Dominate Me

Disclaimer: All characters belong to SquareEnix and I make no money from this.

Warnings: BDSM, yaoi, language, violence, smutty writing, Drug use

Summary: What started as a game between lovers turns into an all out war for Dominance over the other. As personal life and business start to collide, will these two violent lovers ever solve their problem? Perhaps some outside help would be beneficial…or not.

Chapter Seven: Awkward

"Just give me a name, Miss Kula, and you can go home."

"I can't," she said quietly.

Tseng frowned at that and stood up from his stool that was positioned across from her. She was bound to the metal chair by her arms and legs. Reno and Rude were out trying to gather more information on the case, which left Tseng to handle the interrogation. He glanced at his clock. It was almost lunch and he had made plans with Reeve. He grabbed her chin and gently lifted her head up. She looked nervous, but not terrified. Her bright emerald eyes shone with silent determination. It was the look of girl who had fended for her own in the slums. They were often a bit harder to scare.

"You have such gorgeous eyes," he commented, running a gloved hand over her cheek.

"Yeah I know. Men tell me that every day," she responded.

Tseng smiled. "Would you like to be known by another feature? Perhaps you'd liked to be called one eyed Kula? Or, the girl with half a face?"

Her glare intensified, those piercing green eyes briefly reminding him of another with a similar shade. He licked his lips as he laced his fingers into her hair and yanked her head back by it. He pulled out a small switch blade and hovered it over her startling brilliant eye. She flinched and closed them.

"Oh miss Kula…" he purred, "You must open your eyes dear. I very much like the sight of them."

She trembled at the sound of his voice and he reveled in her growing fear.

"Open them, or I'll just have to cut your eyelids off."

At that, her eyes flew open.

"A name," he said, hands tightening in her short bob.

"I can't give it to you!" she spat, her look surprisingly fierce for someone who had a blade over her eye.

Tseng shook his head in disappointment. He then released his grip on her hair and removed the knife. She breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped back. The Turk untied her legs and she immediately kicked him. He brushed it off and went to her arms. He placed chains on them before he released her from the chair. The girl tried to make a run for it, but he grabbed her by her hair.

"No stop!" she screamed as he dragged her to where there were more chains hanging from the ceiling. He connected the ones on her wrist to them and used a lever to hoist her up. She made a pretty sight struggling up there and he smiled at her. The Turk then began to take off his suit jacket, tie and shirt. The girl snickered.

"You gonna fuck me to? You men are all the same."

Tseng chuckled darkly before he started wrapping a strip of cloth around his hand. "Actually dear, I would much rather be where you are with a gorgeous man fucking my brains out."

She chuckled at that. "Knew you were too prissy to be straight."

Tseng finished wrapping his hands and turned to face her, giving her one of his best smiles. "Thank you, but enough flattery. I have five minutes to get you to give me a name so I can go to lunch. Call me old fashioned, but sometimes a good beating is sufficient."

He hit his fists together and did a few practice swings in the air. "Give me a name and I'll stop."

"I've been beaten before. I can last five minutes, probably longer with the way you look, faggot."

Tseng just smiled and took his position in front of her. She closed her eyes and Tseng bowed slightly before he struck her flat stomach as hard as he could. She screamed, but Tseng did not relent. He kept hitting her, concentrating his blows on her torso. He felt her ribs break with one particular blow and she hollered in pain. Her body went limp, but he knew she wasn't out yet. He lowered her body to the floor and she looked up at him through pained eyes.

"Name?" he asked.

"Up your faggoty gay cunt," she moaned. He really admired her spirit. Too bad he had to break it.

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he jumped up and landed on her ribs. The screamed that erupted from her throat would have broken windows if there had been any. He chuckled like a little kid as he jumped up and down on her broken body.

"Give…" he said, landing on her breasts before he jumped up again.

"Me…" he landed on her broken ribs.

"A…" he said in midair.

"Name!" he finished, landing on the same spot. She grumbled and moaned, coughing up blood.

"Neil," she managed to get out. Tseng smiled at the breakthrough and kneeled down by her side, careful to avoid the blood.

"Need a last name if possible."

"Hu...Hubert," she said before she gurgled up blood.

