Hitori, Futari

Chapter 13: Submission and Dominance

The days resumed as per usual, with a bit of apprehension on Reno's part. Their routine included them spending nights in Yazoo's bed, or doing their usual stuff—sparring, disagreeing on almost everything, and so on.

The things they'd been up to recently could only signify desecration of their bodies and morals on various levels. Neither of them felt fulfilled in any way whatsoever. Drained and empty as they felt every time they came into each other made them brood over their situation, without them coming to any conclusion in the end.

The one who got it real bad, was, as usual, the redhead. It hadn't been alright when he was with his colleague, but Rufus and Tseng had turned a blind eye on their affair, counting on their underling; he'd always bring magnificent results, plus he was such an enthusiast when it came to rebuilding the Corporation. He would set a good example for others, they mused, so they let him slip off the hook and do what he pleased with Elena.

However, being with his protégé was something entirely different. Firstly, as his supervisor, he shouldn't have indulged in such activities; what was always required in his establishment was sheer professionalism and cold-bloodedness (despite his cheerfulness, no one could deny that Reno was also cold-blooded, he'd never even blinked when assassinating any of Rufus' enemies, as already stated). Besides, imagine if he slept with a person he was about to kill, for instance! Where this all would lead? Forming bonds, confessing—even cold-blooded, their role as Turks never excluded their role as human beings. Reno was there to set an example, not to go on a rampage or love adventures.

Secondly, the person in question wasn't a mere foe of the Corporation. It was Yazoo. The name itself was intimidating enough; everybody still remembered his crazy, distorted voice, hid strange gestures, his deadly aura even when they'd been running a number of tests on him and he was calm all the time. Something wasn't right about him and his request. That was one of the reasons Reno had been assigned the task of keeping an eye on him, since he was regarded as Rufus' most trusted Turk. Reno knew this, trying to justify his doings by thinking of them as means of satisfying both his superior's and his curiosity. Such musings further lead to conclusion that he was indeed protecting ShinRa's interests.

But if it were so, then he, as a scout, should have done something more productive. If it were so, then why were all of those facts making such effects on his internal organs, the feeling of something peeling his skin agonizingly slowly every time when he left Yazoo's bed late at night, without a minute spent sleeping? He had recently checked the calendar. It was three months into the second year now, since they'd met each other under those strange circumstances.

Reno pinched the bridge of his nose. Writing reports was always tiring, since he had to invent most of its contents. He couldn't possibly say that on a particular day Yazoo didn't get out of his apartment because he was in bed with him, could he? Writing the truth seemed difficult, too, since he spent most of his time in the butchery, doing the twelve-hour long shifts. He was, as he had been obliged to be—a good and hard-working citizen. The only time when he could be free was on weekends, and that was when they sparred and participated in races. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a pattern that would, probably, make Rufus and Tseng paranoid.

He'd tried to convince Yazoo, on various occasions, to talk some sense into his boss or his daughter. Yazoo had ignored him. Nothing indicated that all of this would ever change. He was wondering how much of this monotony his protégé could take. He was trying to work in his interest, to remove the unnecessary ballast, but the remnant wouldn't listen. It was his way of defying him, the Turk was sure of it. As the time went by he felt more uneasy; something was about to come and bring relentless suffer to all of them.

Later that day, Reno witnessed something unusual, but still believable. He was loitering in Yazoo's apartment, sitting in the kitchenette and nibbling at the carrot he found in the refrigerator. The day comparatively pleasant, save for the sharp wind (it was important that sun was there all the time, the rays of light protruding from the small holes in the roof). He wasn't there, however; his shift was to be over in approximately four hours.

Having finished the carrot, Reno staggered to the bed and collapsed on top of it, ready for a pleasant nap. He buried his face in Yazoo's pillows, remaining in his shoes just to annoy his meticulous little remnant. He'd done it a number of times, but Yazoo never showed that he was annoyed, yet still Reno liked to think of it that way, that he was annoying the youth, that he was the cause of all his sorrows in this world.

The phone rang somewhere on the nightstand. Yazoo religiously picked up his cell phone. A beep. He kept the phone tightly to his ear, with both his hands; his back turned toward Reno's sleeping form. The conversation was short, but meaningful. He glanced at the man, uttered another 'hn' before exiting.

The Turk opened his eyes. What was that? He wondered, but it wasn't that hard to guess. It was one of his brothers, probably Loz. He shifted comfortably in his bed, not in the least thinking that it high time he left. The decency said so, yet he paid no mind to it. He felt warm and sleepy, pleasantly surprised by the remnant's reaction to the phone call. This said a lot about him, but he could be easily wrong. Everything about Yazoo seemed to be misleading.

The warmth of his own bed called him through his dreams, but he refused to acknowledge it. The only one who had a say in this was Yazoo, if he chose to throw him out in the cruelest way possible. Perhaps then he'd allow guilt to settle in his stomach like salmonella.

The setting was as expected, some secluded place no one dared to visit, in this case, the ruins near Edge. The inhabitants hadn't made it to this one, yet, but the progress was visible. It was the matter of months before they spread their tools and machines everywhere and start restoring this abandoned place, for now Loz's and Yazoo's secret meeting place. Rufus would invest in this building, Yazoo mused, and the mob would scream his name like some religious mantra.

He joined his brother- demoted to–the function-of-his- former-comrade. Loz was calm, beautiful in his robustness, his tight leather clothes left nothing to imagination. He was swinging his legs in the air, looking at the city in construction. His eyes revealed nothing, whether he was impressed or indifferent to his surroundings. Yazoo supported himself with his hands, placing them behind his back; the dust dirtied his gloves. He looked in the same direction as Loz.

