[Oh, well. That's a rare little bit of affection he hadn't expected from Rude, that brush of fingers through his hair. Not that he's a sucker for that, or anything. Not that he's so picky about who touches his hair that he thrives on it when someone is permitted to. Definitely not.
The mention of the piano, however, sets him right-footed back into comfortable confidence again; he heads over to the baby grand and leans on it near where Rude has already taken his seat, letting his fingers drift over the ivory and ebony keys without adding enough pressure to press them.]
I learned as a child; well-rounded education and all that. Lately I've been trying to get back into the habit.
[He grins softly.]
So you see my concern. I can't possibly devote the attention it deserves without a comfortable place to sit while I practice. And you're going to be that for me, aren't you?
the FF7 equivalent of Yankee Doodle or Mary Had a Little Lamb
[Rufus is so very attractive. Like, objectively so. Rude once thought that he'd get used to it ages ago, but the perfect point of his nose and those lips that were just full enough to want to kiss--even if his eyes weren't such a pretty blue, he'd still be dangerous in the looks department. Maybe this is Rude's subtle way of flirting. His way to express that he's not scared or intimidated by him. The reason why he's loyal to the man isn't out of fear.
Rude admires Rufus for a handful of reasons that have nothing to do with his looks either, but getting to admire him up close is a guilty pleasure.]
I'm not surprised that they had you take lessons. [Rude takes off his shades and sets them down on the little bit of space in front of the sheet music on the stand, cracking his knuckles before confidently playing the tune of a children's song with his two index fingers.]
I'd make a better seat than player. [Rude reaches for Rufus by the hand to pull him to sit, the other patting his lap to indicate where.] Play something for me?
[He finds himself contemplating, often, how many things occur in the resort that would be utterly unthinkable back in Midgar — and this is certainly one of them. In what universe would he ever permit himself to be tugged by the hand and settled into the lap of one of his security team for any reason, playful or otherwise? And of course, it's not as comfortable as a chair all his own would be, but for all his pretenses, comfort isn't strictly speaking the point. It's the closeness that he wants, and gets: Rude's thighs beneath him, his presence behind him, the awareness of someone just there in his proximity in ways that he almost never allows.]
I'll warn you, I haven't paid any attention to it in years. But I'm starting to remember some of the fundamentals, with time.
[So he says, as he turns his focus to the keys and plucks at them a bit until he finds the right place to put his hands. The song he chooses is a pretty one, basic and repetitious, where the biggest sign of his inexperience is the way he seems to know the individual phrases on their own, but sometimes lacks the skill at stringing them together seamlessly without pauses.]
[Rude knows that none of this is normal for the two of them, but he hopes Rufus knows that even if he acts so at ease and familiar with him that it doesn't change the way he feels. He still regards him highly and respects Rufus as a person even as he leans against him from behind, and rests his hands on top of the blond's thighs before he starts to play.
He's not a man of many words, and all his affections come out plain as day in physical ways far more easily than he'd ever be able to explain with words. His eyes close as he listens, his face resting against the back of Rufus' shoulder the way Darkstar might put her head on a lap if she's feeling safe enough to be affectionate.
Once the song is over, there's a distinct lack of applause because Rude's hands are working open a few more buttons on Rufus' shirt. Open hands eventually roaming over skin that he's yet to see.] That was beautiful.
[Well, that's quite the show of approval, isn't it? Why settle for applause when they can simply get handsy instead.
With his little recital concluded, Rufus leans back a fraction, lifting his hands from the keys and settling them down on either side of the bench where Rude is perched, as if the other man's arms really were the armrests of a chair he's occupying.]
I didn't bring you here to compliment my hobby, you know.
[Though Rude already seems to be aware of that, with the way his fingers are skimming over Rufus's skin, making him hum in soft approval.]
You're here because I want your cock inside me while I practice.
[Rude doesn't mind that Rufus has easily made himself comfortable on his lap. In fact, he's happy for the excuse to be so close. His hands roam over bare skin as Rufus speaks, eventually he's out of buttons to undo an keeps his fingertips busy by teasing his nipples.
He's thankful Rufus gives him the answer to his question before he has to ask it. It saves time and frees up his mouth to kiss the back of his neck one more time.]
