits and pieces she's brought to stick all over his apartment. ]
What are we having for dinner tonight? [ She's already stopped to hang the wreath on his door, why not continue her tirade of audacity? ]
[ Tseng’s brow twitches, the barely noticeable reaction to her pertness, and the prospect of turning his apartment into a wonderland. Naturally, he looked in the bag, the wreath now fully in view rather than just at the edge of his vision. Up until her adorning his door with it, nothing set it apart from the others on the floor either, except for the double lock and keypad.
His fingers brush over the numbers and letters to enter the code, and a quiet click disables lock and alarm both. With a normal key, Tseng unbars the second, ordinary lock. The door itself is heavier to push open, too, if Aerith were to try it. She was right, it’s secure. A sense of obligation overrules his discomfort, and Tseng stifles a scoff very well. ] I’ll show you, then. Take your shoes off. [ He has done so. He’s set out those thin guest slippers for her.
But Tseng is a bad tour guide, and points without walking her around much. ] The bathroom and two bedrooms are on this side. The kitchen is there. Here, [ He only walks up to the largest but open door, and stands near the doorframe, hands clasped behind his back. Letting Aerith take in the space, he doesn’t quite pause his commentary, but does wait for her to catch up. ] is the living room. [ And, ] You’re welcome to look around.
[ Imagining that she would anyway, it feels better to say it first. The place is spacious and sleek, with modern appliances, and furniture in neutral colors, where the darker end of the spectrum dominates. The parquet floors help to leaven the picture. Everything looks ready to be lived in, but it’s just that. ]
You didn’t eat earlier? [ Tseng pulls an eyebrow back up and feignsthe mildest case of bewilderment at her second question. They’ll have something together. ]
His fingers brush over the numbers and letters to enter the code, and a quiet click disables lock and alarm both. With a normal key, Tseng unbars the second, ordinary lock. The door itself is heavier to push open, too, if Aerith were to try it. She was right, it’s secure. A sense of obligation overrules his discomfort, and Tseng stifles a scoff very well. ] I’ll show you, then. Take your shoes off. [ He has done so. He’s set out those thin guest slippers for her.
But Tseng is a bad tour guide, and points without walking her around much. ] The bathroom and two bedrooms are on this side. The kitchen is there. Here, [ He only walks up to the largest but open door, and stands near the doorframe, hands clasped behind his back. Letting Aerith take in the space, he doesn’t quite pause his commentary, but does wait for her to catch up. ] is the living room. [ And, ] You’re welcome to look around.
[ Imagining that she would anyway, it feels better to say it first. The place is spacious and sleek, with modern appliances, and furniture in neutral colors, where the darker end of the spectrum dominates. The parquet floors help to leaven the picture. Everything looks ready to be lived in, but it’s just that. ]
You didn’t eat earlier? [ Tseng pulls an eyebrow back up and feigns
[ Watching Rufus and Dark Nation go before him softens the sharp edges of Tseng’s expression. When Rufus speaks though, his tone riding that fine line, his attention shifts back with a precision honed over years of service. It can’t be helped.
Tseng lets his gaze drift over the path Rufus has cut through the suite, each piece of clothing a breadcrumb leading to the bathroom. He doesn’t follow it immediately, though he goes to the sink there, too. His gaze lingers on Rufus, undressing.
Then, he wets a towel, squeezes out the excess water, goes to wipe Dark Nation’s muzzle with it. There’s a brief exchange of low murmurs and a gentle hand guiding her great muzzle. Her skin may be too dark to show the difference well, but by how stained the towel eventually becomes Tseng can say when he’s cleaned her up enough. Kneeling by her bed, with her nose pushed into his palm once more, Tseng dispenses a little more praise. He’s really not too unhappy to have gone without seeing the trophy of her kill.
He goes back into the bathroom, rinses the pink water from the dirty towel, and puts it in the hamper. This time along with each item of clothing he’s picked up, having followed the trail almost to the shower. Tseng lets Rufus’ tie, the last piece, weave between his fingers. Steam curls at his feet. His hand and glove are still bloody. Tseng washes them in the sink also. There’s no point putting it back on, so he resolves to leave both of his gloves as a pair on the countertop.
