Title:Power Play

Disclaimer:We don't own, but if we did, there would be a hell of a lot of boylove in the games and movie.

Rating:NC-17

Warnings: Language, boy on boy, masturbation, mild gun play.

Authors: Alexj69 (Lazard) Whiskey(Tseng)

Summary :: Lazard gives Genesis a mission he believes is beneath him, and he goes straight to the young vice president to appeal it. Part 8 of many.

AN1: Yes, this is more Lazard/Tseng, and so is the next chapter, but the only reason we did that is because this chapter turned out to be way to long, so we had to split it in half. So expect the chapt 9 to be up in the next few days and it will be more Laz/Tseng. However, after that we will be getting back to Rufus/Genesis

AN2: Thank you to everyone who is still following this story and for adding it to alerts and/or favorites. Special thanks goes out to Kiti Renentine, Soyna, violetsake, Khfujoshgirl98, and ViviMouse for all your pleasant comments and wonderful reviews.

Tseng could barely breathe, he was walking so fast; he was so desperate to remove himself from a scene that was quickly becoming extremely unprofessional. He had yet to confirm to himself that he had enjoyed it, being too busy attempting to clear the image of Lazard's long, dainty legs out of his mind, and that fuzzy spot in the corner of his vision he was certain was an erection, and the feeling of the director's silken lips caressing—

Stop. Time to get back to work.

He barely managed to resist running over the scene once more in his head before he heard the metallic hiss of his office doors closing behind him, alerting him to the fact that he was safe, and Lazard was not behind him, seducing him…

Then his emotions took over. What the hell was Director Lazard thinking?

The anger began to set in, once the disbelief had faded somewhat. His head and heart were dizzy, and he struggled to sit down in his office chair, unlocking his user ID on his computer and opening the minifridge under his desk. The office was a closet compared to Veld's, and Reno and Rude shared a larger one, the two of them seemingly unable to spend even a moment apart, but Tseng didn't mind. One tiny window let in a few streaks of sunlight that dusty, aged blinds couldn't keep out. The older rooms of the Shinra building were much less high-tech, and Tseng envied Lazard his beautiful office, even if it was too large to adequately guard.

Lazard.

Tseng shook his head and snapped open a can of iced coffee, fingers immediately attacking the keyboard in a frenzy to erase the things from his head. What a fucking day it had been. First he had gone to make sure Rufus was all right, walked in on him and the SOLDIER, gotten reassigned, fended off Lazard's razor blade tongue, then witnessed a scene of touching self-hate, bandaged the director's wounds, and turned down the man's offer for sex… He was exhausted. And he had missed lunch. Thankfully he had something microwaveable in the fridge. He took out a plastic box of meat, vegetables and brown rice and heated it up, enjoying the way it made his office smell.

Once he had finished eating lunch and consuming something caffeinated, Tseng felt much better, but he was still emotionally on edge. Hopefully the rest of the day could give him a break, and he could go check on Rufus and go home—

No. He couldn't. He had to check on Lazard instead. Why did his life have to be one long headache? Perhaps his reaction would force Lazard to be civil and… professional. Sighing, Tseng sipped his coffee and spent the next hour on paperwork, which had never before been so comforting.

Lazard, for his part, used the next few hours to do nothing but lie on his couch and stare at his wounded, bandaged hand. The appendage had stopped hurting some time ago, but he was still in a state of disbelief as to the reason behind the cuts. He never thought himself to be so emotionally unstable that a simple statement, such as the one Tseng had thrown his way, could have such a devastating effect on his psyche.

Then to top it off, he had thrown himself at the Turk; whether out of manipulation or genuine lust didn't matter, he had still done it. But, dear Gaia, the sex would have been such a stress relief. Especially after Tseng had witnessed his little breakdown. At least there would have been more of a connection than the act of just being physical.

What the hell? Did he just think the word connection? In regards to Tseng? The only thing they ever connected on was how best to piss each other off. So why then, did he feel no need to annoy the dark-haired man any further that day?

Decided that he was finished with the thoroughly screwed-up self analysis, Lazard figured that it was time he got off his ass, and get back to work. But he did want to apologize to Tseng first. iWhat? I did not just think about saying sorry to that bastard. The man fawned over Rufus Shinra as if he were a blessing of the gods. There was no way Lazard could like or trust him.

