At least he's hot

Chapter 6: bloody hell

Note – This chapter contains the most gruesome, offensive material I’ve ever written. There’s blood, rape, illegal drugs, profanity, and probably some other shit I’m not remembering. If any of those subjects offend you, you should NOT read this chapter. So, with that in mind, enjoy…

It took Rufus a long time to recover.

It took him 45 minutes to get off the desk, 13 minutes to shakily put on his clothes, and another hour to limp his sore ass home. Fuck work. He didn't even care what his old man would say or do... nothing hurt worse than Sephiroth's cock, especially twice in twenty-four hours.

He was beat.

Shocked, stunned, stupefied, mortified.

He felt like he'd been tossed around in a cement mixer, flattened by a steamroller, and trampled by a herd of angry chocobos. Not to mention the fact that he really thought Sephiroth had ripped something that time... torn an intestine, pierced a lung... he didn't want to think about it. All he knew was that once he finally flopped down on his bed, he wasn't getting up for a long time.

And Reno? It had been a cross between a wet dream and a nightmare when the drunken Turk had joined in the not-quite-consensual fuck. It hardly seemed real, at least... his brain was unaccustomed to such shocking information. I just got gang banged in my office was not a fact he could easily register. It had felt real, and sounded real. He could still hear Reno's raspy words, “What a coincidence... say ahhh..." and his throat definitely was sore from more than smoking. What the fuck, though? Since when did fucking a superior's face become as routine as filing a report to this man? No one but himself had seemed even mildly surprised by the situation.

Rufus groaned miserably and buried his face in his pillow. The blood on his linen sheets had dried to a dark, shitty brown, past any point of washing out. He didn't even care. His only concern was that two insane men now considered him as little more than a fuck toy. Two sinfully gorgeous, absolutely insane men. He tried to justify the situation in his head.

They're hot.

OK, there was one reason.

Sadly, he couldn't think of any more.

He slept fitfully all night, plagued by bizarre nightmares of the two men. They were chasing him down, like hunters closing in on prey...

* * *

"Reno."

"That's my name... what the fuck do you want?" Reno stifled a yawn, his brain fuzzy with sleep. He squinted at the numbers on his alarm clock... it was three AM. Apparently Sephiroth felt no remorse in bugging people during the wee hours of the morning.

"Don't get any ideas about Rufus, understand me?" Sephiroth growled, his voice sounding slightly slurred over the phone.

Reno sighed and rolled onto his back. Somehow, he knew this conversation was going to happen… Rufus was simply too pretty not to cause conflict. “OK, so what,” he finally retorted, reaching blindly for the pack of smokes on his nightstand. “You sayin’ you actually like that pussy? Don’t tell me the Great Sephiroth has a soft spot for blondes…” He pawed a cig out of the pack and lit it, drawing in a big drag.

“Fuck you, douche bag,” Sephiroth spat. “Rufus is nothing more than a fuck to me, but I still don’t want to be going in after your diseased prick…”

“Ouch,” whispered Reno as he exhaled. He watched the smoke cut through the stale air. “For your information, crabs aren’t a disease-”

“Look, you get my point,” the General interrupted. “I shared him once, but now I remember that I’m really just a selfish bastard. Touch him and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

A lump of ash fell on Reno’s chest. “OK, OK… I’ll leave your fuckin’ sweetheart alone,” he snarled. “And the crabs are gone…”

He trailed off. Sephiroth had already hung up.

“FUCK YOU TOO, ASSHOLE!!!” he screamed into the receiver, and hurled the phone across the room. It landed noisily on top of all the cheap beer cans he had thrown during similar fits of rage.

Yeah, Rufus was just a fuck. So what, right?

Reno simply was not a man who took kindly to threats.

* * *

Believe it or not, a few days passed during which nothing exciting happened at all. No one got screwed, no bones were broken, and the only bitter shit Rufus swallowed was coffee.

He needed some time to recuperate. Give the poor guy a break.

On the upside, Sephiroth hadn’t done any permanent damage to Rufus’ insides. After a while, he could even sit down without any discomfort. On the downside, ridiculous amounts of paperwork (courtesy of his father) did a little damage to his sanity and patience. As mild mannered as he was, he couldn’t help but think that the old bastard would drive him over the edge one day.

