The Crying Phoenix
This fic is for Sonya, as she commissioned a Rude/Rufus fan-fiction from me.
Commission #7
Teaser: "The phoenix cries because he cannot bear the pain of his companion. As the tear heals the companion, it also heals the phoenix, who has finally let go."
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Rating: M
Warnings:
-Yaoi
-Forceful Rude
-Past abuse
-Angsty
-Papa Shinra bashing
-OC Death
-Jealousy
-DARK
Main Pairing: Rude/Rufus
Minor Pairings Mentioned:
-President Shinra/Rufus (rape)
-Tseng/Reno
Setting: Pretty cannon setting. A lot of it takes place in Rufus's quarters, both in Midgar and at his villa in Costa del Sol before the original game.
POV: Rude mostly, with a little bit of Rufus interspersed to show a sensitive side of him ^^
Additional ANs: There is some Dark Nation love, just because Sonya so loves Dark Nation :)
Alright, kiddos, I admit to several things here:
~First off, yes, I did steal Rude's nickname for Rufus from Anne Rice. It's a common reference to Lestat. It's used a bit more tenderly here :)
~Second of all, if you want to see the crying phoenix tattoo I mentioned, I actually have it tattooed on my back. The marvelous jadedsilk drew it for me :)
I'm not a jealous person. But it does bother me.
Rufus Shinra –the 'Little Boss' or 'Brat', as my partner is wont to call him– seemed to have no problem relating to Reno, Cissnei, and Tseng. But it seemed that I was different in that respect. I often just wondered, What is so wrong with me that I can't even communicate with him beyond orders and such?
Rufus flirted with Reno shamelessly. It could get down-right disgusting and vulgar, although it seemed that I was more bothered by it than Tseng who was dating Reno –or at least fucking him senseless in his office.
He treated Cissnei like his older sister. He asked her for advice on many of the matters near and dear to a 24-year olds heart. That sugary sweetness made my mood sour faster than tea left out on a hot summer's day.
He treated Tseng with the utmost care and respect and trust. They didn't even have to speak at times: they were that in-tune to each other. That occasionally got creepy.
As for me, well, I guess I'm simply the bodyguard. I suppose he trusts me with his life, as he always asks that I get the night shift. But it hurt something inside of me to know that all I was to him was his bodyguard.
"What do ya think you're doin', Brat?" Reno teased, blocking the slender blond's way as he tried to duck into his bedroom.
"Perhaps you shouldn't call him that. You were born the same year." The slight chastisement slipped past my lips without checking in with my brain at all.
Reno blinked and gave me a very dumb look. "Really? How'd ya know that?"
"Files." That was more like it: short answers, nothing other than what had to be said.
"What files? The ones Tseng hands us before assignments?"
I nodded.
"I never read those, yo."
"You should," I told him bluntly. Among the important information inside the files, it included the fact Rufus is allergic to goat cheese, goat milk, strawberries, and peanuts, and also that he will not eat dumb-apples. I was amazed that Reno hadn't killed him because he didn't know.
Reno shook his head. "Man, Rude. Do you ever loosen up, unbutton that shirt and stop choking yourself with that tie?"
I glared at my partner. "For the sake of our charge, I can't afford to do that."
"You are the job, Rude," Reno replied, stunned, as if the possibility had never occurred to him.
"I'm in charge of the safety of another," I returned. "That's my job. I don't ever want to see my charge get hurt." Not again.
Why in Gaia's name was I talking this much? I usually kept so damn much in my head it was a thought aquarium, full of schools of little thought fishes.
Instead of the condemnation I expected from the man who just told me to loosen up, I saw admiration shining in his blue eyes. "Gaia knows, this world needs more men like you," he told me, his hand resting gently on my arm for a moment. Then he stalked off, presumably to finish the paperwork Tseng had been nagging him to complete for the last month. Or to have sex in the deserted office building.
I tried not to think about that as I was once more left alone with the Brat Prince.
The Brat Prince was what I called him only in the solace of my own mind. The boy –hell, now that I really thought about it, he was only four years younger than I– had some of the most bratty tendencies imaginable. However, I'd often seen him turn that around and do the most generous or noble thing I could think of, like a regal prince of a past era.
"Did you mean that?"
His voice was so soft I wasn't sure I heard him. I turned and looked at him, wondering if I'd just relayed my own thoughts aloud –it wasn't something that happened often, but there was obviously something wrong with me today– or if he meant something I actually recalled saying. "What?"
"Did you mean what you said about not ever want to see your charge get hurt?" The vulnerability in his tone brought a lump to my throat.
All I could do was nod, since I was suddenly tongue-tied rather than simply keeping the thoughts in my head.
He gave me a sweet, sincere smile, then pattered off into his bedroom barefoot, his pet –Dark Nation, his favorite Guard Hound– following him.
