At least he's hot

Chapter nine – power trip

*Warning* If you’ve made it this far, you’re probably desensitized enough not care what’s in here BUT… there’s some blood, rape and overall insanity in this chapter. The usual… you know.


After a full day of moping and jerking off, Rufus finally went back to work. The cuts had healed for the most part –they were still a little sore, but not bad – so he didn’t have much of an excuse for staying home. Unfortunately, heartbreak was not a medical condition. His phone had been ringing off the hook, contributed mostly by his father’s effeminate, blonde secretary. The answering machine was filled to capacity with timid, apologetic messages:

“Hi Rufus, so sorry to bother you again, but President ShinRa wants me to remind you that you’re… well… in a lot of trouble. Pardon my language, but he specified that he’s going to ‘beat the shit out of you’ if you don’t come in tomorrow. Sorry, so sorry… Please just come in. Your father’s going to burst a blood vessel if you don’t.”

So he went to work. His father had given him so much paperwork that it literally filled his office. Impressively balanced stacks of files loomed precariously on his desk like crumbling ziggurats, and bags – bags! – of letters were piled up against the walls. A feeling of utter helplessness had washed over him when he sat down at his chair and opened the first file. An annoying, morbidly contrived song ran through his mind as he slowly set to work:

99 billion files on the desk, 99 billion files… rip one to shreds, I wish I were dead, 98 billion files on the desk…

It took him three days and nights to get his office remotely back to the way it was. The few hours of sleep he allowed himself were spent face down on the desk… a few unlucky associates would be getting letters adorned with drool. However, amidst all the grueling work, he managed to catch wind of the latest gossip spreading like wildfire around Headquarters. He learned that Sephiroth had taken a week-long leave from work, for ‘personal reasons.’ What personal reasons did he have? As far as anyone knew, he had no family, and he certainly didn’t have any friends. He wondered if it had something to do with the bad mood he was in after ‘breaking’ Reno.

Aching to get the General back in his clutches, he desperately tried to patch things up from his limited vantage point at the office. Unfortunately no amount of phone calls, delivered flowers, or ‘Get Well Soon’ cards would remove the reclusive brooder from his residence in the industrial district.

Sephiroth might as well have dropped off the face of the earth.

Rufus wondered if the flowers had been a little tacky. Overkill, maybe? For whatever reason, his dogged apologies weren’t working for shit. He felt like a tool.

After four or five days back in the office, Rufus began to hear even more gossip. Apparently, Reno wasn’t handling his butt-hurt anguish very well. Although the VP hadn’t actually seen him, he had heard enough of a description to get a fair image in his mind. The rings under the Turk’s eyes alone had become a source of wild speculation… passing through the cubicles, one would likely hear a conversation similar to this:

“I think he may have a concussion.”

“No, they definitely look like bruises... I’d bet he got in a bar fight. He’s pretty rude, don’t you think?”

“You guys are both wrong. Even a moron can tell he’s on drugs.”

“Drugs? You think it’s that serious? All along, I thought it was just makeup… some kind of weird goth look to go along with the tattoos and piercings.”

“Come on, now. It’s definitely drugs. You know… shards, crank, quartz, dust, blow, tweak, powder, glass… um… uh… one of those.”

“Aren’t they all the same?”

Just like a fire, the rumors spread up and up the many floors of Headquarters until they reached the very top. Within less than a day, President ShinRa himself got wind of the issue, although by then it had turned into a distorted tall tale of slacking, cross-dressing and blatant drug use. Being the wonderful father that he was, he bestowed the gallant task of dealing with the uncomfortable situation upon Rufus.

“Who, me?” Rufus had squealed, pointing dumbly at himself.

His father’s face had held a hideous look of contempt, an I-can’t-believe-my-own-son-is-such-a-fucking-idiot look. All he had said was, “Remember all those files on your desk? That was nothing. Either fix him or fire him, if you know what’s best for you.”

The threat had been more than enough to convince Rufus… well, coerce was more like it. What was worse? Dealing with an asshole for fifteen minutes, or dealing with more files for three days? As much as he dreaded seeing the Turk again, the thought of more paperwork made him want to hurl on the spot.

So he had to deal. He wished he was more like Sephiroth, always cool and in command. Sephiroth would know what to do.

But, unfortunately, Sephiroth wasn’t here. He wasn’t going to have all his problems swiftly dealt with by a sword-wielding psycho. This time, no one was here to hold his hand.

For Christ’s sake, I’m going to be President some day… I’ll have to deal with shit like this all the time… he forced himself to remember. He was going to be the most powerful man in the world when his old man croaked… he had to start learning how to fill the role. He shouldn’t be afraid of one lousy drunk, even if that drunk did tie him down and rape the living hell out of him.

He scheduled an appointment with Reno for later in the day, letting Tseng, the senior Turk, know that it was urgent. Tseng seemed more than happy to relay the message, his voice sounding tired and exasperated over the phone.

“I’ll tell him right away…” Tseng said. “Find out what’s wrong with him, will you?”

“Oh, I have an idea,” Rufus dryly responded. “I’ll do what I can.”

He didn’t really have a plan set for the appointment. Sure, he had dealt with countless slacking employees in the past, but this was a little different. He had no idea what to expect.

His only plan was to be in control, like Sephiroth.

* * *

Time ticked very slowly in the dark, cement walled rooms of Sephiroth’s ground-floor apartment. The only thing that punctuated the passing of minutes was the steady chugging of engines and the lonesome call of trains blowing their horns, muted yet ever present in the distance.