With forethought, too, he turns on the tap on the bathtub. The pipes can surely handle pumping so much water, even up at the altitude of the 70th floor. He dips his bare fingers into the shallow pool that’s collecting quickly, testing the temperature. Over the sound of the shower: ]
I’ll be back to join you when you’re ready.
[ In dutiful wait of an answer, Tseng stands on the other side of the fogged up glass. He looks at Rufus’ silhouette. ]
Tseng lets his gaze drift over the path Rufus has cut through the suite, each piece of clothing a breadcrumb leading to the bathroom. He doesn’t follow it immediately, though he goes to the sink there, too. His gaze lingers on Rufus, undressing.
Then, he wets a towel, squeezes out the excess water, goes to wipe Dark Nation’s muzzle with it. There’s a brief exchange of low murmurs and a gentle hand guiding her great muzzle. Her skin may be too dark to show the difference well, but by how stained the towel eventually becomes Tseng can say when he’s cleaned her up enough. Kneeling by her bed, with her nose pushed into his palm once more, Tseng dispenses a little more praise. He’s really not too unhappy to have gone without seeing the trophy of her kill.
He goes back into the bathroom, rinses the pink water from the dirty towel, and puts it in the hamper. This time along with each item of clothing he’s picked up, having followed the trail almost to the shower. Tseng lets Rufus’ tie, the last piece, weave between his fingers. Steam curls at his feet. His hand and glove are still bloody. Tseng washes them in the sink also. There’s no point putting it back on, so he resolves to leave both of his gloves as a pair on the countertop.
With forethought, too, he turns on the tap on the bathtub. The pipes can surely handle pumping so much water, even up at the altitude of the 70th floor. He dips his bare fingers into the shallow pool that’s collecting quickly, testing the temperature. Over the sound of the shower: ]
I’ll be back to join you when you’re ready.
[ In dutiful wait of an answer, Tseng stands on the other side of the fogged up glass. He looks at Rufus’ silhouette. ]
[ They're very different people, but the longing Aerith can feel radiating from every touch and glance mirrors her own, and the way he says her name may say well be a tangible caress for the giddy effect it has on her. Out of space, and places to hide, he'll feel how her already thundering heart picks up another half step, just like it's deliciously obvious that he's growing harder by the second. Like a magnet, Aerith arches against the firming line of his length – because she does know what she's asking, and wants to make it very clear she intends to take everything he's got for her with both hands.
For years, she's found her ways to take more for herself. At first it was her way of undermining Shinra, of flexing what she had of muscle and finding ways to remind them that her compliance is a luxury, not a given. She could make every shift a nightmare for everyone assigned to tail her, but she doesn't. While Aerith might have felt a bit magnanimous about that at times, it's undermined spectacularly by all the looking she just admitted to doing, and the warm desire that rises through her as her awareness follows his hands as they curve over her backside before slipping low enough to graze her outer folds. Her inner thighs tremble against his hips, tightening around them when his other hand cups her breast, kneading firmly enough to send a pang of want working through her.
The heat of his body pulls at her like a magnet, keeping one hand tangled in his hair – too drawn to touching it after years of wondering what it would be like to stop now – the other finds his shoulders, his chest, his side, mapping him as she revels in this newfound closeness. Just like always, Aerith finds that everything she gets is still not enough. Reality will come for them sooner or later, she just wants to make sure they both have a damn fine reason for staying away from it.
Angling her hips as she arches up, Aerith presses against him, letting the hard weight of his shaft graze over where she wants to feel him most as she lets herself grind against him. ]
For years, she's found her ways to take more for herself. At first it was her way of undermining Shinra, of flexing what she had of muscle and finding ways to remind them that her compliance is a luxury, not a given. She could make every shift a nightmare for everyone assigned to tail her, but she doesn't. While Aerith might have felt a bit magnanimous about that at times, it's undermined spectacularly by all the looking she just admitted to doing, and the warm desire that rises through her as her awareness follows his hands as they curve over her backside before slipping low enough to graze her outer folds. Her inner thighs tremble against his hips, tightening around them when his other hand cups her breast, kneading firmly enough to send a pang of want working through her.
