Disclaimer: All characters belong to Square-Enix.
Hey! It's been a while! So, yes, I'm alive, but busy and making big tough decisions in my life. I actually wrote most of this a long time ago, wrote the ending today and am updating now.
When it comes to writing this kind of stuff, I'm really bad at it and it's really slow. But more snowballing occurs after this chapter, since the last two have not been that much plot progressing. :D
This is a fun chapter, so please enjoy it. Also, enjoy your summer. And R&R!
-loverlyzee
13.
Circus
"Contacts or wig," I ask, in one hand a little plastic container with brown colored contacts, and the other a long sweeping blonde wig. She glares up at my unwavering smirk. I can read the blatant incredulity in her eyes that plainly states she's thoroughly offended by the offering, but I pretend not to notice anyway.
"You're not serious, are you?" she demands.
"Serious as day," I smirk. "Can't have a Mako-treated Cetra going to a ShinRa company ball looking like a Mako-treated Cetra, now can we?"
"Half-Cetra," she mutters. I wrap my lanky arms around her and lick the skin beneath her ear—soft and tender, like the rest of her body. I feel her shivers rumble into my chest.
"Still of interest, weirdo. Now pick." I hold my hands out again and she eyes the choices precariously. "I'm partial to the contacts."
"Do not call me weird," she mutters, snatching up the contact case, and dashes for the bathroom. I watch her go, the hips swaying left and right, and feel that familiar crooked smile creep on my cheeks. Watching women—examining their assets, up close or from afar—is nothing new to yours truly, but recently, I've been particularly fond of this half-Cetra.
It's not a big deal, I keep telling myself. Just a case of those very "assets" within arms-length—that's why I'm so addicted to her skin, and her scent. Yes, her scent, the sweet subtleness it leaves on my sheets every night—it reminds me of summer evenings and how, locked in her arms, time seems to freeze.
Speaking of time, she's been in the bathroom for almost half an hour now. I rap on the door with my knuckles. "Hurry up or I knock the door off its hinges!" I yell.
"Calm the fuck down, Reno!" I hear and chuckle—that spicy attitude of hers is what makes bedtime so delicious. The door clicks, then swings open, and I stumble back to avoid getting severe brain damage.
Out she steps, hair swept back into a casual bun and that sexy little frame of hers in a canary yellow thin strapped dress, synched at the waist and tucked close to her body to just above her knees, and three inch tall bright red pumps. And her eyes—bright glowing and brown, like they used to be. God damn. I reach for her waistline and press myself against her. In a second my lips are all over her neck, her jaw, her collarbone and her moans are soft and soundless in her throat.
But she shoves me off her.
"Well, I take it you like it," she smirks a little bit as she untangles my fingers from their grasp on her waist and back.
"Understatement of the year," I scoff. "I want you now." I lunge, but she dodges me.
"We need to leeeaavee," she teases. "And I will not have you messing up my make up or hair. It takes a long fucking time to look this good." God damn it. She snatches up my coat and hers; she wraps her fingers around the tips of mine, pulling me forward. She doesn't even have to. I'd follow that tight little ass in that tight little dress anywhere. If I could just get my hands on that skin—
Abruptly, she turns right before the door and lands a tender kiss on my lips. When she opens her eyes in the wake of the kiss on my lips she smiles at me. Maybe it's those contacts, but watching those eyes open up, brown and beaming, moved me somewhere in my gut. I lean my lips down onto hers and kiss them gently. The word hits me like a missile out of nowhere.
Do I…her? Those lips that are pulled so evenly against mine, so warm and petite—if they were against anyone else's but my own, I would be furious. I burn and writhe at the thought and I feel my lips turn violent. She pulls back in response and gives me a hard look with those solid brown eyes.
"What, Reno?" she asks.
"Nothing," I murmur. "Get in the car." I open the door. She frowns at me and walks out.
"You and your fucking mood swings, Turk. I don't get it," she mutters.
I wish I knew what to tell you, SOLDIER.
