Hunched on the bed, his pants finally buttoned back up, long fingers fidgeting with the bottom of his undershirt, Rufus stared at the lock on the door. It would be so simple to keep Tseng out. Yes, the Turk could have picked it, or, hell, just kicked his way through, if Tseng was truly determined to get his way and force food down his employer's throat. But Rufus doubted that was the case, that the older man would resort to such extreme measures to, well, 'care' for him.
The idea of being 'cared' for tightened Rufus' stomach, swimming it with nausea, and he didn't know exactly why. His past few lovers had tried to 'care' for him, and, with Rufus growing inadvertently disgusted as a result, they had never lasted more than a week or two after that.
Rufus wasn't blind or stupid though. He knew the average person wasn't like the way he was, resistant to any closeness beyond lust. But he also couldn't control the urge to drive everyone away since it always felt better, right when he did it.
Except for his staff. Those people he couldn't drive away without proper reasons, those people who served him day after day without fail. Getting served, that he could handle with no problem. It helped that he'd been waited on ever since he was a baby. But serving him, receiving exact orders for the nature of that service, was a far cry from 'caring' for him.
No, they didn't 'care' about him, and that was why they were keeping their jobs that day. Even at that moment, while he burned with hate for the whole lot of his staff, he couldn't blame them for bringing Tseng into this. Because, in the end, it was simple economics. His employees were bound to be concerned, talk, and eventually act when their own livelihoods were at risk. He understood that. More than enough people lived in his household and knew him and his perfections and imperfections far too well after years of service. And they were paid, every last one of them, to pay attention to his every whim.
There were few people in the world who would fight for Rufus Shinra's life, and all of them were under his roof... Or kicked to the street, those ones who couldn't understand boundaries and rules.
None of that reasoning could explain Tseng at that moment though. And right then, Rufus considered firing the Turk, just to still the tension in his own body. It wasn't the first time he'd played with the idea, but this was the first time the thought was serious.
But, no, he couldn't fire him. Not only did he need Tseng to perform his duties, but Rufus also knew this, all of this, was his own fault. He couldn't blame Tseng for trying to control the situation. That was his job: to control this household, as well as the people who threatened it. And Rufus paid him a lot to do just that. But apparently he needed to draw some boundaries, mostly for his own peace of mind, his sanity.
And, really, couldn't he die in peace, if he wanted to? Wasn't that his right, whether or not he kept Tseng on? The Turk had no business deciding how he took care of himself, nor any other part of his private life, outside of the Turk's explicit duties.
And yet Tseng was...
Rufus eyed the door again. Surely if he locked it, Tseng would take the hint, understand that Rufus was in charge, and leave him alone. So why wasn't he locking it?
Probably because, underneath, Rufus knew he was wrong. Tseng would force his way inside. If Tseng didn't do it that day, then he'd probably do it the next day. And Rufus didn't want the humiliation of it when it became clear to everyone in the household that Tseng had no intention of listening to his employer.
So, the door remained unlocked.
"I should fire his ass," Rufus whispered, the sound hoarse and grating.
A few minutes later, within fifteen minutes of leaving, Tseng knocked on his door again, and from the harshness, it sounded like a foot kicking the wood. Well, at least Rufus assumed it was Tseng.
Rufus rose to disturbingly wobbly feet and stalked the best he could to the door. When he opened it, Tseng was holding a tray of covered food that smelled, well, delectable, but then Rufus had always hired the best cooks, food one of his secret pleasures. Tseng took a step forward, obviously expecting him to move.
Now was the time to put his foot down. He opened his mouth to, but stopped when dark eyes narrowed.
"Move."
Rufus' eyes widened, and he almost slammed the door shut. And would have if a foot hadn't wedged against the door.
Again, icily, the man growled, "Move."
There were few times in his life Rufus had blushed. So not ready mentally or physically for this confrontation despite the time he'd had to himself, Rufus did blush now and severely, surely as red as the sun behind him, feeling like it stretched all the way to his fingertips and bare toes.
Foot. Down. Now, you fool.
The standoff lasted another couple of seconds before Tseng strode forward, forcing Rufus to move out of his way. It was either that, or end up with food all over the place and bringing that much more attention to his refusal to eat. And that would only bring more pressure on him from the household.
Over something that's my own decision, damn it!
Tseng put the tray down on the table near the balcony and took a seat on one of the sturdy, plushly cushioned chairs. Expectant eyes stared at his employer.
