[ they are exceptionally clinical reports, primarily because imagining rufus submitting to anyone makes tseng feel insane, but imagining him submitting to tseng makes him even insaner. ]
On the contrary. I think you have potential to be exceptional at both, or either, depending on your preference.
[ there are just a few hangups to get over... like, for example, the one rufus just immortalized in text. ]
Think of it this way. Do you remember the raid on the warehouse that ended up being a front for the diamond dust ring? When Verdot had me take point on the team coming in upstairs, which happened to be where the explosives were held.
[ tseng was maybe 22, then; rufus would have been 21. he likely wouldn't have paid much attention to the event when it happened, but tseng knows he's read all the turk files by now. the warehouse blew up. tseng broke one of his legs and a couple of ribs, and had second-degree burns all across his chest and arms. he was lucky; it only took the healers two days of work, to get him walking again. ]
I could have walked on that leg, even though it was broken in two places. Should I have, just to make a point?
You don't need to force yourself to be uncomfortable for the sake of proving you can handle it.
[One of them will try to die for you, Rufus thinks suddenly, unbidden, and surely apropos of absolutely nothing. Over and over and over again.]
You know it would've been expected. If it were me.
[He doesn't say who would have done the expecting; he doesn't want to extend the bastard even the dignity of an aside or a mention. It's not as though he needs to, not really. There's always only been one person whose standards Rufus could never live up to.]
You know they trained me in what to do if I was ever taken hostage? Unlikely, of course, but not impossible. "Stay alive" was on equal footing with "remember you're a Shinra and act like it".
[ it is not tseng's place to comment on rufus' relationship with his father. he should keep his mouth shut and let the topic pass. but they are playing a game where tseng doesn't call rufus "sir," aren't they? so maybe tseng is losing his mind. ]
I do know that. I also know they aren't here, and that you are already more and better than he ever could have been.
What they would have expected of you is not my concern. Only what you need, and what you want for yourself.
[He has, perhaps, never typed a sentence so fast, nor made himself hit send so quickly. So fast there's no time to think through the ramifications. So immediate that there's no taking it back.
It's only afterwards that there's space to read those lines of Tseng's text over and over again and dwell on what it makes him feel. The compliment, the unbidden praise. The reassurance. The lack of mockery. The refusal to categorize any part of him a failure.
It's not hard to see the clear bright line from A to B, when the question asks who it is that makes him feel safe, no matter the circumstances.]
But I won't ask you to. I don't want you to do it just because I asked.
[His fingers feel numb. His nerves are buzzing. Somehow, he plucks out the last of the keys anyway.]
When you planned everything on my birthday. And I didn't have to ask or decide. That's halfway to...this...already. Isn't it?
[ tseng must be losing his mind. he reads the text, and reads it again; he stands up and walks a lap around the living room, then pauses by the window, which shows a shockingly convincing rendition of cosmo canyon, and reads it again. is he imagining this? is there a world in which rufus asks tseng to—to— ]
Maybe a third of the way.
[ fuck. ]
All right. Yes.
[ fuck. ]
I will. Not because you asked me to. And not immediately. But soon, when the opportunity presents itself.
[ and then tseng goes to take a shower, during which he jerks off desperately and tries not to be ashamed, after, of what he imagines. ]
Rufus Shinra sits on his couch in his 10s suite (not as nice as Tseng's, because nothing in this room is quite as nice as the things he partakes of at Tseng's) and holds his watch in fingers he can't quite feel anymore, and breathes, and nothing about him has changed. What he's done just now is about as close to an outright admission of weakness as one can get, the sort of thing he once would've thought couldn't be forced out of him even through torture or truth serum.
But here he is, on his couch, and he puts his feet up on the armrest and lets his head sink back into a pillow, and he holds his watch and Tseng is still his and the whole world hasn't come crashing down around his head, but he repeats himself.
Every future leads to ruin, maybe. A whole planet's fate rests on the decisions he makes. More fool him, should he squander an opportunity during the window he's got it.]