"You sure, Dear?" He grabbed her chin and tilted her head up. His dark eyes stared into hers, looking for any signs of deceit.

She looked up at him and nodded. Tseng smiled and pulled out his cell phone.

"I need medics in interrogation room three," he said evenly before hanging up. He casually redressed and was putting on his tie when the medics came in. They rushed to her side and examined her.

"Keep me posted on her status," he said before he promptly left.

He was starving and hoped Reeve was taking him someplace that had great hamburgers. He was craving something hearty after that workout.

The Turk was extremely pleased when Reeve had taken him to diner and not some ridiculously fancy place like usual.

"Oh, it smells so good in here!" Tseng commented.

Reeve smiled and nodded. The waitress came to take their drink order, and since he knew what he wanted, he ordered his food now instead of waiting. Reeve did the same, ordering a big salad.

"Thanks for taking me out, Reeve," Tseng said.

The older man smiled and waved it off. Reeve had been a friend of Tseng's mentor, and he'd known him since he was fourteen.

Tseng sipped eagerly at his drink as he waited for his food. His high from the cocaine had left him right after the interrogation, but he was thankful it had lasted that long.

Neil Hubert...

The man who had been by the President's side was now as suspect in their case. He thought about how he could be entangled in this until their food came. The Turk practically wolfed down the meal and Reeve chuckled.

"Hey, it's not going anywhere. Slow down," he said though a smile.

"Sorry. I just get really hungry after an interrogation."

Reeve tensed at the words.

"Are they still alive?" he asked concerned.

"Yes. She was a fighter," he said as he munched on sweet potato fries. They were very good.

"Tseng! You beat up on a poor defenseless girl," he hissed under his breath to keep from being heard.

The Turk nodded, as he munched on another fry. Reeve shook his head.

"I don't see how you can do that and not think anything's wrong with it."

Tseng shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just doing my job."

"But to hurt a girl," he said, with sadness in his tone. Tseng sighed. He wondered how in the hell had Reeve and Veld been good friends when they were so completely opposite.

"Tell me you don't feel remorse for doing something like that! You have to feel something!"

Tseng smirked and looked at his nails. "Think I need a manicure."

"Tseng!" Reeve said, before shaking his head. "If only I had taken you away from that man, then maybe you wouldn't have turned out like this."

The Turk suddenly slammed his fist on the table, startling those around him. His eyes went wide and he gritted his teeth in rage.

"Don't say that," he said heatedly.

"It's true," Reeve said, unfazed by Tseng's anger. "He was my friend, but he was slightly demented. He used you to…"

"Shut up! Don't you dare say that about him!" he spat, not caring how loud he was.

Reeve gave a smirk of his own. "You would defend him, after how he treated you?"

"He treated me how I deserved to be treated! He made me who I am today!" he snapped.

Reeve took a sip of his drink and fixed Tseng with a serious glare.

"He turned you into a psychotic, amoral being that enjoys seeing others suffer."

The Turk leaned forward and smirked at the man.

"You're just mad because I won't suck your dick," he teased. Reeve sighed, and looked at the Turk with sadness in his dark eyes.

"You were such a sweet boy. I wish you would have gone with me instead of him."

"He had a bigger cock."

Reeve frowned and scanned over the Turk in front of him. Tseng hated when he did that. He could tell he was remembering when he was younger.

"Cut it out," the Turk said, feeling uncomfortable underneath the man's longing gaze. Reeve smiled at him and chuckled.

"Remember when I bought you an mp3 player for your 15th birthday. You were so excited even though it only had five songs on it. You played those songs for three days straight until you came to me with such a sad expression. You asked me if had broken it because the songs wouldn't play anymore. I explained that it just needed to be charged and that you could also add more songs to it." Reeve chuckled. "You looked so happy and relieved…"

"Please don't do this," Tseng said annoyed. He hated when Reeve started getting sentimental. The older man asked for the check and Tseng gulped down the last of his drink.

"Tseng, just know that I'm always here when you need me," he said as he stood up to leave. Tseng rolled his eyes.

"Let's just get back." He'd had enough of "Father" Reeve lecturing him. The man did the same thing every time they went out. He didn't know why he just didn't stop going.

