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Chapter Text

When the alarm clock radio comes to life, the day seems completely ordinary. The weather outside is pretty nice for a day in Midgar, and Sector 8 is already buzzing by the time I manage to roll myself out of bed. 

“Bed” is a bit of a stretch in and of itself - the old mattress on the floor is curved to my form now, dotted with stains from my habit of eating my meals there. The smell of the room indicates that my sheets could use a wash, but it’s such a pain to drag them to the laundromat… Maybe it can hold off until next week.

I, however, cannot go without a wash any longer. The shower is always the first stop, and the fact that my building never seems to have any hot water makes for a great wake-up call. The blue dye in my hair colors the water as it makes its way down the drain. I make it quick, reveling in the warmth on the towel that lingers from where it had been sitting in the sun near the window. 

Mornings are always so blurry. I grab my oval wire-frame glasses and toss on my clothes, making sure that my tie is snug against my collar before grabbing my bag and pulling on my shoes. According to the wall calendar, today marks the ninth Monday of my internship. Three left to go. I try not to think about what will happen then… In the best-case scenario, I’d get hired, but the chance of that happening right now is slim to none. 

One day at a time, Lane. You’re gonna kick this one’s ass. 

Most Midgarians will bitch about their commute, but I rather enjoy mine. I live on the outer edge of the Sector 8 plate, about as slummy as you can get on the upper plates. It’s a picnic compared to what’s below, but it’s still about the cheapest housing there is up here. Someday, when I have a good job, I’ll move closer to Sector 0. But, then, I’d lose out on this wonderful morning train ride. The city isn’t the prettiest thing to look at, but the white noise makes for such a lovely setting for fantasies of all kinds. Today, I can’t help but dream of what my future house might be like… Little details come to mind, like tall glass windows, carpeted staircases, and separate sinks for the kitchen and bathroom. 

Little luxuries, I tell ya. 

Eventually, the train pulls to a stop, and it’s time to fight the crowd as we all make our ways toward the shining beacon in the middle of the city - the Shinra building, smack dab in the center of Midgar. For several years now, I’ve dreamed of working here, and now I’m living that dream.

Almost. Still just an internship… But at least it’s a paid gig.

The administrative wing is where I call home, down on one of the lower levels of the building. I work in a subsection of the PR department, doing internal communications as a part of the photography team. Not that I’m doing very much photography. It’s mostly just photo editing and graphic design, though I’ve had the chance to sit in on a few important shoots, and sometimes they toss a camera at me when they need a big event covered. I’m grateful for every second of it, honestly - photography is my passion, and getting to do it as a career is my dream job. And nothing says success like a Shinra badge. 

“Morning, Elliott,” a gentleman from PR waves at me, addressing me by the last name on my lanyard. We almost always get in the elevator at the same time, so we exchange these acquainting pleasantries like clockwork.

“Morning, Peters,” I smile in return. The rest of the ride is silent, but it’s short, so it isn’t too awkward. We trade grins and nods before we take our different directions down the hallway - me heading toward the photography and video studios, and him heading toward the PR bullpen.

My department supervisor, Marjorie, brews coffee and brings up breakfast from the employee cafe each morning. It’s super kind of her, and I’ve made a habit of letting her take care of my morning meal. She sometimes stands there when she needs to catch someone on arrival, waiting and busying herself with the buffet arrangements until her target in question makes an appearance. Today, it seems that her target is me.

“Lane!” she chirps brightly, stepping aside to let me get at the caffeine.

“Morning Marjorie, what’s up?” I give her my ears while I pick out how I’ll fuel up today.

“Well, you might wanna grab a second cup right away, kiddo,” she says, squirming nervously, “Because... Jenny’s out sick today.”

“Hm?” I give her a questioning look as I sip. Jenny is my direct supervisor, but why would that mean a second cup of coffee? She’s been absent before and I’ve pulled through fine. The only thing on my schedule today was headshot editing and doing some scheduling stuff - nothing drastic.

“And Frank is on vacation?” Marjorie looks at me expectantly, like I should have gotten it by now. I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what I’m missing. Coming up short, I give her a confused look and shrug slightly. Marjorie sighs.

“Jenny was scheduled to do the Vice President’s headshot today, Lane. But she’s absent, and so is the backup photographer. You’re the only one left on staff today.”

I choke on my coffee.

“I really need you to step up and take over,” she says, “Do you think you can do that?”

Pass up an opportunity for a photo shoot? Not me.

“You can count on me!”

“Lane Elliott, you are a lifesaver!” Marjorie smiles wide as she bounds back toward her desk, “He’ll be in the studio at 11 sharp. I’ll be there to assist you, so I’ll see you at 10:30 for setup!”

I bite into a dry bagel, trying to keep myself from reeling. Okay, think about this. It’s just a headshot session - for the annual reports, I’m sure. Nothing new or difficult - something the VP and Marjorie have both done before. I just need to follow their leads.

Though somewhat shaken, I still close my eyes and take a deep breath. If there’s one thing I can do well, it’s take photos. One-on-one shoots are my specialty, in a sense, and I know that I can do this. I psych myself up - I will knock this out of the park! 

Just gotta breathe and finish this bagel. And maybe a second cup of coffee.

Chapter Text

11 o’ clock comes around way too slowly, but it does eventually come. Marjorie and I get the lights set up and the tripod arranged. I double-check that we’ve got a spare SD card and that the seat for the VP is locked in position so it won’t dump him off when he sits (as it is wont to do).

I am ready for him when the door opens.

Marjorie greets him and offers to take his coat - or whatever that belt-covered thing is - but he holds up a hand, silently declining without taking his eyes off his phone. A tall, dark-haired bodyguard follows him in, positioning himself in the corner and observing us in silence. His immaculate black suit puts him at stark contrast to the Vice President.

Photographing powerful people is all about balance. This is easy enough today, I know. It’s just a headshot. If he wants more than that, well… He can have all he wants.

But I still need the headshot first.

“Okay Sir, whenever you’re ready, if you’ll please take a seat…” I normally sound more confident than this, but the atmosphere in here is so damn unnerving that I’m just flat-out shaken. 

The Vice President glances upward, casting his icy eyes in my direction. The corner of his lip turns up just slightly, and he slowly saunters toward the chair. With that flamboyant coat on, he almost appears to be floating. I wonder briefly if that’s the exact reason that he chose it.

“Wonderful, thank you,” I say, “Let’s swivel to about a forty-five degree angle, body facing that way…” I point. The rhythm of the shoot starts to fall into place now as I position myself behind the camera, bent over to look through the sight and adjust the tripod. Damn, this guy is so tall, I have to adjust my height.

The Vice President is silent as he obeys. It’s obvious that he’s done this a million times before. He knows exactly what angle to face his chest, but keeps his chin toward me. It’s raised just the right amount. His face is stoic and almost expressionless, though he appears to have a real case of resting bitch face. That’s a great thought to take to the grave and never share with anyone ever.

“Alright, that’s perfect, perfect… Here we go, three two one-” I snap the shutter, and the lights flash brightly, illuminating him. The preview photo is washed out - he’s wearing a lot of white, and that combined with his pale skin and hair is overexposing things a little. White balance is all off.

“Hold on…” I say, fiddling with the settings and the aperture. I might end up having to pull one of the lights at this rate. I get my eyes back up to the sight and line up the shot again. He hasn’t moved a muscle - I wonder if he even blinked.

“Okay, three two one-” Snap . Oh, that’s much better - in fact, it could be the one. A few more now, just to have options. I repeat the countdown and the flashing a few more times, then switch it up.

“Do we want to try any smiling?” I offer. From what I’d seen of Jenny’s work, she was getting both from all the other execs. Even the President had smiled for a couple shots.

“No.”

I don’t need to be told twice, but the answer is still a little disheartening. Not my place to force it, obviously. I just hope that Jenny isn’t mad about that later on - not my fault, after all. 

“Cool,” is all I can respond with. I lean back down - a few more neutral ones, then. I grab two more shots, then stand up straight again.

“Okay, I think that’s-” Marjorie starts. She has her mouth opened before I do, but in the awkward fashion that always seems to become me, I process that fact too late and interrupt her unintentionally.

“Is there anything else you wanna try today?”

It’s not something they ever taught in my photography classes, but it’s the one tip I would give every photographer out there - never end a session on a pose you picked. Give the model the space to get creative, even if it goes against every rule. Ninety-eight percent of the time, those shots are the best ones. I apply this philosophy to every single session I do - even something as menial as this. 

The room is silent for a few beats, and I feel anxiety creep up inside me. Have I stepped over the line? What is going on?

The bodyguard in the corner raises an eyebrow at me. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, I definitely did something weird , at the very least.

But the Vice President’s face is something totally different. 

He’s smiling at me.

“Why not?” is all he says, throwing his hand up and chuckling. He turns to the bodyguard and beckons him.

“Come here, Tseng,” he purrs, “Stand behind me. I’ve been meaning to get a proper picture of us together for some time now.”

I fight to keep my expression neutral. That statement has some serious implications - why would the VP want a picture with his bodyguard? For the first time, it occurs to me that the black-haired guy might not even be his bodyguard at all - what if the two of them are romantically involved? I realize that I might be privy to some very sensitive information here, but there’s no way for me to know without outright asking. And even I know better than to try that.

The suited man - Tseng, I guess? - looks fairly taken aback. For a second, I feel like he’s going to protest, but he picks up his feet and steps over to the VP’s side. He looks up at me, his eyes as wide as I’ve yet seen them, looking for direction.

“Uh… Stand behind him there, yeah… take a half-step to your right- Yep, right there. Okay, turn your body toward him, and… uh…”

Shit, what do I tell him to do with his hands? Putting them on the VP’s shoulder would be most natural, but… What kind of relationship are they even maintaining? I can’t give that as a direction until I know the answer - and I really shouldn’t find out.

“You could fold your hands behind your back?” I offer.

Tseng follows the instruction exactly. His chest puffs out and he stands tall, looking somber and businesslike. 

“Okay, Mr. Vice President - you can turn toward him and fa-”

“No, no,” The VP waves his hand dismissively, promptly shutting me up, “Here, Tseng,” He grabs at the bodyguard’s arm and lays it on his shoulder, creating the exact pose that I’d been envisioning, but too scared to suggest. I can feel thick tension in the air - there’s definitely something more than professional between these two.

Still isn’t any of my business.

“Y-Yeah, perfect, just like that… Uh, Tseng, right? Turn your body into him a little more… Yeah, that’s it,” I adjust the camera height again, backing the tripod up considerably so I can get them both well within the frame. I stumble over the light bags on the floor, nearly tripping backwards. Marjorie gasps and reaches to catch the camera, but I manage to stay up.

Fucking hell, that was embarrassing. Shake it off, shake it off…

I regain my composure and set the tripod down, making sure that the camera is aimed straight on. Looking through the sight, I can see it - the perfect shot, almost. Just a few little adjustments.

“Tseng, fold your hands over, one on top of the other - yeah,” Everything seems great - only one thing left. To my surprise, the VP is smiling now, a soft-faced look, but Tseng is still stone-faced.

“Are… Are we smiling or straight-faced?” I grin as I peer around the camera with the question. Trying to be friendly always helps - I really do want them to smile, anyway. 

Rufus Shinra tilts his chin upward and grins at his picture partner. He looks a little bit like a teenage girl, gazing dreamily at her boyfriend - it’s cute, and jarringly out-of-character against his public image.

“C’mon, smile,” he jeers. Tseng glances downward at him. The corners of his lips turn up just a little, and eventually it gives way to a soft smile. In unison, they look back at the lens. I’m ready for them - looking through the sight, the shot is right on target. I smile back.

“Perfect - three two one!” The shutter clicks again and the lights glint. In patterned timing, I continue to shoot, one after another after another, making certain that I’ve got a dream shot for them. After about nine clicks, I know I’ve gotten it.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” I gush, “Anything else today, Sirs?”

The VP smiles at me almost warmly.

“Well, if I’d known that you were willing to take more than just my headshot, I’d have brought D with me,” he says, “You’re the substitute for the usual portraitist today, correct?”

“Uh, y-yes, Sir,” I stutter as I watch him stand, unfolding to his full six-foot-plus form. 

“Would you be willing to let me see the photos?” he asks, approaching me slowly.

“Oh, of course! Just, uh… Keep in mind that they’re all raw. I’ll be editing them later - n-nothing big, just minor lighting fixes and such…” I’m starting to ramble - Just shut up, Lane. I open the gallery and twist the camera toward him. He leans down and peers into the screen, keeping the soft smile on his lips as he flips through the shots. He seems very pleased with them, and I stand tall, giving him space to take his time. I glance at Marjorie, who is just watching with wide eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asks, eyes still trained on the camera.

“I, uh… My name is Lane Elliott, Sir.”

“Are you new to Shinra, Lane?”

“Y-Yes, Sir - I’m an intern. I’ve been here for two months.”

“You’re very talented,” he says. I swear my heart stops - the Vice President just complimented me, outright and genuinely, “How long have you been a photographer?”

“I’ve been taking pictures since I was a kid. Probably, like… ten years?” I ballpark, “And, uh, thank you, Sir.”

He stands back up, turning toward the door. He looks ready to go, and I step back again to give him the space to exit.

“Lane Elliott… I’ll have to remember that,” he says, as if to himself, “I’d very much like to see you again, next time I want some photos taken,” With that, he beckons silently to Tseng and the two of them sweep out the door, looking almost ethereal as they move in a singular unit. Tseng turns back to shut the door behind him, locking eyes with me for a split second before the door clicks and everything is silent.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe that just happened,” I balk.

Marjorie exhales dramatically. Both of us feel about forty pounds of tension lift off our shoulders as the footsteps through the studio offices grow to silence. As we recover, we move to start taking down the lights and returning the studio to its usual state.

“I can’t believe he actually stayed,” Marjorie says with a sigh.

“Huh?”

“The VP is known for being a bit… touchy about his photo shoots,” Marjorie reveals, “I can’t believe you got him to not only cooperate, but actually smile for once.”

I feel the hairs on my neck prickle.

“You didn’t think to tell me that before throwing me to the wolves?” I ask, giving Marjorie a hurt look.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” she admits quietly.

“...I really prefer the truth, if I can get it,” I mumble. I don’t want to step on toes and get fired or written up right now - especially after such a stellar show with the VP - so I try to keep my offense at bay. 

Marjorie doesn’t say anything for a moment, then turns to me after putting down a light stand.

“Well… In the spirit of honesty,” she says slowly, “You might not be out of the woods yet. Offering him some extra time was very kind of you, Lane, but the VP’s schedule is tight - down to the minute. We… went a little overtime. And trust me when I tell you that the VP is never happy when his schedule is messed with.”

...Well, shit. That’s awful news. So much for a successful shoot - talent won’t matter in the face of inconvenience for someone like him, I’m sure. It crosses my mind that this might’ve been a career-ending fuck-up.

Marjorie must be reading the look on my face, because she steps over and puts her hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, try not to worry about it too much. Worst you might get is a scathing email,” she assures me.

I nod, trying to commit that sentiment to heart. The adrenaline still coursing through me makes that hard, and I decide to focus instead on not dropping the equipment as I pack things back up.

The remainder of the day is as boringly routine as my days always are - lunch in the employee cafe, followed by an afternoon of editing the photos I took. The VP’s headshots are striking - the lights did wonders for his ice blue eyes. And the white was standout against the red and gray background, emblazoned with the company logo. He looks regal and serious - almost deadly, in a way I can’t quite explain.

