Dark Reflection: Chapter Three
By S.J. Kohl

A/N: Written for my good friend LiamJohansen on DeviantArt, for her birthday. Look her up sometime!

Rufus's nerves were vibrating with tension, and he shifted his chair back from the desk. This wasn't his office. His office had been blown up with the rest of Shin-Ra Tower when Meteor had come down. No, this was just another room in the apartment he currently inhabited. It wasn't Shin-Ra property, just a space in one of the less devastated districts of Midgar. There was a second apartment on either side of this one. Tseng and Elena shared one; Reno and Rude shared the other, though someone was always on guard in here with him. It wasn't a large apartment, but it would suffice for now. He didn't want to establish a new office, not yet. He wasn't ready for anyone to find out he hadn't died in the explosion. The company had been destroyed; all that remained was Rufus and four Turks, but the game hadn't been played out to the end yet. Not yet. Oh, he had come to some realizations. Using the Lifestream as a source of electricity was foolish, and, in the end, fatal. And the Soldiers…that kind of modification was unstable and too open to contamination.

No, Rufus didn't want to rebuild the corporation as his father had run it, but that didn't mean he didn't intend to rebuild it. He did. He would. After all, there were still things Shin-Ra Company could offer the world. But not yet. It wasn't time yet. They had to wait. There was information he needed, and the city had to be rebuilt. Not enough time had passed yet for him to come forth and offer himself and his resources up for the relief effort. People still remembered; the members of Avalanche had not yet scattered, and…

Rufus snarled as a spasm wracked his back, and he felt the taint creeping in, cold and hungry, spreading beneath his skin and leaking into his blood.

People were still suffering. They still remembered that it was Shin-Ra Company that had brought this down upon them, that Shin-Ra had created Sephiroth and the Geostigma was the price to see that creation fall.

But that memory would fade, and Avalanche would scatter across the continent, each returning to where he'd come from, and all anyone would remember was that they needed help, and help, Rufus could provide. All it took was patience.

Rufus snarled again. The waiting was interminable.

It had been two weeks since that night, and Tseng hadn't said a word about any of it. He hadn't mentioned the mirror, the sex, the Geostigma. He hadn't acted or looked or reacted any differently than he normally did. Nothing had changed. Nothing.

No. Rufus scowled. That was not quite true. Something had changed, but the change was with him, not Tseng.

Rising to his feet, Rufus stalked across the room toward the door. Rude moved into position behind him as soon as he left the room, but Rufus hardly noticed as he made his way through the apartment and out into the hall. Tseng's apartment was the one on the left. He didn't knock; he just walked in and directed a pointed look at Elena where she stood at the kitchen counter. "Tseng?"

"Yeah…he's…" Elena gestured vaguely in the direction of the hall, but Rufus was already moving. "Hey!" she called. "Rufus…Sir…wait, he's…"

But Rufus didn't care what Tseng was doing. All he cared about was making his way down the hall to the last door on the left. He didn't stop when he got there, just stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

The room was dim, lit only by a couple of soft lamps near the bed. And the furnishings were scarce. There was the bed and the small table beside it, and a door beside the table, which led through a closet to the bathroom that was connected to the apartment's other bedroom as well. There was a desk beside the bedroom door, and on the wall opposite the bed, there was…

A mirror.

A plain, full-length mirror that hung above a cold tile floor. And on the floor before the mirror… Rufus stepped cautiously across the room, close enough to be sure of what he was seeing, and then closer still. As he bent forward to pick the object up, he sensed movement behind him, but he wasn't fast enough to escape being pulled backwards onto the edge of the bed, one arm strong arm wrapped around his waist and a hand closed about his throat. Rufus couldn't look down, but he could feel warm skin on either side of him. Legs. He was sitting between Tseng's legs.

He could have dropped the dildo and clawed at the hand on his throat, but he didn't. He'd obviously grown too relaxed around his Turks, too distracted to remember that there was no one he could truly trust, to have been taken in by such a simple maneuver as this. But it didn't matter. There would be a chance; there always was. So Rufus kept hold of the dildo and lashed out with a weapon he'd always found to me more effective than guns or fists. "Do you like to get fucked, Tseng?"

Tseng smiled and relaxed his hold slightly so that Rufus would be able to breathe and speak without difficulty. It was easy to forget sometimes that Rufus was only twenty-two years old. The anger and distrust that colored his words stung, just a little, but it wasn't anything he hadn't expected. "Yes," he answered, leaning in close to Rufus's ear. "I like to get fucked."

Rufus couldn't stop the slight widening of his eyes. He hadn't expected that answer. From Reno, yes, but not from Tseng. "So this," he lifted his hand, gesturing to encompass both toy and mirror. "You do this often?"

Tseng laughed. "No. No, this is for you."

"What?"

"It's been two weeks, Rufus. You're sick, and you're tired, but you aren't sleeping. That little bit of 'relief' you'd been giving yourself so that you'd be able to sleep…you aren't even allowing yourself that much anymore." Tseng smiled. It felt good, holding Rufus trapped like this. He'd never thought it would feel good or right to go so far against the protective service his job demanded, but he didn't plan on hurting Rufus. At least, not much, and this felt…exhilarating. He didn't dare move, though. The moment he moved his arms, Rufus would be gone. "You need to relax," he said, flicking his tongue out to lick the shell of Rufus's ear.