All angst aside, things at ShinRa were unusually mundane for a while. Rufus eventually learned that Sephiroth had gone on a mission to Kalm, which explained a lot.

Yup. Quiet and dull. Boring, in fact.

So boring that Reno’s crumpled up phone number began to look enticing.

One acid-rain evening, he took a deep breath and dialed the number. He’d had a few shots of bourbon, of course.

After three rings, Reno picked up.

“Yo,” he rasped, his voice sounding even rougher on the phone.

“Hey…” Rufus cautiously replied. “It’s Rufus.”

There was a short pause on the line before Reno laughed wolfishly, the sound unpleasant and harsh. “I never thought I’d hear from you.”

“Yeah, well… I guess I got bored,” he answered honestly.

“Yeah? So does that mean you’re takin’ me up on my offer?” Reno asked abruptly. It seemed he didn’t have much on his agenda, either. “I’ve been thinking about those drinks, you know…” he added, just in case Rufus didn’t get the hint.

Rufus had thought long and hard about what to say at this point. It would be the smart thing not to go running around in the slums with the sleazy Turk, wouldn’t it? It would be smart just to stay home and jerk off, right?

Well, Rufus just didn’t feel like being smart that night.

“Yeah, I’ll go have some drinks with you,” he relented. There, he said it. There was no turning back now.

“Sweet,” Reno replied, sounding very pleased. “So… how about you just meet me at my place?” Before Rufus could blink, the Turk had quickly rambled off directions to a notoriously disgusting apartment complex in the slums.

“Uh… OK…” he muttered stupidly. Apparently, Reno wasn’t the kind of guy to pick up his date in an expensive convertible.

“See ya soon, right?” Reno asked, leaving no room for argument.

“Right…” sighed Rufus, and reluctantly ended the call.

For a while he fussed nervously around the apartment, wondering how to dress and what to bring. Finally, he decided on the same shit-kicking outfit he had worn on his drunken night with Sephiroth. And a gift? Reno didn’t deserve a damned gift. He poured the rest of his bourbon into a flask, crammed his smokes and a few bucks into a pocket, and headed for the slums.

A long cab ride later, Rufus was in the parking lot of “Temp-Ho” suites. The asphalt smelled distinctly like malt liquor and piss, and a potent whiff of crack hung in the air. The dumpsters were overflowing. A scantily clad girl with smeared eyeliner smoked a cigarette from the second floor balcony. The place was absolutely foul.

Taking a big pull from his flask, he scanned the rotting complex for apartment #4. Spotting it a few doors down from a moldy mattress, he made his way over and knocked on the door.

What the hell, right? he morbidly thought. I came all this way…

Reno swung open the door in a cloud of cigarette smoke, fiery red hair even spikier than usual. He grinned that familiar wolfish grin. “Come on in,” he greeted.

Rufus followed the gangly Turk inside and quickly analyzed the apartment, as was his habit.

Reno’s flat was disgusting. It smelled like stale beer, rotten food, and smoke. His small living room was littered with beer cans and fast food, and his kitchenette looked like a crime scene. Was that even spaghetti sauce all over the walls? Reno himself was a jaw-dropping display of filth without the blue suit. He was wearing a dirty wifebeater and a skinny pair of black jeans… and least, Rufus thought they were black. It was hard to tell with all the dirt-caked punk patches sewn over nearly every square inch of fabric. His arms, which never showed at work, were completely covered with tattoos. One read, “DRINK FIGHT AND FUCK” in bold black letters, and another was a poorly inked picture of a whiskey bottle. The rest seemed to be a mirage of vomiting skulls, burning buildings, and rampaging demons. Rufus felt faint.

At least Sephiroth’s insanity was contained to his mind. Reno’s seemed to have broken out all over his body.

“Um… sorry about the mess…” Reno mumbled quickly as he reached into the fridge for some beers. Rufus was not consoled. “I don’t have company that much,” he explained as he pulled out two bottles. He popped the caps off with his teeth, handing one to Rufus. The VP took it reluctantly.