---
Glamour, scandal, and murder. What can relate all three words? Isn't that obvious? ShinRa. Entering the ballroom was like waltzing into a nightmare holding a glass of champagne. Watching these people dressed up in their suits and ties during a time of economic and moral spiral in the outside world was like attending a circus. I burn at the thought—that these men and women who have killed so many people can still walk around in their fancy brand name clothes like they've done nothing wrong. It's the greatest paradox, the deadliest irony.
Reno leads me through the marble floors to a table with a group of people sitting around; it's just the nightmare I expected, four tall, beautiful figures lounging, sipping champagne out of tall glasses. Each of them, calm and quiet like statues held in place; you'd never guess that each and every one of them is a cold-blooded killer.
The dark-haired man stands to greet Reno, giving him a pat on the back.
"Good man, Reno," he says, smirking. "Prettiest lady in the room, and who might you be?"
"I'm—"
"This is Kaylen," Reno cuts me off. I haven't even thought about it—I was about to give them my real name; I would have set up and set off a trap for the Turks themselves. "Kaylen, this is Tseng, head of the Turks."
"Well, pleasure to finally meet you, Kaylen," Tseng says, reaching for my fingers and grasping them firmly in his hand. His glare is stern and serious as if he's analyzing me. I look back at him with what I imagine to be equal fervor—the dirty murderer. All of them.
"Finally?" I ask in a controlled tone that I try to make light and airy, another great paradox. The context of our conversation is loaded, but here we were making dangerous small talk of my pseudo relationship with their top. "What has Reno here been saying?"
"Nothing," Reno says quickly. "I met Kaylen about a week ago. Don't know what you're talking about, boss-man."
"Yeah, we met at a sock convention," I feel his grip tighten around my wrist. "He was wearing argyle socks, it was absolutely adorable." Tseng's serious face breaks into a smile; Reno's is bright red, and the glare from the corner of his eyes is vicious. The lie burns, doesn't it, Reno? You deserve it, Turk.
"Argyle, huh, Reno?" Tseng looks slightly amused.
"You got me, Tseng," Reno shrugs stiffly, apparently angry. I smile with glee—this night could be fun. As we approach the table to greet the rest of Reno's team I hear him hiss in my ear, "You're dead, SOLDIER."
"Looking forward to it, argyle," I snicker. Angry Reno is good under the covers and all over the room.
And now I meet them all; Rude shakes my hand without saying a word—I'm not even sure if he's looking at me with those sunglasses on. Elena meets me with a firm grip, her eyes hard on mine, as if she's protective of Reno, but she doesn't scare me. I can take that bitch down with one hand behind my back. Rufus is an interesting character. His flirty blue eyes lock onto mine, even as he bends his head forward and kisses the back of my hand.
The night drags on awkwardly, but imaginatively. The Turks casually question me about my background, cleverly weaving their questions in with normal conversation, as if trying to catching me off guard, and all the while, sipping their tall glasses of champagne. My answers never falter for a minute, I weave a fairly plain tale of a girl named Kaylen Shiring who grew up in the destitute part of Wutai and made money of the steady business of vending materia. So far, they've bought it, and whenever they pop in a few questions, I answer them without fail, laughing or giggling to make myself seem natural and calm.
Through the entire night, Reno's his eyes are glued to me, and that's the real thrill. Every time I glance over at him, his sharp eyes were on mine, his hand on his chin as if thoughtful about something. When the others aren't looking I shoot him a few sharp glances right back at him, and quickly he gives a low snarl and flashes me his molars. I am not to be intimidated. I flick the tip of my tongue across my upper lip and he retreats from the attack, leaning back in his seat and rustling in discomfort.
My attention suddenly diverts. Over the last hour, Rufus had flashed his flirty eyes in my direction more than three times and felt compelled to ask me endless questions. Finally, he presses his fingertips into the side of my thigh, and leans his head in as if to tell me a secret. I oblige out of courtesy.
"You're a beautiful girl, Kaylen," he whispers, his voice low and sultry. I feel something drop to my gut. Way to be inconspicuous, Jalen. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I know what comes next. "The party's ending, but I'd like to keep talking to you."
"Why Mr. ShinRa President, I'm quite flattered," I exclaim, trying to suppress the panic in my voice. "But I'd probably better get home right away."