Don't you think you'll be a little too distracted to play? [He's not doubting Rufus exactly. Rude is aware how good he is at doing anything he sets his mind to, so he's not going to doubt him without giving him a chance. Either way, he's hard enough already and the cock ring is already doing its job to keep him that way. One of his hands fall between Rufus' thighs palm and grope him through his clothes.]
[He murmurs, meaning the bit about getting distracted. It's an oddly poignant question, after all; he can remember plenty of drills as a child that required him to hone his focus regardless of what was doing on around him, all in the service of ensuring that he would be able to keep a perfect outward image for the public. This will be the first he's tried to focus amidst sexual pleasure like this, but the idea is far from unusual to him, conceptually.
He leans back a little more securely against Rude, letting the other man support him as he relaxes some of his poise. The kisses and wandering hands feel good; he's content to just bask in it awhile, subconsciously pleased with the knowledge that Rude's cock is trapped and unattended beneath him, while he's the one being spoiled.
Brat that he is, and all. But also, this is what Rude wants most, isn't it? To be so good to him, and be told afterwards that he'd done well. So this is for both of them, really.]
Do you want to see that, my cum on the keys? You can, if you're good to me. I don't mind.
[A little bit of pink tints his features, spreading outward from the top of his nose. Rufus, you should be ashamed of yourself. Making a grown ass man blush like a teenager. Rude admires Rufus' ability to say these things with that cool air about him remaining undisturbed.
It took him a lot of practice and effort to be able to openly say dirty thing (unless under some kind of influence). So texting helped. So did a privacy barrier apparently. He doesn't know how well it might come off in person. Rude presses his nose against the side of Rufus' neck when he leans back against him. Every so often his thighs strain to want to rut up against the blond's ass to seek out more friction, but he's willing to take things slow. At least for now.]
What if I want to ruin you, but not the piano? [His hands start to undo the front of Rufus's pants like he's trying to unwrap a gift and preserve as much integrity as he can in the wrapping paper. He's been waiting for this moment for so long, is he wrong for wanting to savor it? By the time his fingers are able to dip into Rufus' underwear to reach his cock he's leaving open-mouthed kisses against his neck, even with his own pants still on, his cock is lined up perfectly to move right between Rufus' cheeks.]
Do you have lube or are you already ready for me? [He hopes this is the one time Rufus is unprepared for anything in his life because Rude is very much interested in being the one to do it himself.]
Then you better make me an offer that's more appealing than the idea I've got in mind.
[The noise that leaves his throat is best described as a purr, because Rufus knows full well what he's aiming to do and is doing it the way he does everything else: at full tilt. The piano is as much about the mental stimulation as it is the physical act — setting a tone, conveying clearly the level of filth he's implicitly authorizing. If Rude comes up with a better idea, so much the better. The play is all the same, in the end.
At the remark about prep, though, he laughs.]
Don't forget you've shown me pictures. I'd be a fool if I didn't take precautions.
[He licks his lips, even if Rude can't see it with his face buried against his neck. The sound, faint though it is, is still there regardless.]
Does that make you hot? Thinking about me stretching myself to make sure I can take you? You know how I am when I set my mind to something. When I'm out to get what I want.
[It's impossible not to tease him when he knows very well that he can get away with it for a change. He doesn't want to degrade or humiliate the blond in any way, just a tiny jab at the lives they had before the resort. Their dynamic back then would have made it impossible to have moments like these, and so while he thinks of it fondly--this is so much better.]
What? Did you not trust me to be thorough enough with the job? I think I'm offended. [Rude rocks up against Rufus as his fingers feel over the blond's cock. He's not going to be able to keep his pants on very long at this rate. The mental image of Rufus working his own fingers inside himself has Rude twitching impatiently, ready to be free and to put the other man's preparations to the test.] Lucky for you I really like giving you what you want.
[He keeps his hand around Rufus' arousal, stroking him slowly as his other hand lifts up at the back of his thigh to signal for him to get up onto his knees for a moment. Rude has a moment to enjoy the delightfully awkward closeness of this position, head tilted back to look up at Rufus with an uncharacteristically boyish grin while his hands are quick to get his own pants down enough to free his cock and bring Rufus back down onto his lap again. It's hard not to feel like a teenager again--not that he was up to any of this in his teenage years. He slides his peireced tip against Rufus' entrance, finding him already slick and ready, as promised. His own breath hitches as he nudges into him tentatively, like even Rufus' body is a luxury that he wants to savor.]