The pictures he took with his bodyguard are entirely different. He looks so happy and content, as if he’s truly comfortable (which is something every photographer strives for). The corners of his eyes are crinkled with a genuine smile, and I can see a hint of dimple on his cheeks. His eyebrows angle slightly downward naturally, but in these photos he doesn’t look quite so angry as he did before. The face of the bodyguard is still mostly hardened - I’m sure it’s a carefully practiced expression, designed to intimidate. It gets the job done, for sure, but the smile on his lips has a softness to it that’s entirely endearing. It reads on his face that he was doing it just to humor the VP, but somehow that makes it just that much more sweet. 

Out of curiosity, I decide to crop one of the smiling shots to just the VP, and I edit out the bodyguard. Now I have what Jenny would’ve wanted - a proper shot of Rufus Shinra smiling, to contrast nicely with the serious shots. Despite feeling like it was needed, however, looking at it just… Doesn’t feel right. I can’t tell if the photo looks a little unsettling, if my edit job was bad, or if I just feel vaguely guilty about it. 

You know what? If that happened to be the picture that got selected for publishing, Rufus Shinra would probably have my head on a stake. Or at the very least come personally rip my badge off.

I delete the photo, and edit the rest of them sparingly, as promised.

Chapter Text

My nights are all the same - get on the train, walk home from the station, eat cup noodles for dinner, and go to sleep. It isn’t until the weekend when I’ll get a chance to live a little, and I fill the empty time by doing the dishes and watching a nature documentary - my favorite. Today, I learn about the creatures of the oceans. It’s simultaneously terrifying and fascinating, not unlike the men I photographed today. 

Tuesday rolls around in the same blah blur as always, nothing special. An introspective train ride, which usually is filled with dreams of a future, now turns to a feeling of dread over what might await me at work today. I remember Marjorie’s warning about a possible scathing email. Better to brace for it than to get caught unawares, but I guess my anxiety thinks that “brace” means “consider every possible worst-case scenario and panic about them.”

I’m unusually sweaty by the time I walk into the studio offices. I get my bag put down at my desk, then visit the breakfast station. Marjorie is absent from the table today, having no one to catch, which puts me somewhat at ease - she isn’t going to break the news that I’m fired over my coffee. So at least I’ve got that going for me.

Caffeine in hand, I peek my head into Jenny’s office.

“Oh! You’re back!” That’s a pleasant surprise, “I heard you were sick yesterday. Are you feeling any better?”

“Oh, hi Lane!” she greets, “Yeah, I think it was food poisoning, unfortunately. Luckily just a one-day thing,” Jenny pushes her chair away from her desk and turns toward me, “So… Yesterday. How did it go with the VP? Marjorie said you really stepped up and got the job done!”

“Oh, yeah, I got some great shots,” I say, trying to find the best words to stay humble, “He seemed like he… really… well, maybe he just tolerated me? Heh,”

Jenny lowers her chin and gives me a good-naturedly doubtful look.

“Marjorie also said the VP actually sat still for you. And smiled. And COMPLIMENTED YOU!” Jenny pumps her fist, celebrating those facts as apparent victories. I feel myself blush.

“Yeah, well - He did, but… I also might’ve taken too long and messed up his schedule…” I can’t help myself. I have to share this anxiety with someone. 

Jenny’s face sobers as she takes in the fact, brows furrowing and nodding.

“Ooh… Yeah, that’s... not ideal,” she says, swivelling in her chair, “But, hey, don’t waste your time worrying about it. It sounds like you did an amazing job, and I’m so happy that you were able to step in for me. Sounds to me like Sunday night’s tacos were fate, ”

“...What?” I say with a snort.

“Everything happens for a reason, Lane,” she says, turning back to her work, “You’ll see.”

“Heh... yeah, okay. Oh, by the way, I’ve got the photos edited already. Do you want me to send them to you?”

“Already? Lane, you kick ass! Go ahead and send them my way, and I’ll get them sent to the VP and PR for approvals.”

“Thanks!” I turn to leave, but a thought stops me in my tracks, and I do a 180. 

“Oh, um… Actually Jenny, there’s, uh… Some pictures on the roll that the VP asked me to take, and I… Don’t think they’re meant to be viewed by PR. Or anyone, probably. They were… personal shots.”

I am walking a fine-ass line here. This absolutely sounds like I was taking lewd photos of the Vice President, but I don’t know how else to put it. The look Jenny gives me confirms that what I just said sounded highly suspicious.

“N-not what you think,” I add, “Just kind of like… a…” I have no idea how to describe this. I don’t want to start rumors, so mentioning that bodyguard as a “romantic interest” is definitely out. 

“I… Um, okay,” Jenny hesitates, “Well, why don’t you send the… publishable photos to me as usual, and then send a separate email with the personal shots in a zipped file? I can just forward them right on.”

“I… Guess that works,” I concede, “Okay, bye.”

In the awkward style that I always carry, I beat a hasty retreat back to my desk, nearly spilling my coffee on the way. 

That less-than-graceful description of those pictures now has me far more anxious than the possible wrath of the VP. If they decide to investigate my history with “personal” photography, I will be out of a job in minutes. Kicked to the streets - if I’m not reported to law enforcement and arrested first. Fucking up the VP’s schedule could be a job-loser, but that poor wordage could very well be a life-ruiner. 

What the fuck have I done?

The morning is a ball of anxiety. The only productivity I achieve is getting those photos categorized (stopping to triple-check that I didn’t put any photos in the wrong folders), then zipped and sent off to Jenny. I wonder if she’ll decide to take a peek in that zipped file… I suppose if she does, then it would back up my statement that the photos weren’t inappropriate. Honestly, that would be more preferable than just leaving things open-ended the way I had. I regret my choice not to start a rumor, somehow. 

Lunch comes and goes in silence. I take my lunch out to one of the balconies, hoping the fresh air will help calm me down. It only goes so far, and I dread sitting back down at my desk. Nevertheless, time moves forward, and I make my way back to the studio offices, preparing for an afternoon of low-grade panic. 

When Jenny knocks on the wall of my cubicle, tears spring into my eyes just about immediately. Oh my fuck, here it comes. I half expect to see armed infantrymen with her. 

But no. She is alone, and she looks downright shocked. Is she confronting me first?

“Lane, could you… Come with me, please? I have something to show you.”

Show me? 

Fucking hell, the suspense is KILLING ME. The walk to Jenny’s office feels like three miles instead of three steps. When we arrive, Jenny sits at her computer and gestures for me to look at her screen. 

There’s an email pulled up. The sender is identified as one Rufus Shinra. CC’d - Marjorie Vellege. Subject line - Re:Yesterday’s Photos.

“Dear Ms. Fesren,

Thank you for sending on these photos. They are all excellent quality, and the headshots have my full approval. Please send them on to PR to use as needed.

I wanted to take a moment to give special thanks to the photographer who stood in for you yesterday, Lane Elliott. Their professionalism and generosity was a very welcome change to what I usually find in the photography studio, and I hope you and your staff can take many cues from their attitude. 

I am very interested in seeing more of Lane in the near future, and have requested their appointment as my principal photographer going forth. I feel most comfortable in front of their camera, and look forward to receiving their contact information to arrange further work and correspondence. Please see to it that this information is delivered to me promptly.  

I appreciate your cooperation and understanding. I wish you well.

Rufus Shinra

Vice President 

Shinra Electric Power Company”

Chapter Text

How does one respond to an email like that? I feel frozen somewhere between cringing on Jenny’s behalf for the scathing read, and drop-jaw from my own apparent…

Promotion. 

Did I just get promoted?

“Jenny, are you sure what you had yesterday isn’t contagious? Because, like, I think I might throw up.”

“Lane… This is… I…” Jenny has to pause to take a deep breath, collecting her thoughts (which I’m sure are numerous), “I’m so happy for you.”

Oh shit, she’s hurt. Her voice cracks as she speaks, and I turn to look at her. There’s a smile on her lips, but her eyes want me dead. 

I shrink.

“Thanks for sharing this, Jenny,” I say quietly, “I’m… Gonna head back to my desk now.”

“You do that,” she says shortly. Behind me, Jenny closes the door, which is something I have never seen her do before.

Working out of a cubicle, I have no door to close. I don’t think it’s really hit me yet, but as I sit and stare at my screen, it begins to sink in. Not only did I manage to avoid a scathing email for wasting the VP’s time, but he… promoted me. Which probably means I’m going to be officially hired. 

But is that truly a good thing? Before long, this whole department is going to hate me. Or at least Jenny will. I can’t believe he was such a dick to her in that email - it was the most cuttingly cruel business-casual language I’d ever laid eyes on. Do I even want to work with this guy? One session was stressful enough… I couldn’t imagine doing that more than once a month at the dead most. 

I don’t think I can do this. 

My computer dings softly with an email notification. I open it and see that Jenny has responded to Rufus Shinra, and CC’d me.

“Hello Mr. Vice President,

Thank you for your kind email. We will conduct another department review in response to your comments.  

Lane was positively joyful upon receiving your compliments. I have CC’d them here so they can reach out and thank you personally. Their contact info is included on the linked profile.

Thank you for your swift response. Until next time.

Jennifer Fesren

Lead Photographer, PR

Shinra Electric Power Company”

Oh, my heart just aches for poor Jenny. I did appreciate the compliments, but I must say I don’t appreciate being weaponized against my coworkers. What a shitty move. Not sure what else to expect from a guy like Shinra, though. He probably grew up a spoiled, rich little brat, never getting told no. High maintenance, high standards.

Which I apparently meet somehow. 

Honestly, he and I could not possibly be more different. I grew up dirt poor on a farm outside of Kalm, barely scraping by. I always go out of my way to help others and make sure everyone around me is comfortable, and he seems to expect everyone around him to meet his every demand without so much as being asked nicely.

Well, whether he’s a dick or not, he did just provide me a whole lot of job security. I wonder how much the Vice President’s principal photographer might make.

I hit reply, making sure to put Rufus Shinra in the recipient box and CC Jenny and Marjorie. Time to follow Jenny’s lead and “thank him personally,” regardless of how I’m currently feeling. I don’t want to put this off any longer. 

“Dear Mr. Vice President,

I wanted to sincerely thank you for your incredibly kind words, both during our time together yesterday and through the shared email today. I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity on offer, and would be happy to accept the position, provided HR and the hiring department approve. That given, I’d be happy to facilitate further contact to work out the details of the appointment at a later time. 

I am flattered and inspired by your generous compliments, and I’m very much looking forward to applying them to my future work with you. Please feel free to reach out whenever you’d like to arrange photo sessions or event coverage - my inbox is always open!

Thank you so very much again for your generosity. I look forward to working with you!

Lane Elliott

Photography Intern, PR

Shinra Electric Power Company”

Typing that thing is a process - First I have to decide whether I actually want to accept the position or not. I suppose I should - I like being able to afford decent food every now and again, and frankly, this was the miracle I was hoping for. No more worrying about what happens at the end of the month - I’m betting I can barter for at least an extension to my assignment, possibly full onboarding. Depends on how much he decides he actually likes me, I guess. 

In addition to that, I type and retype the paragraphs half a dozen times, trying my damndest not to sound passive-aggressive or ass-kissy. It’s a weird balance to try to strike. How do you email one of the most powerful men in the world who happens to kind of be an asshole?

I hit send, and away it goes. Hopefully I struck the balance right. Did I just get lucky yesterday, or am I actually going to be able to vibe with the VP? I guess only time will tell.

Ding .

Not even five minutes have gone by. What the fuck? Shinra has returned my email already. This time, the CC box is notably empty. This is a new email chain, and it’s private - just me and him. The subject line is blank, marked with the auto-generated [No Subject] tag. The message also lacks a greeting - straight to the point.

“I’m so glad you’ll be taking on the position. I’ll admit I was very much hoping you would. I think this will be the beginning of a wonderful partnership. 

If you’re willing to answer, I’m curious - Do you have a photography business on the side?

Rufus Shinra

Vice President 

Shinra Electric Power Company”

A prompt response deserves a prompt response, but his question makes my blood run cold. I have to reread it several times to make sure I’m reading it right. 

Because, as a matter of fact, I do have a photography business on the side. It’s the exact one I’ve been panicking about all morning. 

Photography is my hobby, but boudoir photography is my passion. I’ve always been a kinky son of a bitch, and boudoir shoots are my bread and butter. If I could do that as a career for real, I’d drop everything to do it in a heartbeat. I’d live on the street if I had to, seriously. I’d make it work. 

But there is no way in hell I am admitting all that to this man. 

I respond:

“Dear Mr. Vice President,

Thanks again. I can’t wait to get started. Should I go about contacting HR about this appointment, or is that something you’ll take care of? Let me know and I will see to the details.

And yes, to answer your question, I accept private bookings for close friends on the side. I don’t currently have a large-scale business or studio outside of the work I do for Shinra.

Thank you!

Lane Elliott

Photography Intern, PR

Shinra Electric Power Company”

I sit back and wait to see if he’ll respond to my question, or if that’s all the attention he’ll spare me today. Busy schedule, after all, right? I mostly expect him not to give me the time of day unless he needs something from me.

Imagine my surprise when I get another notification almost immediately.

“No need for formalities in one-on-one conversations. Please call me Rufus.

One of my associates is taking care of the HR arrangements. I’ll put you in contact with him soon.

I feel it’s important to establish boundaries ASAP - how do you feel about explicit photography, Lane?”

I don’t think I can breathe anymore. I might be dead.

Is… Is this a trap?

But… what if it isn’t? Maybe he already knows about my business. Maybe that’s why he was so complimentary. Maybe it’s why he wants me.

“Thank you. I look forward to meeting your associate.

I would be happy to assist with any - and all - of your photography requests, including as mentioned. Just let me know what you’d like, and when.”

Oh my fuck, I can’t believe I just sent that. Did I really just send that? I go to hit “unsend,” but the button disappears right before I click.

Too late.

I sit in shock for a few moments, waiting for the world to explode.

Ding .

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. Would you be willing to do a boudoir shoot in the building studio this weekend? Saturday morning, 10 am.”

I waste absolutely no time waiting to respond.

“Of course! I will see you in the studio on Saturday. I look forward to it!”

I slump backwards in my chair, finally exhaling a breath that I’m pretty sure I’ve been holding for the last several minutes.

It’s only Tuesday.

Chapter Text

The week drags by in silence and anticipation. I don’t hear anything else from the VP or his associate that was supposed to reach out. Jenny withholds most of my usual work from me, so I don’t have very much to do. An employee audit team stops by the department to interview and observe the employees. Notably, they skip me over, totally ignored. No one comes to arrest me, either, and I don’t get any notices that might indicate that I’ve been fired overnight. The week is entirely just… nothing.

I’m fucking exhausted by the time I get off the train on Friday.

My bed is calling my name, but Friday nights are when I get to live. My favorite day of the week is finally here, and I can’t wait to get dressed up and head out.

I own one nice set of clothes just for Friday nights - a simple black dress shirt and dark gray slacks, plus a pair of black combat boots. A gray flat cap helps cover up my brightly colored hair, and defines the trademark that most folks know me by. The finishing touch is a paper-mache eye mask, decorated with a few downward-pointed feathers and painted black.

Ah, there you are , the mirror says. Aperture, the masked photographer. I grab my camera bag, sling it over my shoulder, and head out the door.

Dinner is grabbed from a street vendor on the way to the train station. I don’t head toward the Sector 0 trains tonight - the locomotive I’m after is headed toward the Sector 6 undercity. Wall Market is a second home for me, and is the safest place to run my side business.

The building’s entrance is practically a cubby, but every Friday night it turns into a bustling scene that fills the space inside. The bouncers all know who I am, and they let me in without question. I’m early, but even now, the lights are dimmed. The action has already begun.