Just as he had feared, the days off weren’t helping. In fact, they were only making things worse. The more he sat and thought about the missing pieces in his own head, the angrier he became.

It was a wicked cycle repeating itself in his mind. He had no control over it.

Thinking about his past was something he had never dared to do. It always had held a certain ominous quality, invoking an odd feeling of dread in the back of his mind whenever he thought of it. So, he just didn’t dwell on it. That was then and this is now. Why worry over something that was unchangeable? He had tried to figure out who his family was before, with little luck. Hojo, who was always more than ready to give him an answer, had sharply told him to leave it alone.

He had always been so damn busy in the military he hadn’t had the time to do anything but that.

Just leave it alone. Hojo had said it with the utmost severity. Sephiroth could still remember the look of fear hidden behind those big, wire rimmed glasses, as if there was some great importance to those words that he would never understand.

Well, he had tried leaving it alone and seriously, it wasn’t working. He was fucking angry, all of the time. Anger consumed him, ate away at him. He had more negative energy pent up in side of him than all the gears and pistons that pumped Mako into Midgar.

It was killing him.

Earlier in the day, he had poured himself a glass of water. Before he could raise it to his lips, the glass had burst in his clenched hand. He hadn’t even realized he was gripping it so tight.

There were other things. For one, he was still seeing red. Was this natural? There was a translucent tinge of crimson at the edge of his vision, all day and all night. It got worse when he was deep in heated thought, like he was peering through a bloody tunnel. Perhaps he was bleeding internally? Or was this just a sign of approaching insanity?

Even worse, he couldn’t sleep. He laid down every night and stared at the water-stained ceiling until the sun came up in the morning. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on alcohol to sleep… without it, he was a full-blown insomniac. The few minutes he did doze off, he was quickly jolted awake by nightmarish flashbacks of the lab.

The lab, the lab! What was up with the lab?

He saw horrible things in his dreams. Knives, tubes, IVs and monitors. Tanks containing bodies. Syringes full of blood and Mako. White walls, bright lights, masked faces.

Horrible. And guess who was always right there, right in the middle of the flashback? None other than Hojo, the prick who had told him to forget about his childhood. He wasn’t stupid. The only thing he was missing was proof… but proof of what? Had he been involved in some kind of experiment? What the hell was it? His hair was white, for God’s sake!

The stab wound Reno had delivered to him was gone. There wasn’t even a scar.

* * *

Rufus drank a few shots of bourbon right before the meeting, an expensive vintage that he kept on the desk more for decoration than for consumption. He rarely drank at work, but dealing with Reno was a special occasion that required some liquid courage. Seconds later his obese, unenthusiastic secretary called him up.

“It’s Reno Lanzano, sir… shall I let him in?” she asked with a weary, mildly annoyed tone.

“Yeah, and remember what I said,” Rufus responded. “No calls, no intrusions, no nothing until this meeting is over. Get it?”

“Yes, sir… I remember.”

Ever since the gang bang fiasco, Rufus had fortified the security a little. When he didn’t want to be bothered, he made his secretary ensure that no one came in. There was even a code she had to type in to unlock the door, just incase someone tried to intrude… it was really quite clever. Plus, the woman was so heinous no one in their right mind would cross her. (This was more proof of President ShinRa’s morbid sense of humor – giving Rufus a secretary so hideous it would render Don Corneo himself impotent.)

The door clicked, the handle turned. Rufus sat down behind his big oak desk and folded his hands, attempting to look as intimidating as possible. The fact that the Turk had fucked his face on the same desk didn’t help matters.

The door swung open and in came Reno Lanzano, dark eyed and skinny as a rail. It instantly became obvious that the rumors had started for good reason – the Turk looked like shit. The rings under his eyes were fucking monumental, swollen and black like bruises. It wasn’t hard to tell he hadn’t been getting much sleep, if any, and his suit seemed even baggier than usual on a frame that was quickly diminishing. He must have lost at least five pounds since the last time Rufus had seen him. From head to toe, he conveyed the image of someone lost in the depths of a severe and self-destructive depression.

Surprisingly, though, Rufus felt an impressive lack of sympathy. In fact, upon seeing how vulnerable Reno had become, he was hit with a twisted idea. He smiled inwardly. Yes, this wasn’t so bad after the all. The tables had turned…

It was obvious that Reno was not very excited about being in Rufus’ office. He glowered down at the floor with his arms crossed and bit his lip, waiting sullenly for whatever was to come.

“So,” Rufus said, making his voice sound as cold and professional as possible. “Tell me what’s been going on.”

Reno’s features darkened. He still didn’t look up. “You know damn well what’s going on,” he growled. His voice was hoarse, weary.

“Hmm…” Rufus mumbled, as if he were a detached psychiatrist summing up the ranting of a patient. “No, I’m afraid I don’t know. Could you elaborate?”

Reno said nothing. His eyes narrowed with hatred, focused intently on a square of tile near the foot of the desk. He almost looked like he was about to cry. Silence settled upon the room.

After giving the Turk a good ten seconds to respond, Rufus finally said, “Well. If you’re not going to talk, how are we going to resolve this issue you’re having? You know your job’s on the line, don’t you?”

The look on Reno’s face was unforgettable, a potent blend of hatred and shame.