"I insist, I can give you a ride to my place and we can have a couple drinks, chat," Rufus says. I feel a kick at my heel and turn my eyes slightly to see Reno, looking absolutely livid.
"Excuse me," Reno mutters and jolts from his seat. He walks off in some direction, behind Rufus's eyeshot then jerks his head angrily, beckoning for me to follow him.
"I'd better go see what's wrong with him," I smile politely and spring from my seat before Rufus can object. I follow where Reno had been behind a set of pillars, but as soon as I step into the next room I feel a heavy jerk on my arm, and before I know it Reno's got me pinned with his hips against the wall, his lips urgently pressed against mine. His hands start to wander.
"Reno! Reno!" I pull away. "Would you stop it!?" I try to pry his hands off, but his fingers are intent on their destination. I roughly push him away. "What am I supposed to do!?"
"Meet me in the bathroom in five? We could make it fast and—"
"About RUFUS, Reno! What am I supposed to do about RUFUS?" His smirk falters a little bit at the mention of it.
"You can't say no," he says with a snarl. "He's obviously got his eye on you and he's the president. He always gets what he wants." I scowl. Sleeping with the president? I'm not a whore, I can't just be passed around from man to man like some kind of toy. I open my mouth to protest, but he interjects. "Look, we'll figure it out, but right now, damn Jalen." His fingers are all over me again, around my waist, under the edges of my dress and reaching up my thigh.
"No! This is fucking ridiculous, Reno!"
"Calm down. Just go with him. I'll handle it," Reno says, then leans in so that his lips are at my ears, his breath on my neck. "And then I'll handle you, SOLDIER." I fight the shivers in my spine.
I shove him off with an effort. "You'd better handle this unless you want a very uncomfortable dry spell, Turk."
We walk back to the table as if nothing had happened. Reno still looking angry and bothered and myself, composed and calm. The president always has his way.
"What was that about?" Rufus asks as soon as I take my seat next to him again. I feel Elena's eyes piercing through me, as if I'm the devil incarnate.
"I had to say goodnight to Reno," I lean my face close to his and whisper. "Since he won't be giving me a ride home tonight." I glimpse Rufus's smirk. Seducing the ShinRa president, how sick is that? But aren't they all? Tonight, I'll have to be careful. If Reno doesn't follow through, I don't know exactly what will happen. I may be walking right into a trap. Mako-treated half Cetra seducing the ShinRa president, like the prey warming up to the predator—what a joke.
The car ride becomes interesting. He has his hands wherever he can grasp, touching my arm, my knee, then slowly tracing his fingers towards my thigh. His words are soft and tender in my ear, telling me how pretty my brown eyes are and how soft my skin is, trying to lull me into a false sense of security. But I know better. The male species are all the same. They all want the same thing.
Besides, this kind of wooing never did any good on me. I've always been attracted to the roughness, to the sharp and edgy. If Reno had normal colored hair I'd probably be less keen on him. If he didn't cuss whenever he felt like it, I'd probably be less likely to respond to him. If he didn't wrestle me into place in bed I'd probably enjoy my nights less.
After the ride back, Rufus leads me into his presidential suite, pulling my gently by the fingers. The room is large with a great view of upper Midgar, the sectors alight with nightlife. The lights are dim, he pours me a glass of champagne and kisses the back of my hand. He pours himself a glass and takes a sip.
"So Miss Kaylen," he says, lifting the back of my hand to his lips and kissing them softly. "Come take a seat, please." He pulls me towards the bed and sits down next to me. I sit hesitantly. Reno said he'd handle it. I feel myself start to shake and I can't tell if it's with anger or with fear.
Rufus presses his lips against my shoulder blade and trails them up in little kisses to my ear. I feel his fingers running up my inner thigh and I feel like I'm going to puke. "Your eyes are beautiful," he whispers. Your eyes, Jalen...they're pretty. He leans in for the kiss and I clench my eyes tight and hold my breath. Please don't, please don't. Goddamnit Reno I'm going to fuck you up later. His face suddenly stops and there's no movement. What's happened?