The heat of his body pulls at her like a magnet, keeping one hand tangled in his hair – too drawn to touching it after years of wondering what it would be like to stop now – the other finds his shoulders, his chest, his side, mapping him as she revels in this newfound closeness. Just like always, Aerith finds that everything she gets is still not enough. Reality will come for them sooner or later, she just wants to make sure they both have a damn fine reason for staying away from it.
Angling her hips as she arches up, Aerith presses against him, letting the hard weight of his shaft graze over where she wants to feel him most as she lets herself grind against him. ]
[ Tseng’s fingers graze the slick warmth at her core, coaxing soft gasps from her lips that he’s sure he’ll commit to memory. The way her body responds to his touch—arching, pressing, seeking—sends another pulse of heat through him, and he feels the faint tremor of Aerith’s thighs squeezing tighter around his hips. Tseng wonders what she thinks it might take to convince him to stay in this space, or whether she already knows. The idea takes root in a place that’s always been pragmatic, logical, controlled. But as her hands slide over his skin, her lips part with a softness that speaks of how much she’s already taken with an effortless grace.
The deliberate grind of her hips steals a guttural sound from Tseng’s throat. That small movement is his undoing. He’s no Turk in this moment; just a man consumed by the woman in his arms. His lips slide away from her mouth to nudge her jaw, before seeping into the crook of her neck where her pulse flutters wildly against his tongue. In a display of patience now followed by impatience, Tseng shifts his hips, and his cock aligns with the heat between Aerith’s thighs. He feels everything around him narrow to a single point—her. His breath catches, sharp and audible, landing against her collarbone as she surrounds him with her tight, yielding warmth. Her name escapes him as though it’s the only word he knows anymore.
Tseng’s eyes lift to hers, the green of them impossibly vibrant, lit with something that matches the sensation throbbing through his chest and pooling again low in his body in an instant, fuelling the way he moves. He braces one hand beneath her, cradling her back as though she’s something fragile. The other roams, mapping Aerith in ways no chart could capture. He runs his palm along the side of her chest, the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, the soft, trembling expanse of her thigh.
Soon enough, even the thin barrier of air left between them is too much. Tseng draws her leg higher over his hip as he angles his body to hers, a slow, rolling motion that lets him slide deeper. He presses a series of searing, open-mouthed kisses against Aerith’s skin. The rhythm he sets is unhurried but consuming, rocking his thrusts into her. ]
The deliberate grind of her hips steals a guttural sound from Tseng’s throat. That small movement is his undoing. He’s no Turk in this moment; just a man consumed by the woman in his arms. His lips slide away from her mouth to nudge her jaw, before seeping into the crook of her neck where her pulse flutters wildly against his tongue. In a display of patience now followed by impatience, Tseng shifts his hips, and his cock aligns with the heat between Aerith’s thighs. He feels everything around him narrow to a single point—her. His breath catches, sharp and audible, landing against her collarbone as she surrounds him with her tight, yielding warmth. Her name escapes him as though it’s the only word he knows anymore.
Tseng’s eyes lift to hers, the green of them impossibly vibrant, lit with something that matches the sensation throbbing through his chest and pooling again low in his body in an instant, fuelling the way he moves. He braces one hand beneath her, cradling her back as though she’s something fragile. The other roams, mapping Aerith in ways no chart could capture. He runs his palm along the side of her chest, the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, the soft, trembling expanse of her thigh.