“I could fire you right here and now,” Rufus continued, letting a twinge of heat sharpen his voice. “But…” he mused, more slowly, “Perhaps there’s another way we can make ends meet here…” He narrowed his eyes and let the trace of a smile curve his lips. He almost melted with delight as the Turk’s features scrunched in confusion, then suddenly blanched with horror. It was wickedly amusing. He let the words hang in the air before he continued, falling quite gracefully into this new role he had assumed.

“Yes, a simple transaction. You do something for me, I’ll ensure you stay employed,” he said. “God forbid you lost your job and had to go back to prison… how long were you supposed to serve? Ten years? Twenty?”

A barely discernable shudder ran through Reno, whose gaze was still planted firmly on the floor. Midgar’s prisons were the worst in the world, notorious for their sub-par facilities and blatant disregard for human rights. One night inside was enough to convert most thugs to the path of righteousness. Ten years? Unbearable!

“So, do we have an understanding?” Rufus queried.

Reno nodded slightly, the small movement obviously a great effort.

“Look at me and say it,” he snapped.

Reno’s gaze slowly drifted up from the square of tile. A shiver ran through Rufus as those piercing, black rimmed eyes connected with his. A shade of pure devastation darkened the cerulean blue irises, as if some horrible secret was eating away inside of him like a parasite. The eyes said more than the Turk probably knew. Sephiroth raped him, Rufus quickly evaluated. There was no doubt in his mind. No one looked like that unless it was for a damn good reason. However, the pity still didn’t come… Reno had deserved every fucking inch of Sephiroth’s big cock, no matter how much it had hurt his ego or his ass.

“What the fuck do you want?” Reno hissed, vainly trying to sound threatening.

Ah! Those eyes… such beautiful eyes! For a split second Rufus nearly lost his composure, drowning in their frigid blue depths. But he quickly came back to his senses, focusing on the shock of red hair instead. “What do I want?” he echoed, tapping his fingers together. It wasn’t a tough question. Reno looked even more enticing in the depths of his depression than he had when he was moderately healthy. The dark rings intensified his large eyes, the pallor nicely contrasted the red hair, and the gaunt angles of his lean body made him appear helpless and vulnerable, quite the opposite of the sex-craved madman who had seduced him weeks earlier. So the only question was… where to start? The door was locked, a rare and delicious opportunity had risen, and he was aching for some intimacy, even if it was forced. He leaned back in his big leather chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“Take off your jacket,” he ordered softly.

Reno’s eyes grew colder than the frozen planes of hell. He grudgingly shrugged off the navy blue jacket, letting it fall softly to the ground. A faint snarl curved his thin lips.

“Now the shirt… slowly.” he said. “I’m enjoying this far too much to rush through it.” His own words shocked him as they slipped so effortlessly out of his mouth. It seemed like forever since he’d been in control… he’d almost forgotten what it was like. He had forgotten how thrilling it could be. He tried not to show his own excitement as Reno unfastened the first button of his white oxford, revealing a triangle of smooth, pale chest. Colorful curves of ink decorated the skin as he slowly worked his way down, baring more and more of his slender, tightly muscled torso. Rufus grinned despite himself when he noticed that the Turk’s face had turned a pretty shade of pink.

The shirt followed the jacket, sliding seductively off Reno’s lean shoulders and down his wiry arms. The tattoos flared brightly under the fluorescent lights, shifting with his quickened, nervous breaths.

Rufus’ smile grew. He beckoned the Turk with a playful curve of his index finger.

* * *

The more Sephiroth thought, the angrier he became. At first, his plan had been simply to talk to Hojo, to squeeze a few facts out of him. He’d sit down, explain his problem, and politely ask about the flashbacks. Hojo would understand, wouldn’t he?

Then, after some more thinking, he had realized that a bit of violence might be necessary. Nothing too bad, just a backhand or two… maybe he’d break those stupid glasses. After all, if Hojo hadn’t told him anything useful in the past, why would he start today? All he ever got were lies! That sick son of a bitch had never told him an ounce of truth!

After “cracking his head,” Sephiroth had spent copious amounts of time in that lab regaining his senses. Hojo, among several other doctors, had re-taught him all the necessary shit he had forgotten, which was mostly history, geography, social studies, math... The basics, like walking, talking, whatever, hadn’t been lost, thank God. It was a typical case of amnesia. It had taken about three months before he was what the doctors called ‘normal,’ and by then, Hojo had filled him so full of lies they didn’t even fit together anymore. According to him, his mother was an elusive whore named Jenova, his father was an anomynous 'goth reject of society,' and neither neglectful parent could be found, although Sephiroth wasn't even sure Hojo had ever bothered to look. He was in Midgar because ‘he had enlisted in the army,’ even though you had to be at least sixteen to get in. And why was he in a top-secret lab? Why was he getting Mako treatments? Why was his hair white?

Whenever a moment like this would arise, Hojo would say, with a condescending frown, “You ask too many questions.”

Too many questions? Didn’t he have a right to know who he was? Hojo treated him like a fucking lab rat, not a human being.

So after thinking longer and harder about these same facts, Sephiroth decided that he didn’t want to talk to Hojo after all. He didn’t even want to slap him around.

He wanted to kill him. He wanted to see that bastard’s guts splattered on the laboratory walls.

Yes, it was a glorious and profound revelation, as if he had finally found the last piece to the puzzle. It soothed him, exhilarated him beyond words… it felt Zen-like to brood over which limb he would cut off first, how he would prolong the agony, what he would say as he did it. He loved to kill. Why shouldn’t he? He was trained to kill since the day he woke up. And killing Hojo would feel better than having an orgasm.

