Other characters/pairings: Rufus, Elena, Rufus/Tseng, Elena/Tseng
Table/Theme Name & Number: Set VII: Theme #9- Appropriate
Warnings: Mentions of both gay and straight sex. You have been warned.
Summary: He had always been taught you didn’t get involved with the people you worked with.
He knew it wasn’t appropriate. Somehow he didn’t care.
He had always been taught you didn’t get involved with the people you worked with. It always ended up messy. Still, he found he couldn’t help but find himself drawn to them. Different times, of course, but nonetheless, he was drawn to them.
He remembers the first time he was involved with him. The boy was barely eighteen at the time, and even to him, it seemed inappropriate to be involved with him. He was, after all, his boss, but then again, you didn’t say no to Rufus.
He remembers the first time Rufus kissed him, in his office. He had been going over a file, watching Rufus’s nimble fingers flip the pages of the file he was looking at. Rufus called his name softly and he looked up, eyes dark and searching. Then the then vice-president pressed his lips against his, took him by surprise.
He didn’t kiss him back at first, just sat there blinking, wondering, afraid to move, afraid to say anything.
Eventually when the young blond pressed his lips against his he kissed him back, twined his fingers with the younger man’s hair. He remembers now how silky it had actually felt beneath the calloused tips of his fingers.
He had kissed Rufus back, slid his tongue into the younger man’s mouth, swallowed his soft moan and let him take control of the kiss.
He remembers Rufus pressing him back against the wall, his hand sliding down the dark trousers of the Turk’s uniform. He touched, stroked, brought the man to firmness with a few touches.
It didn’t take long for them to become lovers, and they both knew it was no secret. Not that Tseng minded, really. They would never say anything against it. The two of them both were the bosses of the other Turks. Who would dare question their bosses?
They would lock themselves in Rufus’s office, touching, feeling, lips meeting.
He remembers the first time Rufus ordered him to suck him off. He remembers he didn’t want to do it really, never had done it before, but he complied, kneeling before the vice-president in his chair, stroking him to life, then taking him, firm and long into the warmth of his mouth, sucking, biting, listening to the pants and the moans and the whispers to move faster.
When the younger man finally peaked it took all he was not to flinch at the taste as it hit the back of his throat, all of his strength to swallow and not to spit, all of his strength not to recoil from him as Rufus pulled him to meet his lips.
Then he was beneath him, Rufus thrusting into him in harsh, long thrusts. He gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.
He had to admit he had come to care for Rufus as more than an employee would their boss. Perhaps he loved him in some way, perhaps not. He learned to live with Rufus’s rough fucking- because it couldn’t be called anything but fucking, and learned to enjoy it the best he could.
But Rufus got bored with him like Tseng knew he would.
So he watched the rest of the people at work and they all pretended- for his sake- that they never knew about them, that they never existed.
Then he fell for her, much to his surprise. He knew, for some time now, that she had liked him, but he hadn’t really given it much thought. Then they were captured, then they were attacked, then he had to sit there and watch her, blood running from wounds as the silver-haired demons sliced into her, trying to pry out the information he knew she would never give. He had been so afraid she would die, so afraid he would live through watching that, that he had grabbed her bloody hand in his own and held onto it tight, telling her silently he was there for her, he would always be.
When he kissed her for the first time she seemed surprised. She had blinked at him like she had never seen him before, gaped, tried to form words but found herself unable to. Then he had kissed her again and she had kissed him back.
He remembers the first time he touched her, in his office, after hours, his hand sliding up the skirt she had worn undercover for a mission, touching her, sliding digits inside of her, swallowing her moans with his mouth, laying her down on the desk, lowering himself down to kiss her in her most sensitive region, to slide his tongue inside of her, listening to her moan and stopping her hips from arching up to meet his tongue. He loved the sound of her breathing out his name, closing her eyes with a small scream as he brought her to ecstasy.
He kissed her then, hard and wanting and she clung to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressed herself close to him, then her skirt was hiked up around her waist, his pants around his ankles and he was thrusting inside of her, smooth and quick and listening to her gasps and moans and feeling her clawing at his back through the thick fabric of his uniform.
And afterwards he held her in his lap as he sat in his chair, stroking her soft blonde hair from her face, kissing her neck and listening to her soft sighs.
He knew it wasn’t appropriate to get involved with the people at work, but holding Elena in his lap he didn’t care. He knew he had given his heart to her and she owned him now. Maybe they would last, maybe they wouldn’t, but he hoped they would.