Soon enough, even the thin barrier of air left between them is too much. Tseng draws her leg higher over his hip as he angles his body to hers, a slow, rolling motion that lets him slide deeper. He presses a series of searing, open-mouthed kisses against Aerith’s skin. The rhythm he sets is unhurried but consuming, rocking his thrusts into her. ]
[ After making short work of swapping those practical boots for the cute house slippers he had waiting for her, Aerith is all too pleased to hang on every word of what might be the most concise tour in the world. Times like these, she has to wonder if he's doing it on purpose, confident in the knowledge that the more he leaves out, the more she'll want to snoop.
It's a sweet thought that she wants to be true, a notion that his invitation to look around makes easier to entertain. Already she's flipped the top of her bag open, surveying the windows of the living room like she's looking for a starting point while she shakes her head at Tseng's question. ]
Just a little snack. I'm baking you cookies later. [ Stop her. ] So I didn't eat too much. [ Well, making cookies and the cheeky, selfish urge to have dinner with him.
As she speaks, Aerith strings lights around the frame of the closest window, a bit of piney garland looped around her forearm, waiting in the wings to further adorn the space. ]
It's a sweet thought that she wants to be true, a notion that his invitation to look around makes easier to entertain. Already she's flipped the top of her bag open, surveying the windows of the living room like she's looking for a starting point while she shakes her head at Tseng's question. ]
Just a little snack. I'm baking you cookies later. [ Stop her. ] So I didn't eat too much. [ Well, making cookies and the cheeky, selfish urge to have dinner with him.
As she speaks, Aerith strings lights around the frame of the closest window, a bit of piney garland looped around her forearm, waiting in the wings to further adorn the space. ]
[ Tseng looks at her with his hands still clasped behind his back, already unpacking and decorating—barely waiting to finish the so-called tour. His apartment, the spartan sanctuary, is being invaded by twinkling lights and greenery. And Aerith, with a zeal he didn’t think could manifest so quickly for anyone. ]
I hope you didn’t bring a tree. [ The words come out dry, but far too late to offer up real resistance. His own curiosity comes tempered with wariness. Seeing his apartment “through her eyes” inevitably involves her sharing that vision in ways far more tangible than words. Tseng looks inside the emptying bag, confirming his suspicions. Countless times, he’s left pictures and reports of her garden and house sitting in black and white on his desk, detached and distant, before retreating here. Now, she’s brought that vibrancy along. ]
Baking? [ His tone is still even, but his expression tenses again. ] I wasn’t aware I agreed to that. [ Meaning, he didn’t. She might have mentioned it. His kitchen is intentionally understocked, yet, as ever, Tseng has a contingency plan in place. ]
I hope you didn’t bring a tree. [ The words come out dry, but far too late to offer up real resistance. His own curiosity comes tempered with wariness. Seeing his apartment “through her eyes” inevitably involves her sharing that vision in ways far more tangible than words. Tseng looks inside the emptying bag, confirming his suspicions. Countless times, he’s left pictures and reports of her garden and house sitting in black and white on his desk, detached and distant, before retreating here. Now, she’s brought that vibrancy along. ]
Baking? [ His tone is still even, but his expression tenses again. ] I wasn’t aware I agreed to that. [ Meaning, he didn’t. She might have mentioned it. His kitchen is intentionally understocked, yet, as ever, Tseng has a contingency plan in place. ]
'When I'm ready'? ( --comes the lofty, almost amused response, though he leaves it there to linger in the air between them. tseng's started up the bath, all the same, and there's some kind of comfort in hearing all the noise, as though it helps to muddle anything he worries about between them. )
I'm surprised you're not more hands-on, Tseng.
( but this is the game that they play, the lines that they dart back over and hide behind, as though blurring them is not quite as fun as deciding when and how they'll come into play. he could easily command tseng to strip him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt, drag all of his clothes down to his ankles, and tseng would do it, if he asked, if he told him he had to. that's not the kind of fear that he wants to instill in people: and not the kind of feeling he wants to instill, either, in someone that he has candid interest in.
so it's his own hands, that work to shrug out of his shirt, to carefully shed his pants, his underwear, his socks, everything else left in a neater pile than the bread crumbs he left behind previously--unabashed, he eases past the glass door of the shower, ducking his head beneath it first to let the water wash over his hair, smearing it into his face, casting hot steam down his bare arms and shoulders. with a pass of a palm over his nose, his eyes, wiping the water out of the way-- )
I seem to have misplaced my favourite shampoo, you know.