Yet, on the other hand… this was murder. It was against the law. No matter which way you looked at it, it wasn’t okay to murder someone in cold blood. There would be consequences. He’d get fired, they’d try to take him to prison, and perhaps they’d even try to stick him in a psyche ward. Of course, no one could make him do anything, not unless they brought out the heavy artillery. Even then… could he take down a tank? Hell, maybe no one could stop him.

He imagined what it would be like, slaughtering his own army. Oops, sorry Zack, he mused. Oh, there goes Cloud, that wussy new recruit… So sorry. Really, I am.

Perhaps he needed help. He knew these thoughts were clearly madness, but that didn’t stop them from unfolding in his mind. Maybe, just maybe, it would be a good idea to let someone try and dissuade him before rushing off to his own bloody demise. But who could he turn to? His selection of friends was worse than the selection of flavored gruel at the Headquarters cafeteria. Zack, his happy-go-lucky companion from SOLDIER, would simply think he was crazy. Reno might have been some help before their last violent interaction, but he certainly wouldn’t be now. Sephiroth wasn’t even sure that the self-destructive Turk was still alive. So, there was really only one option left. Rufus ShinRa.

Yes. Rufus would understand, wouldn’t he? After all, the guy was practically in love with him, which had left him both perplexed and annoyed over the past few days. Flowers? Come on, now. He was surprised the VP was still even trying to form something of a relationship after being smacked around, gang-banged and verbally abused. Sephiroth almost felt bad about the way he’d been treating Rufus… perhaps he’d been a little too hard on him? Whatever. What the hell did the guy expect?

Either way, nothing bad could possibly come out of a little talk. Maybe he’d come away from it completely cured… or maybe not. No matter what happened, he knew he’d get a little play. He knew that much for certain.

Within seconds he was out the door, not even bothering to throw on his coat over his army issue wifebeater. He didn’t forget his sword, though. He dutifully strapped the Masamune to his back, just incase the talk didn’t work.

He took the subway to Headquarters. He felt all the passengers’ eyes fixed on him, crawling over his skin like maggots.

* * *

“So… Sephiroth said he was going to break you,” Rufus said, looking Reno up and down. The Turk was standing in front of him now, close enough to touch. “I wonder… did he achieve his goal?”

“Fuck you-” Reno hissed, but Rufus cut him off with a disdainful shake of his head.

“Careful,” he reprimanded, smiling coyly. “You’re on my ground now.” He reached out and grabbed Reno by the belt, tugging him even closer. The Turk bit his lip, suppressing a sigh. Rufus could tell by the way the blue eyes had softened that he wanted the attention, no matter how much he tried to conceal it. It was a beautiful thing to witness, this inner struggle. He had felt it himself, both with Sephiroth and with the Turk, and it was quite a humiliating thing to endure.

No one wants to admit they like being treated like shit.

Reno was indescribably gorgeous right then, caught up in that whirlwind of thought. It made his eyes glow feverishly and his angular cheeks blush like a schoolboy’s. While Rufus had somewhat planned to prolong the humiliation, he quickly decided he couldn’t bear it another second. He simply had to have him.

“Kiss me,” he said, the words coming out softer than he had intended. He accentuated the command with a light tug on the belt. Reno complied with surprising obedience, barely managing to maintain his aloof attitude as he fell onto the VP’s lap, straddling his legs. He shot Rufus one last hateful look, but it was too little, too late. Rufus grabbed a handful of tangled red hair and pulled it urgently, closing the gap between them.

A surge of bitter memory coursed through him when Reno’s thin lips pressed against his. He vividly recalled those same lips, wet with his own blood… the cuts, the whispered threats, the feral grin. He felt himself becoming aroused, the warmth spreading over him like bourbon on an empty stomach. The Turk’s mouth was as narcotic as ever, the lips firm, the smooth tongue somewhat reluctant to twist around his. He grazed a hand downward, over the scarred and inked skin of his chest. He felt his captor melt into the caress, relaxing slightly, letting his rough hands fall down onto his shoulders. If he had been defiant minutes earlier, he certainly wasn’t showing it now. It seemed the Turk wanted the contact just as much as Rufus did. Desperately, sorely. Even if they did hate each other’s guts, they were still hopelessly attracted to each other… there was no denying it.

He twisted his hand tighter into Reno’s stiff hair, crushing their lips together, so hard it hurt. Even though it had been mere weeks since he’d had human contact, it felt like ages… way too fucking long. Nothing could have been more euphoric right then than the feel of Reno’s warm mouth, the heat of his skin. It didn’t matter that he hated his guts. At that moment, nothing mattered at all. Forget it. Right then, it was what he needed. He let his free hand sink lower, caressing the tight skin of Reno’s stomach and trailing over to his side.

Reno’s breath hitched. His muscles tightened like coils. Baffled, Rufus broke the kiss and looked down at his straying hand, where the Turk was shying from. Beneath his manicured fingers lay two deep wounds, one a few inches above the other. He looked closer. Dark red tunnels were engraved in the pale flesh, identical in width and length, sore looking and pink around the edges. They were going to scar.

“Cutting yourself now, Reno?” Rufus asked, looking back up into the Turk’s eyes. Almost instantaneously the schoolboy blush darkened to a deeper, angrier shade of red. It almost matched his hair.

“Sephiroth cut me, asshole,” he hissed, briefly glancing down at the wounds. “Cut me worse than I cut you, that’s for damn sure.”