“Come on, have a seat on the couch,” he prodded, pushing Rufus out of the kitchen. “I got something to help you relax.” As Rufus peevishly sat down on the cleanest part of the couch, Reno disappeared into the bedroom. He returned seconds later with a sinister grin, carefully holding a broken piece of mirror. He set it down on the coffee table.

On the mirror sat two fat lines of cocaine.

“Jesus Christ, Reno!” Rufus burst angrily. “I’m the goddamned Vice President, not some junkie from the streets!” He glared at the Turk, then back down at the mirror.

The lines were very fat.

Reno pretended to look hurt. “What, it’s just a little yao, that’s all! I thought you rich bitches were into this shit!” He pulled a buck from his pocket and rolled it up. “Well, if you don’t want any, I’ll just do ‘em both.” He gracefully sniffed the first line.

“Phew,” he heaved.

He wiped his nose and bent down to do the other line.

“WAIT!” Rufus exploded, face red with embarrassment. “Shit, if you’re just going to do them both, I guess I’ll have one…” The shitty grin on Reno’s face widened as he handed over the rolled up bill. Rufus tried not to look eager as he leaned over and snorted the line.

Truth was, Rufus liked coke a lot. He just didn’t do it very often. All things in moderation… right?

They leaned back in the dirty couch and sipped their cheap beer. The drip. Holy shit, the drip.

“Well.. let’s say we head down to a bar,” Reno suggested. “I know one in Sector 7 that’s not too sleazy.”

“Sure,” Rufus agreed distractedly. His face had just turned numb. Yeah, it was a fat line. They quickly finished their beers and prepared to leave. Reno slipped on a pair of duct taped combat boots and opened the door, holding it for Rufus in a rare display of courtesy.

As much as Rufus hated to admit it, Reno looked goddamned sexy in that grungy outfit.

They decided on the subway, even though it wasn’t a bad walk to the bar. Goddamned acid rain.

They arrived at the bar warm on Rufus’ bourbon and quite high. It was a place called “7th Heaven,” run by an intimidating man with –was that really a gun?!- attached to one arm. Oh, well. It was fairly clean and the crowd seemed pleasant enough. They took a seat at the barstools.

The drip still trickled down Rufus’ throat.

“Whaddya want?!” the guy growled.

Rufus nervously fumbled for the money in his pocket. A few bills fell on the floor when he pulled his hand out.

“Shit, don’t worry about it,” Reno cut in. Twenty gil was already in his hand. “I live in a shit-hole so I can spend money on cheap thrills. So what’ll it be? Bourbon?”

Rufus nodded, amazed yet again at the Turk’s courtesy. However, he had been brutally throat-fucked by the same gentleman days earlier, so he wasn’t going to make any decisions on character quite yet.

“Two bourbons, then,” Reno decided. When the drinks were poured, he lifted one in the air. “Cheers, yo,” he said.

Rufus awkwardly raised his drink. “To what?” he asked.

“To our first date, what else?” he loudly replied. He clacked his glass against Rufus’ and downed the bourbon in one shot. The bartender skeptically raised an eyebrow and a few people turned in their seats.

“Cheers…” Rufus mumbled and took a sip. He flinched. While it was fine for two men to date in Midgar, the Vice President of ShinRa dating a man wouldn’t go over quite as well. He cringed to think of the consequences if anyone found out his true identity.

Even more nerve-racking was the thought of Sephiroth’s inevitable response. It ran a chill down his spine.

“Yo,” Reno called, waving a hand in front of Rufus’ eyes. “You alright?”

Rufus snapped out of his thoughts, looking over at the Turk’s gaunt visage. Reno’s tidal blue eyes were fixed on his, framed by derelict, sleep-deprived black. The look would have been bad on most people, but it looked damn good on him.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he lied. He couldn’t break the stare. It couldn’t have just been the yao… it wasn’t just the yao… Reno was fucking gorgeous. Those eyes. It was always the eyes.

“It’s alright,” soothed Reno, sounding surprisingly understanding. “You’re just high...”

The eyes.

Mother of God, he was high. Blindingly holy fuck high. Reno looked like an angel, a devil, a gorgeous fucking demon. He must have been peaking.

He leaned in.

People gasped.

When his lips met Reno’s, it was a glorious revelation, an absurd rebellion, a sky high freedom.