The drive back was no better. Reeve kept bringing up the past, and Tseng kept wishing the car would slide on the ice and throw them over the bridge.

"I think you should see a therapist," Reeve said as they were getting closer to the tower.

"Only if I can pay him in cumshots," he said through a dark chuckle. Reeve frowned as he parked.

"Please stop being so vulgar," he scolded. They exited the vehicle and Reeve handed Tseng a card.

"It's the business card of a great therapist I know. If you wanna go sometime…"

Tseng slipped the piece of paper in his pocket and sighed. "I'll think about it."

Reeve smiled at that and stopped to pull the Turk into a hug.

"Stop! Someone could see," he protested. When he saw that his protests weren't working, he stopped resisting and let Reeve hold him.

"Sentimental old fool," He mumbled. Reeve chuckled and Tseng could feel his chest reverberate against him. He let a slight smile grace his lips as he thought about how Reeve would hold him when he was younger. His touch had been so different from Veld's.

"I still wish you would have gone with me," he said as he pulled away.

Tseng walked away and waved a hand at him.

"Yeah I know," he mumbled underneath his breath as he pulled out his phone. He needed to give Reno and Rude an update.

He called Reno and was pissed when he didn't answer. He redialed as he rode the elevator up to his office. This time he picked up.

"Yo boss um…"

"Reno, where are you?"

"Ah, um… you know. Doing the mission and stuff."

"Reno, where are you?" he could hear music in the background, not to mention girls giggling.

"Reno!"

"Ah fuck girl…that's good," the redhead moaned.

"Reno!" Tseng yelled, even louder.

"Oh, um…yeah bossman?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" It sounded like he was in a club.

"Ok like, honestly? I'm at a brothel called Paddy's. They had a lunch special I just couldn't pass up. Oh shit bitch," he groaned.

"Reno," Tseng said, trying to calm himself. "I need you to give me a status report. We have things to discuss. So say goodbye to the girls and…"

"Oh damn that feels good!" he moaned.

"RENO!"

"Yeah boss? What did you say?" his voice was shaky.

Tseng sighed. He really wasn't high enough to deal with this.

"Where the fuck is Rude?" He asked as he pulled out his stash of cocaine from his desk.

"Ah, um…he went back. Get the status report from him."

The phone went dead and Tseng tossed the device in anger. Stupid fucking Reno. Tseng used a razor to make two fat rows. He rolled up 100 gil and was about to snort a line when a knock on his door interrupted him.

"Gaia fuck," he swore.

"Yes," he said, hitting the intercom.

"It's me, Sir," came Rude's smooth voice over the speaker. Tseng licked his lips and at put his powdery goodness back in the drawer, careful not to drop it.

"Come in," he said, hitting a button to unlock the door.

Rude entered and Tseng reclined back into his seat. His dark eyes roamed over Rude's tall form before resting on his face.

"I have an update on the case," his subordinate said evenly.

"As do I," Tseng informed. "You go first."

Rude nodded. "We were able to confirm that the product was indeed Shinra refined mako. There are two primary gangs in charge of disbursement. One is a new group, and the other is more established and dangerous. There are more details in the report."

Rude stepped forward and placed a folder on Tseng's desk. The head Turk could smell the heady scent of Rude's cologne, unchanged in all the time that he'd known him.

"The girl I interrogated today told me that Neil Hubert is playing a big part in this. Did his name come up in the investigation?"

"We know that his trucks are being used to carry the goods, and there has been some gossip that his representatives have been seen around the slums."

"Since he is one of the President's friends, were going to have to be careful. I'll read over your report and we'll discuss more on the case tomorrow. Also, I need you to send me Mr. Hubert's phone number."

Rude nodded and Tseng dismissed him, watching his backside as he left. Once the door was shut, he pulled out his perfectly lined up coke and wasted no time snorting the first one. He did the second one and blinked a few times. A moist toilette was used to rid his face and nose of any remnants of the stuff. He then turned on his computer to resume his work. A few minutes later, Rude had emailed him Neil's number. He dialed it immediately using his office phone. The Turk knew the man liked him; he might as well use it to his advantage.

"Hello?" the man said, sounding slightly annoyed.

"I hope I haven't interrupted anything Mr. Hubert," Tseng said smoothly.