[This is, as a matter of fact, the first he's let anyone inside him besides Tseng — usually his encounters with others involve different kinds of play, either himself topping or something more non-penetrative altogether. But he does want this, and more importantly, he wants to see Rude wanting this, and so while he doesn't entirely let his expression fall to pieces the way he might with Tseng, he still doesn't hide the way his lips part and his eyes close and his shoulders shudder at that first blunt press to his body.
That piercing is something else. Cold and smooth and foreign where he's otherwise expecting heat, and the contrast is incredible as he starts to do his part in sinking down on Rude's cock, as much to savor it himself as to take it slow given its impressive girth.]
Like this isn't what you want, just as much.
[His breath comes a little ragged as he lets Rude do most of the work supporting him, focused entirely on the stretch of taking Rude's cock into his body. He's going to take the whole thing, of course, and ideally in one go if he can; never let it be said that Rufus Shinra isn't an overachiever, sometimes even recklessly so.]
If you're going to bring up work while we fuck, then you'd better start calling me Mister President.
[And so what if maybe he'd find that really hot, himself. Go figure.]
[Rufus has him there. He does want this--probably more than Rufus himself, but Rude tries to be cool about it. His most secret fantasies coming to be wasn't on is bingo card for the year, but he has zero complaints. Even now he has to remind himself that Rufus is just a man, not put him on some kind of pedestal, but even without the money and his birthright the man is considerably impressive.
Smart a hell, gorgeous, and driven toward greatness even when it isn't handed to him--and even when they're in a place that started him with nothing yet now he's dragged himself to the top again to assert his right to be there. Rude laughs softly.] Of course, Mister President.
[His hands help to lower Rufus onto his cock, trying to be cautious with not giving him too much too fast, but it feels like the blond is eager to eat him up and it causes additional shivers of pleasure to jolt through his body. Rude grips his hips and thighs with whatever his hands touch first, groaning even before Rufus is fully seated on his length, impressed with him but unable to verbalize anything at the moment.
So instead of speaking he kisses his chest, lips and teeth grazing over a pink nipple in case Rufus needs a moment to adjust. Rude know he sure as hell does. Rufus' body is like a fist wrapped around him tight, if he doesn't focus he's done for--that cock ring is going to have a lot of work to do.]
[Whether that gasp is the result of the progressive stretch of Rude's cock pushing its way inside him or the attention to the sensitive nubs on his chest is impossible to say; maybe it's both. It's surprisingly erotic, too, to hear his title invoked during sex — particularly from one of his Turks, his Turks, who by his own cunning he'd usurped from his father's control and brought under his own instead. Taking the company had been different; even now it still has too many of his father's fingerprints all over it. But the Turks are his, by their own choice and vow. He didn't just take them; they threw their lot in with him.
He doesn't make it a habit of thinking about dear old Dad during sex, for understandable reasons. Still, the thought of the old man's face if he knew his precious son was taking a Turk's cock like a starving man devouring a meal — damn, if that isn't a nice one.
He lets out a slow breath, making himself relax as he slides further, letting Rude's attentions help distract him from the impulse to tense up. His legs are spread wide and he's sacrificing leverage for the sake of getting lower but fuck, does it ever feel good.]
[Rude freezes at those words. There's a jolt of something unfamiliar through his body. Being commended for a job well done at work and this kind of praise are two separate beasts, and this one is new--but he doesn't hate it.
As if he could hate anything while Rufus works on the challenge of taking his cock. Rufus could tell him he was a depraved perverted piece of shit and Rude might still respond positively right now. He groans into Rufus' chest and as he sinks lower his mouth ends up at the blond's neck, kisses wet for each chance to taste his skin.
Eventually Rufus bottoms out and Rude's hands knead at the thickest part of his ass, fingers accidentally hitting the keys of the piano whenever his hands move to different positions on Rufus' body.]
Will this be too much for you? [He means it earnestly. Perhaps the challenge was getting this far, so he wants to leave Rufus with an out if he wants to take it. But his hips grind up into the heat of him, wanting to drive himself deeper but he's certain there's no where left to go. He has enough leverage with his feed against the floor to make Rufus see stars if he wants, but for now he wants him to adjust--and in the meanwhile tries subtle shifts of his hips to discover the best angle to find the right spot.]