The blush calming a bit with Rufus' new resentment, Rufus gritted his teeth, slammed the door shut, and stumbled as he stalked to the other chair across from Tseng. By the time he got to it, he was grateful for the seat as dizziness made him dangerously lightheaded. Elbows hitting the top of the table, Rufus pressed at his eyes until he saw spots, which did nothing to still his nausea.
A glass plate was put on the table, and then another directly in front of him. The tray clanked to the side. "I'm told it's your favorite."
Rufus could smell it and knew it was his favorite: pizza with gooey cheese and fresh meats and vegetables over sweetly spiced tomato sauce. As someone who enjoyed flaunting her cooking skills, if the woman was resorting to simple pizza, she was clearly desperate. Despite himself, the blond man couldn't help his smile.
"I take it, it's true."
Blue eyes opened, curved by his smile. "And I thought you Turks knew everything about me, down to my deodorant."
A smile crept onto the other man's face. "It's not in my job description to know your tastes. The rest of you, keeping you safe, is what I'm concerned with."
"Except at this moment."
Tseng shrugged and settled back into the chair. "I can adjust when needed, and I am trying to keep you safe."
The silent 'from yourself' was there and made Rufus grit his teeth.
The smile dropped away from Rufus' face as he watched his employee... relax? Why...? Why was the man suddenly acting so...
"Tseng," Rufus started but then stalled out over his confusion.
This cold man never let down his guard like this. It was one of the reasons Tseng had become head of the Turks after Veld.
But, then again, maybe this was how Tseng acted off the clock, around his friends.
...But they weren't friends.
What had changed from one day to the next? Him starving himself? It couldn't be that simple. Well, then again, maybe it was. Tseng had clearly stated that he didn't want Rufus to die, and food had an effect on that outcome, at least temporarily. Yeah, okay, Rufus could understand that specific concern, but was there anything else that could be causing Tseng to act like this?
Was it Rufus' unashamed disregard for modesty? His careless words minutes before? His inadvertent display of vulnerability? His hitching breath when Tseng had touched him?
Unthinkingly, Rufus felt his cheek, remembering that touch all over again and in agonizing detail. Color came back to his cheeks. When he refocused on the man across from him, he realized the Turk hadn't missed a single detail of the last minute and jerked his hand from his face.
"Eat," Tseng said quietly.
Rufus' first reaction was to glare at the man for the blatant command, but for some reason it never reached his face. But nor did he lift the cover off the plate. Tseng sat forward again and lifted his own cover. Yes, it was pizza, and it called to Rufus like few things could.
Damn that woman.
Tseng grabbed the fork and knife and started cutting the thick slice apart, piece by piece. Rufus watched every moment of it, lost in the perfect, minimal movements that got the job done with ease. Nonetheless, the melty cheese slithered off the piece the man brought to his lips. Those soft lips opened, as did Rufus' just slightly, anticipating the flavor and texture as if it was going into his own mouth. Tseng chewed slowly, with thought, and Rufus couldn't take his eyes away.
That was, until his stomach growled. He cleared his throat, hoping Tseng hadn't heard, but the room was too quiet otherwise for much hope. Tseng watched him for a moment, but then plucked another piece off of his plate, reached across the table, and offered it to him.
Blond brows instantly raised. No one had fed him since he was quite young. So young he could barely remember it. He hadn't allowed his lovers to do it, no matter how sensual they'd thought it was. Eating... It was just too personal. To let someone else feed him, it simply gave up too much control to another.
Rufus eyed the gooey morsel before he looked back at his employee, uneasy. "I don't need you to feed me."
The arm retreated. "Then eat."
Rufus' elbows on the table already, he easily gripped his hair, eyes closing. What in the world had he done to deserve this kind of... devotion? "Don't I give you enough work to do?"
"I'm off for the night."
So... Tseng was going to spend his time off trying to get him to eat?
Rufus cleared his tight throat and chided with, "This is... ridiculous. You being here isn't necessary for me to eat. You needn't worry about me."
"I disagree."
Rufus put his forearms down on the table so he could glare at the other man. "You disagree?" He huffed dryly. "It isn't your place to agree or disagree. Your job is to follow my orders."
"When I'm working."
Rufus' mouth hung open for a moment before he jerked it shut, teeth making an audible clank. He breathed heavily for a couple of breaths, before he snarled, "Leave me. Now." When the Turk didn't move, he barked, "Now!" while pointing to the door.
For a few pounding heartbeats, Tseng simply stared at him, but then he stood, and Rufus let go of his breath. But then, astonishing Rufus to no end, Tseng actually came around to his side of the table and hauled him to his feet and to the bed some distance away.