I sat down on the couch that did double-duty as my bed most nights, feeling like the breath had been knocked out of me. That smile… I'd never seen him smile that way before. He was often offering a polite, disinterested smile or a disdainful twisting of his lips he must have learned from Sephiroth. This smile was different from both of them. It was as effective and disarming as a sharp elbow to the solar plexus, yet more open than he had ever been with me before.
He offered me that smile when he realized I actually cared what happened to my charge –to him.
When I closed my eyes for a combat nap a few minutes later, that smile was still on my mind.
I awoke suddenly. Reorienting myself, I tried to figure out what had set me on edge enough to wake me.
Then I recognized the sounds. Rufus didn't sleep well on the best of nights. The sound that had awoken me was him tossing and turning, searching for a position that would grant him sleep.
The familiar noises continued until he sighed loudly, snapped on the light, and wandered clumsily into the living room.
My mako-enhanced eyes found his form easily in the darkness. His blond hair bore the effects of his restless slumber, mused with sleep and almost touchable. His pale blue eyes were spooked.
He looked… vulnerable. Haunted. Hesitant. Cute.
Where in the hell did that thought come from? I wondered, bewildered.
"Rude?" he asked softly, as though testing to see if I was awake.
"Yeah?"
"Could you… could you lay down with me?"
I would have sworn that the kid was blushing. But that was ridiculous. Rufus Shinra didn't blush, certainly not in front of his bodyguard. "Nightmares?" I asked him softly, figuring out a long time ago that they kept him awake.
He nodded. "I need… I need you to keep the monster away." His voice was small, like a small child that couldn't pretend to be brave anymore.
I nodded, affirming his request.
He looked visibly relieved. "Thank you."
He shuffled back toward his bedroom, and I followed after him slowly. He climbed into the bed, moving closer and closer to the right side, up against the wall. He got comfortable before I allowed myself to crawl in beside him.
He, quite remarkably for a boy that never got any very restful sleep, fell asleep quickly after that, his head somehow finding its way to a resting position on my chest the last time he had shifted.
Now it was I that couldn't sleep.
As I stroked the silky blond hair of my charge, I wondered what monster kept him up and who had taught him a warm body chased it away. Certainly, it hadn't been his father. President Shinra –despite being the man that signed my paycheck– was a cold, heartless father, too involved in his company to spend any time with his son. His mother had been out of the picture for a few years before I arrived at his side, so I didn't find her to be the one likely to have done this for her son.
Who worried enough about him to sleep beside him, aside from me? I wondered as Dark Nation's tentacle wrapped around my ankle and she curled up to sleep at our feet.
I awoke thirty minutes before the alarm was set to wake him up, light streaming in through the green curtains.
Sometime during the night, he'd wrapped his arms around my torso and pillowed his head over my heart. His slender legs twined about one of mine, and his body curved to the shape of mine. He wore a soft little smile and I found I didn't have the heart to wake him up.
Using my PHS, I placed the order for his usual breakfast to be sent up in thirty-five minutes. I would wake him up in thirty minutes because his alarm rarely did so. Meanwhile, I simply let the poor kid sleep. As far as I knew, it was the first decent sleep he'd had in years.
Something about the Brat Prince brought out a tenderness in me, a side I didn't like to show to anyone. The last person who'd brought it out in me had hurt me badly when she'd taken her own life.
Don't think about Sera, I chastised myself. It only hurts you more.
Instead, I lightly stroked the short blond straight hair, but it made me remember the long decadent chocolate curls I used to play it.
"Damn it," I murmured softly, trying not to wake him. "Sera."
There was that name again.
I only heard it on rare occasions, when my own demons became too much for me alone and I went to him, wholly vulnerable. Perhaps she was someone who had trusted him to chase her demons away, too. But he always sounded so very sad as he said her name, and a question always seemed to hang in the air after it.
It had been that name that had awakened me. It was like a slap to the face, a sharp reminder that –much as I wished he was– Rude was not mine to keep. He had others that needed him, that he needed, like the precious Sera he called out for.
But that reminder broke my heart.
The blond boy stirred against me.
"Who's Sera?" he asked sleepily, nuzzling in a little closer to me before he realized what he was doing.
My heart beat faster in my chest. Shit. The one thing he'd hear me say. "I'll tell you at breakfast," I rumbled, my voice sleep-roughened.
He untangled his limbs from about me, seeming embarrassed to have done such a thing in the night, and he apologized profusely.
I would have smiled at this actual display of emotion from him, but my mind was already running ahead, wondering how much I should tell him.
The Brat Prince had some very strange fascination with French toast. He loved the stuff; he could –and would, unless someone put a stop to it– eat it for every meal.