The blond SOLDIER director left his apartment, caught the next elevator, and... found himself outside of Tseng's office. He was just going inside to tell him that he would be in his office, since Tseng was his bodyguard and all. At least that's what he told himself.

This has to stop...I am not looking for reasons to see him. This visit is work related, nothing more... and I am not going to say sorry. Well, maybe I will if it means getting him in the sack.

Lifting his non-injured hand, the SOLDIER director rapped three times in succession.

Tseng stopped dead when he heard a knock at his door. He knew those last few tranquil hours of paperwork couldn't last. Attempting to hold out hope that it could possibly be Rufus, coming to say he missed him, Tseng murmured defeatedly, "Come in."

Lazard, heart racing in his chest, opened the door and strolled in, hips swaying side to side in an all too teasing manner. Willing his heart not to beat so loudly that Tseng could hear it, he returned to that calm and collected demeanor he always projected.

He stopped when he was right on the other side of Tseng's desk. Now that he saw the Turk again, his taste buds suddenly sharpened, and he vividly remembered the man's skin against his lips. Lazard dropped his eyes for fear of not having to power to fight down an erection if one should arise.

"Mr. Tseng, I'm only here to inform you that I am returning to my office now, and seeing that I am a man who respects others' positions at their place of employment, I thought it only decent of me to tell you of my soon-to-be whereabouts." Lazard pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and tried not to blush as he spoke to the man.

Tseng felt his heart rate quicken at the sound of Lazard's smooth voice, and became acutely aware of an increase in body temperature... that he would pointedly ignore, of course. "Very well," Tseng found himself responding without thinking; somehow all the angry things he had wanted to say to Lazard had completely evaporated. Not that it would have done him any good to say them anyhow. He meant to ask Lazard to contact him if necessary, but found himself unable to invite any future correspondence with the director, even though it was his job. He sat blankly staring at his computer, aware of the short distance between their bodies and the dryness of his mouth.

That was it? All Tseng could say was "Very well?" No "How's your hand, Director?" Or "I'll be down as soon as I'm finished up here, Lazard." Nothing but "very well"… Lazard wasn't exactly sure why, but suddenly there was a stinging ache in his chest. Having never been one who handled such nonchalant rejection, the blond snapped, his embarrassed flush fleeing his cheeks.

"Excuse me?" Lazard demanded sharply. He had never in his life been so pointedly

dismissed, and to say he was offended would have been an understatement. And here he was thinking of apologizing to the Turk? Not now, thank you very much. And Tseng continued sitting looking all stoic like nothing had happened between them.

Regardless of whether or not Tseng's dismissal was meant to be an insult, Lazard took it as such. And he never took kindly to insults. His razor-sharp weapon of a tongue fired off on its own, with him having very little control over it. It was staggering how Lazard could act so demure and smooth in front of his SOLDIERs, all smiles and well wishes, and in the very next instant, toward those he imaged had slighted him, be so cruel and vicious.

"Well, in that case..." the acid dripping from his words was almost tangible, "I'm not going back to my office. Instead I think I will visit Rufus." Lazard plastered a smirk to his lips that could freeze even the great General Sephiroth.

Wanting his next remark to seem off handed, but knowing it was a dagger through the Turk's heart, Lazard put his hand against his forehead and muttered, "I wonder if I can get the brat as hot and flustered as I did last time. He makes the prettiest cum face."

He then smiled sweetly to Tseng, "I'll have to see you later, Turk. I have things to do." However, the blond made no move to leave. He wanted some sort of reaction out of Tseng and damn it he was going to get it.

Tseng looked up at Lazard's sharp response, taken slightly aback. Was the director that easily offended, that he was able to get angry at nothing? Tseng braced himself for yet another fight, but could never have prepared himself for what Lazard said next.

At the sound of his old charge's name, Tseng's face flooded with heat, the memory of the boy so fresh in his mind. He glanced at Lazard, and the grin the director flashed him was beyond predatory. Then Tseng's eyes widened as he heard the next part, and a mixture of anger and arousal slammed him in the gut. Ignoring the straining erection now tenting his suit pants, Tseng rose to his feet, rounded the desk, and instinctively drew his gun. He pressed the barrel to Lazard's temple and grabbed the director by the collar of his shirt with his free hand.