"Oh, Tseng? Is that you?" he asked suddenly sounding very interested.

"Yes it is. Are you busy?" he said, sounding overly promiscuous.

"No! Not at all! What can I do for you?" he asked eagerly.

"I was wondering if I could see you again," he said breathily. He knew he was going a bit overboard, but he was really too high to care at the moment.

"I…I would love to see you. You busy this weekend? My wife won't be home and I know the staff will remain silent."

"Oh I'd like that very much, Mr. Hubert," he said breathily. "I'm just so anxious to see you again; it will be hard to wait."

"Just be patient, my Dear. I can't wait to see you again too. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about you."

"I look forward to seeing you again. Bye."

Tseng hung up and immediately started laughing. As if he'd be interested in a man like that. He was reaching his peak high when his phone rang.

"Yes?" he answered sharply.

"Oh um, I'm just calling to inform you about the patient. She just got out of surgery and is now stable."

"Ok, thanks," he said hurriedly before hanging up. His thoughts were bouncing around and he wondered what Sephiroth was doing tonight. He dialed his extension and the man picked up on the third ring.

Genesis and Angeal had just departed from his office when the phone rang. He looked at the caller I.D. and smiled.

"Hello," he answered.

"General," Tseng said cheerfully. "What are you up to?"

Sephiroth laughed. Tseng was so energetic; he must be high or something.

"I'm just finishing some mission reports. What's on your mind?"

He took a seat in the big leather chair behind his desk.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Hojo wanted to run some tests. I'm stuck in the lab," he lied. Tonight would really entail him being stuck at his boss's house for an awkward night of discomfort. He wanted to cancel, but he knew Lazard wouldn't relent. The man seemed so adamant on thanking him, it was mildly disturbing.

"Oh," Tseng said dejectedly and it pulled at Sephiroth's heartstrings.

"Perhaps, tomorrow we could go to dinner?" he suggested, though his tone implied they would be doing much more than eating. Since they were using office phones, they had to be discreet.

"That sounds wonderful," he agreed and Sephiroth could practically see him grinning at the implications. "I'll speak with you tomorrow then."

Tseng ended the call and Sephiroth smirked. He really would have liked to spend the night with his lover. He'd take the Turk down to the cellar and fuck him with the smallest dildo they had, knowing it wouldn't be enough for the man. Tseng would then beg him to stop teasing and fuck him with his gorgeous, thick cock. The General sat there daydreaming about the scenario until a buzz from the intercom interrupted his thoughts. He frowned and patted his growing erection in regret.

"General, Sir," came the deep and slightly accented voice of his secretary, Anselm.

"What?" He responded.

"Director Lazard wanted me to ask you if you'll have those reports for him by five today."

Sephiroth pulled up the report he had started last night and sighed. He had planned to finish it then, but he'd gotten distracted and instead spent the night with Tseng. He still had a lot to fill out and he knew he wouldn't be able to finish it by five. Not to mention he wasn't the best typist in the world. He was quick with a sword, not a keyboard. He would require assistance if he wanted to finish.

"Anselm," he replied. "Tell Lazard that I should have it done by then and to go fuck himself. Also, I need you to come here."

"Yes, Sir."

A minute later, Anselm entered the room with a slightly annoyed look. Sephiroth scanned over his secretary's form with approval. He hadn't selected him just because he could type one hundred words per minute. His long, waist length dark hair was always tied into a long braid. His eyes were a piercing blue and his sharp, but smooth bone structure gave away his Northern origins almost as much as his country accent did.

"I left out telling him to go fuck himself, but I rendered the message, and let me guess. You want me type your report up for you?"

Sephiroth stood up from his seat and signaled for the man to sit in the big chair. Anselm really did know him too well. He made his way over to the desk and sat down, sitting up straight and placing his fingers over the keys in practiced experience.

"You know, Sir," Anselm said as he started correcting grammar and spelling errors from what the General had written already, "I'm really not supposed to know about this stuff."

Sephiroth shrugged and leaned over the secretary. His tall figure loomed over the dark haired young man and he ran his gloved finger over the crest of his ear. Anselm shuddered and made a typing error.