Bass thumps through the walls and floor as couples and partners mill about, all of them dressed in fancy outfits and masquerade masks, as per dress code. Many of them sport bright pink paper bracelets, and I begin trying to memorize who has them on and who decided not to take them. The ceiling is tall, and the floor is made of concrete here. Scattered throughout the room, furniture and mats are set up for nefarious uses. 

I believe I mentioned being a kinky bastard. This is my scene - a late-night BDSM play party, electrified with life and buzzing with sex.

“Aperture!” I hear a voice call. I know him as Spicier, the young man who leads this underground club. He approaches me with a smile beneath his mask, “Good to see you, as always! Ready for tonight?”

“Of course I am. I’ve been looking forward to it all week!”

“Ah, stress at work again?” he says good-naturedly, reading me like a book as he hands an SD card off to me. I open my camera bag and extract my partner in crime, opening the slot and clicking the card into place.

“Oh, you have no idea…”

More and more people file in, all dressed similarly to the rest of us - suspenders, flowing dresses of every shape and size, bow ties, and lots and lots of leather and rope. Once past the door, subs being ordered to strip isn’t uncommon at all. I am the only one on the floor with a camera tonight - house rules strictly forbid anyone else from taking pictures. I have special clearance, and am trusted to know what I’m doing. The pink bracelets denote permission for photo-taking, and when someone isn’t wearing a bracelet, I take care to aim my camera away.

Shouts can be heard from the impact corner. In the center of the room, a man is kicked in the side by a woman in big black boots, and moans loudly. Both members of the couple wear the bracelets, and I make my way around the circle of audience members to get a good angle for photographs.

Click, click.

This is my favorite place in the world to be. Most of these folks have been here before and recognize me, often giving me little waves or greetings in passing. The job of a photographer is to blend in as much as possible, and it’s a job I’m good at. I keep to myself as I look for bracelets and shoot the night away, one scene at a time. This is my Friday night routine, and I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Hours pass in heartbeats. When the scening couples don’t have permission bracelets on, I have the luxury of a break, watching and taking in the show while giving my camera a rest. It’s always so lovely - the impact scenes are exciting, the rope scenes are artistic, and the fetish scenes are fascinating. I don’t feel very turned on, per se, but rather I feel very at home, existing in a space where shame is unwarranted. It’s so freeing.

I’m standing on the inside ring of the crowd gathered around the central scene mat when a couple I don’t recognize takes the empty stage. Neither of them are wearing bracelets, so I let my camera rest against my chest, angled at the floor. 

The sub is a young man, wearing a gilded mask and a half-open black shirt that has a silky damask pattern that I can just barely catch glimpses of in the low light. A long red ponytail seems to appear out of nowhere - the rest of his hair is shaggy, but cropped. His dominant leads him by the arm toward the center and, though I can’t hear it, apparently orders him to strip. The dom is striking, with long black hair tied up halfway. His mask is black, edged with gold, and the buttons on his inky dress shirt are brassy. 

Something about him is… vaguely familiar.

I try to place where I’ve seen him before as I watch the scene unfold. The redhead’s wrists are bound, and the rope is tied to the hard point in the ceiling, keeping them raised high above his head. A spreader bar is cuffed around his ankles, leaving him dangling wide open for whatever his dom has planned. The scene is sensual as hell, as many of them have been tonight, but the tension between these two is positively electric. Their chemistry is thick like smoke in the air, and no one in the audience dares to move a muscle.

The dom teases his sub’s nipples, eliciting whimpers and cries. He runs his gloved fingertips over soft, lightly freckled skin, making the redhead shiver. Eventually, the dom returns to his bag and produces two floggers from it, artfully twisted black leather.

He starts with just one, giving gentle swings over his sub’s back, beating firmly and with a steady rhythm. Slowly, the second flogger comes to life. The scene evolves, gradually picking up until the sub is being flogged Florentine. That’s not an easy skill to learn, and I think this may be the most beautiful show of it I’ve ever witnessed.

I’ve seen a lot of amazing scenes in my time, but this is one I’m going to remember. The way the sub cries out, the dom’s teeth bared in sadistic pleasure, the skilled, elegant swing of the floggers… It’s beautiful in a strange kind of way. A way I’m used to, sure, but still. Something about this particular moment is… different somehow. I can’t explain it.

Maybe it’s just because both of those guys are ridiculously hot.

Their scene does eventually come to an end, and I resume my rounds to the different scene corners. Nothing even comes close to that last scene, though. I have a feeling that it’s going to be one I won’t easily forget. I normally don’t get turned on by scenes, but watching that one has me fairly hot and bothered. Thank gods for low lighting. I have a tell - I blush like crazy when I’m flustered. 

The night is long, yet never long enough. Eventually, folks start to trickle out the doors, having had their fill of the energy and scandal. Still, a few folks I know continue to use their time to their best ability.

I capture a beautiful shot of a finished rope suspension design by one of the most talented riggers in the club. As he begins to undo his practiced knots, I lower my camera. Somehow, my eyes focus past the beautiful model in the center of the room and fall to the crowd circle behind her.

That man with the black hair is looking at me.

His eyes aren’t focused on the model between us, I swear. He’s staring above her, right in my direction. I hold his gaze for a singular second before he turns away, waltzing off and finding something else of interest. I’m puzzled for a moment, wondering why he might’ve been staring at me. It’s not terribly uncommon, especially for new folks, to be concerned about the person toting a camera around. Maybe I accidentally took a photo where he’s in the background? That would get edited out.

But then something clicks. I know why he’s familiar to me.

He looks - and acts - just like Rufus Shinra’s bodyguard.

My blood runs cold as ice. Did… Did he follow me here tonight? Is that how the VP knew I did boudoir photography? Wait, okay, don’t be irrational, Lane… It might be entirely coincidence. Might not even be the same guy. Maybe he has a twin or something. 

Still, I keep my eye on him and his sub through the rest of the evening. He doesn’t stare at me again.

About half an hour away from last call, I head over to the bar where Spicier and his friends are hanging out. As per usual, I make sure he can see me removing the SD card he lent me from my camera.

“Here you go, Spice,” I say with a smile, “Great night. Looking forward to next Friday!”

“Hey, thanks, Aperture. Everybody loved last week’s pics, by the way - thanks for volunteering!”

“Anytime, dude. I love getting to do this.”

“Are you gonna hang out any longer? I’ll pay ya in drinks if you stay,” he tempts.

“I’ll take you up on one, thanks,” I say. I have a seat at the bar, and Spicier flags down the bartender to send my way. I order a rum and cola, and sip at it slowly while I bask in the atmosphere of the place.

The black-haired man and his redhead sub are chilling out now, watching a wax play scene taking place in the corner. The redhead slouches, his hands in his pockets, contrasting to the tall, staunch frame of his dominating partner. 

They aren’t looking at me, but I still avert my gaze, trying not to stare. I consider whether I should actually go and try to talk to them - just introduce myself and make sure they know that I have permission to take photos and whatnot. Ultimately, I decide against it - even with the liquid courage in my system, I’ve had enough stress this week. Now is the time to unwind. 

I sip at my drink, watching the crowd and wasting time. I’m not sure I’ll stay much longer, but I think there’s a part of me that wants to wait until those two guys leave. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid that they might follow me home. I wait, and I sip. Fifteen minutes to close. 

“Hey, Shion!”

Spicier’s voice catches my attention. He’s talking to someone next to me now, and I try to subtly glance up to my right to see who he’s talking to. Shion is a name I don’t recognize.

Holy shit, it’s the black-haired guy. His back is to me, so luckily he doesn’t see my double-take. I bury my nose back in my drink and take another sip while I try to relax. So apparently he knows Spicier, huh? I’ll admit, that’s really quite comforting. Means he’s not some random creep who just walked in here, he’s well-known.

So... he probably wasn’t sent here to spy on me. I just overreacted.

But… wait a minute, where’s his redheaded partner? They’ve been attached at the hip all night - did he go home? I swear I just saw him. I eavesdrop as I look around. 

“Not often that we get to see you in here on a Friday,” Spicier says.

“Not often that I get this night off,” Shion responds. His voice is deep and dark, like velvet. Still no sign of that redhead.

“Not house topping tonight, I noticed,” says another group leader, Greyed.

“Not while I have a partner here. He demands all of my attention.”

So he must still be here, then. But where is he?

Out of the very corner of my eye, I catch a tiny glimpse of red moving on my left. I thought maybe he was off in the corner, but when I turn to look, I see that he’s taken the barstool only two seats away from me. His eyes are pointed in my direction. 

I turn quickly back to my drink. Shit… I hope he didn’t notice that. Maybe he was just looking over my head, at his partner.

The snickering coming from him suggests otherwise. I feel a blush begin to rise, and I sip my drink again in a poor attempt to act natural.

“Yo, barkeep,” he speaks, flagging him down. He points at me, “I’ll have what they’re having.”

W-what?

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. What the hell is that about? The bartender mixes his rum and cola and slides it over to him. I watch as the redhead takes a sip and looks the drink over, analyzing what he’s just been given. Without looking at me, he speaks.

“Hey kid,” he says, “They’re talkin’ about you.”

My eyes widen, and my chin swivels the other way to catch back up to what Spicier’s gang was saying. To my surprise, all five people in the group are staring at me.

“Hello, earth to Aperture,” says Chilla, one of the other group leaders, “You in there? Or are you that drunk already?”

“Hah, no no, I’m good - sorry,” I briefly meet eyes with this “Shion” character. Behind his black paper mask, I can see his amber eyes picking up golden flecks of light. Oh gods, those are definitely the same amber eyes I was editing in the VP’s photos just the other day. The relaxed feeling gives way again to paranoia - that has to be that same bodyguard. And even though I’m wearing a mask, my blue hair has got to be a dead giveaway to who I am. I pray to gods that he won’t be able to place my face.

“I wanted to introduce you guys,” Spicier brings me back to earth, “Aperture, this is Shion. He’s one of our house tops - usually comes around on Sunday nights.”

Shion extends his hand to me, and I gingerly shake it, failing miserably to feign confidence.

“Aperture,” he repeats, “Nice to meet you. Do you photograph here every Friday, then?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s like, the only night I have to stay up late. Or - it has been,” Have I mentioned that I tend to ramble when I’m nervous? “It might be changing soon, I don’t know. It’s just kinda… up in the air… right now…” I trail off. Shut up, Lane.

“Yes, I understand that. I have a rather sporadic schedule myself. I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths sooner.”

Something about the way he says that puts me on edge. It had an implication I didn’t quite catch. 

“Yeah,” is about all I can say in return. I have no idea how to go about having a conversation with this guy right now - especially since I don’t know what they were talking about before this introduction. 

“How long have you been doing the photos for these events?” Shion asks, taking the lead.

“Well… Probably about eight months?” I ballpark. I look at Spicier for confirmation on that claim, and he smiles and nods in agreement.

“Hm,” Shion doesn’t really respond. He takes a sip from a drink I hadn’t noticed him holding. Something about the same color as his eyes. He seems like a guy who drinks whiskey neat, so I’ll assume that’s what’s in his glass. 

When he lowers the cup, he speaks again.

“Out of curiosity, do you ever conduct private shoots as well?”

My blood ices again. He phrased that startlingly similar to how the VP had worded it in his email. Definitely the same guy . I better be careful of what I reveal here.

Spicier, however, doesn’t give me a chance.

“Yeah, Aperture’s really talented at boudoir shoots! I bought one for my partner last month and the results were stunning!” He gestures to me, “Aperture, do you have your card with you tonight? You should give one to Shion.”

Normally, I jump at this chance, but I don’t want this guy having my business’s info. I quickly formulate an excuse.

“Oh, um… I actually left them at home tonight. Sorry about that,” I lie, “Maybe next time?” In truth, I always carry business cards in my camera bag. I’d even given out a few earlier tonight. In retrospect, this is a shitty excuse - if he was watching, he probably saw me hand one out.

“Oh, wait!” Spicier’s partner, who goes by Hera, reaches into her purse, “I actually found one on the floor earlier tonight. I was gonna give it back to you, Aperture, but here - Shion can have it!” She hands the card off to him, and he grins as he takes it in his leather glove. I watch in horror as my personal info is placed in the exact wrong hands.

“Thank you, Hera,” he says, “What a lucky coincidence,” There’s something in his eyes that’s abjectly terrifying. Holy shit, he knows I was lying. Of course he would’ve been watching. He’s spying on me. He has been all night.

There are two swigs left of my drink, and in an attempt to calm my panic, I chug the last of it down.

“It’s, um… pretty late,” I make excuses, “I better get going if I wanna catch the train,” Shit, Lane, don’t tell him you take the train! Shut up!

“Oh… Well, okay. Thanks again for your help, Aperture. Have a great night!” Spicier says. I’m halfway out the door before he can finish, struggling to shove my camera back in my bag. I give the group a hasty wave as I rush out the door and onto the street. 

Holy fuck. I am doomed .

Chapter Text

I spend my entire trip home looking over my shoulder. I probably look like a paranoid weirdo, expecting to get jumped and confronted by those guys any minute now. There are too many unanswered questions - Was that really the bodyguard? What about the redhead - is he some kind of bodyguard too? I don’t think the VP had addressed his bodyguard as “Shion,” but then, nobody goes by their real names in the scene... I can’t remember what he’d called his bodyguard in the studio. I wasn’t ever properly introduced to the redhead either - he just ordered my drink. Was that some kind of weird way of flirting? Why would he do that?

The most damning question of all is what will become of my info. My first reaction to the fact that my boudoir business card is now in Shion’s hands is panic, but maybe it’s not that big of a deal. What was he going to do - tattle to Shinra? Rufus already knows about my willingness to do this. He isn’t likely to be angry to find out that I do it on the side. The worst-case scenario is probably that he tells me to drop my side gig and just devote those kinds of shoots to him. Gods, if that happened… I mean, I don’t think I could. I love this way too much. 

But what choice would I have?

Friday night is a mostly sleepless one. The event ran until 2 in the morning, and after a 30-minute trip home, I plop down on my mattress only to spend another hour freaking out. 

I couldn’t tell you when exactly I’d passed out, but the next thing I know, my alarm is going off at 7:30.

Exhausted, I pull myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the cold water bring me to alertness. That deep wave of dread fills me back up.

The Vice President’s photo shoot is today.

I put on my nicest office clothes, make sure I have everything packed, and stuff down a cup of yogurt for fuel. The ride to the building is not nearly as calm as it has been in past weeks. On top of all the anxieties left over from last night, now I have to worry about getting in the building. If any of my coworkers happen to be in today, I’ll probably get told off for being in on my day off. As an intern, I’m not allowed to take overtime. The VP’s associate will probably get that worked out with HR eventually, but that would still leave the question - “Why are you here on your day off?” I don’t want to have to answer that, so the goal is to get in unnoticed. 

Not that I do the best job of it when the time comes. More than anything, I know I need to look natural so I don’t draw any attention to myself. If any of the front desk staff recognize me, they don’t say anything, and before long I’m safe in the elevator, alone at last. The studio offices seem to be deserted today, as no one needed to work the weekend, so I have the space all to myself. It calms my nerves, and I use the keys tacked on the corkboard to unlock the studio.

It’s 9 now - I got here extra early to be absolutely certain that I’ll be ready when the VP arrives. I take my time setting up the lights, choosing backdrop options, and making sure that things are well in line and looking nice for the VP. Whoever used the studio last left it a bit of a mess, so most of my time is devoted to straightening things up. 

There’s a knock on the studio door at 9:30. The early arrival makes me jump.

“Come in!” I call through the thin walls. The door slowly opens, and a dark suit steps inside.

The black-haired bodyguard. 

“Good morning,” he greets, sounding stern and businesslike, “Nice to see you again. I’m here to conduct a security check of the equipment. May I look around?”