"How...how dare you say that about your own brother," he stammered, quaking with rage. For a moment he was at a loss for words. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to, Deusericus? With one phone call I can have Reno and Rude dump your dead body in the ocean. Don't you dare insult Rufus Shinra again." He stopped to breathe, realizing his chest was heaving with emotion and his slacks were tight with his raw physical reaction to the topic of Rufus.

Lazard cocked his head, and a look of innocence crossed his face. Yes, he had a gun to his head, and yes, that was causing his heart to thunder against his ribs, but the very thrill of the situation brought his cock to life. The member was throbbing so painfully that there was no way it could be ignored. His precum was dampening the silk of his boxers.

The danger was like a magnet, and like a moth drawn to a flame, Lazard couldn't resist taking a step forward, until his body almost melded with the beautiful assassin's. Tseng's gun arm moved with him. Lazard's hands stopped to rest on the Turk's chest, and dipping his head forward so that his words could be felt as vibrations against Tseng's soft lips, the blond began to whisper. "And why should I not talk about my brother that way? It's true." He inched even closer. The scent of Tseng was driving him insane, but he had to do this right if he didn't want to end up shot.

"I pushed him against the back wall in his office, and he didn't resist. His body trembled against mine, in much the same way that mine is doing against yours right now. I slid my hands down his chest, like so," Lazard slowly moved his fingertips down the front of Tseng's shirt, applying only enough pressure so the Turk could feel it. "Down his stomach," Lazard's eyes never left Tseng's, as if he were daring the Turk to push him away. When Tseng made no effort to stop him, Lazard's digits continued. "And stopped here." The blond's fingers were touching a cock as hard as his own. "I then opened his pants," he left the Turk's pants stay right where they were, but continued to lightly caress the hard shaft beneath, "and jacked him off until he came all over my hand. And you know what, Turk?" Lazard's tongue then ghosted over lips that were quivering as badly as his own. "He fucking loved it." Pulling back only a hair, "so, if you're going to kill me over that," he gave a sidelong look to the gun, "then do it." His fingers never once ceased manipulating Tseng's hardness.

Tseng inhaled sharply when Lazard approached him, and the hand holding his gun trembled violently. His finger slipped off the trigger — though in reality he hadn't even clicked the safety off — and he held it limply against Lazard's temple as the director's words assaulted his senses, as the man himself moved close enough to smell, to kiss, if either of them desired it. Tseng shuddered and let out the smallest of breaths as Lazard's fingers brushed his chest delicately, moving slowly down to his stomach. Blinking to confirm to himself that this was happening, Tseng swallowed and allowed himself to both envision Rufus before him, shirtless and whimpering, and to relax enough to feel each crackle of pleasure that filtered down to his engorged cock from Lazard's fingertips. Lazard's whispers filled the air, filled his mind with the object of his desire, Rufus against a wall, Rufus trembling and whimpering, Rufus looking up defiantly at the brother he hated, but aroused enough to not be able to turn away. Just like the way Tseng himself felt.

Then Lazard dared to do more, dared to caress Tseng's erection, straining desperately, having gone untouched for far too long. Tseng imagined Rufus' orgasm in his mind, and let out the faintest of groans when it was timed with a particularly adroit squeeze to his cock. His eyes flitted downward to see white silk gloved fingers pressed against a part of him only barely covered by the slacks, it seemed, and Tseng fought back another groan, feeling quite embarrassed by the first one. Struggling to shake off the heat that had filled his face, Tseng sheathed his gun once more, and tried his best to look Lazard in the eye. "What is it you want from me, Director?" His voice was shakier than he would have liked.

Lazard wasn't letting him get off that easy this time, not when he had Tseng's full attention and in such a position. Bright blue eyes followed the path of the gun, but seeing that Tseng didn't pull away, Lazard continued with his careful ministrations to the Turk's shaft. Hearing the dark one groan had almost been enough to push forward Lazard's own climax, but there was no way he was going to get off without being touched.