[It's half reassurance for Rude's sake and half his own purring enjoyment of the way he's getting used to the feeling of being so thoroughly filled. The duality of Rude's mouth soothing against his neck pairs well with the nearly overwhelming feeling of his cock stretching him out, keeping his focus divided and rebounding between the two separate stimuli.
And he makes good on his word. When Rufus decides he's ready, perhaps earlier than anyone might have expected him to be, he sets his hands firmly on Rude's shoulders and pulls himself up before sinking down again, adding the breathless delight of friction to the mix. And so what if his plans of teasing have started to slant to the wayside, when his current predicament is just as good if not better: his lovely, dutiful Turk ready and willing to serve, making himself as much a toy as a partner for Rufus to find pleasure from.
Shiva, his cock is big. It's big and it's good and Rufus is already wound up from the power rush of it all, so much so that he doesn't see much reason to hold himself back for the sake of appearances or anything else.
It doesn't take long for him to come — and he certainly intends to do it more than once, as though his orgasms are separate dishes in a multi-course meal he intends to savor for hours — thrillingly caught between grinding his cock against Rude's body and working his own prostate with Rude's. This first one is an understated affair, punctuated only by a quiet gasp and a tremor and a hot spill of cum, but Rude is more than close enough to feel all of it against his body and beneath his hands.]
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no subject
The mention of the piano, however, sets him right-footed back into comfortable confidence again; he heads over to the baby grand and leans on it near where Rude has already taken his seat, letting his fingers drift over the ivory and ebony keys without adding enough pressure to press them.]
I learned as a child; well-rounded education and all that. Lately I've been trying to get back into the habit.
[He grins softly.]
So you see my concern. I can't possibly devote the attention it deserves without a comfortable place to sit while I practice. And you're going to be that for me, aren't you?
the FF7 equivalent of Yankee Doodle or Mary Had a Little Lamb
Rude admires Rufus for a handful of reasons that have nothing to do with his looks either, but getting to admire him up close is a guilty pleasure.]
I'm not surprised that they had you take lessons. [Rude takes off his shades and sets them down on the little bit of space in front of the sheet music on the stand, cracking his knuckles before confidently playing the tune of a children's song with his two index fingers.]
I'd make a better seat than player. [Rude reaches for Rufus by the hand to pull him to sit, the other patting his lap to indicate where.] Play something for me?
no subject
I'll warn you, I haven't paid any attention to it in years. But I'm starting to remember some of the fundamentals, with time.
[So he says, as he turns his focus to the keys and plucks at them a bit until he finds the right place to put his hands. The song he chooses is a pretty one, basic and repetitious, where the biggest sign of his inexperience is the way he seems to know the individual phrases on their own, but sometimes lacks the skill at stringing them together seamlessly without pauses.]
no subject
He's not a man of many words, and all his affections come out plain as day in physical ways far more easily than he'd ever be able to explain with words. His eyes close as he listens, his face resting against the back of Rufus' shoulder the way Darkstar might put her head on a lap if she's feeling safe enough to be affectionate.
Once the song is over, there's a distinct lack of applause because Rude's hands are working open a few more buttons on Rufus' shirt. Open hands eventually roaming over skin that he's yet to see.] That was beautiful.
no subject
With his little recital concluded, Rufus leans back a fraction, lifting his hands from the keys and settling them down on either side of the bench where Rude is perched, as if the other man's arms really were the armrests of a chair he's occupying.]
I didn't bring you here to compliment my hobby, you know.
[Though Rude already seems to be aware of that, with the way his fingers are skimming over Rufus's skin, making him hum in soft approval.]
You're here because I want your cock inside me while I practice.
no subject
He's thankful Rufus gives him the answer to his question before he has to ask it. It saves time and frees up his mouth to kiss the back of his neck one more time.]
Don't you think you'll be a little too distracted to play? [He's not doubting Rufus exactly. Rude is aware how good he is at doing anything he sets his mind to, so he's not going to doubt him without giving him a chance. Either way, he's hard enough already and the cock ring is already doing its job to keep him that way. One of his hands fall between Rufus' thighs palm and grope him through his clothes.]