“Uh, yeah, go right ahead,” I stutter, trying to get out of his way. I attempt to distract myself with backdrop setup, but the way he walks around the entire room in silence is unnerving. For the fortieth time this week, I consider that this might just all be a big trap to get me fired. I know it’s too elaborate to be true, but… Well, I’ve heard that the VP can be a drama queen, so it’s not out of the question. I think rationalizing my anxiety might be my superpower. 

Eventually, thankfully, the man (what was his name again?) breaks the silence.

“Everything looks good,” he confirms, “Do you need any help setting up?”

I glance at the clock. 9:45.

“Um… I mean, putting up backdrops goes way faster with two sets of hands,” I say. He nods and takes a stance at the other end of the backdrop stand, and together we hook the scrolls of fabric into place. I let them all unfurl, happy with my choices for the VP. Once we finish, we both step back, and I survey what I’ve got. Everything seems ready to go for now.

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” the man says, making me jump by suddenly breaking the silence. He’s way taller than me, and his back tilts forward just a little as he looks me in the eyes, “You were?”

“Lane Elliott,” I say, this time giving feigned confidence a real effort. He extends his hand, and we shake. I recognize the feeling of those gloves - I swear it.

“Tseng,” he says. Short and simple, and definitely rings a bell. That’s right - Tseng. I knew that. 

“Nice to meet you,” I say. It’s a lot easier to revert back to autopilot “office mode” when you’re in the office - not so easy when you’re at a BDSM party.

“Are these the backgrounds for today’s shoot?” Tseng asks. I wonder if he knows exactly what kind of shoot the VP is here for. If he was indeed the same guy I met last night, then I’m guessing that he does, in fact, know all about it. 

“These are my suggestions,” I say, “I’ll let the Vice President take a look at the other options. It’s his shoot, of course, so I’d be happy to use whatever he wants.”

“Hm,” Tseng makes that short noise of understanding - the exact same one that I heard from “Shion” last night. The evidence continues to pile up. The gloves, the amber eyes, the vocal mannerisms… And yet he hasn’t said a word on it yet. He’s acting as though this is our first time meeting - and I suppose, in retrospect, it sort of is. 

“May I ask what time you arrived this morning?” Tseng asks, “The VP wants to make sure that you’re fairly compensated for your time.” 

The VP plans to compensate me for this, huh? Payment hadn’t even been discussed in our emails - I’d just flat-out accepted the shoot. That was… probably less than professional of me. Glad Shinra is picking up my slack on that front.

“Oh, um, well… I got here around 9,” I reply.

Tseng raises a brow at my answer.

“That’s awfully early, considering how late you were out last night.”

I freeze. I can feel myself turn pale. 

Nail in the coffin - Shion and Tseng are absolutely the same person.

I am unable to respond to him, my mind just pouring over everything that this could mean. But luckily, the silence is cut off. Tseng’s phone rings, and he pulls it from his pocket and answers.

There’s no “Hello” or greeting - just silence as he listens to whatever is being said on the other end of the call. Though it’s quiet in the room, I can glean none of it. 

“Excellent work, Reno,” Tseng finally says, “You can leave it on my desk, I’ll take a look at it later. Did you find anything regarding the tip we were given about the upcoming event?”

More silence. I furrow my brow - this conversation seems nonsensical to me.

“That’s alright, keep after it. Thank you for keeping me updated. Dismissed,” With that, he hangs up the phone and slips it back into his pocket.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he says casually, turning toward the door, “I’m going to check on the Vice President and see if he’s ready.”

I say nothing as Tseng walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. In the silence that remains, I try to process what just happened.

All the implications hit me at once. He has my business card with all my contact info and rates. He knows what club I’m a member of and when I usually go there. He knows who I am and where I work. And if he has access to employee databases, he can find out where I live.

He knows damn near every single secret I have.  

One of those little unspoken rules of kink clubs is that you don’t talk about kink clubs. If you see someone in your day-to-day that you know from night events, you don’t talk about it. It almost feels as if he’s broken that rule, but… well, we were all alone in here. I wonder if he’ll make any more reference to it in front of the VP. 

I just don’t know what to say or do about any of that. I feel frozen, like time has stopped. Nothing is real and none of it matters. 

I am jarred back to life by the sound of the door opening. 

Rufus Shinra enters the studio, with Tseng hot on his tail. He smiles when he sees me.

“Ah, Lane. How wonderful to see you again,” His outfit compounds my frozen state - he’s wearing a deep purple silk robe that ends at his mid-thigh, and he looks positively elegant in it. Luckily, the sound of his voice is enough to break through it all and wake me back up.

“G-Good morning, Mr. Vice President,” I say, trying to remember how to be a professional. I swear I am professional in boudoir sessions, but this isn’t making a very good example. 

“Once again - please call me Rufus,” he says. He’s still smiling, but the look he gives me is pointed. Behind him, I can see Tseng smirk as he sets down a bag in the corner. He makes no move to leave, and I wonder if he plans to stay the entire time. 

“Oh… right,” I try to recover with a grin, but I can tell that I’m bright red again, “Are you ready to get started? Anything I can get you before we begin?”

“I’m more than ready,” Rufus says. He steps over to the backdrop and removes his soft gray slippers before he steps onto it, “Truth be told, this is something I’ve always wanted to do. But photographers who work outside the company just aren’t trustworthy enough for this kind of work,” He looks me in the eyes, “I’m sure you understand - if things like this were to get out to the public… Well, it wouldn’t be easy on me. But the worst consequences would have to fall on the photographer. It’s just so messy - best to keep things within the scope of control, right?”

That… was a threat. His face communicates his message loud and clear - You will keep my secret, or else. 

I nod vigorously, my face as serious as it can be.

“Yes, Sir,” I say at default, “I… fully understand.”

Rufus smiles.

“I knew you would,” he says, “You’ve got quite a few secrets of your own, don’t you, Lane?”

I’m starting to lose my composure at this point. I’ve been completely backed against a wall. I can hear a breathy chuckle come from Tseng in the corner.

“Well,” Rufus continues, “I don’t want us to have to keep any secrets from each other anymore. I think that you and I have a lot in common - we’re on the same team here. Help me help you, and together we’ll make sure that everyone’s happy.”

Rufus turns around and investigates the backdrop I selected. It’s dark gray, washed in watercolor. He ponders it for a moment, and I decide that instead of responding to his statement, I’ll talk about this instead.

“If you wanted to keep the purple on,” I say, “We might want to start with a different backdrop,” I point to the corner where the backdrops are kept, right at a poster displaying all the options, “We can take our pick from the pile. Something pale gray or silver will really work nicely with that color.”

“I was just thinking that,” Rufus says, stepping toward the stacks of backdrop rolls, “The dark gray might work better a little later. I want to do some with the robe, some without, and then some in a third outfit.”

“Sounds great,” I say. Rufus seems like he has a good handle on photo composition already - interesting, for someone who’s apparently been such a nightmare to photograph. As we pick through the background options together, I first guess that he might just like total control of his photo sessions. But no - as we look, he asks repeatedly for my “professional opinion.” Clearly, he values it. 

Rufus Shinra is a very collaborative model. I get the sense that the reason he’s been so difficult with the team is because he dislikes being bossed around and posed like a doll. He wants to have input. And I may very well have been the first photographer to ever give him that power. 

“Oh, this one is gorgeous,” Rufus says, pulling up a silvery fleur de lis backdrop roll. 

“It is…” I say, investigating, “It’ll be great for the robe shots. I was worried the pattern might be a little busy, and it’s a bit small, but we can give it a shot!”

“Excellent,” Rufus says, stepping back, “Tseng, help them put it up, please,”

Tseng obeys silently, standing at the other end of the stand and helping me secure it. We let it unfurl - ooh, it’s even smaller than I thought. I’ll need to move in for this, or else get creative with my cropping for the horizontal images.

Rufus positions himself in the center of the sheet, facing me. He angles his body slightly, relaxes his arms, and staggers his leg position. Damn, he’s got amazing model instinct - I don’t have to give him any direction.

“Nice, nice,” I comment, positioning my camera sight, “Um… So, because the backdrop is a little short, I’ll need to step in a bit closer. Is that okay?”

“Feel free to get as close as you like,” Rufus says lowly. His tone of voice sends a shiver down my spine. I’ve had models flirt with me before, but being flirted with by one of the most powerful men in the world is a cut above.

Nah, he’s flirting with the camera, right? I shake it off and step inwards.

The rhythm of the shoot falls into place fast - faster than almost any other shoot I’ve ever done. Rufus is a natural-born model. Seriously. He knows exactly when to change to a different pose, where to angle himself, move his arms or legs. We discuss the photo composition as I shoot, and he occasionally requests for me to shoot from a new angle or to grab a close-up. Only sometimes do I ask him to change the positioning of his hands, or to bend his knee a little more. His poses almost tell a story - arms around himself, as though begging for modesty, slowly opening up and letting the robe get looser and looser. In some poses, he smiles. In others, he gives the camera a cutting, sultry look.

The robe stays on for nearly half an hour before Rufus finally stands and stretches. I lower my camera, letting him have a break.

“Do you want to take a short break for water or anything?” I ask. We keep a small minifridge of water bottles under the table in here. Probably not the fancy stuff he’s used to, but I may as well offer.

“No, but I think I’m done with the robe,” he says, “Why don’t you get some shots of this?”

I blush as I pick my camera back up. Come on, Lane, you’re used to this. I’ve watched hundreds of people strip in front of my lens. Nothing new. Nothing at all.

Except for this time, it’s Rufus motherfucking Shinra. 

I take a deep breath and press the button halfway in to focus.

Action shots are some of my favorites to get - long series are so much fun to flip back through when editing. Finding the best ones is like a fun little scavenger hunt. I hold the shutter down as the robe slips off his shoulders. He holds it in place for a moment when it reaches his lower back, then turns his chin over his shoulder, giving me a sultry look and then a smirk. Then he turns halfway and lets it fall the rest of the way to the floor, casting his eyes down to watch it go. It’s gorgeous - fuck, I can’t wait to see those shots later. In fact, I decide to open the gallery and flip through them now.

“Damn, that was stunning,” I whisper. Tseng steps away from the wall and peeks over my shoulder. I show him one of the best ones I can find right off the bat - the robe falling mid-air, Rufus’s mouth open just a little, eyes pointed toward the floor with chin pointed at me. His leg is artfully raised so as to conceal his groin. It could be a magazine cover. Never will be, of course, but it’s still that good. 

“Do you want to see, Rufus?” Tseng asks. I look back over the camera, and the fact that Rufus Shinra is now totally naked slaps me in the face. I was so entranced by the shots that I’d pretty much forgotten. 

“I’d love to,” he says, stepping toward us. I keep my eyes upward as I turn the camera toward him. He makes the tiniest gasp and smiles widely.

“Oh, that is stunning,” he says softly, “That’s the kind of shot that I’ve always wanted. Oh, I want it framed for my bedroom,” he laughs softly and looks up, “Or your bedroom,” he says to Tseng.

My heart leaps into my throat. That’s right - I’d forgotten that these two got photos together last week. And that little tease confirms exactly what I’d been suspecting then - in at least some capacity, these two are lovers. 

Tseng laughs and smiles.

“I have a feeling that the shots I would want will be taken later in the shoot,” he says, “But this is certainly beautiful. Lane is very talented.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly, trying to keep humble. 

Rufus steps back onto the backdrop. He picks up the robe and tosses it off to my left, where Tseng meets the fabric to catch it. 

“Should we take a few more with this backdrop, and then switch to the next one?” he directs in the form of a question, “I think that dark gray one would be a nice change of pace,”

“Oh, yes,” I agree. I pick the camera back up to my face, and watch as Rufus poses.

When he dropped the robe, he made an effort to censor himself, but now he makes no such attempt. His manhood is on full display, and by gods, it is impressive. Aesthetically, it’s a damn near perfect dick. His blond pubic hair is neatly manicured, as is the rest of his body hair. Through the sight of the camera, I can stare at anything all I want, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to take full advantage of that ability today. 

We fall back into a rhythm, carrying things along. Most of the nude shots are accomplished on the floor, with Rufus finding comfortable and creative positions to kneel, then sit, then lay. He encourages me to come close, experimenting together with unique angles. At one point, he lays down and has me straddle him standing, aiming my camera down at his face and upper torso. The way he gazes into the camera is mesmerizing. I think about how I’ll be editing a whole lot more of those blue eyes from now on, and honestly, the prospect has me very happy. 

Another half hour passes like a flash of light. In fact, Rufus and I are so into our groove that Tseng is the one who steps in to pause things. 

“I think we should probably stop for a short break,” he says, stepping toward Rufus with a bottle of water, “Lane, I can hear your stomach growling. Have you had breakfast yet?”

I blush. It was growling? Audibly? I hadn’t even noticed - I was too focused. 

“I… had something small,” I say.

“Did you?” Tseng raises his brow at me skeptically, “Or are you lying again?”

I wince and turn away, trying to hide my beet-colored face. Fuck, I’d forgotten about that moment from yesterday.

“I’m being honest,” I squeak, “I had some yogurt,”

“You should have more than that,” Tseng chides me, “You can’t keep working on an empty stomach. I’ll call and have breakfast delivered,” Before anyone can stop him, Tseng tosses the robe back at Rufus, who is ready to catch it, and pulls his phone from his pocket. With a single tap on the screen, he’s got a call going through. 

Fucking hell, that way he spoke to me makes me feel like a little kid. The humiliation and shame of being caught in my lie of last night clashes with something deeper, a stirring warmth. I go to a lot of BDSM parties, but I never really participate beyond photography. Largely because I’m always too shy to admit my kinks out loud to anyone. 

There’s no possible way he could know how much this sort of scenario turns me on. Even through my blush, it doesn’t convey the depth of the heat.

“Still researching?” Tseng asks the person on the other end of the phone call, “We need breakfast delivered to the photo studio. PR offices, floor 16. Bring enough for three, please - four, if you want to take a break and join us,” he pauses, then nods, “Thank you, Reno. See you soon.”

Tseng hangs up his phone, slips it back into his pocket, and turns to me.

“Breakfast is on its way. While we wait for it, how about we have a seat and chat a little?”

Chapter Text

I was not even this nervous at my internship interview. And that was a hell of a nerve-wracking experience. Fear and anticipation grip me as I help Tseng pull four chairs from a stack and set them up by the cleaned-off table. By the time I sit down, I can feel sweat dripping down the back of my neck.

“So, Lane,” Rufus asks, starting things off, “Do you have any hobbies beside photography?”

Oh. Well, that was an innocent-enough question. I relax a little bit.

“Hm… Well, photography is really the only one I still pursue. I’ve always really liked music and singing, and I used to ride chocobo-back a lot as a kid.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Rufus continues, resting his chin in his hand, elbow propped on the table, “Did you grow up in Midgar?”

I… Do not like to answer questions about where I came from. But I’ve gotten good at redirection.

“No, I moved to Midgar about three years ago,” Now for the redirect, “I wanted to work for the Shinra Company; it’s always been a dream of mine.”

“Oh?” Rufus cocks his head, “What made you want to work for us?”

“I mean, in my mind, nothing says success like Shinra. I always admired the work of Shinra’s PR department, and I knew that I wanted to pursue a career in photography, so it felt like a good choice for a stretch goal. I… still sort of can’t believe I managed to get even an internship here, let alone…” I don’t really know what to call what I'm doing now. I haven’t quite been officially hired yet, have I?

“Let alone full-time employment,” Rufus finishes for me with a grin. I smile back, grateful for his clarification.