It had been one of the very first conversations I had with him, actually. I made him a bargain: he could have it for breakfast every day, but he had to eat better for the rest of the day –after all, all the nutrients one needs cannot be found in such a dish. Perhaps sensing the concern that was displayed by the gesture, he actually kept the bargain even when I wasn't on duty with him.
Somewhere along the way, he'd turned me into a French toast lover as well by insisting that I ate breakfast with him. I had to admit, it was the only thing that had pulled me out of my little funk over memories of Sera.
We enjoyed our meal in silence. I bided my time, waiting until he finished his third piece of French toast to bring it up. I took a sip of my piping hot coffee and waited.
Rufus's eyes met mine briefly, as if he were saying, 'Go ahead and tell me'.
"Sera… Seraphim was her name, and she was the most beautiful women I ever met. I think all brothers feel that way about their only sister," I began. "We grew up in a little middle-class neighborhood just outside of Midgar. There was a group of about ten men who ambushed us on our way home from school one day. I fought for her, but they still took her from me." I looked at my young boss. "I was sixteen. I was her older brother. I was supposed to protect her, but I never stood a chance.
"They beat her and raped her. Sera didn't deal with it very well. By that, I suppose I mean she slit her wrists on our seventeenth birthday, the day she found out she was pregnant with the child of one of her attackers." I gave him a wry grimace. "Do you believe in twin telepathy?"
He shook his head no.
"I do. I felt her die, and I knew she was gone. But it's funny: I still feel her looking after me, telling me, 'There's a reason for your pain, Raphael.' " I smiled softly. "That's what she always called me: 'God's Healer'." I shook my head. Some healer I was. I couldn't even save her.
The stoic Brat Prince did the most startling thing I could imagine: he walked around the table and wrapped me into a tight hug.
His sister. Gaia, she was his sister, his twin! He had to feel as if half of himself was stolen from him.
So I offered him the only comfort I knew how to offer.
Granted, I never had any of my family close enough to me to give a damn about me at all, but Tseng had always done his best with me. And when the night terrors got so bad I awoke screaming, he'd cradle me in his arms and just hold me until it went away.
So I wrapped my arms around the normally stoic man that had gone out of his way to offer me comfort last night and cradled him to me closely, as if by being so close I could leech away his pain.
I closed my eyes and leaned into him, my arms sliding around him comfortably. It meant a lot to me that the Brat Prince had felt my pain and felt a need to comfort me. Perhaps our relationship was better than I had thought.
Breathing in the clean scent of him, I tried to just give up the misery the memories conjured. All I wanted was to be able to remember her without the pain.
As if a sudden thought that I might find our embrace a bit awkward crossed his mind, his arms loosened enough that I could pull away.
But there was something so wonderful, so innately thrilling that my heart raced in my chest and I could not bring myself to leave his embrace.
The sound of my boss clearing his throat, however, forced me to pull back. "Well. I see you two are getting along well."
"Tseng. How nice to see you. Do you remember the common courtesy of knocking?" Rufus asked, unflustered.
Only when it's his office, I thought, fighting the urge to smile at the kid's skill in handling Tseng.
"May I barrow Rude for a moment?" Tseng asked instead of replying.
A little color rose to Rufus's cheeks. "Feel free."
Tseng nodded and beckoned me to follow him out into the corridor. I did as he asked, wondering why the Brat Prince had blushed.
"How was he?"
This was a very routine line of questioning every morning, as Tseng always inquired about how our charge slept. "He only woke once. He slept fine afterwards." I didn't tell him I'd laid down beside him to keep the monsters at bay or that I had awoken with him wrapped around me. Those details seemed so intimate that I didn't feel I could share them.
Tseng nodded. "Rufus is going to Costa del Sol for a month. I can only spare one of you for the entirety of his trip. Rufus requested that it be you, sighting the fact that the nightmares aren't as bad with you. Honestly, I agree. He never wakes up screaming with you there."
I shrugged, then supposed he wanted more of an answer than that. "I've dealt with that kind of night-terror with others." Sera.
He nodded slowly. "He's not being too difficult, is he?"
I snorted uncharacteristically. "Despite his stubborn insistence on French toast on a daily basis, no, he hasn't been bad."
"I'm afraid that's my fault," Tseng said, a fond smile curving his lips. "I was the one who introduced the dish to him, and he had so little joy in his life, I'd fix it for him whenever he asked."
I think I found the one person who cared for him as his parents should have. I nodded, but remained silent.
"Take good care of him." Tseng quickly switched back to business. "You leave today. Reno will fly you out to the villa."
I stared at my boss. Today? Why hadn't he told me sooner? "I need to pack," I murmured instead of questioning.
"Reno will stay with him as you do so."
Tseng walked back into my quarters, alone.
"Where's Rude?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
"He agreed to accompany you to Costa del Sol. He's packing."
I looked up at him, startled. "You just asked him today?"
