[His watch chimes; he forces his eyes open to look at it and the first five words of Tseng's message crash over him like a wave, electric enough in and of themselves that he has to close them again just to tremble through them. Pretty little whore isn't, on its face, so very different than gorgeous little slut, but there's something in the subtle connotations that makes it feel just new enough to have him shaking. It twinges against some old, deep-seated resentment, some long-engraved insecurity: his father's always-inadequate son, only worthwhile for being a warm body that carried his name, finding use in being a warm body in a very different fashion.
He should hate that, and if it were anyone else, he might. But Tseng tells him and tells him, unfailing, that he is better than the old man ever recognized, that he has value just as himself — and maybe that's what makes it so transgressively decadent, to spend a little while as a Shinra whore instead of as Rufus.
Yes, his father would hate it. His father would loathe every bit of this. And that's what makes it all the better when he looks at his watch again and the second half crashes over him all over again, the temptation of rendering his father just as irrelevant in exchange, oh, fuck, oh fuck —
He really, genuinely, doesn't want to think about his father in a moment like this. Not at any real length. But as a kink, just for that lightning jolt of spite? Fuck, it's so good.]
who neeeds himm
[He shifts a little, the pace of his fingers easing off in favor of maintaining steady, solid pressure on his prostate instead, prolonging the buzz while he makes his fingers behave as well as he's behaving for Tseng.]
who needs h im when i have you?
[And saying that feels so strangely good, so oddly warm, that he almost doesn't want to chase it with one more message, but he can't be good if he doesn't, so he makes himself.]
no subject
He should hate that, and if it were anyone else, he might. But Tseng tells him and tells him, unfailing, that he is better than the old man ever recognized, that he has value just as himself — and maybe that's what makes it so transgressively decadent, to spend a little while as a Shinra whore instead of as Rufus.
Yes, his father would hate it. His father would loathe every bit of this. And that's what makes it all the better when he looks at his watch again and the second half crashes over him all over again, the temptation of rendering his father just as irrelevant in exchange, oh, fuck, oh fuck —
He really, genuinely, doesn't want to think about his father in a moment like this. Not at any real length. But as a kink, just for that lightning jolt of spite? Fuck, it's so good.]
who neeeds himm
[He shifts a little, the pace of his fingers easing off in favor of maintaining steady, solid pressure on his prostate instead, prolonging the buzz while he makes his fingers behave as well as he's behaving for Tseng.]
who needs h im when i have you?
[And saying that feels so strangely good, so oddly warm, that he almost doesn't want to chase it with one more message, but he can't be good if he doesn't, so he makes himself.]
clo se