“I, uh, wanted to ask you…” I say, remembering suddenly a loose end that needs wrapping up, “About… You said you had an associate taking care of the HR details? No one has reached out to me yet. I was just wondering if-”

“I am the associate in question,” Tseng says, cutting me off, “And I’ve handled the hiring process with HR. They had to create a unique position listing for you, so it’s taken longer than expected,” He sighs and rolls his eyes just slightly, “I apologize for the delay. You should hear from them on Monday.”

“Oh… Thank you,” I say. Well, I’m glad that’s taken care of. It’s been nagging me for several days now.

Just then, I hear the door click open. Another black suit walks in, toting a jug of coffee and a plastic bag that looks like it was hastily thrown together. As he steps inside, I get a good look at him.

“Oh, hey,” he says, locking eyes with me, “It’s you.”

His fiery red hair and long ponytail are unmistakable. That would be the guy I saw last night - the redhead I was never introduced to. And clearly, he recognizes me too.

“Reno,” Tseng addresses him, “This is Lane. They’ve been hired as Rufus’s personal photographer. Lane, my colleague - Reno.”

Reno glances at the Vice President’s outfit. A wry smirk crosses his lips.

“‘Personal photographer,’ huh?” he says, “I can see that. Bet this is the furthest that business card’s ever gotten ya, huh kid?”

Wow, he’s brash. I blush and scan the faces in the room with me. Reno looks almost proud of himself for being such a loudmouth. Rufus covers his mouth to laugh softly, and Tseng rolls his eyes again.

“Actually, we began hiring Lane last week,” Tseng corrects, “The business card had nothing to do with it.”

“Pff, I know that. I was just giving ‘em shit,” Reno says, approaching the table and beginning to arrange the breakfast he brought. It consists entirely of coffee and an assorted 6-pack of donuts. In relative silence, we serve ourselves - even Rufus pours his own coffee, which, I’ll be quite honest, I wasn’t really expecting. Once we’ve all got a donut and a cup of caffeine at our seats, Tseng breaks the silence yet again.

“So, tell me, Lane,” he starts, “How long have you been active in the community?”

I know what that means - he’s asking me how long I’ve been going to kink events. I hesitate to answer, struggling to talk kink with these relative strangers.

“Well… ever since I moved to Midgar,” I say, “Three years, I guess.”

“Interesting,” Tseng says slowly, “What brought you into it?”

Gods, these are not easy questions to answer, especially with all these eyes on me. Rufus and Reno are smiling at me, happily awaiting my response.

“I’ve… Always been curious,” I admit, “Just hadn’t lived anywhere where things… happened. Midgar was my first chance.”

“Hm. And where did you say you were from, again?” 

Shit.

“I… Don’t really like to talk about it,” I say, finally asserting a goddamn boundary. Not easy for me to do. Tseng’s face stays neutral, but he shifts, indicating that he’s accepted that answer for now.

“Top or bottom?” Reno asks suddenly, mumbled through a mouthful of donut. I blush.

“I… I-I’m a switch,” I admit, almost whispering. Too squeaky to be a whisper, honestly. 

Reno snorts.

“W-What?” I ask. 

“You’re a switch?” he repeats, “You’re acting like a sub,”

“Reno,” Tseng says sternly, cutting him off with a sharp look. I furrow my brow at him. He doesn’t get to decide what I am or not just because of how I act at work. Reno rolls his eyes and looks away, pouting at being reprimanded by his… Boss? Lover? Dom? Gods, these guys have a complicated relationship pattern going on.

“Well… You’re not acting like much of a sub,” I remark, “You’re… acting like a brat.”

Reno laughs loudly, letting his head roll back.

“Bingo!” he says with a grin.

“Reno’s a switch, actually,” Rufus says, cutting his way into the conversation with a smile, “As a matter of fact, I believe we all are, aren’t we?”

“It would seem so,” Tseng grins as he sips his coffee.

Now, that is quite interesting. I file that info away - it’s sure to be useful later. 

“What are you into , anyway, kid?” Reno asks, prying again. I blush and avert my eyes, sipping my coffee and trying not to cast a glare in his direction. Tseng sighs audibly.

“There’s more tactful ways to ask a question like that, Reno,” Tseng chides him, then turns back to me, “Although… I must admit, I’m curious myself. Is there anything in particular that you enjoy, Lane?”

I… Cannot answer this question out loud. I squirm, trying to find something to say that won’t get stuck in my throat.

“I… Guess I just like BDSM,” I squeak. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. In front of Rufus Shinra, no less, and his apparently kinky bodyguards. 

What the fuck has my life become?

“Anything particular within that scope?” Tseng presses, “Bondage? Impact?”

“I…” I’m not sure my face has ever been redder than it is right now, “Just… Yes? I like… all of it.”

Tseng smiles, trying to hold back a laugh at me. I have a feeling that he knows I’m lying again. Well… I guess I’m not lying. I’m just not telling the whole truth. There’s a difference.

“I bet you’re a voyeur,” Reno adds, “Takin’ pictures of naked people all the time,”

“I am not!” I proclaim in defense, “If anything, I’m more of an exhibitionist…”

“Oh?” Tseng’s ears perk up at that one, “An exhibitionist then? How come you don’t ever scene at the parties you attend?”

“Er… Well, I’m just… Not super compatible with anyone, you know?”

“There’s always house tops,” Tseng says, “I’m sure they’d all be happy to scene with you as long as you’re polite.”

“...Yeah… I just don’t really want to bother anybody,” I shift in my seat, “Besides, I’m usually taking pictures. Got a job to do first. I don’t need to use the time slots - I leave them open for others.”

“Don’t you have any partners, Lane?” Rufus chimes in. He makes it sound as though he was thinking that I did. 

“...No,” I say, less nervous about telling this truth in full, “I’m happy just to have my friends in the community. They’re all I really need.”

I see Tseng and Reno exchange glances. Something just went through their minds, and I wish I knew what it was. 

The conversation lulls right about there. Everyone is done with the donuts, and the coffees are down to the last sips.

“Are we ready to resume the shoot?” Rufus asks, tossing his cup toward the trash can, “I have one more outfit I’d like to change into.”

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I say, tossing my cup as well. I stand up and head back to the camera. Tseng and Reno hesitate in the seats, exchanging quiet words for a moment, before they both stand back up. Reno heads toward the doorway.

“Nice to meet you, Lane,” he says, “I’ll be seeing you around,” He gives a two-fingered salute off to the side, then saunters out the doors.

Tseng grabs the bag from the corner of the room and hands it to Rufus.

“Would you like us to give you some privacy, Sir?” he asks. 

“I don’t see a need for privacy…” Rufus replies, “But it would be fun for you to walk back in to my little surprise.”

For the first time, I see a light flush on Tseng’s cheeks. As he steps toward the doors, he beckons for me to follow him.

Together, we step into the studio offices. My coworkers’ desks make an awkward background to follow the conversation we just had. Tseng closes the door behind us.

“A few details,” He addresses me suddenly, “I’m going to direct you not to edit or view the photos until Monday. I’m arranging for you to be provided with a private computer for this project. It isn’t secure for you to open them on personal or company devices. And be aware that if this security measure happens to be breached, there will be severe consequences.”

I swallow. There’s that threat again. I’ve gotten the point, guys. The longer this goes on, the more I realize that I’m in really, really deep here. I might be in over my head.

“I understand,” I confirm quietly.

“And one more very important thing,” Tseng waits until I lift my chin up toward him again, “Are you familiar with the stoplight system?”

“As in… Safewords?” I ask. I know of a ‘stoplight system’ for safewords - Red means stop, yellow means slow or pause, and green means go.

“Exactly,” Tseng confirms with a nod, “It’s very important that you understand this, Lane. This is Rufus’s way of having fun. He’s very much enjoying your talent and your company, and he’s excited to do more. But he - all of us - recognize that the dynamics of power at play here are… imbalanced.”

I… think I understand what he’s saying. He continues.

“This is to say that all of us use the stoplight system in order to communicate our needs. And, so long as you are in this position, we wanted to make sure you knew that the use of these safewords also extends to you. You will be expected to respect them when they are used, and in turn, you are free to use them in absolutely any situation, sexual or otherwise. Your comfort is paramount to us, and we want you to put that first. Well… Second, behind privacy. But I’m sure you understand the point I’m trying to make.”

This conversation reads as though I’m being welcomed into a harem of play partners. Is… Is that what’s happening right now?

“Yes, I understand.”

“Excellent,” Tseng says with the tiniest of smiles at the corner of his lips, “I have to say, you seem like you’ll fit into this position quite nicely.”

I smile. I’m still not entirely sure whether he’s referring to the job, or… something more, but either way, I’m glad to hear that I seem to be doing well.

“Is photography something you want to make into a career, Lane?” 

“Definitely,” I answer, “Being a photographer for Shinra is pretty much my dream job - realistically, anyway,”

“Realistically?”

“I mean… My real dream would be to shoot boudoir full time, but that’s not exactly a very realistic focus. This truly is the next best thing. And… I mean… if-”

There’s a knock on the other side of the studio door.

“I’m ready,” Rufus calls. Tseng smiles and opens the door.

Rufus is already posed back on the backdrop when we walk in. He’s wearing some of the most beautiful fancy lingerie I’ve ever seen - and, having shot a lot of boudoir, I’ve seen a lot. It’s lilac in color, a delicate pale shade in the same color family as the deep purple silk robe. Sheer thigh-high stockings trail up his strong legs, held in place with a lace garter belt. He wears no underwear, but instead has on a delicate bralette, highlighting his defined pecs.

This was not what I was expecting, but it is indeed a wonderful surprise.

“Wow…” I say in awe, “You look incredible,”

“Thank you,” Rufus turns his face away, clearly pleased with the compliment. He glances at Tseng, and begins to quietly laugh. As I turn, I can see that Tseng’s cheeks are quite red. His gloved hand is over his mouth, concealing the lower half of his face. His expression is still stoic, but I can tell that he’s flustered. It’s the most undone that I’ve seen him yet.

I quickly pick up on the fact that Rufus wore this lingerie just for Tseng. As we resume the photo session, Rufus spends about half his time modeling for the camera and the other half jeering and teasing Tseng. I actually manage to get some semi-candid shots, when Rufus is smiling or laughing at him, that are just as endearing as they are sexy. This whole photo shoot is just a fucking gem.

But, as they do, all good things must come to an end. Rufus eventually starts to wear out, and he stretches out in pause once again.

“This has been just wonderful,” he says with a smile, “But there are some other things I need to get done today. I think we ought to call it here.”

As he steps off the backdrop, Tseng approaches him with the robe in hand. Instead of taking it though, Rufus pulls him into a deep, long kiss. Tseng makes no effort to pull away, instead leaning in, putting a hand around his lover’s waist. It’s beautiful and pure, so candid and natural… I can’t help myself. I snap a picture while I have a chance.

The shutter noise makes Tseng pull away. He gives me a pissed-off glare.

“Hey - no, absolutely not. What the hell did you-”

“Aw, I bet that was a great shot,” Rufus cuts him off.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologize genuinely, “I shouldn’t have taken that without asking. Here, I can delete it. You can watch me do it if you want,”

“Oh no, I want to see it,” Rufus whines, “If you felt moved enough to take it, it must’ve been a great photo. Besides,” He turns to Tseng, “It wouldn’t kill you to take pictures with me every once in a while. I know you dislike being in them, but I like having photos with you.”

Tseng’s face reddens again, and he ultimately sighs in defeat. He points a stern finger at me.

“No photos of me without explicit permission,” he states. I smile at him.

“Yes, Sir,” I confirm.

Chapter Text

As Rufus pulls his robe back on, Tseng digs back into the bag he brought and extracts something. Before I can see what it is, he hands it to me. 

In my hands rests a small box. Upon opening it, I can see there are rows and rows of Gil coins. Altogether, there must be at least five thousand in this box. That’s an obscene amount.

“What’s this for?” I ask in disbelief.

“That,” Tseng replies, closing the bag, “Is a confidentiality deposit. I imagine it will come in handy for you, for as long as you uphold our expectations of privacy.”

...Oh. This is the material piece of the threat. They give me a bunch of money, and then if I don’t keep my promise, they can weaponize it against me. Say I stole it or something, maybe, or ask for it back with interest and put me millions in debt.

I really would rather not find out.

“Speaking of,” Rufus adds, tying his robe closed, “Do I make out the check to Lane Elliott, or Aperture Photography?”

“Th-This is payment enough!” I insist. I can’t believe they think they’re going to give me more money than this. The box alone is nearly three times what I’d normally charge for a shoot. My rates were on the card, even. They know this. 

“Nonsense, you deserve to be paid fairly for your time,” Rufus says, “I’ll just make it out to Lane Elliott then, since you won’t decide,” 

Bastard. I refuse to let him pick for me.

“...Make it out to Aperture Photography,” I say, a new determination filling me. Rufus looks at me with a hint of surprise on his face, then grins.

“Reno was right,” he says with a chuckle, “You do have a little bit of feist in there.”

I blush. Reno said that? When?

“Well, I suppose we should let you go home,” Tseng says, moving things along, “Do you have reliable transportation?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks,” I say. I’ll need to stay and reset the studio anyway.

“Lane,” Rufus comes up to me and takes my hands in his. They feel warm and soft, “Thank you for taking your time to do this today. I can’t wait to see the finished products.”

“Aw, thank you,” I gush, “I can’t wait, either. I’ll get started on them first thing Monday morning!”

“Excellent. Oh, I’m so excited. Tseng, we’ll have to find a way to get prints for the walls.”

They turn and make their way to the doors. Rufus is still talking plans to display the photos as he heads out, and Tseng smiles at me as he leaves.

“Thank you, Lane,” he says, “I look forward to seeing you again.”

I smile back and give him a wave.

The studio isn’t hard to put back together - most of the work came this morning to set it up. I’m out of the Shinra building by noon, and on the train less than ten minutes later. Somewhere between the train station and home, I stop for lunch at a place I’ve been meaning to try. It’s a little on the pricier side, and so far I’ve been just managing to scrape by. With my newfound small fortune, I’ll be living far more comfortably. 

Back at home, I flop down on my bed and grab my camera. Tseng had specifically asked me not to view the photos until Monday. I figure he probably meant not to view them on a computer, but I don’t really want to risk it. For all I know, he bugged my camera or something. To avoid the temptation, I pull out the SD card and turn it around gently in my palm, gazing at it. In such a tiny object lies hundreds of photos that could very easily cause mayhem if they fell into the wrong hands. I feel like I should be guarding this thing with my life.

This all feels a bit like I’m dreaming. I begin to wonder when I’ll wake up. 

My mind drifts back to the moment I’d walked in on Rufus in that lingerie. He really did look absolutely beautiful in it. I can almost see the pictures in my mind… The way the lace laid so nicely on his form, the color in complement to his blue eyes and blond hair. The dark background to draw the eye to the pastels… It sure felt like a dream. 

And you know what? Despite what I have heard resoundingly from anyone who’s ever interacted with him, Rufus Shinra is not a dick. In fact, he’s really quite sweet, if he decides that he likes you.

I can’t stop thinking about the feel of his hands on mine.

Chapter Text

The rest of the weekend is a total blur, and before I know it, I’m back on the train Monday morning. When I walk into the office, SD card carefully buried in my camera bag, everyone stops what they’re doing and stares at me. 

I walk quietly to my cubicle, and there on my desk is a new laptop - just like Tseng had promised. A note stuck to the top of it reads:

“For the VP’s project request. Please take care of this computer - it’s on loan.”

It’s not signed, but I already know who it’s from. I go to set down my bag, eager to get started editing those photos, but before I can even sit down, Marjorie is at my doorway.

“Lane, good morning! Can you come with me, please? We’ve got some business to attend to!”