There wasn’t any tongue, or any pornographic shit. It was just a kiss. Reno’s lips pressed against his.

Rufus’ heart was beating fast when they parted. His ears were ringing. It was a good kiss…

“Some more bourbon over here, yo,” Reno instantly demanded, breaking that weird moment of euphoria that emotion (and yao) will sometimes bring. The Turk seemed perfectly calm, as if the drug hadn’t affected him any more than a cup of coffee. “Hey, a few more shots and you’ll be fine,” he consoled to Rufus.

Shots were poured. Shots were drank. More yao was snorted in the bathroom, along with a lot of other bad (or good?) drugs that Rufus dared not recall. It’s amazing how much substance Reno had been able to cram into those tight jean pockets. The night felt like a ride on a rollercoaster, terror and ecstasy churned up in one crazy fucking fall.

Four AM finally rolled around. The bartender was annoyed, to put it lightly, and most everyone else had drained out hours ago. Once again, it was just Rufus and the man who wanted to screw him.

“So… back to my place, then?” Reno asked. After all the uppers, downers, shots and brews, he still appeared to be in complete control of his senses.

Rufus was a polar opposite. Sound, touch, and taste had become an insane concoction of euphoria and profound revelation. Time slowed down and sped up with the irregular beating of his heart. Reno was still a god of some kind.

Heroin? Mali? Maybe a touch of valium to dull the sharp edges? Rufus dared not recall. All he knew was that he was floating on a thick cloud of stupor and Reno was too hot for human eyes.

The jackal grin remained but it was beautiful, so beautiful.

“Alright, we’re goin’ to my place,” Reno concluded. “Take one more shot first, though… don’t be a pussy.”

The shot went down like water. Seconds later, Reno’s face became nothing but a red framed blur and a canine leer.

Rufus grinned dreamily. And then he dreamed.

* * *

When he awoke, everything was still a trancelike blur… dark and surreal.

He was laying on something soft. He couldn’t remember anything.

He blinked, the simple movement a great effort. Slowly, very slowly, his eyes were able to distinguish contours in the sleep-haze blanket of light and dark. He was in a room. Lying on a bed.

It wasn’t his room.

He couldn’t remember anything.

It was only until he yawned and stretched that he realized his hands and feet were securely bound.

Shit. He was tied spread-eagle to a bed… and he was naked.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” sneered a familiar raspy voice. Rufus’ eyes followed the sound over to the skinny outline of Reno, who was leaning casually in the doorway.

Now Rufus remembered everything… the coke, the booze, the descending haze of drug-induced stupor that had knocked him out at the bar. It also became quite apparent in his refreshed sobriety that Reno was, of course, not a god at all. More like a sick pervert. Big surprise.

The sick pervert in question sauntered up to the bed and took a seat on the edge, grinning wickedly. He had a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“You know, I wasn’t really expecting you to pass out…” he mused. Flicking some ash on Rufus’ bare chest, he added, “But I was hoping you would. It made it pretty fucking easy for me to tie you to my bed.” He sipped his beer, watching for the VP’s response. Rufus shivered under the glare, too mortified to speak. The rope was uncomfortably tight.

Reno puffed away at the remainder of his smoke, his hungry blue gaze drinking in the naked body squirming next to him. “No wonder Sephiroth’s so enamored with you,” he breathed. “You’re fucking flawless.” Smile melting off his face, he turned the cigarette upside down and slowly inched it towards Rufus’ chest. Rufus quit squirming as the Turk positioned the burning cherry a hair’s width from his skin.

“You know, Sephiroth threatened me the other night,” Reno reminisced, holding the cig perfectly still above Rufus’ flesh. “He called me up and told me that he’d break every bone in my body if I touched you. Pretty crazy, right?”

Rufus was silent. The heat was nearly unbearable.

“Well, you know what?” Reno continued, a touch of rage in his voice. “Sephiroth can go fuck himself.” With that said, he bore the bright hot cherry down onto Rufus’ skin.

Finally, Rufus found his voice and uttered an agonized scream. Unaffected, Reno firmly pressed the cigarette down for several more excruciating seconds until it was extinguished. The pain was dizzying, the burnt flesh a prominent shade darker in the dim light. Reno’s face was a complete mask… not a hint of sympathy softened the harsh planes of his face. He flicked the butt on the ground and took another shwill from his beer, emotionless eyes fixed on the circular burn he had inflicted.