( it's not true. all the bottles are neatly lined up where he expected them to be, and it's obvious there's a smile in his voice, when he turns to put his back to the spray, to work his hands up through his hair and peel it back. )
Come in and help me find it. Your suit isn't welcome here.
I'm surprised you're not more hands-on, Tseng.
( but this is the game that they play, the lines that they dart back over and hide behind, as though blurring them is not quite as fun as deciding when and how they'll come into play. he could easily command tseng to strip him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt, drag all of his clothes down to his ankles, and tseng would do it, if he asked, if he told him he had to. that's not the kind of fear that he wants to instill in people: and not the kind of feeling he wants to instill, either, in someone that he has candid interest in.
so it's his own hands, that work to shrug out of his shirt, to carefully shed his pants, his underwear, his socks, everything else left in a neater pile than the bread crumbs he left behind previously--unabashed, he eases past the glass door of the shower, ducking his head beneath it first to let the water wash over his hair, smearing it into his face, casting hot steam down his bare arms and shoulders. with a pass of a palm over his nose, his eyes, wiping the water out of the way-- )
I seem to have misplaced my favourite shampoo, you know.
( it's not true. all the bottles are neatly lined up where he expected them to be, and it's obvious there's a smile in his voice, when he turns to put his back to the spray, to work his hands up through his hair and peel it back. )
Come in and help me find it. Your suit isn't welcome here.
[ Tseng watches the faint blur of Rufus’ silhouette behind the glass and lets the rush of water fill in as an ambient backdrop to his voice. He can’t see the faint lift of Tseng’s brow, but Rufus can surely imagine it, reacting to the deliberate cadence to his voice, the kind that invites but certainly doesn’t curve down to beg. Tseng pulls his shirt free of his belt before slipping it off entirely, and soon enough he has removed every item of clothing and folded it once to set them aside. He turns off the faucet filling the tub.
His lips twitch at the obvious ploy. Stripped down to nakedness, Tseng opens the shower door to a veil of escaping steam. The space between the two men thins quickly. Tseng reaches forward without looking, around Rufus, and his forearm brushes against his side. The fleeting touch feels charged in the confined space—or Tseng heaps the feeling onto it for himself; his skin is still cool. He picks up the ‘missing’ shampoo, floats it along the bottom of Rufus’s view. ]
A curious case. [ He remarks, as if he did only step into the shower to resolve the issue quickly. Now that he’s done so, he’ll put the bottle back, and– no one is so drilled on business-only, not even Tseng, that he’ll just leave.
The steam curling in the confined space clings to Tseng’s skin as much as it does Rufus’s. The water drips down the blond’s shoulders, highlighting the flush that blooms across his skin from the heat—he looks almost fevered in this light, but Tseng looks into pale eyes that have a sharpness like crystals and they deny anything being out of sorts. There’s nothing, but the blood on his face, of course. It’s begun to wash off unevenly under the running water and Tseng’s gaze follows the pale pink rivulets trailing down Rufus’s neck and to his collarbone. He hogs the stream of the shower. Strands of Tseng’s hair curl faintly at the ends, drawn into disarray by the steam building up on his body as moisture anyway. ]
Shall I help you with the rest?
[ Rufus can keep teasing him for asking, but Tseng lays his tone flat in the direction of it. He means to do it. ]
His lips twitch at the obvious ploy. Stripped down to nakedness, Tseng opens the shower door to a veil of escaping steam. The space between the two men thins quickly. Tseng reaches forward without looking, around Rufus, and his forearm brushes against his side. The fleeting touch feels charged in the confined space—or Tseng heaps the feeling onto it for himself; his skin is still cool. He picks up the ‘missing’ shampoo, floats it along the bottom of Rufus’s view. ]
A curious case. [ He remarks, as if he did only step into the shower to resolve the issue quickly. Now that he’s done so, he’ll put the bottle back, and– no one is so drilled on business-only, not even Tseng, that he’ll just leave.