She sounds really happy, and it’s reassuring. Last week had been a panic-fest, but this week, I was already walking in feeling much more confident. Marjorie and I make our way to her office, where she shuts the door. She shuffles around in her desk for a moment, and then pulls out a few forms and a ring of keys.

“Someone stopped by today from the General Affairs department and told me all about what you’ve been up to, Lane,” Cue my heart leaping into my throat, until she continues, “He said the VP was so impressed with your performance last week that he wanted to hire you on the spot. So they took care of things with HR and-”

Marjorie slaps the form out on the table.

“Congratulations, Lane,” she smiles widely, “You’re officially hired!”

I can hardly believe I’m doing this. I take a pen and begin filling in the employee file form - not dissimilar from one that I completed at the beginning of my internship. As I write, Marjorie yammers on.

“I’m amazed with you, Lane. You’ve always shown such incredible drive, not to mention your talent, and I’m just so proud of you for representing our department in such a strong way. Did the VP tell you what sorts of things you’ll be doing in your new position?”

“Um… I… Don’t think I’m supposed to share that info with anyone just yet,”

“Ah, that’s right,” Marjorie nods solemnly, “The gentleman who stopped by this morning did say that the projects were classified. Highly confidential, he said,”

“Gentleman?” I ask, “Did he happen to have long black hair?”

“He sure did! He dropped off that laptop for you on your desk - I’m sure you saw it already. Anyway, you’ll probably want to grab it and bring it with you - new position means a new office for you, kiddo! Here’s your set of keys - Follow me to your new home sweet home!”

Marjorie leads me off to the other end of the PR floor, away from the studio offices and into the bullpen. Marjorie’s actual office is down here, and it looks like I’ll be moving in a few doors down from her. 

“Here we are!” She opens the door to a corner office (corner office - seriously? Damn, Tseng must’ve pulled some punches on this one). We step inside. The space is pretty big for an office, and I expect it to be unfurnished, but to my surprise, it’s quite the opposite. There’s a wide leather futon against one wall, two matching chairs facing the desk, and a very nice-looking executive chair behind it. A company standard-issue desktop computer is already arranged on the surface of the L-shaped desk, and a fancy modern lamp stands in the corner. On the walls are some empty frames, and I’m close enough to one of them to read a note stuck in the corner - “For your favorites,” in Tseng’s neat handwriting.

“Wow,” Marjorie obviously hadn’t come and looked in here earlier, and she seems just as stunned as I am, “This is nicer than my office. I guess working with the VP has some great perks, huh?”

I’m a little afraid that she’s jealous, but if she is, she hides it well.

“Yeah… I wasn’t expecting anything like this. Are you sure I should take this space? Maybe you can move in here and I can take your old office or something.”

“The, uh… gentleman who spoke with me specified that you should keep this one,” she says sheepishly, “I have a feeling that he knew you’d react this way. You’ll have to take it up with him, I guess.”

Take it up with Tseng? No thank you. I’ll accept my lavish fate.

“Well, I do need to get back to work,” Marjorie says, “But feel free to get your stuff moved over! There’s some empty boxes in the supply closet in the hall that you can use. Congrats again!”

I wave goodbye to her and thank her for helping me out, but I don’t follow her out the door right away. Instead, I take in my new space, stepping behind the desk and having a seat in the chair. It’s plush as hell and very comfy, but firm enough to support me as I sit. I wheel it over to the window, marvelling at the view I’ve been given. Even though I’m still only on the 16th floor, I can see right down to the cafe balcony below, where several employees are milling about, having meetings or grabbing a last-minute breakfast. In the distance, the Sector 5 plate stretches out before me, and I have a brilliant view of the mako reactor at the plate edge. I imagine that in the winter, when it gets dark before I leave, it will look stunning from here.

It’s beautiful.

It’s… almost too much. 

But I don’t have time to dawdle - I did tell Rufus that I’d start on his photos first thing. I better get moved over as soon as I can. 

For as hard as I try to do that, however, it isn’t as easy as it sounds. I have quite a few things to bring over from my little cubicle, and it takes a few trips. The atmospheres between the two wings of this floor are stark in contrast. On the studio offices side, nobody says a word to me - not even Jenny as we pass by one another. But I keep getting stopped by folks on the PR side, introducing themselves and commenting that “You must be the new employee in the corner office!” Despite the fact that I’ve suddenly overtaken most of them in terms of apparent seniority, none of them seem bothered by that fact. Even after I get fully settled in, folks keep stopping by to say hello, and I find no opportunity to get my new laptop open. By the time I do finally find a moment of peace, my stomach growls loudly. It’s time for lunch, and I decide to put off starting the editing until after I can fuel up.

I make my trip down to the cafe and grab some food, taking it out to the cafe balcony to eat in the nice weather. I gaze up at the building, trying to see if I can tell which office window is mine. I think I can see it… right on the end, on the fourteenth row from here. I think that’s the one.

When I return to my new office, I am glad to finally get that new laptop opened. Immediately, I can tell that it’s far different from a company laptop. It’s sleeker and seems to be more cutting-edge in terms of the technology. A variety of photo editing programs are installed, and I notice that the device isn’t connected to the building’s wireless network - it’s on some kind of unlisted private network. Weird. Probably a security feature to prevent hacking, I guess.

I’m reaching for my camera bag and have just extracted the SD card when the new computer dings with an alert sound. An email, and according to the notification, it’s from Tseng. I click on it. The company email app seems to be integrated into this system - it opens in its own window rather than in a browser. The inbox is typical as ever, exactly how I’d left it on Friday - now with the unread message. I open it.

“Lane - 

Good afternoon. I hope you’re enjoying the new office. The Vice President selected it just for you - it’s been inspected to ensure that our rigorous standards of privacy are met. Provided that you liberally employ the door lock, of course. 

A reminder to you - the new computer that was on your desk this morning is on loan. It is meant for use only within your new office, and will automatically lock if it is removed from the building. Please do not try to connect to any other networks than the current one. If you have any issues with connectivity, please contact me. My phone number is attached - it might be wise to create a contact ASAP. 

Please let me know if you need anything from me to help you be successful in your work. 

Tseng

Director, Administrative Research

Shinra Electric Power Company”

It takes me a minute to process everything I read, one thing at a time. After I get through the first paragraph for the third time, I realize that the door is unlocked right now, and I get up right away to make sure it’s shut tightly. Returning to my desk, I glance down at the piece of technology that’s apparently going to live here forever now. It locks down if I remove it from the building? Wow, they really are taking this seriously. Makes enough sense, but still. And finally, I wave my cursor over Tseng’s email icon. It’s blank, including no photo like most employees’ profiles. Clicking on it restates his name and includes a phone number, which I quickly add to my phone’s contact list.

Then the closing. Do I need anything? Well, no, but I should probably thank him and confirm that I got the message.

“Tseng - 

Thank you for helping get all of this arranged. I have to admit, as much as I’m excited to be taking on this position, I was pretty stunned with the size of this office. This really wasn’t necessary.

I’ll heed your instructions carefully regarding the privacy practices and computer. There’s nothing I need right now - I’m just getting started on editing the photos, and will be sending proofs to the Vice President as soon as I can!

Thanks,

Lane Elliott

Photographer, PR

Shinra Electric Power Company”

As I’m getting the SD card clicked into the computer’s reader slot, I get another message.

“Lane - 

The new office was absolutely necessary. The cubicle you were in was not up to the required privacy standard. Furthermore, Rufus was insistent upon the particular selected office space. Let’s just say there are some alternative motivations for his choice beyond privacy - best not to question it at this time.

Glad to hear you’re getting settled in. Feel free to reach out at any time. 

Tseng

Director, Administrative Research

Shinra Electric Power Company”

The contents of that particular email stun me for a moment. “Alternative motivations?” What the hell did that mean?

Well… Best not to question it at this time, I guess. I let it fall from my mind, getting distracted by another curiosity in the email. Tseng’s email signature states that his job title is “Director of Administrative Research.” I haven’t ever heard of the Administrative Research department - what is that? Doesn’t exactly seem like a title a bodyguard would have.

Maybe he isn’t a bodyguard after all. But then what does he do?

I get distracted again, however, as my editing program finally loads and opens. The photos from the SD card begin to upload to the system, and I’m washed over with memories from our weekend session. Rufus’s elegant, strong form graces my screen, and I begin paging through the raw shots. They’re dazzling already - minimal editing will be required. Rufus is already perfectly picturesque. My first runthrough means picking out my very favorite shots, and it’s one of my favorite parts. It’s also one of the hardest - trying to decide exactly which similar shots to use or let go. I have to do my best to pare them down, especially since the screen declares that I took 648 pictures on Saturday. Good gods, that’s a lot. But, then, it was a long shoot. 

The rest of my week is split between editing all the beautiful photos and learning the ropes of my new department. Just because my new direct supervisor is with another department doesn’t mean I get to skip the PR team’s routines. I’m introduced at the Tuesday morning meeting to another new batch of coworkers, and Marjorie takes the time to give me a tour of the Floor 17 PR space, where videography mostly takes place. I earn myself a spot in the office fridge and a key to the storage closets, plus a dedicated studio key. Most importantly, my own personal building key is included on my keychain, meaning I am now at liberty to come into the building during off-hours. I have a feeling that will be needed.  

On Thursday morning, Marjorie catches me in the break room, grabbing a cup of coffee. She asks me how things are going, and we make small talk while my coffee brews.

“Say, I wanted to ask you something,” she says casually, “That gentleman with the long black hair swung by the studio offices yesterday. He asked to borrow a camera on behalf of his department and asked some questions about recording equipment. You wouldn’t happen to know what it might be getting used for, do you?”

I furrow my brow, baffled. Sounds like Tseng… but he didn’t tell me anything about it. Why didn’t he just come ask me those questions?

“No, I have no idea,” I say in truth, “That’s pretty odd, though. I wonder if it’s something for a project I might get placed on. Apparently the guy is with the ‘Administrative Research’ department - do you have any idea what that is?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Marjorie answers, her brow creasing now too, “I thought you would know. That’s really strange - I’ve worked here for fifteen years, but I’ve never even heard of that department.”

“Huh… Guess it’s just… classified,” I conclude, pouring myself a mug.

“What sorts of projects are you working on this week, Lane?” Marjorie asks politely, trying to maintain the conversation.

“Um… I think that’s classified too, actually,” I answer lowly, “I was told that privacy was the priority, so I don’t think I’m allowed to share,”

“Oh,” she sounds a little disappointed, “Well, whatever you’re up to, I hope it’s going well!”

“Thanks - see you around!” I say as I start back toward my desk.

As I sip at my coffee, I let that conversation roll around in my head. How could an entire department be totally classified, to the point where senior employees don’t even know about it? That just seems so off to me. 

I set down my coffee and turn on my company desktop computer. When it opens, I bring up the staff database and type in the search bar - “Tseng.”

No results .

Huh?

I try another tactic - “Reno.”

No results.

“Rufus Shinra?”

This time, I’m rewarded with the VP’s company profile. He’s not an employee, so it looks different from what would normally be up here. Most of the usual employee info, like office number and contact info, is missing entirely. Just a long, eloquent bio on his page, along with a nice headshot from whenever the last round was taken. 

Just to make sure things aren’t just broken, I look up my own name - “Lane Elliott.”

My profile appears, now listing me as a photographer in the PR department, rather than an intern. All the info is here from the form that Marjorie had me fill out - contact info, office number, and more. My intern badge headshot is the photo on the page - nothing to write home about. I recall that Jenny took it. 

All this means the system is working, then. Even though I don’t have Tseng or Reno’s full names, just the bits I have should still yield search results. 

So they’ve been deliberately excluded from the database.

I type in “PR.” Instantly, the profiles of all the PR employees appear in alphabetical order. So, in that case… I type in “Administrative Research.”

No results.

Oh, come ON. 

I try the web browser. I look up “Shinra Administrative Research department.” No relevant results - everything that appears isn’t what I’m looking for; it’s mostly about the administrative department in general. 

Sigh. Fine, you win. I give up. 

Out of curiosity and convenience, I decide to look up “Rufus Shinra” and see what comes up. Most of the results are tabloids - he seems to be a popular subject. “The Most Eligible Bachelor in Midgar,” one proclaims in its title article. “Single in Secret?” another asks. So, despite clearly (in my experience) having at least one lover, the tabloids haven’t seemed to pick up on that yet. Yep, Rufus clearly values his privacy. And looking at these crazy headlines and paparazzi shots, I can see why. No wonder the man hates having his photo taken - it happens a hundred times every time he steps outside. 

Ugh, okay, speaking of, I still have photos to edit. I put my nose back to the grindstone, shutting down the desktop and returning to the secure laptop.

By lunchtime on Friday, I have all my proofs ready to go to Rufus for approval and edits. I send them out when I get back from my meal, and busy myself with a little more fruitless research attempts while I wait for a response.

Ding.

“Lane, these are absolutely beautiful. I adore them, and I have no further edits for you. Thank you for your care and diligence with this project.

There’s no need to delete the images from the secure laptop, but please lock them in an encrypted file before you leave for the day. I look forward to doing this again very soon - I’m already considering new ideas for shoots.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Rufus”

His praise makes me blush. I quickly get to work following his instruction to lock the photos up securely before shutting down the laptop, and I’m pleased to have a chance to walk out of work a couple hours early today. On the train ride home, I find myself fantasizing about future shoots myself. My mind drifts to a body painting shoot… Oh shit, or what about a painting with the body shoot? A wide canvas, paint brushed in thick strokes across his form, for him to sit or lay and leave marks of all his best features…

I’m lost in it by the time I get home.

Chapter Text

It’s Friday evening. Which means it is time for my favorite weekly ritual. 

The black dress shirt, the gray slacks, and black mask and flat cap. Camera bag slung over my shoulder, and a somewhat heartier meal than last week before hopping on the train.

Aperture is alive, and they are ready to roll.

Spicier greets me, SD card is in place, and I scan around for pink bracelets. This is my passion, my job, and I adore every single second of it. 

It’s a few hours in when I pause to watch a scene. An impact session in the corner - a young lady approached one of the house tops for the evening, and the show they put on is spectacular. She’s very vocal, yipping and gasping as he lays into her with a short, handheld paddle. She doesn’t have a bracelet on, so I keep my camera pointed away and watch with rapt interest.

I can vaguely hear Tseng’s voice in the back of my head - “How come you don’t ever scene at the parties you attend?”

For a moment there, I almost consider it. Maybe not with that particular top, but perhaps there’s someone here tonight that I could find the courage to ask. Someone I know a bit better. The double-edged sword of photography is that it’s my job to be inconspicuous and blend in, which means I don’t often get a good chance to socialize at these things. When I do, the night is wrapping up and most folks are gone, except for Spicier and the other group leaders, who I do know well already. But as far as I can tell, none of them are topping tonight. 

I resolve to keep looking, but the resolve fades as another scene begins in the center of the room. Bracelets ahoy - I head over and get back into my photo groove. 

I am pulled out of it later by a tap on my shoulder. I stand and turn, jumping in shock when I realize who I’m looking at. 

“Aperture, right?” he says in that velvet tone, “Shion. We met last week.”

Tseng.

What’s he doing here? I thought he said last week that he doesn’t usually make it to the Friday parties - sporadic schedule. Why is he here now? I barely even manage to greet him.

“...Hi.”

“How’s the photography tonight?” he asks, making small talk. I feel sweat drip down my back.

“Oh, it’s… uh, good,” I say, “Lots of good scenes tonight.”

“Indeed,” he agrees, turning his face up to survey the sights happening around the room. It’s always busy and bustling in here, but right now, my world is down to just the two of us. 

“I’ve been wondering… Do these photos get edited at all? Do you do that?” he inquires.

