Devil’s Work Day

Tseng/Rufus(Reno). NC-17. ~1500 words.
Cooped up at HQ waiting for something to fucking happen got old after day one.

Reno flicks his thumbnail on the butt of an unlit cig. A couple minutes ago, he’d been dying to light up. Midgar’s been boring as a sermon these past few weeks, too many people dead for the ones still breathing to have the balls to do anything interesting.

Cooped up at HQ waiting for something to fucking happen got old after day one.

So when he wandered out of the lounge, leaving Rude and Elena to watch the tail end of a bad action flick-fake shit blows up, the bad guys die-he hadn’t counted on finding anything more exciting than a change of scenery. Up a half a dozen floors, through a couple rooms that don’t exist according to official blueprints, he certainly didn’t count on finding this.

It’s not something he sees everyday, ShinRa’s top man on his knees in the executive washroom with a dick in his mouth.

The boss’s back is to him, but Reno has a pretty good view of what’s going on in the mirror. And from the way the boss is getting on, hand flying over his cock and lips tight on Tseng’s, cheeks hollowed with deep shadows, it’s not too hard to believe he doesn’t have a clue they’ve got an audience.

Reno tucks the cig behind his ear and drags his gaze up to Tseng’s face. There’s nothing there that says Tseng knows he’s here, either; Tseng’s eyes are closed, lips shining in the low light and thick like he’d been the one on the floor. His hair isn’t the neat, straight fall it usually is, there’s colour high in his cheeks that Reno hasn’t seen outside that brutal mess down in the slums back a few months ago.

The boss groans, hard and low, echoing on the tiles like a gunshot. His hand clutches at Tseng’s neatly-creased slacks, rumpling the material in a white-knuckled fist. Reno’s gaze jumps from cherry red lips to the bulge of Tseng’s cock going straight down the boss’s throat.

Reno doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath until his lungs begin to ache. He lets it out, slow, quiet, and lifts a hand to his mouth to wipe away the sting from his teeth digging into his lip.

Tseng’s hand goes to the back of the boss’s head, long fingers threaded dark through pale blond hair. Reno rubs his palm dry on his shirt and tucks his hand in his jacket pocket. His fingers brush the cool metal of his lighter. The boss’s breaths go shallow, high and strained on a sound like a moan, then cut off entirely. Tseng isn’t really holding him down but he doesn’t move as seconds drag by.

By the time the boss does haul himself off Tseng’s dick, the ShinRa logo on Reno’s lighter is etched into his palm.

Pulse pounding in his ears, Reno tries to match his breaths to the boss’s quick, frantic panting. His eyes are glued to the curve of the boss’s lips as he looks up at Tseng, nothing at all like the usual tight smirk of satisfaction, nothing like Reno’s ever seen on that cold, pretty face before.

There’s a flash of pink in the mirror, the boss’s tongue flicking around the head of Tseng’s dick-Tseng’s fucking gorgeous dick, flushed dark and glistening, curved up and out from his belly without any help-down the side until his mouth is on the heavy weight of Tseng’s balls.

Tseng’s head falls back. Reno’s stomach goes tight. The boss sucks on Tseng’s balls the same way he’d sucked on Tseng’s cock, ice blue eyes glittering like he’s the one having all the fun. He eases back when Tseng’s leg jerks, his tongue out and pressed flat to the angry red flush left behind.

Reno scrapes his teeth over his lip. There’s no way they don’t know he’s here. No way Tseng would ever be that into it to not notice no matter how good a cocksucker the boss is.

He has to give Tseng credit, though. He’s damn close to blowing his load just from watching; if that were him getting his dick sucked, the boss would still be swallowing it all down. But then, maybe Tseng’s had lots of practice.

Reno chokes on a moan, barely managing to keep it quiet. He flicks open his slacks and slides his hand in to get a good, solid grip on his aching cock. He slumps back on the door, legs spread wide and pants shoved down just under his dick. His eyes flutter shut for a second, maybe less than that, and snap open again with the sound of Tseng’s voice gone thick on the boss’s name spilling like warm honey down his spine.

