Beneath the plate, it was damp. The sun never shone, leaving it cold and drippy and the wind that never blew, never carried any warmth or pushed off the moisture that gathered on any and all surfaces. A constant hum of dehumidifiers and heaters ran through sector seven, and the occasional crackle and SNAP as bare wires, serving as electrical cords constantly ran too close to the collected moisture. But even those short lived bursts of dangerous, electrical fires were welcomed and orphans and homeless alike would swarm to the light like moths to the flame--few shops were well lighted. But those shops, though not well frequented made enough business below and above the plate to afford generators, and occasionally, fuel. Clients could occasionally be seen either sauntering or sneaking into the establishment, then limping slowly, almost drunkenly out.
Though evening was cool, a thin layer of sweat covered one such client's skin as he shuddered and convulsed, flexing in his discomfort against a pair of sure, smooth hands.
"Whoa, easy now. I'm not done with you yet. How much more can you take?"
Rufus Shinra shuddered again, ready to all but crawl from his skin from the over stimulus. He could feel bony hips pressing into his back, straddling him, and long red hair sweeping over his already over sensitive shoulders. He almost groaned aloud. But he didn't. Instead, he gritted his teeth.
"I can take it all."
He almost regretted his arrogant, cocksure words, as he could feel his employee twitch slightly with a suppressed laugh turned cough. His face reddened slightly, which instantly flushed all the way down his back causing Reno to snigger some more before he reached back and pinched him childishly.
"Stop it, you idiot. That's not what I meant and you know it."
"Sure, boss."
The redhead grinned, and wiped some of the ink off his canvas before picking up the needle again. The grin softly slid off his face as he became involved in his art again, curving, trailing and dragging the needle along pale white skin which rapidly turned red. Under his skilled fingers and needle a sudden growth of leaves, smoke and materia began to blossom along the ribs and spine. He wasn't sure what it was yet—he was never sure, until he was finished. That was the rule. He paused a moment, admiring his work, going so far as to trail a finger along the trail red vines that wandered down to the belly.
The man lying facedown beneath him was unaware of his thoughts. As a matter of fact, he was unaware of most that was going on around him—almost asleep, thanks to a few shots of something (probably illegal) that had been pressed upon him before he had stripped himself of his shirt. But as cool hands slid across heated skin and down to his belly he jerked awake in surprise, with a startled "Hngh!"
"Sorry boss. Can you turn over?"
Lazily, he rolled himself on his side then winced as he was eased onto the still fresh work on his back. Concentrating on the slight burn his skin felt he was suddenly jerked back to reality, as he realized that his employee of ten years was now straddling his waist and leaning over staring down intently.
"Renton. What are you doing?"
The redhead jerked back from his study of the muscles beneath him and glared. "I thought we agreed you never heard that, yo…" He punctuated his aggravation with a well aimed jab at the nipple, using the tip of the needle. To his surprise, the man beneath him bucked upwards in shock, gritting his teeth and scrunching his eyes shut with a gasp.
"Boss? You alright?" Of course not, you idiot—you just stabbed him with a needle!! He braced himself, expecting to be blasted to hell knows where any second by a sawed off shot gun. Or maybe Tseng was going to do it, once he finished and got the boss back. Or maybe Rude was going to blast in any second, guns blazing. Or maybe—
To his shock his employer bucked slowly once more before settling beneath him, a glazed, hazy look in his eyes. "Boss?" All but liquid, heated eyes looked directly at him, and a lazy smile curled about those thin pale lips.
"Harder."