Your regard. Still high?
[Since what he has just asked for, what they now appear to be on the verge of negotiating, is very much him not being Tseng's boss.]
[ out of the shower and with his hair still damp around his shoulders, tseng reads the new message and finds himself smiling just a little, despite himself. he knows how much it must have cost rufus to ask for something like this, understanding what tseng does about the way rufus was raised and the way he views weakness. to ask someone for something, rather than to command it of them, and for that "something" to be sexual submission... tseng is sure it must have set every one of rufus' teeth on edge.
but he still asked, and that's something. that's a lot, actually. ]
Yes, very.
[ it would take quite some doing to damage tseng's regard for rufus, and of all the things that might do it, admitting to wanting tseng to dominate him would never even come close to making the list. ]
[ of course tseng has questions upon questions. the problem is, honestly, less that tseng thinks rufus wouldn't want to answer his questions and more that tseng isn't sure he's ready to hear what rufus' response might be. ]
You have my agreement, but I also need yours.
If we do this, I will ask you to promise me certain things about your boundaries and limits and I will expect you to keep those promises. Do you feel confident that you can do that?
[ feeling the way rufus does about things like weakness and limits and safe words..... ]
[Oh. Oh, he kind of hates that question, actually. Hates the very exacting way it's phrased, hates the fact that they're still playing the game and yes, he's got that as a convenient excuse, but even if they weren't, he'd still find himself compelled to tell the truth.
It just takes a while for him to answer, quiet for a long time. Nobody's said anything about...starting this dynamic just yet, right at this moment, but Tseng had made it more than clear that he's supposed to be honest — no, not just honest. Genuine.]
No. I'm...not confident.
[He takes a slow breath, and makes himself clarify.]
That's why I want it to be you. Because I think I'll...that it's likely I'll make a mistake. And you already know that.
[ if rufus had said yes, tseng would have known he was lying. the fact that he admits to not being confident is, tseng knows, an enormous show of vulnerability from him and proof that he's going to try, even if it's difficult for him at the outset.
the thought is enough to warm tseng through in a way he can't dwell on for too long. ]
That's all right. There will be a learning curve for you, just like there was for me. All I ask is that you do your best, and remember that you can trust me.
[He may be fidgeting in a way that he could never let himself anywhere else, drumming his fingers on his arm and chewing his lip at one corner and then the other, but the nervous tension is all centered in himself, in the expectations placed on him. Tseng, he trusts implicitly.]
Boundaries and limits are to identify things I don't want. How do I —
[Oh. Hm.]
Do I get those for things I do want? Or is that up to you?
Would you like me to explain how I plan to go about this?
[ it's technically a question for a question, but if rufus answers in the affirmative then tseng will answer rufus' question, so he feels like it evens out. ]
I was intending to just explain in sentences, but I can use bullet points if you prefer.
[ that's a joke!! ]
We will start with boundaries, yes. I will lay out mine and ask you for yours. I will also ask for anything you do like, or things you want to try. If you aren't sure about either of those things, then we will experiment together to figure it out.
[ the challenge for rufus will most likely be identifying limits if they encounter any, but tseng is already considering how they might overcome that together. ]
Why would you need them? Boundaries. If I'm just letting you...
[But the thought never finishes; he lets it hang, going back and reopening his dossier and reading it again, as studious and attentive as he's ever applied himself to any of the studies he's actually cared about.]
[ oh, rufus. he has so much work to do with you. ]
I won't choke you. I like breathplay, but I'll only do it with partners whose body language I can read so well that I would know when to stop even if they aren't able to articulate it.
The objective is mutual pleasure, both yours and mine. It isn't a matter of just letting me do whatever I want to you.
[The mention of breathplay, oddly, makes something sharp and cold drop into the pit of his stomach — unpleasant, or at least that's the easiest immediate explanation. But he could brush aside the unpleasantness just as easily, could lift his chin and bear up and endure something like that, and that's what makes him sit with it a little further, a little quieter, thinking and thinking about the idea of limits.