The boss is up on his knees, pants around his ankles, one hand splayed on the floor. His mouth is full of Tseng’s cock again, his other hand hiking up his shirt with a couple sharp, hard tugs, pinning it under his armpit. Reno’s mouth floods wet, hand stalling mid-jerk for half a breath when the boss reaches between his legs and shoves his cock back. Precome is thick at the slit, dripping down in one long, shivering string almost to the tile. Tseng does something that makes the boss rock back and the string snaps, some on the floor, some on a pale thigh in a thin glistening smear.

“Fuck,” Reno hisses.

Tseng’s eyes snap up, dark and dazed. His mouth falls open on a sound that should’ve been a moan but comes out as, “Reno,” and it’s the boss who answers with a moan of his own while Reno’s busy wishing Tseng really meant it.

Reno’s fist goes tighter on his cock, tugging harder, faster, focused on getting off and getting out before either one of them shoots him. Tseng tugs at the boss’s hair-really fucking pulls like he’s trying to get the boss’s attention-and gets a louder groan in response. Even Reno can tell all it means is do it again.

Tseng’s eyes dart to Reno, hold his gaze for a moment before sliding shut. His face twists, his fingers convulse in the boss’s hair, and time fucking hangs. Then he shudders and they both moan, and Reno stops breathing to hear the wet slap of the boss jerking off and the soft noise of him swallowing down Tseng’s come.

Tseng slumps forward, breathing heavily. He gently touches the side of the boss’s face and Reno’s stomach flips. It fucking rolls when he shakes Tseng’s hand off, shifting to the side to give Reno a clear view of the whole show in the mirror.

And the slick, white mess on his tongue.

Rufus rubs his fingertips over his lips, mouth wide open for him to dip one inside and draw it back out dripping come. It’s the last fucking thing Reno sees before he comes, the image burned into his brain and pure lust punching the air out of his lungs. Wet heat spills over his fingers and splatters on the floor.

His stomach is still quivering when he blinks his eyes back into focus. The boss is smiling at him, tight and satisfied but different, glittering blue eyes meeting his. There’s a mess of come on the floor in front of Rufus, some of it still seeping from his cock.

Reno lets go of his dick and wipes his hand off on the wall. He fumbles around for something to say, glancing quickly at Tseng to see him still slumped against the wall just breathing and back to the boss again at the sound of rustling cotton.

He’s already on his feet, tucked away and zipped up and drying his hands on a plush handtowel. He refolds it neatly on the rack and pushes his hands through his hair. Everything falls back into place like there’d never been anything out of order.

Reno realises he’s standing right in front of the damn door when the boss heads straight for him.

The tingling at the base of Reno’s spine from the way the Rufus looks at him sets him on edge. He steps aside on reflex, turning to keep his gaze locked with the boss’s almost like he doesn’t have a choice. Time grinds down to a crawl, thickens like a solid hit of Slow. Reno’s tongue feels thick, too.

The boss leans closer as he passes by, hardly more than a fraction of an inch, and Reno can practically fucking taste the come on his breath.

The door swings shut and every last bit of air in Reno’s lungs leaves him in a rush.

Reno plasters a grin more unsteady than it looks on his face and turns back to Tseng. The mess on the floor is gone, Tseng’s clothes are righted, his hair whip-straight and tucked neatly behind his ears again.

“So,” Reno says, aiming for casual with his dick still hanging out. “You come here often?”

“Clean up your mess, Reno,” Tseng says, following the boss’s near exact route. He takes hold of Reno’s hand, the one with his fingers still smeared with come, and turns it palm up. “I expect you to return this when you’re done.”

Reno’s fist closes tight around the wet handkerchief. “Is that an invitation?”

Tseng smiles Rufus’s smile.


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