"What is it I want from you, Tseng?" Lazard repeated the question. "There are a few things. And one, I'm happy to report, is within my grasp." The SOLDIER director gave Tseng's shaft a long, hard squeeze. He couldn't fight the smile that touched his lips when the Turk's hips involuntarily pumped into his hand. "Another thing," Lazard separated the space that was between them, and when he spoke next, lips were pressed against lips. "Don't ever...ever...ignore me or dismiss me like you just did. I didn't like it."

Lazard moved his hand so that his arms could slide around Tseng's neck. "And lastly, you are my bodyguard...mine. I can be quite possessive." Lazard's mouth was now working on Tseng's. "Now, kiss me like you mean it."

Tseng trembled in Lazard's grip, seeking as much contact as the director was willing to give, which as it turned out was a dizzying amount; he pumped his hips and attempted to stifle a groan, but part of it still managed to escape, and he blushed at the realization that Lazard could hear him. Tseng had never considered himself shy, but he was certainly an introvert, and sexual affairs were never something he placed much value in; this often caused him to build up until moments like this occurred. Swallowing hard, he nodded when Lazard made his demand, understanding that he had hurt his charge's apparently now easily wounded feelings. Then Lazard put his arms around him, and he stopped thinking, lips crashing into Lazard's hard enough to hurt, with a desperation Tseng hadn't known in years. His now free hands explored Lazard's thin waist, pulling Lazard forward to press against his body.

Lazard slid easily into Tseng's embrace, and he returned the kisses with a passion that only came with the realization that he was kissing one of his rivals. For years the two of them had only sought to one-up each other in spars of hurtful words and dagger-sharp glares, but now here they were, lips touching, arms wrapped around each other, and bodies begging the other for more. It was a sensation that Lazard could become accustomed to.

A wanton moan of his own traveled from Lazard's throat, and with it his lips parted. His wet tongue danced forward, pleading for acceptance into Tseng's hot mouth. He sighed when it was granted entry. His entire body burned when the Turk's tongue greeted his and his hips started to move of their own accord. The blond began to grind his clothed stiffness against the hard shaft of the Turk, sending a pulse of ecstasy through his frail form, urging him onward.

The director's senses were going into overdrive. He wanted Tseng, wanted him badly. There was almost a physical need to allow the black haired man to consume him. He wanted to feel Tseng inside him, and he wanted it now. Lazard pulled away from the kiss only because he needed air. The intake of oxygen was exhaled in a breath that whispered Tseng's name.

Tseng blushed again. He found it difficult to look at Lazard, but did it anyway. "Let me escort you home," he murmured distractedly, not realizing Lazard had intended originally to go back to work, though clearly today was a day off for the director. "I just want to… do my job," he paused to catch his breath.

Lazard was reluctant to release his hold on Tseng. He was afraid that if he let go, the spell of enchantment would be broken and the dark beauty would be lost to him. As much as he was loath to, the director removed his arms from the Turk's neck and backpedaled a few paces. He straightened his jacket and adjusted his cravat (one accessory that he was in no short demand of). For his kiss swollen lips, there was nothing he could do. Holding his head down, so that in case the pair ran into anyone in the hallways no one would notice the swell of his lips, Lazard followed Tseng in silence up to his apartment.

It was strange to return again to the place where he had bandaged Lazard's hand, where the sound of his own voice had filled the empty spaces in the air when Lazard couldn't speak back to him. It was strange to see the lush furniture once again orderly, without any traces of Lazard's earlier clothing on them, without any traces of bloodied cloths or glasses of scotch. It was as if the director had erased every material trace of what had happened between them earlier. Not that Tseng minded; it made it easier for both of them to do what they were about to do.

Suddenly Tseng's eyes snapped widely open, and as Lazard shut the door behind both of them and made to press Tseng against the wall with a searing kiss, Tseng immediately put both arms up to block him with unintentional harshness. "We can't," Tseng said simply. "I'm your bodyguard; it would be unethical," he insisted, more for his own benefit than to explain his actions to Lazard. His prick was aching, and his body was burning with lust, but Tseng had suffered those feelings before, and they were nothing new to him. Bodily pain didn't affect a Turk. He had let his emotions get the better of him beforehand, and it was an almost deadly mistake. After being what he perceived to be discharged from Rufus' presence, there was no way Tseng was risking further employment by getting sexually involved with Rufus' brother. No matter what his body wanted, and no matter how... similar the two of them were starting to look in his mind.