He thinks about Tseng's fingers wrapped in black leather, caressing his throat like the handle of a gun. That's...attractive, and prompts an involuntarily shiver that he catalogues without letting himself read too much into it. He thinks about Tseng over him to do it, crowding him in, close enough to steal all the air between them because Rufus wasn't using it himself. That's...compelling, too.
But then he thinks of force on his neck, of darkness at the edges of his vision, of struggling and kicking while the world turned blurred and narrow around him, and...
He takes a deeper breath than he expects to. Lets it out again, slow.
Tseng likes breathplay. He's not sure if he does. And maybe he would, maybe he could, but he's not — sure.]
I think I wouldn't mind watching you do that. To someone.
I don't think I want you to do it to me.
[Strange, how hard that was, and then suddenly it wasn't.]
Are you afraid of hurting me?
[Tseng's turn to field the possibility of a difficult, uncomfortable truth, now.]
[ it settles something strangely tense in tseng's stomach, that rufus pauses so long and then returns with that: a boundary. the identification of something he isn't sure he would like. ]
All right, then I won't do it to you. I'm glad you told me.
[ funnily enough, the question rufus asks is directly tied to exactly that tension that tseng had been carrying, that which had just now relaxed. it makes it easy to answer, even though the question is a difficult one. ]
Yes, and no. I have excellent control and years of training to avoid hurting you. I'm not worried about making a mistake.
What does worry me was the idea that you might allow me to do something to you that you don't enjoy, or that hurts more than it feels good, because you're resistant to enforcing boundaries or using safe words. Or because you perceive this as "just letting me do" what I want to you, and think you're obligated to put up with it.
[I'm glad you told me is — maybe unexpected is the wrong word. But it's not something he would've thought to hear, at least, any more than he would have imagined Tseng would tell him he did a good job trimming the ends of his hair that day with the strings.
He thinks about that, too. Thinks about how fingers on his throat and the weight of a body over his have a common denominator, in being the center of Tseng's attention.
He can ask for things he wants. It's starting to add up a little, just what that might be. Now the only question is, can he make himself bear the necessity of asking to begin with.]
I don't think it's obligation.
[His fingers hover over his watch. His stomach twists and churns.]
[ the response comes immediately; it requires no thought.
it's the follow-up that takes a little longer, because typing the words does feel like being vivisected, like flaying his chest open to let rufus read what's written on his ribcage. ]
It's just as important to me to know what you don't like as to know what you do. You telling me your limits is you teaching me how to make you feel good, and my only goal is your pleasure.
[Like piecing together a puzzle, the consistencies in what Tseng says and what he's said before align into a picture. Not a clear one, and not one that's always easy to parse, but one with structure and foundations — with predictability. He'd said before, the subordinate is the one with the power; for all that he might not be ready or comfortable with applying that label to himself, it's clear in Tseng's approach that it holds true from his perspective. He doesn't talk like a kennelmaster putting a hound through its paces on a course. He makes it sound like — like he's waiting for instructions.
Boundaries, limits. Mission parameters. Somehow, the thought of assigning Tseng a mission to make him feel good is both humorous and reassuring, for all that he might not like the specific baggage that the two of them might carry into those connotations.]
You could still put your hands on me. On my throat. That part I like — I think I would like.
[What's difficult is that he knows other things he could count among that number, too, but shaping them properly and putting them into words and making himself understood is...less easy than he might have expected otherwise.]
I like it when you touch me without asking.
[Oh. Oh, wait a minute — oh.]
If you knew what I liked, would you do it more often?
[ questions in a row. a little warmth, a little humor. still, tseng answers, even though the admission makes him feel a little raw. ]
I would, if I knew what you liked and knew that you wanted it from me.
[ something rufus said, earlier: i don't want you to do it just because i asked. rufus knows, of course, that he could order tseng to do anything and tseng would do it without question, up to and including fucking rufus however he wants to be fucked. he owes rufus his life, and has promised his absolute loyalty. this would fall within those parameters.
it means something, then, that what rufus wants is for tseng to want it. that he doesn't want to treat tseng like a tool. with that thought in the back of his mind, tseng says, ]
I've tried to be cautious. I don't want to overstep.