Not afraid to cum on your piano keys?
no subject
[He murmurs, meaning the bit about getting distracted. It's an oddly poignant question, after all; he can remember plenty of drills as a child that required him to hone his focus regardless of what was doing on around him, all in the service of ensuring that he would be able to keep a perfect outward image for the public. This will be the first he's tried to focus amidst sexual pleasure like this, but the idea is far from unusual to him, conceptually.
He leans back a little more securely against Rude, letting the other man support him as he relaxes some of his poise. The kisses and wandering hands feel good; he's content to just bask in it awhile, subconsciously pleased with the knowledge that Rude's cock is trapped and unattended beneath him, while he's the one being spoiled.
Brat that he is, and all. But also, this is what Rude wants most, isn't it? To be so good to him, and be told afterwards that he'd done well. So this is for both of them, really.]
Do you want to see that, my cum on the keys? You can, if you're good to me. I don't mind.
no subject
It took him a lot of practice and effort to be able to openly say dirty thing (unless under some kind of influence). So texting helped. So did a privacy barrier apparently. He doesn't know how well it might come off in person. Rude presses his nose against the side of Rufus' neck when he leans back against him. Every so often his thighs strain to want to rut up against the blond's ass to seek out more friction, but he's willing to take things slow. At least for now.]
What if I want to ruin you, but not the piano? [His hands start to undo the front of Rufus's pants like he's trying to unwrap a gift and preserve as much integrity as he can in the wrapping paper. He's been waiting for this moment for so long, is he wrong for wanting to savor it? By the time his fingers are able to dip into Rufus' underwear to reach his cock he's leaving open-mouthed kisses against his neck, even with his own pants still on, his cock is lined up perfectly to move right between Rufus' cheeks.]
Do you have lube or are you already ready for me? [He hopes this is the one time Rufus is unprepared for anything in his life because Rude is very much interested in being the one to do it himself.]
no subject
[The noise that leaves his throat is best described as a purr, because Rufus knows full well what he's aiming to do and is doing it the way he does everything else: at full tilt. The piano is as much about the mental stimulation as it is the physical act — setting a tone, conveying clearly the level of filth he's implicitly authorizing. If Rude comes up with a better idea, so much the better. The play is all the same, in the end.
At the remark about prep, though, he laughs.]
Don't forget you've shown me pictures. I'd be a fool if I didn't take precautions.
[He licks his lips, even if Rude can't see it with his face buried against his neck. The sound, faint though it is, is still there regardless.]
Does that make you hot? Thinking about me stretching myself to make sure I can take you? You know how I am when I set my mind to something. When I'm out to get what I want.
9000 years later and still i have no relic weapon
[It's impossible not to tease him when he knows very well that he can get away with it for a change. He doesn't want to degrade or humiliate the blond in any way, just a tiny jab at the lives they had before the resort. Their dynamic back then would have made it impossible to have moments like these, and so while he thinks of it fondly--this is so much better.]
What? Did you not trust me to be thorough enough with the job? I think I'm offended. [Rude rocks up against Rufus as his fingers feel over the blond's cock. He's not going to be able to keep his pants on very long at this rate. The mental image of Rufus working his own fingers inside himself has Rude twitching impatiently, ready to be free and to put the other man's preparations to the test.] Lucky for you I really like giving you what you want.
[He keeps his hand around Rufus' arousal, stroking him slowly as his other hand lifts up at the back of his thigh to signal for him to get up onto his knees for a moment. Rude has a moment to enjoy the delightfully awkward closeness of this position, head tilted back to look up at Rufus with an uncharacteristically boyish grin while his hands are quick to get his own pants down enough to free his cock and bring Rufus back down onto his lap again. It's hard not to feel like a teenager again--not that he was up to any of this in his teenage years. He slides his peireced tip against Rufus' entrance, finding him already slick and ready, as promised. His own breath hitches as he nudges into him tentatively, like even Rufus' body is a luxury that he wants to savor.]
smh the forbidden gummies have forsaken you
That piercing is something else. Cold and smooth and foreign where he's otherwise expecting heat, and the contrast is incredible as he starts to do his part in sinking down on Rude's cock, as much to savor it himself as to take it slow given its impressive girth.]
Like this isn't what you want, just as much.
[His breath comes a little ragged as he lets Rude do most of the work supporting him, focused entirely on the stretch of taking Rude's cock into his body. He's going to take the whole thing, of course, and ideally in one go if he can; never let it be said that Rufus Shinra isn't an overachiever, sometimes even recklessly so.]