Tseng pointed to the living room. "You lay down; you're not to go back to work today, Director. You've been through too much emotionally and physically. I am going to... take a shower," he decided, when the rhythmic throbbing of his cock wouldn't leave him alone. Besides, the water would relax his turbulent mind, and he normally showered at night anyhow. And he wasn't sure he was okay with leaving Lazard alone after what he had done to himself that morning; he wasn't yet sure the man wouldn't jump off the rooftop. All perfect justifications for his remaining in Lazard's apartment.

Lazard stopped as if he'd been slapped. He wasn't exactly sure what had just happened. Tseng had rejected him...again. Twice in one day by the same man, and here he thought it had been going perfectly. Yeah, it had seemed kind of strange that he was going to fuck Tseng, but it was exhilarating at the same time. The rejection stung his already wounded ego. A look of disgust crossed his face and he stepped away from the Turk. He wasn't sure how much more of today he could stand. At this point, the blond just wanted the day to end. Pushing his glasses up on his face, Lazard shook his head. "Yeah, whatever. Bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left."

He wanted until the gorgeous Turk left his presence, before he went to the kitchen to get a drink. Deciding to forgo a glass, Shinra's illegitimate son pulled out his bottle of gin, unscrewed the lid and raised the bottle to his lips. The bitter liquid burned his throat as he gulped down the liquor straight from the container.

It wasn't hard for the director to figure out why the Turk had stopped him. It was quite simple, really. He wasn't a cute teenager who went by the name of Rufus. Just another reason to hate the little sonof a bitch. There was no use in bemoaning that fact anymore. A cold sort of acceptance crept through Lazard's stomach and sheathed his heart in ice.

The blond took another few swigs from the bottle of gin before putting it up. He didn't want to get wasted... well, that was a lie. He wanted to get so hammered that he couldn't remember his own name, but not while Tseng was here. The Turk had already seen him with too many of his defenses down. Lazard didn't want to add 'complete drunken fool' to the list.

He heard the shower water start running and his mind started turning full speed.Well, if Tseng wanted to be like that and shove me away because I'm not Rufus, fuck being decent to the man... and here I was, ready to play nice and be respectful. Well, no longer. Morals be damned.

Lazard crept down the hallway, not making a sound as he moved. Quietly, he opened the bathroom door, a bit surprised to find it unlocked, and found an angle where he could see into the shower without being noticed. Seeing Tseng naked, with water streaming over his taut muscled body, was breathtaking. Lazard felt his cock stiffen all over again. iDamn you, Turk, for not wanting me./i Watching the man soap himself from head to toe made Lazard ache inside. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Tseng. To feel that wet skin beneath his fingers.

Finally, some privacy, Tseng thought to himself as the water hit him, leaving his clothes folded up on the counter. He had to admit that Lazard had a really nice apartment. Perhaps being the man's bodyguard wasn't so bad after all.

He went through his usual ritual of getting clean before he masturbated, soaping his sleek black hair and toned body with his hands, enjoying the intimacy of his own touch. The heat was so relaxing... His hands worked their way down to his cock, brushing it and causing it to bob slightly. Tseng closed his eyes and wrapped a hand around his cock, squeezing it the way Lazard had done, wondering what wet silk would feel like, or better yet, a wet mouth. Lazard's wet mouth, or Rufus' wet mouth, he couldn't decide... A blond beauty who kept changing form knelt before him, lips poised to allow him entry, and Tseng groaned, his hand jerking faster. Then the image in his mind changed to Lazard pressing his teen brother into a wall in his office, one sleek gloved hand wrapped around Rufus' stiff cock, the air filled with the boy's pleasure. Rufus...