Then bank one extra on your end. I have a feeling you'll want to use it soon.
[Cautious. Holding himself back, but not necessarily withholding himself. Two similar concepts with one very distinct difference: the former serves to punish Tseng; the latter serves to punish Rufus.
He runs his tongue along the edge of his teeth, resisting the urge to chew his lip until it splits. There's something about this revelation that feels electric, manic, like catching the strut of a helicopter just for the thrill of the exit, and likely it shows in how rapidly the tenor of his text turns from shy to reckless.]
I'm going to tell you once, and I don't want to have to tell you again, so remember it. If you ever decide you want to kiss me, don't wait for some sign that you're allowed. The only reason you should hold back is if you don't want it, yourself.
[ it feels like—like plate tectonics. a shifting of what tseng had previously understood to be true about the relationship between himself and rufus. rufus, brilliant and illuminated, and tseng in the shadows behind him, a load-bearing pillar, a weapon, a fulcrum.
where do the shadows go when the light comes through?
rufus was right: tseng does want to use his second question. he knows the answer may ruin him, but he has to know. ]
Do you want me to kiss you? Or do you want to be kissed, and you trust me the most to do it?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
On the contrary. I think you have potential to be exceptional at both, or either, depending on your preference.
[ there are just a few hangups to get over... like, for example, the one rufus just immortalized in text. ]
Think of it this way. Do you remember the raid on the warehouse that ended up being a front for the diamond dust ring? When Verdot had me take point on the team coming in upstairs, which happened to be where the explosives were held.
[ tseng was maybe 22, then; rufus would have been 21. he likely wouldn't have paid much attention to the event when it happened, but tseng knows he's read all the turk files by now. the warehouse blew up. tseng broke one of his legs and a couple of ribs, and had second-degree burns all across his chest and arms. he was lucky; it only took the healers two days of work, to get him walking again. ]
I could have walked on that leg, even though it was broken in two places. Should I have, just to make a point?
You don't need to force yourself to be uncomfortable for the sake of proving you can handle it.
no subject
You know it would've been expected. If it were me.
[He doesn't say who would have done the expecting; he doesn't want to extend the bastard even the dignity of an aside or a mention. It's not as though he needs to, not really. There's always only been one person whose standards Rufus could never live up to.]
You know they trained me in what to do if I was ever taken hostage? Unlikely, of course, but not impossible. "Stay alive" was on equal footing with "remember you're a Shinra and act like it".
no subject
I do know that. I also know they aren't here, and that you are already more and better than he ever could have been.
What they would have expected of you is not my concern. Only what you need, and what you want for yourself.
no subject
[He has, perhaps, never typed a sentence so fast, nor made himself hit send so quickly. So fast there's no time to think through the ramifications. So immediate that there's no taking it back.
It's only afterwards that there's space to read those lines of Tseng's text over and over again and dwell on what it makes him feel. The compliment, the unbidden praise. The reassurance. The lack of mockery. The refusal to categorize any part of him a failure.
It's not hard to see the clear bright line from A to B, when the question asks who it is that makes him feel safe, no matter the circumstances.]
But I won't ask you to. I don't want you to do it just because I asked.
[His fingers feel numb. His nerves are buzzing. Somehow, he plucks out the last of the keys anyway.]
When you planned everything on my birthday. And I didn't have to ask or decide. That's halfway to...this...already. Isn't it?
no subject
Maybe a third of the way.
[ fuck. ]
All right. Yes.
[ fuck. ]
I will. Not because you asked me to. And not immediately. But soon, when the opportunity presents itself.