Rufus just smiled with detached interest, then focused his attention once more on the injuries marring the Turk’s flesh. He fingered them lightly, running his thumb over their length, and paid little heed to the soft curses that met his ears in response. “They’re not that bad,” he murmured, putting a little pressure on the lower one with his thumb. The Turk squirmed deliciously on his lap, hopelessly reacting to the pain. “I’ll bet you even enjoyed it… didn’t you?”

Reno snorted. “Those aren’t the bad ones,” he spat, then quickly clamped his mouth shut, knowing he had said too much.

“Go on,” Rufus prodded, pouncing on the opportunity to further humiliate the Turk.

Reno’s weary eyes searched Rufus for a scrap of sympathy or mercy, but found none. Forced to elaborate by the inquiring silence that fell around the room, he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “He cut my cock, OK? All the way down the length, with a medical knife. And then he raped me. Is there anything else you’d like to know?” When he stopped talking he was breathing quickly, as if the words had knocked the wind out of him. Eyes glazed over and distant, he looked utterly miserable – suffocating with humiliation. Broken, just like Sephiroth had said.

“Hmm…” Rufus murmured. His cheeks felt hot as he mulled the words over in his head, forming an image of the predatory General brutally raping the helpless, blood-drained Turk, whispering cold words as he forced in his cock. His erection grew painfully hard, pressing up against Reno’s thigh. “Well don’t worry…” he said softly, running his hand down between the Turk’s legs and feeling the growing arousal there. The redhead winced slightly. “You’ll find me to be a lot nicer than Sephiroth… as long as you’re good.”

He let his hand wander, caressing Reno’s bony hip then meandering back to the curve of his ass.

* * *

The horrendously pasty, dough-faced employees of ShinRa were far more obvious in their gawking than the people outside Headquarters. They didn’t even try to hide it. Perhaps they thought that working for ShinRa somehow protected them from harm. Not as much as they think, Sephiroth cynically mused. As he passed through the offices, they craned their necks and popped their balding heads over the top of the cubicles. They even gossiped freely, within his earshot.

“Wow… Sephiroth looks like shit!”

“Did you see the rings under his eyes? They’re almost as bad as Reno’s. Hey, maybe he’s on that dust.”

“Just can it, he still looks hot! Did you see his sixpack under that shirt? Unreal! And check out his nice, firm ass! Maybe I should cop a feel the next time he walks by…”

“Good idea, maybe he’ll chop your head off and save us the trouble.”

“He’s probably on a diet of Jenny Crank, just like Reno. Tweakers never get hungry, you know?”

Sephiroth flexed his hands as he walked. He calculated that in five short seconds he could easily dismember every rat-like motherfucker in the room. They wouldn’t even see it coming… the gossip would still be spilling out of their mouths as their heads rolled across the floor.

He decided to take the stairs the rest of the way to Rufus’ office – anything to avoid more people. When the door closed behind him he took a deep breath and counted slowly, trying hard to calm himself down.

One, two, three, four, five…

* * *

When was the last time I got to be on top? Rufus wondered as he slipped his fingers under the waist of Reno’s navy blue slacks, feeling the soft skin underneath. The Turk moaned miserably through his teeth, closing his eyes tightly as if he could will himself far, far away. Yet his body betrayed his mind – the slacks made a nice tent of his erection. Rufus raised his hips, rubbing his own hard cock against the Turk’s thigh. It’s been too long, I know that much, he mused, grinning uncontrollably. He pulled Reno in for another kiss, exploring the mouth boldly with his tongue. The redhead moaned again, but it was softer this time.

He pulled the Turk closer, crushing the warm body against his, groping the bare flesh and bruising the thin lips. He realized he was grinding his hips in a slow, languid rhythm, pushing against Reno’s ass through their pants. Seconds later he became aware of Reno grinding back, wantonly moving his hips in rhythm with his thrusts, riding him subconsciously. So that’s it, he realized, gripping the thin hips with both hands and grinding him harder. He broke the kiss and moved down to the Turk’s neck, biting the skin roughly. Reno cried out hoarsely and gripped the collar of Rufus’ coat, arching his back. Rufus felt the heat of the Turk’s hard cock pressed against his stomach. That must be it – Reno likes getting fucked.

That explained everything. The depression, the weight loss, the unbearable shame. Reno must have enjoyed getting raped. Reno – the coldhearted, murdering bastard from the slums – liked being violated. So that must have been Sephiroth’s whole point, to rape the rapist and make him like it. It all made perfect sense. What worse embarrassment is there? Rufus couldn’t think of anything more degrading.

Suddenly he realized he had to take him right then, before he came in his fucking pants.

“Stand up,” he commanded softly, trying hard to control his voice. He watched with ravenous eyes as the lean Turk shakily stood up, flushed with lust and humiliation. His hard cock stood out straight, straining against the zipper. He was biting his swollen bottom lip and his eyelids were heavy, half-closed over his feverishly bright eyes. Rufus had never imagined that anyone – especially the ruthless Turk – could possibly look so fuckable.

“Now turn around and put your hands on the desk,” he ordered. Reno dizzily obeyed, turning his back to the VP and bending over slightly to place his hands on the wooden surface of the desk. Rufus nearly lost his composure as he drank in the view. The long tail of red hair fell seductively between Reno’s lean shoulder blades and licked the delicious curve of his lower back. Those narrow, slender hips just begged to be grabbed, and the rough blue slacks seemed to do an injustice to the smooth skin underneath…

Unable to wait another second, Rufus stood up, shrugged off his coat, and hurriedly unzipped his pants. His cock seemed to spring out with a life of its own. He heard the Turk groan helplessly as he practically ripped open the blue slacks and yanked them down to his ankles. Pulling a bottle of lube out of a drawer, (he kept it around ‘just incase’) he quickly poured some into his hand and rubbed a good amount onto his cock. He thought briefly about taking the time to stretch Reno out, but he canned the idea as soon as it popped into his head. The bastard didn’t do it for me so why should I bother? he hotly decided.