"Just keeping him on his toes," he returned, smiling. "Reno will be with you until he returns."
Nodding, I accepted that fact. Reno was fun to talk to at the very least, and he couldn't read me like Tseng could. But he wasn't Rude and he didn't make my blood sing with the same heat his partner caused.
The flight to Costa del Sol was, as a whole, uneventful.
Well, that is if you count an hour-long bout of shameless flirting uneventful, which is definitely what Tseng would classify it under.
I was finding it harder to remain calm and quiet about it, having seen Rufus's vulnerability and also his tenderness in the last twenty-four hours. Some beast deep within me wanted to growl in possessiveness. But that was ridiculous. He wasn't mine to be possessive of. If anything, I was his, and a bodyguard is nothing more than a body that will take a bullet for you.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe I wanted more than that.
At that thought, my eyes shot to the door of the helicopter. How long would it take them to notice I've jumped out? I wondered to myself, mentally kicking myself for taking this assignment at all.
I looked over at the man sitting across from me, close enough to our pilot to touch him. Somehow, I felt he would kill me if I jumped out of the chopper to my death. Or make me wish he had, which could consist of simply handing me over to that bastard Hojo.
It was impossible to suppress a shiver at that thought, having met the man. Honestly, he was a total psycho and none of us knew why the President kept the slimy bastard around.
"Cold, Rude?" Rufus asked above the roar of the machine.
I gave a very curt, negative shake of my head.
A frown creased the Brat Prince's brow. "Clamming up on me again, are you?"
I stared at him head-on behind my shades.
He gave an almost disgusted shake of his head, then turned his attention back to Reno.
Well, at least I knew what was up with me recently. The Brat Prince, however, would remain a bit of a mystery for a while.
Gaia, how am I going to survive his vacation?
Gaia-damned infuriating man!
I always hated the silent treatment. I'd finally got Rude to open up to me, and we were back to this shit again.
It was maddening! All my hard work was for nothing: I had absolutely nothing to show for the weeks it took to coax Rude to be open with me.
"It's his way of protectin' himself, yo," a familiar voice piped up beside me.
I was startled enough by his accuracy that it must have shown on my face.
He chuckled lightly. "Oh, c'mon, brat. The only person it isn't obvious to is him. You want Rude, but ya better not hurt him, yo." Warning rung out in his last words, and I knew I'd be in a lot of pain if I did.
"I don't want to hurt him," I murmured. "Well, not usually."
Reno gave a low chuckle. "That's normal, yo. Sometimes, even Tseng wants ta kill him. But he's my partner, so if ya hurt him, you have to deal with me."
I nodded.
Reno was fun to talk to, yes, but I'd learned to fight from him and I knew better than to get on his bad side. For all of his occasionally clumsy maneuverings, he was a ruthless trained killer, and I was damn glad he was my trained killer.
My eyes landed on a slightly-more-relaxed Rude. Dark-Nation had curled up at his feet and wrapped her single tentacle around his ankle in a possessive manner.
I did a double-take. The only person she'd ever done that with before was me.
Absently, Rude reached down and stroked her head gently. She made a pleased sound and nuzzled his wrist.
Well. Even Dark-Nation loved him. Now, to get him to love me would be the challenge.
Reno chuckled. "Alright, brat. Here's what ya do."
And he proceeded to instruct me on exactly how to get his partner into my bed.
It was almost maddening to be near him.
He'd taken this opportunity to revamp his entire wardrobe. He bought several pairs of loose-fitting cargo shorts that looked like all it would take was a firm tug to remove from his body and a few pairs of board-shorts, although he favored the black pair that were stark against his pale skin and even starker against his skin as he began to tan. And, as had become his custom, he never wore a shirt or anything more than flip-flops on his feet.
As his bodyguard, I remained in full uniform under the shade of a tree and watched him. I had to stay there and watch as the Brat Prince shamelessly flirted and smiled and swam. The way he looked emerging from the ocean with droplets of water clinging to his skin was divine but a costly luxury indeed. I had to watch him choose an attractive group of young people, watch him befriend and dance with them, watch them touch him. And, oh, how I burned with jealousy as two boys planted playful kisses on the lips I'd begun to fantasize about.
It was impossible not to want him as he shamelessly and senselessly showed off his toned body to all of the people there.
It was later in our stay, Wednesday during our second week –Gaia knew, I was keeping track– that things got really bad between us. I'd been refusing to share his bed to keep the nightmares away, refusing his offers to dine with him, and, most of all, refusing to remove any portion of my suit.
Rufus was incredibly angry with me, probably angrier than the situation called for, and so he choose a bar –Carlo's Cantina, or something like that– to spend his evening at. I went with him, as was my duty, despite the fact I was miserable because he was angry with me.