[ and then tseng goes to take a shower, during which he jerks off desperately and tries not to be ashamed, after, of what he imagines. ]
no subject
Rufus Shinra sits on his couch in his 10s suite (not as nice as Tseng's, because nothing in this room is quite as nice as the things he partakes of at Tseng's) and holds his watch in fingers he can't quite feel anymore, and breathes, and nothing about him has changed. What he's done just now is about as close to an outright admission of weakness as one can get, the sort of thing he once would've thought couldn't be forced out of him even through torture or truth serum.
But here he is, on his couch, and he puts his feet up on the armrest and lets his head sink back into a pillow, and he holds his watch and Tseng is still his and the whole world hasn't come crashing down around his head, but he repeats himself.
Every future leads to ruin, maybe. A whole planet's fate rests on the decisions he makes. More fool him, should he squander an opportunity during the window he's got it.]
Your regard. Still high?
[Since what he has just asked for, what they now appear to be on the verge of negotiating, is very much him not being Tseng's boss.]
no subject
but he still asked, and that's something. that's a lot, actually. ]
Yes, very.
[ it would take quite some doing to damage tseng's regard for rufus, and of all the things that might do it, admitting to wanting tseng to dominate him would never even come close to making the list. ]
...I can't remember whose turn it is.
no subject
[Leave it to Rufus to have been counting, even subconsciously, when it comes to the running tally of an activity that one can win or lose at.]
I'm not going to tell you what to ask. I will say that you shouldn't feel as though you need to softball it. No figurative legs broken yet.
no subject
You have my agreement, but I also need yours.
If we do this, I will ask you to promise me certain things about your boundaries and limits and I will expect you to keep those promises. Do you feel confident that you can do that?
[ feeling the way rufus does about things like weakness and limits and safe words..... ]
no subject
It just takes a while for him to answer, quiet for a long time. Nobody's said anything about...starting this dynamic just yet, right at this moment, but Tseng had made it more than clear that he's supposed to be honest — no, not just honest. Genuine.]
No. I'm...not confident.
[He takes a slow breath, and makes himself clarify.]
That's why I want it to be you. Because I think I'll...that it's likely I'll make a mistake. And you already know that.
I can promise to try. But I might make mistakes.
no subject
the thought is enough to warm tseng through in a way he can't dwell on for too long. ]
That's all right. There will be a learning curve for you, just like there was for me. All I ask is that you do your best, and remember that you can trust me.
no subject
[He may be fidgeting in a way that he could never let himself anywhere else, drumming his fingers on his arm and chewing his lip at one corner and then the other, but the nervous tension is all centered in himself, in the expectations placed on him. Tseng, he trusts implicitly.]
Boundaries and limits are to identify things I don't want. How do I —
[Oh. Hm.]
Do I get those for things I do want? Or is that up to you?
no subject
[ it's technically a question for a question, but if rufus answers in the affirmative then tseng will answer rufus' question, so he feels like it evens out. ]
no subject
[...]
No need to write up another whole report, though. Bullet points would suffice.
no subject
[ that's a joke!! ]
We will start with boundaries, yes. I will lay out mine and ask you for yours. I will also ask for anything you do like, or things you want to try. If you aren't sure about either of those things, then we will experiment together to figure it out.
[ the challenge for rufus will most likely be identifying limits if they encounter any, but tseng is already considering how they might overcome that together. ]
no subject
[But the thought never finishes; he lets it hang, going back and reopening his dossier and reading it again, as studious and attentive as he's ever applied himself to any of the studies he's actually cared about.]
Give me an example? Of one of yours.
no subject
I won't choke you. I like breathplay, but I'll only do it with partners whose body language I can read so well that I would know when to stop even if they aren't able to articulate it.
The objective is mutual pleasure, both yours and mine. It isn't a matter of just letting me do whatever I want to you.
no subject
He thinks about Tseng's fingers wrapped in black leather, caressing his throat like the handle of a gun. That's...attractive, and prompts an involuntarily shiver that he catalogues without letting himself read too much into it. He thinks about Tseng over him to do it, crowding him in, close enough to steal all the air between them because Rufus wasn't using it himself. That's...compelling, too.