The steam curling in the confined space clings to Tseng’s skin as much as it does Rufus’s. The water drips down the blond’s shoulders, highlighting the flush that blooms across his skin from the heat—he looks almost fevered in this light, but Tseng looks into pale eyes that have a sharpness like crystals and they deny anything being out of sorts. There’s nothing, but the blood on his face, of course. It’s begun to wash off unevenly under the running water and Tseng’s gaze follows the pale pink rivulets trailing down Rufus’s neck and to his collarbone. He hogs the stream of the shower. Strands of Tseng’s hair curl faintly at the ends, drawn into disarray by the steam building up on his body as moisture anyway. ]
Shall I help you with the rest?
[ Rufus can keep teasing him for asking, but Tseng lays his tone flat in the direction of it. He means to do it. ]
[ To Aerith, it feels like every cell in her body is keyed up, hyperfocused on each detail and sensation, unwilling to let herself miss a single thing that passes between them. For all her heart pounds while they kiss, it's eclipsed in a heartbeat in the wake of that giddy, heady, swoop low in her stomach when his breath warms against the crook of her neck while the hard press of his cock achingly close to where she wants him most sets her awareness alight. She turns her head, hiding her face in the silk of his hair
His hips lift, and the first twinges of pleasure that roll through her as he sinks into her makes her gasp, the hand on his back pressing flat, holding him to her as her thighs tighten around him, seemingly trying to obliterate every last trace of space between their bodies. The sound of his name follows the sound of hers, soft and sweet, like he's everything she could ever want, and she's been kept waiting a painfully long time. Watching him through half-closed eyes as he lifts his head and meets her gaze, the color clinging to the apples of her cheeks goes a darker shade of pink, the dazed smile on her parted, kiss-swollen lips deepening, the portrait of astonished exhilaration. Both hands brush his hair out of his face as he moves over her, his draw too strong to deny, urging her to half sit up so she can meet that kiss halfway.
A soft gasp is stifled against his mouth as she feels him move, her own hips tipping forward, finding the right degree of tilt that allows her to roll up and meet his thrusts with the same eagerness she kisses him with. It's only once she's breathless that Aerith draws away, and even then it's minimal, just far enough to catch her breath and whisper his name while close enough to let her lips brush against his as she does.
As if saying it drove some point home for her, Aerith's arm wraps around his back, possessive and almost dizzy with delight as she holds him closer, the slick walls of her cunt trembling in time with her racing pulse, holding onto him with everything, wrapping around him as she gives herself over to the moment. ]
His hips lift, and the first twinges of pleasure that roll through her as he sinks into her makes her gasp, the hand on his back pressing flat, holding him to her as her thighs tighten around him, seemingly trying to obliterate every last trace of space between their bodies. The sound of his name follows the sound of hers, soft and sweet, like he's everything she could ever want, and she's been kept waiting a painfully long time. Watching him through half-closed eyes as he lifts his head and meets her gaze, the color clinging to the apples of her cheeks goes a darker shade of pink, the dazed smile on her parted, kiss-swollen lips deepening, the portrait of astonished exhilaration. Both hands brush his hair out of his face as he moves over her, his draw too strong to deny, urging her to half sit up so she can meet that kiss halfway.
A soft gasp is stifled against his mouth as she feels him move, her own hips tipping forward, finding the right degree of tilt that allows her to roll up and meet his thrusts with the same eagerness she kisses him with. It's only once she's breathless that Aerith draws away, and even then it's minimal, just far enough to catch her breath and whisper his name while close enough to let her lips brush against his as she does.
As if saying it drove some point home for her, Aerith's arm wraps around his back, possessive and almost dizzy with delight as she holds him closer, the slick walls of her cunt trembling in time with her racing pulse, holding onto him with everything, wrapping around him as she gives herself over to the moment. ]
Why? [ Pausing in the middle of her garland hanging, she looks over her shoulder, playfully wide-eyed despite the distinct slyness curving her smile. ] Because you want to go pick out a tree together?