He was downing margaritas like there was no tomorrow, despite the fact he and I both knew he couldn't hold his alcohol worth a damn. So he was more than a few sheets to the wind when the two boys from the beach –Devyn and Kam, perhaps?– joined him at the bar, one sitting to his right, the other to his left. I could tell that either boy had a hand on one of Rufus's thighs, both stroking slowly and teasingly across his flesh.
I couldn't take this anymore, couldn't watch this happen. I stepped up behind him and set my hand on his bare shoulder. "We need to leave. Sir," I added, the respectful address merely an afterthought.
"But we were getting along so well," he slurred slowly, gesturing to the two boys who had drawn their hands back into their own laps as I approached.
"Sir, it's time to go," I told him softly.
He moved as to resist, so I let my hand slide down to grab his wrist and pull him away from the boys at the bar.
"Rude!" he protested, but it came out slurred enough I barely recognized it.
"You're drunk, Rufus," I murmured to keep from revealing his real name to the entire cantina.
"Am not."
"You are, too. You're not even speaking in complete sentences," I told him, yanking him in the general direction of his villa.
He leaned against me heavily, stumbling slightly as we made our way back. Finally, I gave up and tossed him over my shoulder and carried him the rest of the way there. He murmured some complaint against it, but wrapped his arms around my waist, hands lightly grazing over my groin as he clumsily attempted it the first few times.
Well, that was stimulation I didn't need.
"At least buy me dinner first," I murmured, the thought one of many ill after-effects of spending too much time with one Reno Sinclair.
I swear I heard the man slung over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes ask, "Would you let me then?"
Why would Rufus say such a thing? I shrugged it off and unlocked the door to the villa before pushing it open. Rufus had settled against me quietly and I was pretty sure he was asleep on my back. After wandering into the bedroom we'd been sharing –he'd been sleeping on the bed while I'd been taking the floor– for our entire stay, I pried his arms from my waist and set him down gently in a plush chair. After turning down the covers, I laid him out on the bed easily.
The low-slung loose shorts that had been teasing me all day wouldn't be very comfortable to sleep in, so I tugged them down his hips. Imagine my surprise to find out that he wore nothing beneath them! I spent at least a good minute just staring at his cock and blushing like a school boy!
It was flushed with blood, nestled in a patch of pale-blond curls, and very, unmistakably erect. I blamed the boys at the bar for their unnecessary stimulation, but that really didn't do anything to smother my sudden urge to do something about it.
I assumed he was gay, based on how much he enjoyed the attention of the boys from the beach. But being gay was one thing. Waking up with your cock in your bodyguard's mouth was completely another. Still blushing, I ghosted my fingertips over and through the crisp curls, then just barely over the length of him.
He made some sweet sound, his hips moving restlessly toward my hand, asking for more. Rufus was a heavy sleeper, true, but surely he would awaken if I touched him! Was I really contemplating doing it anyway?
He shifted slightly, his dreams seeming pleasant tonight.
Throwing caution to the wind, I bent my head and took him into my mouth quickly. He gave a little wanton moan, his body begging for more stimulation the best way it knew how, but he did not wake. I gave a rough suck, my hand working at the rest of his cock as I kept only the head in my mouth, teasing him with the tip of my tongue. Noise after arousing noise poured from his lips like wine from a bottle as I worked him sweet and slow and tender, then fast and rough until I felt his body shudder with release and tasted his essence in my mouth. I drew away quickly, fetching his pajama bottoms and easing them up his legs to rest on his slender hips. When I finished, I tucked him in and returned to my own nest of blankets on the floor, trying to not think about what I had just done.
Just before I fell asleep, I swear I heard him murmur my name on a sigh.
I awoke to sunlight streaming into my room and squeezed my eyes shut against the pain. Fuck. I hated hangovers.
"Drink this and take these," a familiar voice commanded softly, pushing pills into one hand and holding a glass to the other until I took it from him.
Without opening my eyes, I tossed the pills in my mouth, then used the contents of the glass to chase them down. I choked. It tasted like cough syrup and vodka mixed together, that familiar gag-and-burn that belonged to the Mako Healing Beverages.
He almost laughed at my face; I could hear it in his next words. "Drink it. It will Cure your hangover."
I grimaced and downed the rest of it quickly, trying not to taste it as unpleasant chills racked my body. But as soon as I had ingested all of the disgusting substance, the sunlight no longer hurt my eyes and head as much, so I opened my eyes to see Rude leaning over me with an expression that was anything but sympathetic.
"I should have just made you deal with it like Reno."
Oh. So it seemed I'd be getting it with both barrels this morning. Mako drinks don't heal you enough to deal with screaming matched like the one I feared was in my future.
But it seemed Rude was finished –at least for now– as he stood back and straightened his tie. "Breakfast is in the kitchen."