But then he thinks of force on his neck, of darkness at the edges of his vision, of struggling and kicking while the world turned blurred and narrow around him, and...
He takes a deeper breath than he expects to. Lets it out again, slow.
Tseng likes breathplay. He's not sure if he does. And maybe he would, maybe he could, but he's not — sure.]
I think I wouldn't mind watching you do that. To someone.
I don't think I want you to do it to me.
[Strange, how hard that was, and then suddenly it wasn't.]
Are you afraid of hurting me?
[Tseng's turn to field the possibility of a difficult, uncomfortable truth, now.]
no subject
All right, then I won't do it to you. I'm glad you told me.
[ funnily enough, the question rufus asks is directly tied to exactly that tension that tseng had been carrying, that which had just now relaxed. it makes it easy to answer, even though the question is a difficult one. ]
Yes, and no. I have excellent control and years of training to avoid hurting you. I'm not worried about making a mistake.
What does worry me was the idea that you might allow me to do something to you that you don't enjoy, or that hurts more than it feels good, because you're resistant to enforcing boundaries or using safe words. Or because you perceive this as "just letting me do" what I want to you, and think you're obligated to put up with it.
no subject
He thinks about that, too. Thinks about how fingers on his throat and the weight of a body over his have a common denominator, in being the center of Tseng's attention.
He can ask for things he wants. It's starting to add up a little, just what that might be. Now the only question is, can he make himself bear the necessity of asking to begin with.]
I don't think it's obligation.
[His fingers hover over his watch. His stomach twists and churns.]
I think I don't want to disappoint you.
no subject
[ the response comes immediately; it requires no thought.
it's the follow-up that takes a little longer, because typing the words does feel like being vivisected, like flaying his chest open to let rufus read what's written on his ribcage. ]
It's just as important to me to know what you don't like as to know what you do. You telling me your limits is you teaching me how to make you feel good, and my only goal is your pleasure.
no subject
Boundaries, limits. Mission parameters. Somehow, the thought of assigning Tseng a mission to make him feel good is both humorous and reassuring, for all that he might not like the specific baggage that the two of them might carry into those connotations.]
You could still put your hands on me. On my throat. That part I like — I think I would like.
[What's difficult is that he knows other things he could count among that number, too, but shaping them properly and putting them into words and making himself understood is...less easy than he might have expected otherwise.]
I like it when you touch me without asking.
[Oh. Oh, wait a minute — oh.]
If you knew what I liked, would you do it more often?
no subject
[ questions in a row. a little warmth, a little humor. still, tseng answers, even though the admission makes him feel a little raw. ]
I would, if I knew what you liked and knew that you wanted it from me.
[ something rufus said, earlier: i don't want you to do it just because i asked. rufus knows, of course, that he could order tseng to do anything and tseng would do it without question, up to and including fucking rufus however he wants to be fucked. he owes rufus his life, and has promised his absolute loyalty. this would fall within those parameters.
it means something, then, that what rufus wants is for tseng to want it. that he doesn't want to treat tseng like a tool. with that thought in the back of his mind, tseng says, ]
I've tried to be cautious. I don't want to overstep.
no subject
[Cautious. Holding himself back, but not necessarily withholding himself. Two similar concepts with one very distinct difference: the former serves to punish Tseng; the latter serves to punish Rufus.
He runs his tongue along the edge of his teeth, resisting the urge to chew his lip until it splits. There's something about this revelation that feels electric, manic, like catching the strut of a helicopter just for the thrill of the exit, and likely it shows in how rapidly the tenor of his text turns from shy to reckless.]
I'm going to tell you once, and I don't want to have to tell you again, so remember it. If you ever decide you want to kiss me, don't wait for some sign that you're allowed. The only reason you should hold back is if you don't want it, yourself.
no subject
where do the shadows go when the light comes through?
rufus was right: tseng does want to use his second question. he knows the answer may ruin him, but he has to know. ]
Do you want me to kiss you? Or do you want to be kissed, and you trust me the most to do it?
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