"I see you're doing pretty well down there." Loz said bitterly, "Couldn't miss seeing you limp, though. On many occasions." His voice faltered. He recalled Kadaj's remark on that. At first the youngest would throw a tantrum, screaming that he didn't want to hear anything about Yazoo, then quietly asking for his well-being. "Is something wrong, Yazoo? Could it be that Kadaj was right?"

"About what?" Yazoo lazily turned his head to face Loz. Darkness hid the blush of the one that appeared oldest of the three. He hesitated, so it was easy for Yazoo to understand the nature of his question.

"About you and that idiot…?" his voice was more apprehensive. Yazoo averted his gaze since he found the city outline more interesting that his brother's tear-stained face, apprehension- stricken and distorted.

"What do you think about it, Loz?" he asked in a singsong voice.

"I think it's wrong on so many levels, Yazoo. He's not the one you're supposed to trust, let alone let him fuck you." His voice was now the one of reprimanding older brother; he frowned slightly; he, too, was looking at the outline. He found it a bit harder to breathe because he wasn't familiar with the situation and never thought of Yazoo being with anyone or acknowledging that such things existed.

"Do I have to remind you that you are still a virgin?" he asked distortedly and disdainfully. Who was Loz to question his choices? Loz scowled, shifted a bit, blinking several times. "Things are always going to my advantage, so stop crying."

"I'm not crying."

Yazoo looked at him and patted him on the shoulder. As much as he wanted to tease him, he let it rest for now, because Loz was the living proof of them reuniting once again, in the future…maybe.

"You wanted me to come here and recount you my sex life?" he sounded like someone from the village who had made it in the big city, with Loz playing the role of his fellow cousin who knew nothing about the world, and wanted to learn, to have a blind faith in him, to regard him as his guide and his God.

"Hell no!" the short-haired remnant instantly replied, having the expression of a disgusted child who talked about kissing with his friend. A short pause ensued, while he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Kadaj wonders when you're going to return. To realize you're wrong and come back before they shoot you."

"Why?"

"Those people he collected…well, he discarded all adults and kept the children because he says it's best to work with them. Their minds are young and like clay—you can shape them however you want. The point is, he wants to train them to be mercenaries….he's got that big idea, you know, of making a career as a mercenary, like Nii-san…It's like a, like a…"

"Like a big army?" Loz nodded.

"He needs you to teach them marksmanship…Just think about it, we'd be together again." His face brightened up a bit, tears forming in the corners of his cyan eyes.

"Tell Kadaj I'll think about it. I'm doing fine here and I'm not dead yet." Yazoo was calm despite being somewhat glad that his comrades hadn't rejected him in entirety. However, he had no intention of giving up for he was a proud male, as most of his kind was, who wanted to prove his point. "Everything is going to fall apart in the end. Rufus Shinra isn't as good as he presents himself to the mob." He said disdainfully. People still believed in miracles. This was the longest he would ever speak with Loz.

"Does that mean you'd come with us when he exposes himself? What do you think he would do? How long will it take?"

"Years, perhaps."

"Years?" the muscular one found himself in disbelief. "How so?"

"Still haven't seen through him, but I will." Yazoo's words echoed throughout the building, his words coming out slow as if he had been drugged. He had enough of Loz's questions, assumptions and accusations. Kadaj's plans seemed interesting and occupied his mind all the way back to his place.

The truth was, Rufus would rather take months than years. He would be impatient; something would occur. Perhaps he would discover his relationship with Reno; perhaps something much greater would trigger the great hunt. Either way, it would be a great spectacle, however it turned out in the end.

He unlocked the door only to discover the redhead still occupying his bed. The man never learned when he was unwanted.

Reno held his hips a bit tighter that night, sighing and groaning over his shoulder, his ponytail all wet, sticking to his partner's neck. A kiss on the shoulder was reassuring, however; the pain inYazoo's lower back would be gone soon. The phenomenon of warm bodies, curly pubic hairs, wet from anticipation, semen and sweat, trembling limbs, and the feeling that some kind of steam was rising all around them—the illusion he had since it was very hot that night—never ceased to wake his interest. The more he got, the more unexplored it was, incomplete and meaningless; it was as if he was missing some key point just by an inch and he wasn't able to grasp it.

Reno's body pressed against his own, arms enveloping him; two strong, lean men being intimate, drying the skin of their backs and shoulders with the warm, soothing breath, almost like a breeze in the early morning. He loved contemplating it, delighting in the news Loz had brought him earlier. It had been a while since they'd slept together, Reno and he. Incoherence of thoughts.

He arched his back, eliciting a sigh from the redhead, the proof that he still enjoyed it, his response being more aggressive, his arms tightening around his hips, which, gradually, wrapped themselves around his belly, symbolizing, in Yazoo's clouded mind, Reno's accepting him as a man rather than an animal. Which made no sense whatsoever to the one who couldn't care less for such things.

Eventually, the Turk collapsed on top of him, managing a few more short thrusts- aftershocks of orgasm- his palms pressed against Yazoo's abs firmly. The silver haired youth was desperately trying to control his breathing, to make it even, by holding his breath and trembling slightly.

"How come you let me do you…at all, I mean?" Reno managed.

"Hn" Yazoo uttered, detaching himself from the redhead. If he knew it wasn't about who was submissive and who dominant, it would disappoint his lover, he believed. Everything revolved about pleasures such sex brought. As simple as that. But Reno always saw profounder meanings in everything.

TBC…?

Please R&R :)