And then he left me alone to wonder what exactly I'd done to piss him off.
I couldn't forget how he looked when he came, how he tasted, how he sounded and it was driving me insane! Not to mention, the huge amount of guilt for doing it added to the lust to do that again and more weren't exactly sanity-inducing emotions. But I was also angry –and more than a little bit jealous– about the boys in the bar and how he permitted their pawing of him. Worse than that, I wasn't sure if I was incredibly glad or irrevocably saddened that he hadn't awoken last night under my attentions.
Saying I was in a perfectly rotten mood might just be the understatement of the decade.
Nevertheless, the sight of him stumbling about like a newborn kitten was adorable, so I held those feelings back and watched him carefully. He stumbled suddenly, and I hurried to catch him before he hit the floor. His knee grazed my groin as I caught him in mid-fall, and his hands gripped my waist to keep from continuing his decent.
It was adorable, to that there was no doubt, but I had a feeling I would also be terribly aroused by the end of the day.
"I think I'm staying in today," he muttered.
Make that the end of the hour.
Hangovers suck.
The only thing that made this one any bit more tolerable or better was that it forced Rude to wait on me hand and foot. It both amused and embarrassed me, but watching him move made it worth all that. And he also had to touch me, which was more than he'd done so far during our nearly two weeks here in Costa del Sol.
The sunlight suddenly became unbearably bright. The rays sent pain racing through my head, and I whimpered involuntarily.
Rude instantly moved and fixed the blinds, blocking out as much light as possible. "You shouldn't have drank that much," he told me shortly.
"I know that now."
"You should have known better." There was something in his tone, something that told me he was still angry at me, despite the gentleness he'd been treating me with.
"Did I… do something… wrong last night?" I asked softly, uncertainty coloring my tone.
"You got drunk. That's wrong enough." His toned was clipped; his words were short. Yeah, he was mad.
He confirmed my conclusion when he marched from the room like a toy soldier.
What really sucked about this damn hangover was that he couldn't seem to stay in the room with me.
I knew he could tell I was angry, that he wanted to know what he'd done wrong so he could fix it –a rare set of circumstances, indeed– but I could hardly tell him what he'd done wrong. If I did, it would reveal my feelings for him which were both highly unprofessional and very inappropriate.
Instead, I paced and wondered if he was aware of what I had done last night, if he knew what his body did to me, or if he had any idea how much harder it was to not just pin him down and have my way with him when I knew he was curled up, half-naked, in that bed.
I knew it hurt him that I wouldn't stay with him, but it wasn't as if I could really fix it. I didn't linger with him too long because I'd surrendered to my desire last night. One slip up like that could lead to another, which would be me pouncing on him and pinning him to that king-sized bed if I wasn't careful.
"Rude!" his tone was urgent, perhaps a bit panicked.
I rushed back into the room, only to see him leaning over a trash can and heaving up the contents of his stomach. Sitting down beside him, I gently rubbed his back and held on to him, offering him what little comfort I could. When he was down to only dry heaves, I left his side and went into the kitchen to get saltines and ginger ale to calm his stomach.
When I went back into the room, he was quite pale and looked almost pitiful. I handed him my peace offerings. "Don't ingest them too fast, or you'll throw up again."
He nodded. "Please. Stay with me."
I did not resist. Nodding, I sat down on the edge of his bed, ruffling his hair gently.
He sighed into the gesture, then stretched out again on the mattress, forcing me to lie down beside him to continue holding him. Exhaustion took him under quickly, but I couldn't leave his side. Brat that he was, he laid down on my arm. I couldn't retrieve it without waking him.
He nuzzled into his pillow, his body shifting slightly and his ass sliding against my groin. Immediately, my body reacted and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.
He murmured something in his sleep, then turned over until his groin pressed against mine.
Gaia! Just how in the hell am I to deal with this? I wondered as I realized I could feel him against my hardening cock.
Then he twisted his body about mine in his sleep and I knew wouldn't survive any of this with my sanity intact.
Fuck. This prat teased me even in his sleep!
As I crested out of the darkness of sleep, a scent surrounded me. The scent was really more of a mix of several, I suppose: cigarettes, spice, gunpowder, and the most indescribable scent that reminded me of the way it feels to have a phoenix down used on you. Gradually, I noticed the warm press of arms around me and muscles against me. Scratchy, cheap fabric with too much starch criss-crossed my chest and surrounded my back. But even more noticeable than all of this was that my ass was nestled against one very large, very erect cock.
"Rufus," Rude rumbled from beneath me, "I believe you need to get off of me."
And I believe you need to get off with me. See? We all have things we believe, I thought to myself.
"You're going to have to let me go if you want me off," I returned sleepily, realizing his arms were holding me securely against him.
Wait. Did he just call me by name?