"Consider it an employee privilege for being my assistant," he said smoothly, noticing how gooosbumps rose up on the back of Anselm's neck. He brushed his index finger over the area and the man shivered. Sephiroth liked to tease him, and he didn't think a little flirting was wrong.

"S-sir," he stuttered, "Can we…start?"

Sephiroth leaned closer to his ear. "Start what? Be specific, because there are a number of things we could start doing now."

Anselm blushed and turned to the General. "T-the report S-sir."

Sephiroth smirked as he removed himself from Anselm's workspace and sat on the sofa.

"Start with the overview," he said as he reclined on the leather sofa, getting comfortable.

Four hours later, Anselm was just finishing up on Sephiroth's report. The General looked over it to make sure everything was correct and told his secretary to send the finished product to Lazard. Anselm cracked his fingers and stretched out his arms. Sephiroth knew he wouldn't have finished on time if not for his assistant's help.

"Thank you," he said as Anselm stood up from his chair. The youth smiled as he started to straighten up the man's desk.

"It's nothing. Just glad to help."

When the objects and papers on his desk were neatly arranged, Anselm made to take his exit, but Sephiroth grabbed his arm. Anselm jumped but was able to suppress the startled noise in his throat.

"I'm being forced to have dinner with Lazard. Look in my closet and pick something appropriate for me to wear."

The youth nodded. It wasn't uncommon from him to help Sephiroth in these matters as well. The closet in his office was small, but was stocked with a few outfits and a spare uniform. Anselm selected a pair of black slacks and a dark green dress shirt.

"This seems right," he said.

Sephiroth nodded and took the clothes from him. A wicked smirk played on his lips as he stared down at the smaller being.

"You want to watch me change?" he asked, bringing a deep red blush to Anselm's cheeks.

"Oh my god!" he said before he headed for the door. He bowed out of respect before he left.

"Good night, Sir!" he said before he shut the door and took his leave. Sephiroth smirked as he started to undress and change into the outfit his secretary had chosen. The youth may act innocent, but Sephiroth was very good at reading body language. Anselm thought he was hot, but then again who didn't. He vainly looked at himself in the mirror and smirked. Yeah, this outfit looked good on him and brought out his eyes. He slipped on his dress socks and shoes to complete to look.

He grabbed his car keys and glanced at his watch. The dinner wasn't until seven thirty, so he had two hours to kill before then. He grabbed his car keys and pulled out his phone to make a call.

"Genesis," he said as he locked up his office. "Let's go out for bit."

He arrived on time more or less to the address given. It was a nice, ritzy place. The home was in the updated sector, and was very modern. He parked his car in the driveway and exited with slight dread. To think he could be balls deep inside his pet, but instead he was here. He knocked on the yellow door, slightly pissed by how yellow it was. The entire exterior was white, yet he had a fucking piss yellow door. Said door opened to reveal his boss with a smile on his face.

"Please, come in," he said, stepping aside to let him in. Sephiroth walked in with a slight grumble.

"Why's the door yellow?" he asked as he kicked off his shoes. The carpet was white and he didn't want to walk on it with his shoes.

"Does it bother you?" Lazard asked, closing it behind him. He was dressed in more casual attire, wearing a soft blue button down with white slacks. His bright blond hair hung loose and was slightly damp. The look suited him.

"It's the color of piss," he said. Lazard led him into the living area and he took a seat on a soft blue sofa. The décor was very modern and the colors were all very soft blues, with white and beige as accents. It was too bright for him, but it was still nicely designed.

"Dinner's just about ready. I hope you like carbonara," he said as he went back to the kitchen.

"I don't even know what that is," he said as he crossed his legs and relaxed into the soft sofa. Lazard chuckled.

"Not very cultured are you?"

Sephiroth grumbled and Lazard smirked. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes," he answered.

The blond brought him a glass of red wine, and placed the bottle in front of him. He took a sip and it was very good. The blond sat next to him with a glass of his own and sipped at casually.

"Thanks for coming," Lazard said.

Sephiroth shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like you gave me much leniency."

The blond chuckled. "I suppose. Still, you could have not shown up."

I should have not shown up, the General thought. He finished his drink and placed his glass down. He'd have the next one with dinner, when he had food in his stomach. He generally didn't get drunk off wine unless he drank in excess, but he'd rather not risk it.