“Ha… this is going to hurt,” he hissed. After gazing heatedly at the perfect shape of Reno’s ass, he roughly grabbed him by the hip and positioned his cock against the tight little ring. He held his breath, leaned in, and pushed.

Rufus never would have guessed that Sephiroth’s big cock had already been inside Reno, as the hot muscles that clenched around his cock were so tight it almost hurt. He had to push hard to get all the way inside, and by then Reno was a sobbing mess, crying silently behind clenched teeth. “Awe…” Rufus taunted, softly kissing the Turk’s quivering shoulder blade. “Crying already?” This wrenched an especially deep sob out of Reno. “I ain’t given you a reason to cry yet,” he sneered. Laughing out loud at his own irony, he withdrew his cock almost all the way and ruthlessly slammed it back in, nearly pushing Reno over onto the desk. The tight heat around his cock felt so indescribably good that he really had to force himself to go slow, repeating the same thrust with controlled deliberation. While he kept the rhythm, he hungrily ravaged the lean body, nipping the warm skin and groping the tattooed chest and tight stomach. He ran his fingers through the soft, dark red curls of pubic hair, and sucked the nape of his neck.

Finally Reno’s sobs began to sound like sighs, and miraculously, he felt the redhead rocking slightly to meet his thrusts. He snaked his hand down and discovered that the Turk’s cock was still rock-hard. He gave it a rough squeeze and quickened his thrusts, gazing lustily at the way his own engorged cock looked sliding in and out., fucking. The sighs Reno was now emitting only turned him on more, and he roughly pushed the Turk forward so he was bent completely over the desk, allowing him to penetrate even deeper into the tight passage. Breathing quickly, he grabbed the Turk’s wrists and pinned them behind his back with one hand, using his other hand to tease the hard, mutilated cock. A bead of wet precum had already formed at the tip… Rufus could hardly believe that this was turning Reno on so much. It was if some deeply hidden craving had finally been released, something that had been buried under years of denial, drugs and dominance. A thought suddenly crossed his mind.

“Did Sephiroth make you cum?” he asked, his voice sounding surprisingly dirty.

Reno tensed, but the question didn’t slow the breathless moans that were spilling out of his lips with each thrust. He twisted his neck, showing Rufus one beautiful, tear-glazed eye. After staring up at the V.P. for a few seconds, face squished against a manila folder, he managed to crack a dry, bitter smile. “Not as hard as I came when I was raping you,” he sneered.

Rufus grinned back, mildly surprised that the Turk was able to say anything daunting in his current state. Then he fucked him even harder, scraping the cuts on his cock open with his nails, until the wicked smile was gone and the folder was soaked with tears.

* * *

“Rufus is in the middle of an appointment. He’s not taking any visitors until the meeting is adjourned.”

The secretary reminded Sephiroth of a pug, snout-nosed with a slight underbite. She was peering up at him over her wire-rimmed glasses, chubby hands folded with presumptuous authority. “Did you hear me?” she sighed in an annoyed voice. “No visitors.”

Sephiroth smiled with exaggerated politeness. He counted to five in his head. Then the Masamune was in his hand, pointed at her pudgy double chins. She made a strangled noise of horrified surprise.

Surprise! Sephiroth mused, twisting his polite grin into a wicked sneer. General Sephiroth is completely insane!

“You’re going to make an exception, you fat bitch,” he snarled, nudging the tip of the sword into one of the double chins. It pierced the skin just enough to form a drop of blood, which slid down her chubby neck and bloomed out onto the white collar of her blouse. Jowls shaking in dumb fear, she eased her hand toward the keyboard and typed in a four-digit code. He heard a muted click in the direction of Rufus’ door.

“Thanks,” he said, sheathing the sword. Just when the woman’s bloated face relaxed slightly, he threateningly leaned over the desk, causing another garbled shriek to come out of her withered, lipstick-smeared mouth. “And if you call security I’ll cut your fucking tongue out and choke you with it,” he whispered. She nodded as if in a trance.

Laughing inwardly, Sephiroth stood back up and made for the door.

* * *

Rufus was close, very close… he could feel that familiar, euphoric pressure building up in his groin - a pinprick warmth spreading and festering inside him like a virus. He had relinquished any form of restraint and was now fucking Reno with wild, frenzied thrusts, hair in his eyes and sweat breaking out on his flushed skin. Reno was close, too. The Turk’s moans were quick and frantic, and he was desperately trying to fuck Rufus’ teasing hand, writhing his hips and flexing his pinned hands in a delicious display of abandon. Rufus was almost tempted to withdraw his hand and deprive the redhead completely of an orgasm, but his brain was too clouded with lust to bother developing the thought. His only plan was to cum deep inside Reno’s ass, and he was very close to reaching that goal.

Seconds now, just a little longer…

Reno came first, cursing hoarsely and struggling like mad as he burst into Rufus’ hand, coating his manicured fingers with cum. With clouded vision, Rufus followed closely, reaching such a powerful orgasm he felt as if it would cause him to spontaneously combust. He spilled his seed with several long, hard thrusts until Reno’s insides were slippery with his cum, then kept his throbbing shaft buried hilt deep while hot waves of euphoria coursed through him. Breathing heavily, he let his eyes drift shut, soaking up the afterglow.