His arms slid off of me to rest at his sides and I rolled over and off, inadvertently brushing my cock against his hip. Blushing and looking away, I asked him, "What time is it?"
"Time for you to stop teasing the hell out of me."
The statement hung in the air for a moment before Rude removed himself from my bed and strode off for parts unknown.
What could I do at this point but follow him out?
I needed a cold shower in the worst way, and I feared my secret was out.
Being as I could do something about one of them and nothing about the other, I headed for the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I slowly began to shuck the garments, first the black suit jacket, then the tie. Slowly, I unfastened the shoulder holster and set it on the sink. I removed the back-up piece at the small of my back and methodically un-tucked my shirt until I heard a voice behind me.
"What in the hell is going on with you, Rude?"
I sighed and unbuttoned my shirt slowly, ignoring my young 'master'. I let the shirt slide down my shoulders and fall to the floor.
Then there were fingers tracing the tattoo on my back. My instincts made me pin him between me and the wall.
His panicked cry and whimper as tears began to form in his eyes made me release him quickly and walk away, out of the house and down to the beach.
Forcing matters is never the answer. Just look what a mess you've made.
I hated this posture, this circumstance.
How could I believe that my past would never affect my future, especially since the lover I sought was of the male persuasion?
Tears slid down my cheeks as I muffled sobs and watched him retreat. My body had, of its own accord, slid down the wall and I was pretty much crouched in the fetal position.
It was a familiar posture, as familiar as the night-terrors and the tears and the feel of unwanted hands on my body.
I just didn't know what to do about any of it.
My hand reached out for the starched, wrinkled dress shirt. Inhaling, I found the now-comforting scent of Rude.
I draped the cloth around me and let myself remember the feel of his arms around me.
What was it his sister had called him? Raphael?
Couldn't God's Healer heal the wounds etched in by time and practice?
He was hurting. That was the last thing I'd seen in his eyes: tears and panic.
Why in the hell had I left him to deal with that on his own?
I walked back into the villa quickly, and slipped through the hall to the bathroom.
He was curled up on the floor in the fetal position and my heart ached. Then I realized he was drapped in my shirt and my heart began to pound in my chest.
"Rufus?" I asked softly.
He looked up at me with lost, sad eyes.
I crossed the floor and lifted him into my arms easily, but he held his slender frame away from my body as I carried him. After setting him back down on his bed, I crawled in after him, wrapping my arms around him and tugging him back until his back pressed against my chest.
He relaxed into my embrace and I just held him for a while before I could even ask. "Who hurt you, Rufus?"
His breath caught in his throat. "My… my father…" he whispered softly.
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to calm down.
He turned in my embrace until his slender chest pressed against mine. "Rude?"
I opened my eyes to look at him.
He pressed his lips to mine softly, gently, hesitantly, then drew away. "Can you make the monster go away? It's stopped touching me, but it lingers in the back of my mind," he whispered.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked him, not moving my hands and not wanting to startle him.
"Can… can you show me how it should be?"
I closed my eyes. "Do you want me, Rufus?"
"Y-yes."
I opened them again and smiled at him. "Alright."
Rude smiled at me softly, tenderly. Then he pressed his lips to mine in a sweet, tender kiss.
His tongue coaxed open my mouth, and he tasted, not ravaged. He traced each part of my mouth with his tongue, learning the textures and the tastes, and then he encouraged me to taste his. He coaxed my tongue to an ardor of battling for territory, then retreated his tongue into his own mouth, knowing I'd give chase.
The kiss was long and tender and exquisite, and as we pulled back, he smiled. "Let me know what's good, what's bad, and what's uncomfortable."
And with that, he set his large, gentle hands to learn my body, his soft and tender lips to taste my skin, and his entire being to my pleasure.
He wasn't tender with me as though he thought I might break. It was… a different sort of tenderness, maybe a tenderness born of affection.
He touched me everywhere, his hands sliding down my chest and up my legs, then down my back and cupping my ass. He kissed and tasted all the skin of my neck and ears, before kissing his way down my chest.
He was everywhere and nowhere, his touch a ghost of sensation until his body lay between my legs and his eyes latched onto my erect cock. He kissed the tip and I shivered, curious as to what he intended. When he engulfed me in the wet heat of his mouth, I cried out in pleasure, my back arching and forcing my cock further into his mouth. He found a rhythm that quickly sent me flying over the edge, filling his mouth without warning.
He swallowed my essence with a Cheshire cat smile and watched me as I caught my breath.
"Do you want more, Brat Prince?" he asked softly, his eyes tender but for the raging inferno I could see in them.
"Hell yes!" I panted.
At my request, he rolled over onto his stomach, since he was not afraid to have me at his back. I trailed tender kisses from his neck down his spine and to the curve of his ass. Goose bumps raised on his flesh as I trailed my tongue down the same path. But I didn't stop there. I trailed my tongue over his entrance and he gasped.