Rufus held back a sob. For a second time in a week he’d been lured into a dangerous situation by an attractive man. And this time, hadn’t he known something like this was going to happen? Wasn’t it obvious that a convicted rapist and felon would torture a pretty boy like him? The wound on his chest throbbed terribly with the rapid beat of his heart.

But the truth hurt more than the wound.

Rufus wanted to be abused. As much as he tried to deny it, he had enjoyed it when Sephiroth had struck him, and when Reno had gagged him with his cock. He had enjoyed every fucking second of it.

A hot tear slid down his cheek.

“You cryin’ already?” Reno taunted, noticing the tear immediately. “Shit, I ain’t even given you a reason to cry yet.” He finished the bottle of beer with a tilt of his head and spontaneously hurled it at the back wall. It shattered with a deafening crash inches from Rufus’ head, raining shards of glass on his naked skin. Rufus instantly felt several stings where the sharp edges had nicked him. More tears slid involuntarily down his face.

When Reno stood up and sauntered out to the kitchen, his tight jeans did little to hide his erection.

When he returned, he wasn’t holding a fresh brew like Rufus was expecting. It was a knife. One of those razor-sharp switchblades ShinRa issued to the Turks.

“While you were passed out, I noticed something…” he said quietly. “You have cuts on your arms.”

Rufus’ heart skipped a beat. How had he noticed? The cuts were old and barely discernable, done with a razor back in High School. Now they were nothing but tiny raised lines of scar tissue. They had felt too good to try again… no one had ever noticed them. Yet somehow, they had been spotted in the worst possible context.

“I saw them when I was tying up your hands,” the Turk continued, “And it gave me an idea. You can probably guess what it is.” He put the knife in his teeth and peeled off his tight wifebeater, revealing a mirage of scars, brands, and ink. “I have a lot of fetishes,” he confessed as he took the blade from his mouth and menacingly flicked it open. “My favorite, however… is blood. I like to see it… feel it… taste it…” He climbed onto the bed and crouched over Rufus’ splayed figure, digging his knees into the VP’s bare thighs.

His eyes were a void as he solemnly positioned the knife in his fist.

“And most of all… I like to spill it…”

Although Rufus was nearly blind with fright and anticipation, he couldn’t help but notice how hot Reno was right then, half naked and nearly straddling his cock. He was ripped. Where Sephiroth was a Mako-pumped powerhouse, Reno was lean and wiry, a look he’d undoubtedly gotten from starving and scrapping on the streets his whole life. Rufus found something irresistibly erotic about that deadly edge that separated a killer from the rest of the population, and Reno was born a killer.

He felt the blood rush to his groin.

A faint smirk played across the Turk’s lips as he slowly lowered the knife to Rufus’ abdomen. There was a pause - perhaps the longest pause Rufus would ever experience in his life - that consisted of nothing but sheer, helpless anticipation, and the feel of cold steel on flesh. Finally, in one sharp motion, Reno flicked the knife across the skin with a twist of his wrist.

First, there was a mild sting. It wasn’t a bad feeling… to a masochist, it was even pleasant.

Then there was the blood. A dark red line slowly expanded from the horizontal cut and meandered lazily down his side. It wasn’t that much blood. It was just a trickle, really.

It could have been a paper cut…

Rufus realized, to his horror, that his cock was hard.

“How did it feel?” Reno snarled. His ravenous eyes demanded an answer.

“ Good,” Rufus breathlessly gasped, astonished by his own confession. “Really … fucking… good…”

A barely audible groan escaped Reno’s lips. The bulge in his jeans had gotten bigger. Scarcely able to maintain his composure, he trailed the knife a few inches down from the fresh cut and slid the blade over the skin again, except this time it was deeper, and slower. Rufus could actually feel the cold steel sinking almost sensuously inside of him, like a devil’s caress.

When Reno had finished the cut, he was breathing quickly, eyes fixated on the new, fat wound he had just inflicted. Rufus was dizzy with a combination of shock and lust, barely able to focus on the stinging, throbbing line that now marred his stomach. He could hardly even believe that any of the shit happening to him was real.