This meeting went much smoother than I expected… he mused dreamily, listening contentedly to the blood pounding in his ears. He felt relaxed, calm, in control-

“What the fuck?!!” Reno suddenly screamed, jolting Rufus out of his trance. His eyes snapped open.

Standing motionless in the room, like a vengeful apparition, was none other than Sephiroth. He was frozen in his tracks, his long-ass hair stirring slightly as the door softly closed behind him. Rufus blinked in utter disbelief, praying it was just an illusion. His disbelief soured to panic when he opened his eyes again. The General was still there, casting a very real shadow on the tiled floor.

No one said a fucking word. Suddenly, the silence in the room was so complete that Reno’s ragged breaths seemed to resound in Rufus’ ears. Sephiroth was the classic image of shock – slack jawed, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed, one hand raised slightly as if he was going to say something before he realized what was actually in front of him.

Utter shock. Pure, paralyzing shock. There was so much shock in the room it could have powered a small electric fan.

No one moved a muscle. The dumbfounded expression on Sephiroth’s face didn’t go away, and only seemed to intensify as reality sunk in.

Caught in the most incriminating position possible, Rufus bleakly wondered what Sephiroth was thinking. Perhaps he was considering tossing off his clothes and joining in? Maybe he was pondering whether or not he should transform the clean office into a blood-spattered crime scene? Or perchance the flush on his pretty face was nothing more than pure, innocent trauma from walking in on a heated, sweaty, homosexual fuck scene.

Reno was still panting and heaving uncontrollably – it was the only sound in the room – and his cock was twitching in Rufus’ hand with the last tremors of orgasm. Rufus had never been more completely embarrassed in all his awkward days than he was at that fluorescent-lit moment under Sephiroth’s wide-eyed, toxic green scrutiny. He was acutely aware of every last detail of his guilty stance: the white slacks bunched around his ankles, the black socks unfashionably hiked up to mid-calf, the sheen of cold sweat clinging to his bare thighs. Guilty. He didn’t even want to imagine how Reno was feeling right then, buck-naked and sprawled over the desk.

Sephiroth still didn’t move. He began to look like an expensive, realistic statue instead of a living man, artistically immortalizing the classic image of surprise. His skin could have been marble and his unblinking eyes easily could have been made out of glass.

Rufus guiltily withdrew his softening cock from Reno’s ass and wiped himself off with a Wet Nap that he had mechanically rummaged out of a drawer with a blind, groping hand. He pulled up his pants. Reno remained slumped and shivering on the oak desk, humiliated far beyond any point of redemption.

Sephiroth still hadn’t moved but his eyes had narrowed slightly, instantly changing the title of the statue from “The Shocked Onlooker” to “The Plotting Murderer.”

In lack of anything better to do, Rufus fished a cigarette out of a pack on the desk and lit it with shaky hands. Noxious menthol smoke curled through the filtered air. He wondered if he was about to die, and realized he wasn’t even panicked over the thought. Maybe the afterglow had dulled his sense of danger, or maybe he just didn’t care. He suspected it was the latter.

Then, as quickly as he had entered, Sephiroth turned around and left, drifting out of the room like a ghost. Without a single word or backward glance he was gone. Rufus stared dumbly at the gently closing door and wondered again if it had all been a hallucination.

But, unfortunately, it had happened. Sephiroth really had just witnessed him blowing his load in Reno’s ass. Busted. Caught red-handed. To think, after all the drama, blood and tears Reno’s sex-crime had caused everyone, that the General would find Rufus willingly fucking the Turk in his absence. ‘Scandalous’ hardly described it. ‘Sleazy’ was more like it.

He heard some scraping and shuffling, and looked over to find Reno numbly pulling up his pants, feebly trying to buckle his belt with severely shaking hands.

“Um…” Rufus stammered, pretending not to stare at the hot curve of the Turk’s ass. “That… uh… really sucked. I’m firing my damn secretary, I swear to god.”

Reno sneered bitterly. “I wish you had just fired me, asshole. I’d rather sit in a fucking cell than go through that again.”

Ash fell off the tip of Rufus’ cigarette and landed on the cluttered desk. He wanted to ask if Reno was referring to the sex, Sephiroth’s intrusion, or both, but he was still too deep in shock to form a question. All he could do was stare as the Turk limped around the desk and scooped up his shirt, doing up a couple of misaligned buttons and roughly tucking in a shirttail. Rufus wanted to offer him some bourbon or a cigarette or anything to make it better, but he was as incapacitated with shock as Sephiroth had been seconds earlier. The horror hadn’t even sunk in yet – he just felt numb. Had Reno really disliked the sex??

Reno shrugged on his rumpled jacket and stiffly limped toward the door. Rufus had never seen anyone so completely devastated in all his life.

“Clean up your act or I will fire you, Reno…” Rufus weakly ordered to the Turk’s turned back, but the words lacked conviction. Like his cock, his sense of control had deflated. Reno paused with one hand on the door knob, slowly turned around, and flipped him off with a scowl.

“Go fuck yourself,” he hissed then skulked out the door, slamming it good and hard behind him.