“They do get edited, but I don’t edit them. Spicier does, actually - it’s his SD card. He gives it to me at the beginning of the night, and I give it back at the end. More secure that way,”

“Hm,” Tseng - Shion - nods in understanding, then turns rather suddenly. I see that he’s been tapped on the shoulder himself - two women in black and gold dresses are giggling to each other and speak to him.

“Shion, we heard you were house topping,” one of them says, “And… We were wondering if you’d be willing to scene with us tonight?”

“Yeah, please?” the other tacks on. They seem a little overenthusiastic to me, but hey, they’ve got more courage than I do. House topping tonight, huh? I assume that means that Reno isn’t here.

“That would be fine, ladies,” Tseng says, “But I won’t be available until later this evening. Why don’t you check back in an hour or so? I’ll save you a spot on my schedule.”

The girls squeal to themselves and flitter about, thanking him before disappearing back into the crowd. They’re acting like schoolgirls with a crush - Is Tseng really that in-demand here?

“Speaking of,” he says, turning back to me and standing up straight, “I was about to ask you the same question.”

“Huh?”

“I have some time available right now, and I was wondering if you would be interested in scening with me, Aperture.”

I think my brain might explode. I feel hot blush rise into my face, and I can’t get words out - just stuttered filler. 

He laughs softly at me.

“There’s no pressure,” he says, beginning to turn, “We can save it for another time, if you’re not feeling up to it tonight. Just thought I’d offer,” He moves to step away from me.

It’s now or never. If I let him walk away, I might never get another chance.

I reach out and grab his arm.

“I-I want to,” I stutter, “But… I want to negotiate first,” There I go again, establishing a boundary. That’s a pretty big achievement on my end.

Tseng chuckles.

“I wouldn’t dream of scening without a negotiation,” he says. Before I can react, his arm slides halfway from my grip and twists, switching our positions - now he’s got a firm grip on my wrist instead.

“Come,” he tells me, “Let’s go talk in the quiet corner.”

He leads me away, gloved hand still firmly on my wrist. I feel like a child getting led around, struggling to keep up with his long-legged strides. When we arrive at the couches in the quiet corner, he releases me, and we sit next to each other on a long sectional.

“Well,” he says, leaning back and getting comfortable, “Let’s start with the basics. Did you have anything to eat and drink before you came here?”

“Yes,” I answer, trying to convey the truth with confidence to avoid a repeat of last week, “I had some sushi and a bottle of water on the way.”

“Good,” he grins, “How about your general mood - did you have a good day? Didn’t overwork yourself?”

“I had a great day,” I say with a smile, confidence suddenly welling up within me. Where is that coming from?

“Glad to hear it,” he says, leaning forward, “And one last thing. As we’ve discussed, we’ll use the stoplight system for safewords. As always, you’re welcome to use them at any time. Because I’m not familiar with your thresholds yet, I’m going to depend on you using them tonight so I know when to slow down or stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say with a happy nod.

“So then, onto the meat of this - What kind of scene will we be getting ourselves into tonight?”

My confidence pops like a balloon, withering pathetically to the floor. I don’t have a good answer for him.

“I recall you mentioning you have some exhibitionistic tendencies,” he says, “So something where plenty of people will get to watch. BDSM is a wide topic, you know - Are you in the mood for anything specific tonight?”

At this question, my mind immediately jumps to somewhere completely unprecedented. I’m struck with a sudden visual of myself, tossed over the lap of this handsome dominant, getting a lecture and a spanking for misbehaving. It causes my face to flush again.

No way in hell am I ever going to admit that out loud. 

“... I don’t know,” I squeak.

“I’m comfortable with just about anything under that umbrella,” he states, “Sensation play, flogging, spanking… Any of that strike your fancy?”

Internally, I struggle. Spanking is on the table…

If I don’t ask for what I want, I’ll never get it. I dig deep for one last well of courage.

“Spanking sounds… good,” I awkwardly stammer. 

“Spanking, huh?” Tseng leans forward and locks his eyes with mine, “That sounds like a lot of fun - domestic discipline is something of a specialty of mine, actually.”

For the first time, a rush of air gasps out of me before I can stop it. I’m starting to lose my cool, and Tseng can read it on my face. He begins to pick me apart rapidly.

“Oh, seems like that has you fairly excited,” he smirks, baring his teeth, “I’ll bet you’d like me to give you a lecture and a proper spanking - over my knee, bottom bared for my hand,” He’s inching closer and closer to me, and I feel myself back up as far as I can against the cushion. I feel like a mouse in a trap, and I cover my mouth with my hand in a lame attempt to hide.

“Do you have any objections to that?” He asks, his tone softening slightly, “Or is that what you’d like to do for our scene?”

“It’s… perfect,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. He smiles widely, obviously pleased with how well he read me.

“Good,” he says, “Then, before we begin, is there anything else that we need to take care of? Perhaps we need to find a safe spot to stash your camera?”

“Oh, yeah,” I look down at the device in my lap, and carefully remove the neck strap, “I left the camera bag with Spicier. He’ll be willing to look after it - I know it’ll be safe with him.”

“Excellent,” Tseng says, standing up, “Then let’s go.”

He waits for me to stand up and start to gingerly walk toward the bar where Spicier and his friends hang out. I must be moving too slowly for him though, because he puts both hands on my shoulders and pushes me along until we arrive at the group.

“Good evening,” he says, sounding perfectly confident and professional, “We were wondering if you’d be willing to keep an eye on Aperture’s camera for a while. They’ll need somewhere safe to keep it while we scene.”

“Aperture!” Spicier smiles and gives me an excited look, “Look at you! Totally, dudes - here,” Spicier produces the camera bag from behind him, holding it out so I can stuff the camera inside and zip it shut, “I’m so glad you’re finally going for it, Aperture! I don’t think you’ve scened at all since you started taking pics for us - go have fun! I’ll watch your camera.”

“Th-Thanks,” I stutter as the whole group jeers at me in support, cheering me on from the sidelines as Tseng leads me away again toward the corner of the room that’s decked out with impact furniture.

There’s a lot of fancy stuff back in this corner - a spanking bench, a cross, and rope hard point - But the thing that Tseng reaches for is a simple, straight-backed chair. He sets it up right in the middle of the space, facing the crowd of people who have started to gather, and pulls off his leather gloves before he sits down.

“Alright,” he says, “Are you ready?”

Standing in front of him, blushing redder than a tomato, I feel totally exposed.

“...Yes,” I finally squeak.

“That’s ‘Yes, Sir,’ from now on,” he says sternly, the warmth on his face suddenly turning to ice, “Come here.”

I feel frozen by his gaze, but somehow manage to scoot my way over to the spot he’s indicating, right in front of him. I look down into his amber eyes, surrounded with the dark of the mask, as they cut straight through me. Am I shaking?

“Do you know why you’re getting a spanking today?” he asks me.

“Because…” I hesitate, “...Because that’s what we agreed to do?”

I can hear members of the crowd behind me laugh. Even Tseng lets a smirk cross his lips.

“Well, yes, that’s part of the reason,” he says, returning to seriousness, “But this isn’t going to be all fun and games for you, Aperture.”

He wipes the smile off my face as he reaches to my midsection, deftly undoing the button and zipper on my slacks.

“I don’t believe you’ve been very honest and forthcoming with me or my partners,” he growls, “And I intend to punish you for lying to me.”

Fuck - that’s right. I’d lied to him last week about my business card. Emotions and excitement roil inside me like a stormy sea. I can feel the waves crashing in my lungs, brought to a sudden and screeching halt as his hands grip either side of my waistband.

In a single sharp tug, my pants are suddenly around my knees. On instinct, I reach down to cover myself.

“Hands behind your head,” he orders. His tone is so commanding that I follow his instruction promptly, lacing my fingers together at the band of my cap. As I move, so does he, finding the waistband of my underwear below my shirt hem and yanking those down too.

I’m pretty sure this is the most naked I’ve been in public in months. I can already feel how much that simple fact has me dripping wet, but I’m quickly distracted as Tseng’s hands grab me again. One of them snags my elbow, and the other wraps around my back and waist, and with the leverage the grip provides, he smoothly throws me down over his lap, presenting me for him. My fingers unlace, and I find a grip on the legs of the chair for stability. 

A hand caresses my ass, and I gasp at the surprising touch. With no way to see what’s going on up there, I’m resigned to spend the entire scene gasping at surprises. 

“I know you haven’t just lied to me , either,” he says, giving a few gentle pats. I can feel everything jiggle as he plays with me, “You’ve been dishonest with one of my partners as well. And I believe you haven’t been very forthcoming with the full truth either, most of the time. You’re happy to just leave things vague...”

Smack . A sharp hit claps down out of nowhere, and I throw my head back and yelp.

“...But as far as I’m concerned, omitting the truth is just as bad as a full-on lie,”

Smack . Another hit, on the other side this time. I gasp and wince hard. Fuck, that stings so bad.

“And I don’t tolerate liars, Aperture. If I catch anyone lying to me, then I make sure they understand exactly what they’ve done wrong.”

The spanks start to pick up in speed as he lectures. The values of honesty trail in and out of my ears as my existence focuses into the throbbing pain on my backside. Every once in a while, if he thinks I didn’t hear him, he’ll give me an extra smack on my thighs, and those hits hurt like a son of a bitch . He keeps going, and eventually his rhythm steadies at a quick but tolerable pace. I can’t stop all the noise coming out of me - shouts and yips and yelps, gasps and hiccups. All of it comes out in an attempt to bite back the moans I want to let go.

Not yet, Lane, not now - please.

“You know,” Tseng says after a bit, continuing to spank me as he speaks, “I’m beginning to think that just one punishment won’t be enough for you, will it?”

I have no answer for him - just gasps and jumps. His statement does make me zero in on his words, however - the implication of that sentiment is clear: “Let’s do this again sometime.”

“Oh yes, you’ll definitely need some maintenance,” he continues, monologuing as I fight to keep still, “I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve to straighten out liars like you. I’m happy to make my subs write lines or letters of apology,” I squeeze my eyes shut, holding my breath to hold back that moan now. I can’t let him know I’m into that kind of thing . It would spell disaster at work.

He continues.

“Or maybe I’ll teach you not to lie with a good old-fashioned mouthsoaping,”

Oh no.

The held breath bursts from deep within me and I gasp back in, broken by this threat instantly into a begging, pleading mess.

“ Noooo, oh no, pleeeease…” I moan, no longer in control of my own mouth. 

The spanking stops suddenly, and in its place, I feel a hand grip my hair. Fuck, when did my cap fall off? He yanks upward, forcing me to lift my head to full attention.

“Oh, now that was an interesting reaction,” he purrs. I glance back to see him grinning - he’s about to pour my deepest secret all over the floor, and I know he knows that. I’m sure he can see the lust-drunk panic in my eyes.

“Alright, Aperture,” he says, giving my head a light shake, “You want to earn my forgiveness? Here’s your chance. I want the full, honest truth.”

I hold my breath.

“Do you like getting your mouth washed out with soap?”

It’s spoken in a soft growl, a knowing tone. I know he knows the answer already, but I do everything in my power to hold on to the last breath, holding back my last shreds of pride and dignity. 

It is not enough.

“ Yes! ” I cry, repeating the word countless times and moaning loudly at the sheer idea. My fetish, my deepest, strangest fantasy, on display in front of dozens and dozens of people. Including the man who is functionally my boss, who I know for a fact will use this against me.

Tseng releases my hair, and my head falls limply back toward the floor. I can feel tears pooling in my eyes, blurring my vision, as he gently strokes my ass, running his hands over the spots that still burn and sting. 

“Good job,” he praises softly, then his tone firms up to seriousness, “How are you feeling? Are you ready to be done?”

“...Y-yeah,” I huff, still trying to get a handle back on my breathing. I feel him shift beneath me, his hands reaching toward mine to help me find the stability to stand. As soon as I’m up, he reaches down and pulls my underwear halfway up, letting me take over and get them situated. We copy the same steps to pull up my pants, and he places a hand on my shoulder as we walk back to the quiet corner couches.

I make the mistake of trying to sit, and hiss through my teeth as my sore ass collides with the couch cushion. I pop back up, and Tseng sits on the couch as he watches me.

“Here,” He pulls the cushion I sat on right off the couch and tosses it to the floor at his feet, “It might be more comfortable for you to kneel on that instead.”

I take his advice, kneeling down on the cushion and savoring the lack of pain that the position affords me. 

Out of nowhere, Tseng suddenly produces my cap in his hands. Before I can find the strength to grab it, he pulls it back over my hair himself, making sure to adjust it so it isn’t too low over my eyes. I look up at him, still trying to decide if this is all a dream or not.

“How do you feel?” he asks me.

“‘M good,” I mumble in response, resting my cheek against the couch. He lets me recover in quiet for a moment, then turns to me again.

“Aperture,” he commands my attention and seriousness, “Do you really like having your mouth washed out with soap?”

I blush hard again, and bury my face in the couch cushion. Well, there’s no use hiding it. I’m not about to lie to him again after all that.

“...Yes,” I admit, “It’s… kind of like my main thing. S-soap in general, I mean…”

Tseng chuckles, which makes me blush harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” he says, laying a hand on my head, “It’s just a bit of a funny coincidence. I happen to be very close to someone else with that exact same fetish.”

My eyes widen and I gaze up at him in disbelief.

“You’re kidding,” I say. No, he has to be. I genuinely don’t believe him.

“I’m certainly not,” he says, giving me a pointed look, “I’ll have to make it a point to introduce the two of you sometime soon. You’d both get along so nicely.”

It takes me a few minutes to fully parse that. He’s… actually telling the truth, isn’t he? I try to dissect his words - was he actually referring to me in some roundabout way? No, that’s not it. I suddenly wonder if it might be Rufus or Reno that he was referring to - I guess time would tell. But he made it sound like I haven’t met this person yet.

Wow. And here I thought I was alone. Not only is that not true, but someone just like me is a lot closer than I ever could’ve imagined. 

“So,” Tseng says, checking his watch, “Are you doing okay? Anything you’d like me to get you?”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” I say.

“Okay. I must say, that’s one of the most fun scenes I’ve done in a long while. I wasn’t kidding - I’d love to do this again, if you’re ever feeling up to it.”

“That sounds great,” I smile up at him, “It was really fun.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, I do have some other scene appointments tonight that I should honor,” He stands up and extracts his gloves from his pocket, pulling them back on, “I’d like you to get some water while you’re up at the bar. Keep in touch with your headspace tonight, don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Mm-hm,” I nod quietly, not actually processing any of his advice.

“And Aperture?” He turns back toward me, “If you need me for any reason, you know how to get ahold of me. I’ll be available to you any time - don’t hesitate to reach out, alright?”

“O-okay,” I say, watching him go. When he’s halfway across the floor, those two girls run up to him again and, judging by the way they bounce and squeal, he agrees to scene with them. The trio walks off to another corner.

...What do I do now? I haven’t scened in so long, I’ve forgotten what comes after aftercare. My mind still feels foggy and blurred.

My camera. Yeah, I need to get back to the photos. People will be upset if I don’t get enough shots.

I somehow manage to get back on my feet and put the couch cushion back where it belongs, then stagger over to the bar. The bartender kindly pours me a glass of water, and I stand as I sip on it. I don’t sip very long, leaving more than two-thirds of the glass on the bartop before I make my way back over to Spicier.

“Hey… Can I grab the camera?” I ask him, pointing to where I can see it on the floor.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Spicier asks me, raising an eyebrow, “You still look kinda shook up. That was an awesome scene, but pretty intense - Shion didn’t push your boundaries, did he? Did you get enough aftercare?”

“Oh, no, it was…” I hesitate, unable to keep myself from smiling, “It was really awesome. I’m good now, it’s just been a while. But I need to get back to shooting.”