[ Just as her eyes start to narrow smugly, Aerith turns and gets back to the business of decorating, returning to her bag for a coiled strand of lights destined to join the garland in his window. ]
You're better in the kitchen than I am, of course you'll have to do it. I'll supervise.
[ She plugs in the rainbow lights and steps back to admire her work, her head nodding approvingly as she hums in satisfaction. ]
I bought everything we need for cookies, and for hot cocoa. [ In true Aerith fashion, she's all too happy to keep piling things on, bit by bit. First the decor, then the cookies, then the cocoa – as much as she can get from him before Tseng puts his foot down (and potentially even after that). ]
There are lots of festive movies on the television, we could put one on after and not watch it. [ And she's off, heading to the kitchen to give the window in there the same treatment. ]
[ Just as her eyes start to narrow smugly, Aerith turns and gets back to the business of decorating, returning to her bag for a coiled strand of lights destined to join the garland in his window. ]
You're better in the kitchen than I am, of course you'll have to do it. I'll supervise.
[ She plugs in the rainbow lights and steps back to admire her work, her head nodding approvingly as she hums in satisfaction. ]
I bought everything we need for cookies, and for hot cocoa. [ In true Aerith fashion, she's all too happy to keep piling things on, bit by bit. First the decor, then the cookies, then the cocoa – as much as she can get from him before Tseng puts his foot down (and potentially even after that). ]
There are lots of festive movies on the television, we could put one on after and not watch it. [ And she's off, heading to the kitchen to give the window in there the same treatment. ]
( damp, his fingers thread back through pale strands, combing it away from his forehead, from his face, and it's not so unusual a sight; perhaps it would be more shocking to brush all his hair down in front of his face, again, let it cling to his brow the way it did in his youth, when a part of him had hoped he could hide the worst parts of himself, and his life, beneath the shaggy hang of bangs. likewise, the appearance of tseng, stark naked and matter-of-fact as usual, isn't strange either: he watches, waits, pretends to look stunned when the aforementioned bottle of shampoo is held in front of his face like some kind of magical savior.
with his lips curling up into a smile, he tries for a voice of total shock-- )
Oh, is that where it went off to.
( one hand lifts, but tseng is already stretching past him to replace the bottle on the shelf where they both know it belongs--empty, his fingers curl into nothing but the steam of the shower, but there are more important things to reach for.
tseng's hair is curling, slightly, under the burden of the steam, and with a soft click of his tongue, he lets his hand slide over a naked shoulder, shrugging long, dark strands from sticking to the skin; they roll and stick to tseng's back, instead. )
I think you'll need to stay, for the sake of my safety. ( he does, at least, let that hand fall, holding tseng's upper arm to use it as a counter balance, as he steps sidelong, and out of the shower spray. )
Go ahead and get yourself wet. ( he's still smiling as he says it, though he is rounding back for the bottle of shampoo again--so that he can add it to his palm, coax both of his hands up to start working it through his own hair. ) I'll wait.
with his lips curling up into a smile, he tries for a voice of total shock-- )
Oh, is that where it went off to.
( one hand lifts, but tseng is already stretching past him to replace the bottle on the shelf where they both know it belongs--empty, his fingers curl into nothing but the steam of the shower, but there are more important things to reach for.
tseng's hair is curling, slightly, under the burden of the steam, and with a soft click of his tongue, he lets his hand slide over a naked shoulder, shrugging long, dark strands from sticking to the skin; they roll and stick to tseng's back, instead. )
I think you'll need to stay, for the sake of my safety. ( he does, at least, let that hand fall, holding tseng's upper arm to use it as a counter balance, as he steps sidelong, and out of the shower spray. )
Go ahead and get yourself wet. ( he's still smiling as he says it, though he is rounding back for the bottle of shampoo again--so that he can add it to his palm, coax both of his hands up to start working it through his own hair. ) I'll wait.
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