They sat in silence. Sephiroth didn't want to initiate anything and it seemed Lazard was content with quietly sipping his wine. He seemed to be lost in thought. His usually brilliant blue eyes were murky as he stared at the white wall before him. His long, narrow fingers tightened around the crystal stem of the glass.

The sound of a timer going off pulled the man out of his trance. "Everything is finished now," he informed.

Sephiroth followed him to the dining table and took a seat. Lazard poured him more wine before he placed a plate of pasta in front of him, along with a side of salad and breadsticks.

"So carbonara is pasta," he observed. Lazard took the seat across from him and smiled.

"Yes. I hope it's to your liking," the blond said politely.

Sephiroth twirled the pasta around his fork and brought a healty mouthful to his lips. He was surprised by how good it was, and by the fact Lazard could cook.

"This is pretty good."

He may have to have Tseng make this for him one day. Lazard smiled at the compliment.

"Thank you. Its actually a recipe my mother used."

"So, I can't recreate this taste unless I have her recipe?"

That was unfortunate. He had a feeling he wouldn't like it if it wasn't this exact recipe.

"I'm afraid not and no you can't have it," he said firmly, yet playfully. Sephiroth was dissapointed, but for now he'd enjoy the meal. He made sure to keep an eye on how much Lazard drank. Drunk Lazard was slightly hostile and he just wanted to have a simple, pleasant evening.

"Do you cook often?" Lazard asked, dabbing the corners of his lips with the cloth napkin.

"I cook when I can. It's not very good, but it's usually edible."

Tseng was a way better cook than he was. His food was bland and tasteless, at least that's what his lover had told him.

"I bet it still tastes better than the food in the cafeteria," the blond said.

Sephiroth smirked. Anything tasted better than that putrid shit they served.

He'd finished his first helping and Lazard asked if he wanted more. He accepted the offer and the blond gave him what was left. The General started to devour the pasta, not even bothering with the salad.

"Perhaps I should have made more," Lazard said as he watched Sephiorth finish off his second helping before he'd finished his first. The swordsman downed the rest of his wine and sat back in his chair, sated for now.

"Give me the recipe," he demanded. Lazard smirked and shook his head.

"Sorry, but no."

The blond still had some of his pasta left and he ate it slowly, savoring the taste while Sephiroth watched him.

"You can't even cook," Lazard said.

"I'll try and make it work."

He poured a little bit more of the rich wine.

"There's dessert too." The blond informed.

"Chocolate?" He could only hope.

"Chocolate raspberry mousse," he said with a smile. Sephiroth sipped his wine. Perhaps he'd been wrong about dreading this night. The food had been fantastic, there was chocolate dessert, and Lazard wasn't so bad to look at. He was a gorgeous man, and though he preferred brunettes, Lazard was one of the few excpetions.

When they were both done with dinner, they resumed their previous positons on the couch. A light conversation struck up and they talked about casual topics such as work, people of interest and hobbies. Sephiroth mostly listened. He was confortable, the plush sofa felt good against his backside. The room was nice a warm and he was plesantly buzzed. Lazard's soothing voice was a like a melody in the room.

"It's nice to have someone to talk to," the blond said, a soft smile on his face. His eyes looked distant for a moment though, the deep azul orbs dulling.

"Don't you have any friends?"Sephiroth was never really tactful with his words, and his tongue was loosend due to wine. He realized how he said it could be offensive, but he was to buzzed to really care.

Lazard didn't seem offened though, and even grinned, exposing pearly white teeth with sharp insisors and canines.

"No I don't have any friends," he began, his gaze meeting Sephiroth's emerald colored eyes. "But I was hoping we could be."

Sephiroth studied the handsome face in front of him and chuckled.

"Yeah sure, we can be friends...if you get me more wine." His lips curled back into a sinister grin as he held his empty glass up.

"I'll do better than that," Lazard said, taking the glass. Sephiroth knew he should stop drinking, but the wine was good and he felt good. He should have calculated the potency of older wines but he hadn't, and it was too late to be bothered with that now. He was glad that he'd eaten something or he'd be a lot worse off.

Lazard came back with not only more wine, but a serving of chocolate raspberry mousse.