Rufus…hissed. Even in his own mind he couldn't qualify the sound as anything else. "What the fuck—" he hissed again as Tseng's tongue traced its way back up his ear, but he still didn't struggle to break free. He wasn't trapped; he didn't need to struggle. "What gives you the right to keep track of what I choose to do in the privacy of my own apartment?"

"Nothing," Tseng replied, gently tracing the line of Rufus's jaw with the tip of one finger without releasing his hold on Rufus's throat. "But that didn't stop me from doing it."

Rufus couldn't breathe. Everything was too close, too tight, and Tseng's hand on his throat was like a vice. If he moved…no. He wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction. "You won't like what I'm going to do to you."

"Is it more of the same?"

"No," Rufus snarled. "You liked that, didn't you?"

"Yes," Tseng breathed, tilting Rufus's head to the side and drawing in the scent of the warm skin of his neck—wildfire and autumn rain, with a hint of gunpowder. "You didn't intend it, but there was a certain…enjoyment…to be found in the act. Which is not to say I wouldn't appreciate lube and a bit more consideration next time."

Rufus wouldn't ask. He wouldn't. "Next time?"

"Of course. But not tonight. I have something different planned for tonight."

How could he possibly have crafted plans for this specific night? Rufus most certainly did not make a point to invade his rooms on a regular basis or to warn him beforehand. But then…there was that mirror to consider…

"I hadn't expected you tonight, of course. But I knew you would come sometime. You have this need to know things, Rufus, and I wasn't providing you with any information. So you came to get the answers yourself. Generally, you prefer subtlety to brute force, but there are times when a direct confrontation is the most effective. So," Tseng released his hold on Rufus, letting his arms fall slowly to his sides. "What do you want to know?"

Rufus tensed. He should leave. This wasn't the kind of behavior he expected from Tseng. Tseng was controlled and calculating, cool and untouchable. Not even Reno had managed to ruffle those stark black feathers of his, and Shiva knew the man had tried. But this…well, it was still calculated, still controlled, but there was something hot simmering beneath the surface of those words that Rufus couldn't quite place. He should leave. But Tseng was right. He had come for answers, and what purpose was there in leaving without them? Besides, fleeing would be to admit defeat.

Rufus stood and turned to face Tseng, who leaned back on his elbows on the mattress. He tossed the dildo onto the sheets, tired of the familiar grip he had on the object. "Why did you come to my room? Not that night, but the ones before. The first night."

"The night I first noticed the Stigma." Tseng nodded. "Do you want the full answer or the partial one?"

Rufus didn't bother to respond. He just waited for the answer.

Sitting up, Tseng picked up the toy and dragged his fingers down the length of it in a thoughtful gesture. "I'm not sure you remember missing a meeting with me, but it's not something you normally do. I was worried, even more so when you didn't answer my knock at your door. My job is to take care of you and protect you. That's why I went into your room that first night, and why I returned on the nights that followed. But there were two other reasons." He wrapped a hand around the toy and drew it up, from base to tip. "First, because you were vulnerable. It was something I'd never been given the chance to see in you before, and I needed the reminder. It's easy to forget sometimes that you're just as human, and just as imperfect, as the rest of us. You have this intelligence, and this gift, and this power that fills the air around you, but you aren't invulnerable. A Turk, especially, needs to keep that in mind."

Rufus heard the words, but he wasn't sure how he felt about them. He wasn't sure of anything beyond the idle movements of Tseng's fingers along the plastic shaft he held in his hands. His eyes were drawn to the movements, following the path of those fingers along sculpted veins and across the ridge of the plastic head. And he couldn't help remembering the phantom feel of those fingers gripping his hips, holding and pulling and guiding… Rufus dragged his eyes back to Tseng's face and noted the amusement gleaming behind the black of his eyes. "And the second reason?"

"Yes. Well," Tseng leaned back on his elbows again, dropping the toy to rest in his lap. "The second reason is divided into two parts. First, I couldn't quite get enough of seeing you without your clothes on." He smiled, "And second, I loved the way you said my name, and I couldn't help hoping there was a chance I might convince you to say it like that sometime when you were awake."

Rufus stared. "You wanted to fuck me?"

"Actually, my original idea involved getting down on my knees and sucking your cock."

Rufus blinked and stared some more. "You've gotten crude, Tseng."

"Whatever it takes to get the point across, Sir. I would love to fuck you. I don't know any gay man, or any Turk—including Elena—who wouldn't love a chance like that. You're gorgeous, powerful, intelligent, and to us, you are everything. Everything. But I don't have to fuck you to feel that. I feel it every day, regardless of where I am or what I'm doing. And that's the point. You. Are. Everything. I would drop to my hands and knees so you could fuck me until I break if that's what you wanted, and I would love every second of it, even if I bled out underneath you."

"You're a Turk, Tseng. You don't—"

"Submit?" Tseng laughed. "That's what you don't understand, Rufus. It isn't about submission. It's about choice and need and desire. I know what I need, and it's you. In my life, my bed. Whatever. I serve you. I choose to serve you. And there's nothing wrong with a little honest fucking. You should try it. It has nothing to do with weakness or submission and everything to do with strength and choice and pleasure—to let someone else have the control, to let go of everything and allow yourself to just feel. Whatever it is you might feel."

The expression was ironical, almost mocking, and Rufus knew Tseng was thinking about feeling pain rather than pleasure, and a thread of guilt twisted its way into his blood. He glanced down at Tseng's lap, and then, quickly, back up. "And the mirror?"

Tseng raised an eyebrow and shifted his hips slightly. "I believe you're more familiar with the purpose of the mirror than I am."