When the blood came, it wasn’t just a trickle. It looked like a miniature River Styx, ebbing and flowing with his heartbeat. It was real alright, and it definitely wasn’t a paper cut. A wet spot steadily grew under his back where the blood pooled. He felt like he might faint.

Reno hungrily bent over and put his mouth on the wound, caressing it with his tongue in a bizarre sort of oral sex. Too weak to protest, Rufus just moaned, arching his back into the painful kiss. Tied down like a lamb for slaughter, there wasn’t much he could do but feebly accept the fact that Reno’s torture simply felt good.

Pulling away from the gash, Reno whispered, “If you weren’t the Vice President, I’d gut you…” A feral grin twisting his lips, he kissed Rufus with a mouthful of blood, prying his mouth open and forcing him to taste it.

It was nothing like that sweet kiss at the bar. It was more like a bite than a kiss, a crude display of dominance. Nonetheless, the narcotic combination of Reno’s mouth and his own blood just turned Rufus on more. When the Turk broke the kiss, it just left him wanting more.

“But since you are so fuckin’ important,” Reno continued, his voice nearly a whisper, “I’ll just have to settle with fucking you senseless…” He nipped Rufus’ ear, then slowly, almost gently, trailed his mouth down to his neck. Rufus whimpered pathetically as his captor suddenly bit down, mercilessly grinding his flesh in between his teeth. When he pulled away, he grinned, although there was no compassion in the smile. “I’m going to make sure there’s no doubt in Sephiroth’s skull that I had my way with you,” he growled.

“Sephiroth… is gonna kill you…” Rufus heaved desperately. Reno looked pensive for a second, then laughed maniacally, as if it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.

“Sephiroth can suck my cock, he sneered. “If he gets in my face, I’ll kill him.” A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. “That fucker’s had it coming for a long time…” he growled.

If Rufus was any less afraid, he would have laughed. “You really think you can kill Sephiroth?” he whispered. “You’re no match for him and you know it-” Before he could finish, Reno furiously backhanded him - in the same spot Sephiroth had hit him, no less. He was quickly reminded of how sore his jaw still was.

“Shut the fuck up,” Reno hissed. “Your stupid threats are just going to get you hurt.” To emphasize the fact, he pressed the knife down on Rufus chest, over his heart, and jerked it across the skin, ripping mercilessly through his flesh. Rufus cried out, struggling futilely at his binds. The new cut hurt far worse than the others… there was nothing even erotic about it. He was afraid to look down. He knew it was deep just from the magnitude of the pain, and the wetness that was pouring down his side. Suddenly, it became horribly clear to him that Reno’s intentions were darker than a little game of S&M.

The knot of fear tightened in his gut, and goosebumps prickled up on his skin. Don’t panic, he desperately told himself. He wants me to panic.

Reno unzipped his jeans and pulled out his stiff cock, eyes glowing crazily in the dim light. “Where’s your savior now, bitch?” he snarled. He wiped a calloused hand over Rufus’ chest and lubricated his cock with the blood.

Don’t panic… I can’t… Rufus clamped his eyes shut, holding in a scream.

The expression on Reno’s face could have killed a priest as he positioned himself between Rufus’ legs and brutally forced his length in with a sharp jerk of his hips.

All self control left Rufus in that blinding instant of pain. In that one second of pure agony, he heard himself cry out, the sound ripping uncontrollably through his body.

The glint in Reno’s eyes was nothing less than ecstatic upon hearing that scream. Fear fueled him, made him high. He pulled his cock out and slammed it back in even harder, just to hear it again. He grinned.

“Want me to stop?” he sneered.

Rufus was beyond words. In his haze of panic, nothing would come out of him but pure animalistic reaction. He could only jerk with renewed determination at his binds, blindly hoping they would break under the stress. Of course, all the struggling did was encourage Reno to continue, who gleefully quickened his thrusts.

There was a frightening void in Reno’s brain where most men would feel guilt or sympathy – that was the edge that made him a killer.

Rufus’ brain felt like a hurricane, churning with panic and blowing away clear thought. Even sound and sight became a swirl. All he knew was that Reno, in his drugged-up state, was not going to stop, and might even kill him before he was through. Every second dragged on like an hour.