I pulled back a little. "Have you ever been prepared this way?" I asked him softly.
He shook his head. "I… I was never prepared at all."
"Well, it feels amazing," I told him softly, letting my tone take a sensual edge. "If I do it right, you should begging for me. I won't stop until you are," I promised.
I eased his legs apart a little ways, allowing me good access to the part I sought. Then I teased and tasted the pink pucker of muscle until he moaned out my name.
I sucked on three of my fingers and covered them in saliva to tease the already damp and slightly relaxing entrance. I rubbed it lightly with the pad of one finger until he gasped out again. Slowly, I slid my finger into him and he let out the most beautiful moan I ever heard. Control! I reminded myself sharply as I slowly worked the finger in and out of him until it slid easily. Then I pulled it out and eased a second slick finger in with it. It took a bit of time for him to adjust, but by the time I was ready to add a third finger, he was moving his hips back against the thrust of my fingers with a needy whimper. When I slid the group of fingers in together and bent them at just the right place, he cried out my name in a breathy tone. I rubbed that spot again and again and again until I removed my fingers from him and thrust my tongue into the same entrance.
His voice broke when he cried out, and I repeated the thrust of my tongue until I heard these words: "Raphael… please… please!"
I could feel his warm, slick tongue working in me and I couldn't stop myself from begging for him.
He pulled his tongue out of my eager body. "Why Raphael?" he asked.
"Because Rude is pretty much a mercenary for hire. Raphael is the caring, loving brother of Seraphim." The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.
He laughed softly. "What would you give to be the only person allowed to call me by that name?"
I felt like I should be shaking. "I'd give you me, if you wanted me."
"Good answer, Rufus."
I moved back up his body, planting kissed on his spine in my wake. I moved my mouth to his ear. "Are you ready?"
He nodded against the pillows.
I encouraged him up onto his hands and knees, knowing it was not only better leverage for me, it would feel less like he was just laying down and taking it. Then I entered him slowly, carefully, feeling him stretch around me. I heard him gasp out in pain, but I didn't stop until I was completely seated in him. Rufus lay still for a few moments before his hips moved impatiently against mine. As hard as it was, I did my damnedest to maintain a slow and steady pace until he used his hips to silently demand speed.
I let my hand slide around his thigh to wrap around his cock and work him in time with my thrusts. His moans were sweet and musical. He gasped my name when I showed him a new pleasure by finding his prostate again and hitting that spot until he was almost screaming my name.
"I love you, Rufus," I whispered into his neck.
His body stiffened and he came into my hand.
I was quick to follow, coming with a bellow of his name.
I was hoarse when I tried to speak his name. I swallowed once before I could say it. "Raphael."
We were curled up together, still intimately intertwined, in probably the most intimate form of spooning that existed.
He drew out of me slowly. I turned so I could face him.
"Yes, Brat Prince?" he asked softly, his voice tender.
I traced the tattoo I'd seen earlier, the weeping phoenix that curved about his shoulder blade, it's vibrant warm colors standing out against his pale skin. "What does this mean?"
"The tear of a phoenix can heal any wound," he murmured, kissing my neck.
I licked my lips and squeezed my eyes closed. "At first, when my father came to me, I was thrilled at the attention. Sure, it hurt like hell, but he was actually paying attention to me, his hands roving my body. Any other time, I was ignored because of my mother. As I grew older, I realized it was wrong, but I had no way to fight back. I was 15 before I could even tell Tseng what had been happening to me. That's why Tseng took to sleeping in my bed with me: if he was in there, Father couldn't come for me." I sighed softly, remembering. "I had figured Tseng wouldn't protect me, honestly. He was Father's employee, and what Father did with me was not any concern of his, or that was the rational my father sold me."
He kissed my lips softly. "Tseng loves you, in his strange way. He always asks how you sleep; he always worries over you. I think he's ashamed of not noticing what was happening to you."
I felt warm liquid on my lips, and I opened my eyes to see that the man I'd fallen in love with was weeping.
"Raphael?" I asked softly.
"Sera was right," he told me softly, the tears not even seeming to faze him. "She told me all of my pain was for a reason. That reason was to bring me here, to care for you and to love you and to protect you."
I smiled at him and kissed his lips gently. "I love you, Raphael or Rude or whatever name is truly yours."
As we embraced each other, something someone read to me as a child came back to me.
"The phoenix cries because he cannot bear the pain of his companion. As the tear heals the companion, it also heals the phoenix, who has finally let go," Tseng read from the book, before closing it and looking at me. "Perhaps that is exactly what you need," he told me.
I couldn't help but smile at the memory.
Oh, Tseng,I thought as I held onto my weeping lover. Is that why you sent me Rude? Because you knew he'd be my crying phoenix?
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