Rufus sighed despairingly and flopped down in his leather chair, completely drained of energy. He morosely poured himself another tall shot of bourbon and gulped it down, savoring the alcohol content more than the exquisitely smooth taste. He wanted to drown himself in the gold liquid, as if the antiseptic properties of alcohol could somehow cleanse the growing sense of guilt that festered in his mind. He felt filthy and corrupt, like one of the pimps on The Don’s Mansion. Or like his father. He could barely believe that he had just coerced Reno into fucking him. It hadn’t been just a game, either… he had actually threatened to put him in prison for ten to twenty years, a fate worse than execution. Reno hadn’t had a choice. The word rape clung to the back of his throat like a bitter aftertaste.

Rape. The word itself sounded ominous, sharp and harsh… four simple letters diabolically arranged to match the insidious act they stood for.

I raped Reno.

But why did he care? Reno had raped him, after all. Wasn’t that the reason he did it? To get revenge? Didn’t the Turk deserve it?

Rufus poured another shot and drank it. The liquor burned his empty stomach.

Really, he knew the reason for all the guilt… he just didn’t want to admit it. The truth always sucked. I shouldn’t have sunk to that level. Just because Sephiroth and Reno are fucked up in the head doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to do it, too. He sighed another long, miserable sigh, wishing his brain would shut the fuck up. However, being the obsessive worrier that he was, he knew it was a futile wish.

But hadn’t Reno enjoyed it? Hadn’t the Turk been practically begging for his cock? Didn’t he have a mind-blowing orgasm? Apparently, none of these things coalesced with enjoyment in Reno’s twisted brain. Who fucking knows. Why did Rufus even care? The Turk was seedier than a mattress at the Temp-Ho motel.

And Rufus didn’t even want to think about Sephiroth. Hell, no. He wanted to blot that entire scenario entirely from his memory. The fact that – after a full week of solitude, no less – the General had just so happened to drop by his office during the most bizarre and candid sex act he had ever committed really seemed to say something about his luck. No. He really didn’t want to think about it. He was dealing with the ‘numb’ part of shock fairly well, and wasn’t prepared for the ‘horror’ stage.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but remember how… well… insane Sephiroth had looked. It was as it the General and the Turk had caught some sort of mental disorder during their last interaction. Sephiroth had also visibly lost weight – while he was still more ripped than a muscle car, Rufus had noticed the lines of rib bones under that white wifebeater, and the planes of his angelic face had grown a little sharper. Then there were the eyes. Sephiroth’s Mako gaze had never been particularly placid, but today those eyes had held the glint of a fucking madman. Psychotic. It was as if the General had been looking through a warped, tainted mirror at his surroundings… the way they dilated, widened, glazed over. Like someone on acid.

It was as if all three of them were suffering from a severe moral decline. The odd love triangle that had developed seemed to serve no purpose but to cause insanity. Reno was suicidal, Sephiroth was hopelessly neurotic, and Rufus was resorting to coercion to get laid. No one was benefiting from the twisted drama.

Somehow, it seemed natural, though… it was as if psychosis and ShinRa Inc. walked hand-in-hand. From the bottom floor all the way to the roof, Rufus doubted there was a single employee within Headquarters that didn’t suffer from some sort of mental disorder. When your job is to suck the souls right out of the earth, could you really hope for peace of mind?

With all these issues weighing on his mind, Rufus heaved himself out of his seat and prepared to leave, stuffing a briefcase full of files and reports that he’d sort through at home. He wanted to get the hell out of his office… there was still too much tension lingering throughout the room. Was he ever going to be able to sit in that chair again without thinking about this day’s events? Probably not.

Once everything was in order, Rufus made his way out, mentally preparing some sort of lecture for his secretary without making it sound too sketchy. Although he was sure she had some idea of the things that went on behind that closed door, he didn’t want to dwell on the uncomfortable subject. Tightly closing the door behind him, he glared at her wide, slouched back, slumped lazily in the chair. She seemed to make no acknowledgement of his presence… so like her. He walked around to the front of her desk and flipped the hair out of his eyes, a nervous habit.

“Excuse me, but do you recall anything about what I told you before the meeting today?” he sighed, avoiding looking down at her hideous, scrunched face. “You know… something about not letting people in my office without my permission??” He folded his arms and glared off into space, waiting for her stupid, bland excuse.

He waited. No response.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, he sullenly scrolled his gaze over to her slouched figure. He huffed in surprise. The bitch was sleeping! Head rolled back, arms dangling from the armrests, she was deep in comatose slumber! Rage boiled in Rufus’ veins. His ears felt hot. He felt the urge to slap her but calmed himself and shook her instead, grabbing her doughy shoulder and giving it a rough squeeze. Her head rolled to the side and her mouth opened slightly, completely oblivious to his touch. She didn’t even scrunch her eyebrows or moan in response.

This is fucking ridiculous. She’s fired, he hotly decided. He shook her again, more violently this time, not really caring if he gave her a little whiplash in the process. Still no response. Had she taken barbiturates or something? Had Sephiroth strolled right up to her computer and hacked his way in without even being noticed? It seemed as though nothing would ever snap her out of it. He glared more closely at her serene, puffy features.

Only then did he notice she wasn’t breathing. With a sudden cold shiver, he quickly withdrew his hand and took a step back. She wasn’t breathing… she was completely still. Taking a deep breath he advanced again, still unsure of his conclusion. He felt her chubby wrist. No pulse. With growing dread, he also noticed a sickening dark red shine inside her open mouth – it was blood.

It seemed impossible but it was staring him in the face. His secretary was fucking dead… he had been yelling at a corpse.