Through waiting for a response, the Turk clamped a rough hand on Rufus’ neck and squeezed. “Well, I ain’t gonna stop… you feel too good,” he hissed, teeth bared in an evil Cheshire cat grin. He leaned forward, putting all his weight on his throat, and wrapped his other hand around Rufus’ limp cock. “So good I could squeeze the life right outta you…”

Now Rufus saw nothing but stars. It took all his energy just to suck in enough air to survive. Couldn’t see, couldn’t think. He could only feel. The ache from Reno’s thrusts had dulled to a pain-pleasure throb, and the hand on his cock now moved rhythmically up and down. To his horror, he felt himself grow hard, helplessly reacting to the sensation. It was the last thing he wanted - or expected - so close to death, but Reno’s hand relentlessly tightened its grip on his length.

“You like it, don’t you?” the Turk growled in his ear between quickened breaths. “You like getting fucked like a little bitch?” He pumped Rufus’ cock more quickly, to match his own thrusts.

A groan slipped out of Rufus’ mouth between gasps. His cock was so hard now it ached, throbbing in Reno’s skilled hand. Even worse was the growing desire he had for Reno’s cock… it didn’t even hurt anymore, perhaps because his body had gone into in shock. Embarrassment boiled on top of the panic. He didn’t want to succumb to pleasure, for God’s sake – he was practically dying. He desperately hoped that the pleasure was purely physical, and not yet another masochistic fantasy being aroused.

As if Reno could read Rufus’ mind, he thrust his cock in harder and faster, relentlessly hitting his prostate. He was close himself… the VP was tighter than any woman, and the blood… so much blood… He bent down and ravenously licked the most recent gash, drinking the bittersweet river that still spilled out. It was like tasting his life, his soul…

Blood, pain, and fear were Reno’s most potent fetishes, and Rufus was seething with all three.

Letting out a feral growl, Reno came with a final, brutal thrust of his hips, exploding in a rush of drug-heightened euphoria. He saw stars… for a second, he was a fucking god.

Overcome with dizzying sensation, Rufus came seconds later, spilling his seed into Reno’s hand. It felt like he was falling… his whole body shivered with a rush of adrenaline. A rush, a flood of white light behind his eyes… it felt like death.

Sated, Reno released his grip on Rufus’ neck and collapsed on the blood-soaked bed. He closed his eyes, savoring the afterglow and the taste of blood on his lips. It was a good fuck, the best he’d had in who knows how long. Rufus was tight… it was almost good enough to make him give up women.

Feeling quite smug and evil, he looked over at Rufus’ still form. “Yo, you still alive?” he joked.

No response.

He propped himself up on one elbow and inspected the blood-smeared VP. The poor bitch was unconscious. He tested his pulse. Still alive, at least… barely. His breathing was slow and shallow, and his pulse was far from regular. He’d lost a lot of blood, of course.

“Shit,” he mumbled, sitting up and scratching his head. “Almost killed him…”

Not liked he cared or anything… he just didn’t want to go back to jail. Actually, killing the vice president wouldn’t just get him thrown behind bars, it would get him executed. He almost laughed outloud, remembering how hard he’d tried not to kill Rufus in the midst of his lust.

“Oh, well…” he sighed, zipping up his jeans. At least he had a plan set, just in case something like this happened. He stood up and stumbled over to his dresser. God, he was tired. He could barely see straight. He pulled open the top drawer and fished around until he found his last gram of coke, which was precariously encased in a folded up piece of paper. He had to wake up somehow, right? He messily spilled it onto the wood surface and snorted up a good amount. There. Awake now.

As sober as he was going to get, he went back over to the bed and glared down at his mangled date, like an artist summing up a shitty sculpture. It was going to take some work, some bribery, and a lot of lying, but knew he’d be able to get away with his crimes without the slightest suspicion.

* * *

When Rufus woke up, the first thing he was aware of was the light. Blinding, florescent light, burning through his sore eyelids.

The next thing that hit his senses was smell, a strong reek of antiseptic and sickness. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but at least it was one he recognized.

He slowly, cautiously, opened his eyes. It took a few seconds to adjust.