"Sit down," Tseng growled with a slight shove.
Rufus did, but only because he knew deep down that this man would never hurt him, at least not intentionally. Well, then again, there had been a time when they'd been at odds, when Rufus had crossed his father and the Turks had used the young man as leverage, but before and after that, Tseng had shown Rufus nothing but the loyalty guaranteed by a hefty paycheck.
Although, now this man was apparently off the clock.
Tseng grabbed his own plate and a new fork from the tray and headed back over to him. The man couldn't mean to...
"You can't treat me this way!"
"With the way you're acting, I can." He put the plate on the side table. "I'll give you one more chance though. Eat the food."
Rufus couldn't help asking, "Or?"
"Or you're going to most likely despise my presence in another few seconds."
That didn't really answer his question. And Rufus already despised his presence at that moment. "I'm not eating it!"
"If you think you can fight me in your state, you're sadly mistaken."
The Turk was right. Rufus was weak, physically trembling. His whole body felt wasted and abused. But... He just couldn't eat. Couldn't Tseng understand that?
"Sit back against the pillows," the Turk said sternly, removing his own dress shoes.
Rufus watching the movements with confusion, when he refused to move, to follow the order, Tseng grabbed Rufus behind the shoulders and under the legs. He picked up his employer's considerable weight, even if Rufus had lost a couple of pounds over the last few days, and heaved him to the middle of the bed against the pillows at the head. Through it, at that point, Rufus did fight. However, after everything, all of the emotional and physical grating, it was a pointless battle.
Immediately after, Tseng straddled his legs. Rufus looked up at the man, wide-eyed, pushing at Tseng's chest. Black hair washed over the man's shoulders, and his back curved to grab the fork while Rufus pushed.
"I'm not eating it!"
"I have all night."
"This-this is ridiculous! You're fucking fired!" Rufus shoved as hard as he could which, embarrassingly, did next to nothing in his current state. "Now get off of me, you bastard!"
"I'll leave, after you eat."
How could Tseng still be so disgustingly calm when all Rufus felt was outrage at being treated like this?
When the former president shoved yet again, harder, or so he hoped, the Turk put the fork back and then grabbed his arms, thrusting them above Rufus' head against the tall bedframe, so that their faces came so close together that Rufus could feel Tseng's suddenly heavy breaths. Well, at least this was affecting Tseng a bit too.
Dark eyes stared into his, Tseng's breaths only becoming heavier, his face coming disturbingly close, so close that Tseng... Rufus sucked in a breath as Tseng tilted his own head to the side and lightly brushed his lips over Rufus', the men breathing each other's breaths.
Rufus barely heard the weak, desperate sounding, "Please," from Tseng's lips over the pounding in his head.
With that touch and plea, Rufus could no longer deny what caused the tension he felt whenever Tseng was around, refusing to name it for so long for the sake of his sanity. It was desire.
He wanted this man with every greedy part of himself.
In turn, he forced himself to admit why he'd never let a lover close to him: Every person he'd ever been with, when they caressed him, rutted with him, spoke lover's words, he'd always wished they were Tseng. And they never were, never could be.
His mind confused, distraught, wanting, Rufus kissed the mouth against his, drawing out a weak moan from Tseng. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard in his life. The Turk tentatively kissed him back with a small movement of his lips. Even Tseng clearly knew they were crossing a well-maintained line.
Just as the kiss deepened, Tseng's tongue caressing Rufus' panting mouth, Tseng suddenly pulled away. Rufus grabbed at Tseng's shirt and tried to pull him back with all of his strength, but it wasn't enough.
Dark eyes searched his for a moment. "You're right. I'm overstepping." Tseng tore away and climbed back off of the bed, and his firm hands straightened the suit with nearly violent tugs. A controversy to the motions, the Turk said softly, "I apologize."
What the hell?!
Rufus pulled himself away from the pillows, sitting up on his own. "No! Get back in this bed!"
The cold look he got in return told him there was no way in hell Tseng would ever get into his bed again. "Sir, eat something... Please." The words showed far more of the turmoil eroding on Tseng than his face did. And then the Turk put his shoes back on and stalked out of the bedroom, closing the door solidly behind himself.
What the hell just happened?
Utterly overwhelmed and distraught, his hormones dropping off into oblivion, Rufus clawed a hand through slightly sweat-dampened hair and dropped back onto the pillows.
Well, reality just happened.