If you're going to bring up work while we fuck, then you'd better start calling me Mister President.
[And so what if maybe he'd find that really hot, himself. Go figure.]
no subject
Smart a hell, gorgeous, and driven toward greatness even when it isn't handed to him--and even when they're in a place that started him with nothing yet now he's dragged himself to the top again to assert his right to be there. Rude laughs softly.] Of course, Mister President.
[His hands help to lower Rufus onto his cock, trying to be cautious with not giving him too much too fast, but it feels like the blond is eager to eat him up and it causes additional shivers of pleasure to jolt through his body. Rude grips his hips and thighs with whatever his hands touch first, groaning even before Rufus is fully seated on his length, impressed with him but unable to verbalize anything at the moment.
So instead of speaking he kisses his chest, lips and teeth grazing over a pink nipple in case Rufus needs a moment to adjust. Rude know he sure as hell does. Rufus' body is like a fist wrapped around him tight, if he doesn't focus he's done for--that cock ring is going to have a lot of work to do.]
no subject
[Whether that gasp is the result of the progressive stretch of Rude's cock pushing its way inside him or the attention to the sensitive nubs on his chest is impossible to say; maybe it's both. It's surprisingly erotic, too, to hear his title invoked during sex — particularly from one of his Turks, his Turks, who by his own cunning he'd usurped from his father's control and brought under his own instead. Taking the company had been different; even now it still has too many of his father's fingerprints all over it. But the Turks are his, by their own choice and vow. He didn't just take them; they threw their lot in with him.
He doesn't make it a habit of thinking about dear old Dad during sex, for understandable reasons. Still, the thought of the old man's face if he knew his precious son was taking a Turk's cock like a starving man devouring a meal — damn, if that isn't a nice one.
He lets out a slow breath, making himself relax as he slides further, letting Rude's attentions help distract him from the impulse to tense up. His legs are spread wide and he's sacrificing leverage for the sake of getting lower but fuck, does it ever feel good.]
Taking such good care of me, Rude...
no subject
As if he could hate anything while Rufus works on the challenge of taking his cock. Rufus could tell him he was a depraved perverted piece of shit and Rude might still respond positively right now. He groans into Rufus' chest and as he sinks lower his mouth ends up at the blond's neck, kisses wet for each chance to taste his skin.
Eventually Rufus bottoms out and Rude's hands knead at the thickest part of his ass, fingers accidentally hitting the keys of the piano whenever his hands move to different positions on Rufus' body.]
Will this be too much for you? [He means it earnestly. Perhaps the challenge was getting this far, so he wants to leave Rufus with an out if he wants to take it. But his hips grind up into the heat of him, wanting to drive himself deeper but he's certain there's no where left to go. He has enough leverage with his feed against the floor to make Rufus see stars if he wants, but for now he wants him to adjust--and in the meanwhile tries subtle shifts of his hips to discover the best angle to find the right spot.]
no subject
[It's half reassurance for Rude's sake and half his own purring enjoyment of the way he's getting used to the feeling of being so thoroughly filled. The duality of Rude's mouth soothing against his neck pairs well with the nearly overwhelming feeling of his cock stretching him out, keeping his focus divided and rebounding between the two separate stimuli.
And he makes good on his word. When Rufus decides he's ready, perhaps earlier than anyone might have expected him to be, he sets his hands firmly on Rude's shoulders and pulls himself up before sinking down again, adding the breathless delight of friction to the mix. And so what if his plans of teasing have started to slant to the wayside, when his current predicament is just as good if not better: his lovely, dutiful Turk ready and willing to serve, making himself as much a toy as a partner for Rufus to find pleasure from.
Shiva, his cock is big. It's big and it's good and Rufus is already wound up from the power rush of it all, so much so that he doesn't see much reason to hold himself back for the sake of appearances or anything else.
It doesn't take long for him to come — and he certainly intends to do it more than once, as though his orgasms are separate dishes in a multi-course meal he intends to savor for hours — thrillingly caught between grinding his cock against Rude's body and working his own prostate with Rude's. This first one is an understated affair, punctuated only by a quiet gasp and a tremor and a hot spill of cum, but Rude is more than close enough to feel all of it against his body and beneath his hands.]