"Oh shit," the silver haired one swore as he took the items with a pleased grin. He placed the wine down and started to devour the little dessert.

"I made it myself," the blond said before he went to retrieve his own dessert.

"It's fucking good."

Lazard nodded and continued to eat his own treat. Sephioth finished the small serving quickly. He grabbed his wine and drank it all in one gulp.

"Is there more chocolate moose?" He asked. The serving he got felt tiny. Lazard smirked and nodded.

"There's only one bite left though," he said, scooping the last bit of moouse from his plate.

"You want it?" He teased. Sephiroth nodded.

Lazard moved closer, pretending he was going to shove the spoonful of chocolately goodness in the General's mouth, but at the last moment he withdrew and ate it himelf.

"Damn it," the SOLDIER grumbled."I wanted that."

Lazard smirked and leaned forward. The taste of sweet chocolate suddenly filled his mouth, along with a sleek tongue. Petal soft lips embraced his own, as the smooth muscle inside his mouth coiled around his tongue. As surprised as he was, he didn't pull back, but he didn't encourage it. Lazard parted, and smiled, his moist lips mere centimeters away from his.

"What was that for?" Sephiroth asked calmly.

"I was sharing my dessert," he answered, his tone deep and heady."That's what friends do. We share."

Lazard removed himself from the couch, gathering their wine glasses and plates. He went to the kitchen and placed the items in the sink.

Sephiroth sighed and swore under his breath. Only certain kinds of friends kissed with their tongues in each other's mouths. He hoped the blond didn't think this was going to be one of those friendships. The kiss had felt nice, and Lazard was very attracive, but he had Tseng. He was very content with his sex life and he didn't need Lazard complicating things. He hadn't cheated in the two years he was with Tseng, but the idea was very tempting...

He watched intently as Lazard walked back to sofa. The man was tall, slender and in great shape. His features were stunning, but Sephiroth would have to decline going down a sexual path with the man.

"Lazard," he began, only to be cut off by their lips meeting again. This time, he pulled the man off immediately.

"No," he said sharply. Lazard didn't seem fazed, and his lips parted in a crooked smile.

"We're friends now remember?" He said, blue eyes brightening.

"Just friends."

Lazard smirked and nodded." Of course."

Sephiroth stood up and looked down at the blond still situated on the couch. His eyes were distant again and slightly unfocused.

"I'm leaving now," he said evenly.

"Sure," Lazard said. He walked Sephiroth to the door and leaned against the wall as the general put on his shoes.

"Dinner was great," the swordsman said.

"Next time we'll go out." Lazard gave a closed lipped grin and opened the door. It had gotten chiller out and a light snowfall had started to fall.

"Sure."

Sephiroth stared at the man for a moment. Throughout the night, he kept getting this nagging feeling that something was wrong. Lazard seemed to be...off. It was as if something was missing. He looked into dull blue eyes in search of something that would give him insight.

"Goodnight, Sephiroth." The blond said, his tone becoming as distant as his eyes.

"Night."

He exited, but Lazard just stood there. He seemed to stare at nothing, yet Sephiroth knew he was seeing something. The cold winter wind didn't even snap him out of his thoughts.

The General sighed. What the hell was wrong with the man? He was torn between going to Lazard's aid and going home. He started to walk towards his car, but halted. The blond was still standing there, though his eyes were downcast now. The silver haired man grumbled and scratched his head. Could he really just leave his boss in this state? He may not have been close to the man, but he respected the he'll out of him. The man was brillaint, and he also genuinely cared about the SOLDIERs he sent out into battle. Could he really leave the man behind when he knew Lazard worked so hard for them behind the scenes? The blond was kinda odd, but right now Sephiroth was his only friend.

"Fuck it," the General said as he turned back around and wrapped his arms around the trembling blond's narrow waist. He pulled him inside and Lazard's eyes went wide in surprise.

"You'll catch a cold that way, Director. I can't have you getting sick. That would irresponsible of me...as your friend."

Lazards eyes seemed to brighten up at his words, and a small, but honest smile graced his face.

"I'll make some tea."

A/N: Replaying Crisis core. Tseng's such a cutie in that game :D

Anyway, reviews are love!

Next Chapter: Punishment