Thank fucking god. He was in a hospital. Safe. Rescued.

He never thought he’d wake up again.

He tried to sit up, and immediately was discouraged by a jolt of pain. Yup, Reno had fucked him up. His arms were riddled with IVs and electrodes, and he could hear the steady beep of a heart monitor. It was probably a miracle he was still alive.

How he had ended up here, he had no clue. All he knew was that somehow he had survived. Maybe Reno’s neighbors had heard the screams? Perhaps the other Turks, the ones who weren’t insane, had rescued him? He never thought he’d be so grateful to be laying in a hospital bed.

He feebly lifted up his head and looked around the room… and his heart dropped like a stone.

There, next to his cot, sat the one Turk he never wanted to see again, leaned back in the chair with a cigarette in his mouth. He was wearing his wrinkled blue suit, and he reeked of mouthwash and booze.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” Reno sneered, a characteristically demonic smirk plastered on his paper-pale face.

Rufus barely uttered the first squeak of a scream before a strong hand was clamped firmly over his mouth and a familiar blade was pressed up against his neck.

“I’d rather not slit your throat,” Reno whispered in his ear. “But if you try and scream again, you sure as hell ain’t waking up again.”

Rufus nodded weakly, unsure of whether or not he was just having a nightmare. How was it even possible that Reno was sitting next to him, and not in a high-security prison cell?

Reno didn’t waste time explaining. He removed his hand from Rufus’ mouth, but kept the knife pressed to his throat. After taking a few puffs from his smoke, he laid everything out quite clearly.

“It’s pretty simple. A fucking idiot could have figured it out. All I did was put your clothes on, put my uniform on, and drag you out to the street. I called the cops, told ‘em I’d found you unconscious, and accompanied you here in the ambulance, right by your side. You follow me? People get knifed and raped all the time below the plate, especially rich bitches like you. I’m the highest ranking authority in my whole fucking sector, so I’m the last person they’d suspect. Just as I planned, I got praised for ‘finding’ you, and your daddy’s probably gonna give me a fat bonus for saving his son. I’m a fuckin’ hero.”

Reno raised his eyebrows when he was finished, smugly waiting for Rufus’ response.

The flaw was easy for Rufus to see, even in his morphine-hazed state. “When I tell everyone it was you, you’ll be fuckin’ dead,” he hissed.

Surprisingly, the smug grin on Reno’s lips just widened. He leaned in, inches from Rufus’ face, and whispered, “This is where it gets good. If you tell a soul about what happened, I’ll show everyone in Midgar this tape.” He pulled a small cassette from his coat pocket and held it up.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he sneered. “You’re going up.”

A lump the size of a baseball formed in Rufus’ throat. Immediately, he knew what it was.

The elevator. When he and Sephiroth had nearly fucked in the elevator that lead to his apartment, he had been too drunk to remember about the security camera that was perched on the ceiling. He had hoped ever since that those few minutes of footage had been overlooked.

They had dry humped in that elevator.

“Believe it or not,” Reno proudly continued, “I busted a drug ring on the plate a few days ago, and the staff of your classy apartment happened to be involved. Not only did I get a lot of cocaine, but I was lucky enough to get this jack off material of you and Sephiroth as a bonus. You should be thanking me for not turning it in to the authorities with the rest of the evidence.”

Rufus was at a loss for words. There wasn’t really anything to say… he was screwed. If anyone saw that tape, his reputation would be soiled for the rest of his life. His father would disown him, he’d lose his job, and he’d be the laughing stock of Midgar, if not the whole fucking planet.

Reno had him by the balls.

“So, with that in mind, I’m gonna go get some sleep,” Reno concluded. “I’m glad we have an agreement.” With a victorious smirk on his face, he stood up and flipped the knife closed. Just before he turned to leave, he quickly bent down and brutally kissed Rufus’ mouth, raping with his tongue. When he stood back up, he had the same dirty look on his face that Rufus had seen before he’d forced in his cock. He felt like vomiting.

“Give Sephiroth my regards,” he sneered, and sauntered out the door.

When the Turk from hell was long gone, Rufus sighed the longest, weariest sigh he’d ever let out. With a feeling of exhausted surrender, he fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t wake up for days.