The image changed abruptly to a memory of the immediate past, of Lazard's fingers tracing down the front of his suit, down to his thick, throbbing—"Lazard," Tseng whispered, blushing brightly as the name forced itself from his lips, hips jabbing upward almost painfully as he fell forward slightly, forehead pressed against the wall, right into Lazard's view, something he couldn't have known was the case. Black hair stuck to his face and neck, eyes closing to keep out the water and propel his fantasy. He imagined Lazard moving downward, imagined the blond head bobbing on his erection, fingers twisting in wet hair. Tseng jerked his wrist roughly, faster now, needing this, needing this badly enough that he had to break away from the director, escape, or else he never could have held his ground, but wouldn't it have been great to have fucked him—

What triggered Tseng's climax was the image of Director Lazard lying on his back, legs spread wide to take Tseng's cock, gripping his own with one hand, naked save those gloves and those smart silver-rimmed glasses, tilted just slightly askew on his face. i"Tseng, fuck me,"/ifantasy Lazard whispered delicately, almost sweetly, and Tseng swore under his breath as he came, spurts of white hitting the tile his face was pressed against, and a long, quiet sigh of relief he couldn't quite hold back filling the air.

Lazard's entire body flushed with heat when Tseng wrapped his hand around his engorged, massive shaft. The blond felt a tingle course through him when he pictured what it would be like to have such a powerful tool plunged deep inside him. He had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep from groaning at the thought.

But then Tseng did something completely unexpected. He moaned Lazard's name while palming himself. The director was confused and elated at the same time. What was the Turk's problem? Lazard was right here, willing to give himself to the man, yet Tseng chose his own hand over him? Maybe it was one of Tseng's fetishes? One could never tell when it came to Tseng. He was a very strange individual indeed.

Lazard's skin kept getting warmer the faster Tseng pumped. He desperately wished he were in the shower with him, on his knees, mouth opened wantonly, begging for that cock to be shoved down his throat. Lazard's own hardness was throbbing painfully against his boxers, and when Tseng finally blew, the blond almost went over the edge with him. Only by sheer resolve did he not tumble down the path of release. And, oh dear Gaia, Tseng had the most wonderful cum face that Lazard had ever seen, and he'd seen a lot. It was a look that Lazard would treasure and get off to many times in the future.

Getting himself under control as best he could, save for his reddened flesh, Lazard allowed a smirk to play on his lips when the shower curtain was drawn back. He held out a fresh, clean towel for the Turk. "So, let me see if I got this right? I can make you cum... but you won't let me? I must tell you, Tseng, I am rather confused."

Tseng's blood ran cold when he heard the sound of Lazard's voice, even before he saw the man standing there holding the towel. Swallowing his shock and forcing his facial features to comply, he snatched the towel out of Lazard's hands and immediately dried his face to cover his hot cheeks.

Lazard chuckled when Tseng jerked the towel from his hands. "By the way, that was absolutely amazing. You were so beautiful."

Tseng towel dried his hair and upper body wordlessly, still trying to process in his mind the fact that Lazard was continuously hitting on him, and then had the balls to watch him masturbate in the shower. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower, walking past Lazard briskly, to pick up the first hairbrush he found to tear the knots out of his hair before he pulled it back into its usual ponytail. Once he felt like he had more composure and looked less disheveled and sexual, he turned to Lazard.

"You are unbelievable," was all Tseng could say. Then his eyes drifted downward to Lazard's erection, too big to hide. "If the president knew what I am up against here... I deserve a fucking raise," Tseng spat, almost to himself. "I know the Turks have a... iunique/i ethical code, but nothing about it would make me feel okay about fucking you senseless while you're in a weak emotional state. That's why I said no, and continue to say no, and really, Director, you should know better. I wasn't about to take advantage of Rufus, was I?" His heart pounded when he realized he had almost admitted his feelings for the boy.

Then Tseng stopped. Lazard had called him beautiful, and amazing... Despite himself, he could once again feel his body reacting. After all, masturbation had never been enough for him.

Lazard's cock began to soften. Again, it all came back to Rufus. When didn't it? He was cursed to fall in the boy's shadow every time. Again a sliver of ice shot into his heart as he resigned himself to defeat.

The smile on the blond's lips softened. "Of course you would never take advantage of Rufus. He's just too...precious, isn't he?"

The SOLDIER leader pulled off his glasses and using his handkerchief, cleared away the fog the steam had left. Once he adjusted his silver rimmed spectacles, he turned to leave the room. "While the show was definitely entertaining, I think I am going to go drink more. I think I could use it."

Forcing his voice not to shake and give away the emotions he was feeling, because he'd be damned if he let Tseng witness him breaking down again, he said over his shoulder, "Oh, and Turk, don't worry about me coming on to you again. You've put me in my place." With that, Lazard made his way to the kitchen.