I open my eyes, his face is blank, his expression unreadable as if someone just punched him and he's still suffering the aftershock. Suddenly he falls backwards onto the bed.
"Um...okay?" I mutter and lean over his face to see what's going on. He's not faking it, he's just completely and utterly out. In the corner of the room I hear a quiet snicker.
"So predictable, Mr. President," I hear Reno's voice.
"Reno! Did you...? How in the world…?"
"Does it matter? He won't remember anything in the morning," he smirks triumphantly. "Would've been fun if you drank the champagne too. But you're feistier when you're awake." He walks up to me and puts his hands around my waist. "Mm Jay," he whispers in my ear; I feel his hot breath turning the skin on my neck moist. "You look good."
"Reno!" I yell. I'm horrified by the fact that the president of ShinRa is lying unconscious less than a foot away from me after having tried to seduce me and now this pervert is trying to get into my dress. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like?" he grins. "What do you say we rough the place up a little, hm? Make it look realistic for when the big boy wakes up tomorrow morning." His hands are all around and back and at the clasp of the dress. He undoes it lightly and begins to pull the zipper down.
"Re-no!" I yell and push him off, zipping back up. "Let's just get going.." I turn around and head for the door, but it's not long before I feel him behind me pressing himself against me and holding me in place with his hands on my hips.
"Your ass looks nice in that dress," he says. "It'd look nicer without it though."
"You know what?" I turn around and push him over, he falls with a girlish squeal. I climb on top of him and pin him down between my legs. I lean down and kiss his lips, playfully biting his lower lip. As I hear his moan in my ear, I snatch the car keys out of his hand and stand up and head towards the door.
Before I even get a step, he's on top of me, growling playfully.
"I'm not letting you leave without a little struggle," I push him to the ground and straighten out my dress. He wants it, this is my chance to use that to my advantage.
"Before we left, you held your tongue," I say. He settles down where I've thrown him leaning back on his hands and watching me with close eyes as I stand up over him to make my testimony. "I recognized that look."
"Don't know what you're talking about--" he snarls and pulls me towards him by my thighs with his fingertips.
"Say it, Reno," I resist as he pulls me closer to him.
"No."
"Say it. Out loud. Right now," I demand and push his hands off me. He sighs and reaches again for the hem of my dress.
"No, Jay."
"You scared, Reno? Say it or say goodbye," he pulls me against him so that the length of his torso is presses against my thighs. He buries his face into my dress and reaches up, stroking the back of my thigh with his fingers. I can feel the struggle in his breath. An indicator, I was right, there was something he held back.
"Stupid bitch," he mutters.
He doesn't know. He doesn't understand what he feels, what I can see his eyes, in his actions and movements. The feelings I've known so well all my life, motivated my every movement, and whether in vain carried me to where I am now. How many deaths? How many people lying on the floor in front of him, sprawled in their own blood did it take for him to refuse the emotion, completely stomp the memory of love, of being loved from his mind. How many bodies, how many women did he have to lie next to, searching for that lost emotion again, to realize it had gone? How many lips and tongues and thrusts until he gave up?
It's three words. Even two will do.
He refuses it. I see the confusion in his eyes. Like he doesn't understand what he's feeling, or lost control of the situation.
"The answer is no," he says.
"Then mine is 'no' too," I say and head towards the door. He rises and snatches me by the waist, pressing me against the door.
"Well I wanna hear you moan your answer in my ear," he says and presses his lips against mine. Before I can protest my zipper is undone and my dress slips down over my hips, and his hands are all over me. That's it, he's asking for it. I drop his slacks and topple on top of him on the floor, but he won't have it.
He struggles his way on top and I feel his hands crawling all over my body, tracing my curves as the moans escape my mouth.
"No, Reno," I find myself moaning and the smirk spreads across his face.
"Good girl," he smirks.
I resent him. With every fiber in my being I struggle with him, but the more I do, the more I find myself in love with him. It's a vicious endless cycle. The more he wins the more I hate him and the more I hate him the more I love him. Our bodies struggle against each other, as if a kind of dance all through out the night, painted in dark hatred, equally deep love, and the red of lust.