“Why the rush?” Hera asks, ever the mom-type, “There’s no time limit on the pictures. You should rest a little longer. Maybe you should have some more water to drink.”

“But-”

“Aperture,” Spicier cuts me off and gives me probably the most serious look I’ve ever seen from him, “We appreciate your photography skills, but you have to remember that it’s a donation of your time and talent. It isn’t an obligation. More than anything, I want everyone here to have a good time. If you want to scene and have fun, then you’re always welcome to do that. I’ll always hold the camera for you, no questions asked. This isn’t your job - don’t treat it like one.”

“You’re also allowed to come to events and just not take photos, you know,” Hera adds, “In fact, I know you’re glad to be here, but it’s getting pretty late already anyway. Don’t take this the wrong way - I’m not kicking you out! - but maybe you should take the rest of the night to recover? You might think about heading home.”

I lower my head, considering that possibility. I really don’t want to leave - especially while Tseng is here - but I also don’t want to crash on the couch here either. Regardless, it doesn’t seem like I’m going to get the camera back tonight. I don’t want to admit it, but they’re right - I don’t have the strength to do my best right now. 

Reluctantly, I nod.

“Here,” Spicier picks up the camera bag, carefully removes my camera, and pops out the SD card, “You still got a lot of good pics tonight, right? I can’t wait to see them!” He zips the bag back up and hands it to me, “Now go home and rest up. There’s always next week, but you gotta take care of yourself tonight first.”

“Thanks, guys,” I say genuinely, “I appreciate that you’re always looking out for me,”

“Anytime, kiddo,” Hera smiles, and extends her arms for a hug. I take her up on her offer.

“Oh, also,” I say, “If Ts- uh, Shion asks where I went, will you just let him know that I went home? And that I’m fine, I just… need to rest.”

“Of course, hun,” Hera smiles warmly, “You gonna be okay getting home on your own?”

“Yep,” I grin, slinging the camera bag back over my shoulder. I give the group a wave as I walk toward the exit. I’m not sure where Tseng and those girls went… Too bad, I’d hoped to let him know myself that I’m heading home. As I step out the door, I remember that I do still have his phone number.

I pull my phone from my pocket and send him a quick text.

“Thanks again for tonight. I got really tired, so I’m headed home. Hope I see you again soon.”

It’s a long walk to the train station, but somehow, I feel like I can do it.

Chapter Text

The sunrise is what wakes me up the next morning. Fuck… What happened? I hardly even remember getting home from-

Oh. Wait. Holy shit, that’s right.

I roll over to sit up, and a warm pain radiates through my ass into the rest of my body. I groan as the memories rush back over me, and I bury my face in my hands.

I confessed my fetish. Out loud. To everyone.

Including my new boss.

In response to this realization, I promptly roll back over and cower under my covers for another hour. I try to see if sleep will return, but it does not.

I can count on one hand the number of people who knew about that before last night. I’ve been so careful to guard it, and it only took one fucking sentence in that sexy growly voice to undo years of my carefully planned hiding. 

Spicier and the group leaders didn’t even know. Like, I’ve kept that shit tight .

All for nothing now. Now everyone knows.

I can’t hide from it forever. Eventually I sit up again and grab my phone, seeking any distraction I can get. 

There’s a text message waiting for me. From Tseng, sent at 12:44 last night. About twenty minutes after I left the party. 

“Thank you for letting me know. Please rest up, and let me know if you need anything.”

Hell of a distraction. Still, the contents of the text is reassuring - he doesn’t seem to be mad at me for leaving. 

I convince myself to get out of bed and get some breakfast in my system. The box of gil from last weekend is still sitting on the counter, tempting me to order in, but I’ve still got a bulk pack of oatmeal to work through. Can’t put anything new on the shelves until that’s gone - there’s no more room. This entire place is a closet. “Studio apartment,” my ass. 

As the water boils on the stovetop, I let my mind wander again. You know… I sure hope that Rufus and Reno are okay with what happened last night. I hadn’t even really thought of them at all in the moment, but is it really okay for Tseng to just go out scening with whoever he wants whenever?

I’m… Still not entirely sure how their relationships work. Do they just fuck around with each other, or do things run deeper than that?

My thoughts are interrupted by another text notification. 

From: Tseng

“Good morning, I hope you got some good rest. Just wanted to check in with you - how are you doing today?”

Why the fuck did that make me blush? That shouldn’t make me blush. 

“Thanks, I passed out as soon as I got home. I feel fine, still sort of tired I guess”

I resume mixing my breakfast.

Ding .

“To be expected. Let me know if you feel like you’re dropping - I’ll be available all day to help.”

I furrow my brow. I appreciate the sentiment, but how does he expect to help me? Text supportive messages? He doesn’t seem like the type to do that.

At any rate, his mention of drop provides some clarity. That is kind of what I feel - this lowness and vague sense of regret. I reflect as I eat. Do I really regret anything I did? I mean, really, that was probably the safest possible place for that series of events to go down. Spicier and the others were clearly watching out for me, and it’s not like anyone there is going to attack me for my interests. People do much more intense stuff all the time - I’ve watched some neat blood and needleplay scenes in the past. Soap is almost juvenile in comparison. Uncommon as hell, sure, but… Well, thinking back, maybe not. Tseng did say he knew someone else like me.

I’m still not sure I believe that. I imagine he was probably just talking about me in some roundabout way. 

He laughed at me.

Sigh. There’s that drop mindset again - that dip in self-confidence. Not that there was terribly much there to begin with.

It’s okay, I don’t need help. I know what to look for and how to counteract it. Tseng’s mentioning it was all I needed.

I can tell that I spend the weekend dropping, but knowing what to look out for keeps me sane. I don’t let it get me down, and let myself recover in time. I don’t need to deal with the fallout from any of that until next Friday anyway. Tseng wouldn’t bring it up at work, right? 

I mean, I don’t really believe that for a second, but I try to convince myself that I do. It’s the only thing that gets me back on the train Monday morning.

I’m not sure I remember getting to my desk from there. My brain is still so much of a blur… If I’m not dreading the consequences of my confession, I’m fantasizing about them. Tseng did mention that he specialized in domestic discipline, and mouthsoaping falls squarely into that category. He brought it up completely unprompted. I keep imagining what it would be like if he were to actually follow through on his threat to do it to me. I can’t picture a clear scenario, but simply the concept has me wet by the time I sit down at my new desk.

There’s an email waiting for me when I open the secure laptop. I click on it and read. 

From: Tseng

“Lane -

I apologize for the short notice, but is it possible to arrange a photo shoot for this afternoon in the studio? Noon, if possible - we’ll provide lunch.

Please let me know ASAP.

Tseng

Director, Administrative Research

Shinra Electric Power Company”

Oh shit, this afternoon? I’m not sure that’s doable. I open a new tab and login to the PR scheduling app to see if someone else has the space booked for that time.

Well, they don’t (and thus I book it right away just in case), but the offices will still be full of people who could hear just about anything that goes on through those thin walls. I should get the offices cleared first. Which is… tentatively possible. There were a few days in the last few months when we all got emails from higher-ups asking us to clear the offices for the afternoon for photo sessions.

But… I can’t do that, can I?

“Tseng -

The studios are clear for the afternoon, but we’ll need to clear the studio offices if we want any privacy. Only lead photographers are able to clear offices, so unless I get some assistance I’m not sure I’ll be able to have things ready for this afternoon.

I’ll see what I can do.

Lane Elliott

Photographer, PR

Shinra Electric Power Company”

As I’m drafting an email to Marjorie, I get a message back from Tseng.

“Lane, you do realize that your official title is “Principle Photographer,” right? Technically, you outrank the Lead Photographers, and you’re well within your rights to clear the offices. 

You’re perfectly capable of handling this issue on your own.

Tseng

Director, Administrative Research

Shinra Electric Power Company”

I feel myself slide down in my seat. I… outrank all the Lead Photographers? 

That’s a lot of responsibility all at once.

...Okay, breathe, Lane. Tseng and the VP are counting on you to get those offices cleared. 

I can do this.

I scroll back in my inbox until I find the last email we all got. Everything’s already here for me - a general template to copy, plus the address of the PR employee listserv. Easy enough.

Gods, this sucks though. Not like everyone in the studio offices hates me enough already.

Regretfully, I hit send, and sigh. Nothing else to do now - what’s done is done. Hopefully that works. 

“Tseng - 

Email has been sent. That should mean clear offices for us today.

Are you able to elaborate on what today’s shoot might consist of? Any opinions on backdrops or lighting?

Thanks

Lane Elliott

Principle Photographer, PR

Shinra Electric Power Company”

His reply is nearly instant.

“Lane - 

No. White backdrop, no special lights. A large floor space would be best.

Tseng

Director, Administrative Research

Shinra Electric Power Company”

I sigh in frustration.

Well, I’ve got no photos to edit until those new ones are taken, so in the meantime, I head over to the studio to start getting it in shape for whatever Tseng has planned today. No one else had the studio scheduled for this morning, so I’m free to get it set up to save myself time later.

I’m not two steps into the studio office space before I realize that I’ve made a mistake. Every person I pass is glaring at me, absolutely peeved at my email, no doubt. I’ve disrupted their afternoons now, and I know from experience how frustrating that can be. They’ve got every reason to be pissed at me right now.

I wonder if the offices really will be empty when we come through.

Chapter Text

When the studio is ready, I head back to my desk and chill out for a while. Phone games have become my friend in my spare time in this office, but hey, this will have to do. Better than loitering around the studio.

Finally, 11:55 rolls around, and I head back toward the offices to meet Tseng and (I assume) Rufus at the elevator. 

I get there just in time as the doors slide open. I see Tseng’s face first, and he smiles warmly at me. My mind flashes briefly back to Friday night, and I feel a swarm of butterflies in my chest. As he exits, I see he’s got a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He’s followed closely by Rufus, who gives me an equally warm smile, and, to my surprise, trailed by Reno, who looks far less than happy to be here. He looks right through me, pouting as he stomps into the hallway.

“Nice to see you guys again,” I say, trying to be polite. I start to lead them toward the studio, but as we turn into the office space, my stomach drops. 

No one has left. The room is still buzzing with activity, but none of it seems to be work. The employees congregate in pods, sharing their lunches and chatting. As I come around the corner, they all stop to glare at me, then turn back to their conversations.

I turn around. Tseng has stepped up next to me, his brow furrowed as he analyzes what’s going on.

“I thought you said you sent an email,” he says quietly.

“I-I did,” Fuck, my voice is shaking. Hold it together, Lane. I pull out my phone and find the email, double-checking that I wrote in the date and time correctly. Yeah, I did. I knew I did. Tseng peeks over my shoulder and confirms it for himself, then turns around.

“Reno, Rufus,” he says quietly. Without any other communication, the three of them step out around me and into the space, shoulder to shoulder. Conversation stops as my department colleagues realize that the company VP is staring them down.

“I’m certain you all got an email earlier today asking you to clear this area,” Tseng says. His voice is edged, dark, and stern, “It’s past time for you all to be gone .”

“Doesn’t look like much work’s getting done in here, boss,” Reno adds in a smug drawl, leaning against the wall.

“You’re certainly right,” Rufus says lowly, “I thought this department just got audited. Clearly, the team didn’t look close enough. Maybe it’s time to just fire everyone and start over.”

That does the trick. Sandwiches fall to the floor, abandoned, as the studio offices empty in less than a heartbeat. Every single person clears out, nearly trampling me in the process. When the storm passes, I turn back to the trio in front of me.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter, “I didn’t think-”

“Don’t apologize,” Tseng says, “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I didn’t account for just how petty your department colleagues could be,” He shakes his head in exasperation, “But, now that that’s taken care of, shall we get down to business?”

I take a deep breath, trying to recover from being so shaken. Well, hopefully this teaches them all a lesson - they won’t be bothering me again. We walk into the studio.

“So, what’s-” I start, but Tseng cuts me off just as soon as the door is closed.

“Strip,” He orders Reno, who is almost instantly back to looking pissed off. The redhead makes a low, growling whine as he begins to undress, starting with the goggles that rest on his forehead and working his way down.

While Reno strips under Tseng’s supervision, Rufus takes the bag from Tseng’s shoulder and sets it off in the corner, unzipping it and digging through. He looks lovely today, dressed in cream-colored dress pants and a matching vest over a deep blue dress shirt. He looks stunningly handsome.

I’m shaken back to consciousness as Reno steps by me onto the white backdrop I’d picked. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him naked, technically, but this is the first time I’ve knowingly seen him naked. That angry look is still cemented on his face, but the glances he’s giving me are frosted with a blush. He’s embarrassed, and he kneels on the backdrop under the gaze of the other two men in the room.

Rufus and Tseng step over to the redhead, producing various items from behind their backs. Tseng goes first, popping a pair of dog ears onto Reno’s head. They’re fluffy and black, and half-flopped in shape. The sneer on Reno’s face proves his distaste for them - I have a feeling that he’s seen these ears before. 

Tseng turns around to fiddle with something else, and in the meantime, Rufus pushes a bit gag into Reno’s mouth. It’s long and shaped like a dog bone - I’m noticing a pattern here. On top of the bone gag, he secures a muzzle around Reno’s face. Despite the coverage, I can still see his blush.

Tseng turns back around with something damning in his hand, catching me by surprise and causing my breath to hitch. 

A lubed-up tailplug. A big tailplug.

“Turn, pup,” Tseng orders. Reno squeezes his eyes shut, but obeys in silence. I watch in awe as Tseng slowly pushes the plug into him, eliciting whines and wiggles from Reno’s hips. I swear it isn’t going to go all the way in, but eventually it does, accompanied by a moaned cry.

“Just one thing left,” Rufus purrs quietly, then turns to me, “Lane, we want you to start taking pictures with this one.”

Pictures. Right, oh my gods, I’d pretty much forgotten. I rush back to my camera and get it turned on, making sure that everything is arranged before giving Rufus a thumbs up. 

Reno and Rufus are both in profile to my lens, and Rufus smirks as he wraps a leather collar around the redhead’s neck, pausing to adjust his ponytail before securing it and tucking away the ends. Reno scowls at him, and I snap a few photos. 

“You don’t look very happy to be here, Reno,” Tseng says over my shoulder, “What do you think, Lane? Shouldn’t he be smiling for the camera?”

I feel my face flush. 

“I mean… Yeah, the pictures will look a lot nicer if you try to look happy,” I concede.

“You heard them, Reno - Or are you trying to earn more punishment than what you already have coming?”

I almost feel like I’m witnessing something that I shouldn’t be. Reno gives me a glance with a totally new expression, a cross between anger and misery. His eyes beg for mercy, but Rufus puts a hand firmly on the collar and pulls Reno’s attention back to him. I lean down again to focus another shot, and I hear Tseng snap his fingers behind me. Upon hearing the sound, Reno perks up, giving his best effort. 

I really can’t see much of his smile behind the gag and muzzle - especially since his eyes are still expressing emotions that are quite opposite of happy. Nevertheless, it seems to satisfy Tseng and Rufus. Rufus stands up tall and straight, and glances down at his makeshift dog on the floor. 

“Sit pretty,” he commands, “I want these to look professional, like formal portraits.”

Reno whines, to which Rufus smacks him across the face. Reno initially hisses in pain, but the sound he makes devolves into a low moan. I watch his cock jump - fuck, I hadn’t even registered that he was hard. 

“You know by now that if you’re going to bitch about D’s lifestyle, you’ll be the bitch for a day. Honestly, I can’t believe you haven’t learned by now,” Rufus smirks and picks up his foot, toeing at Reno’s hard dick, “I’m starting to think you almost like being my dog.”

Reno moans, a sound reminiscent of the word “No,” but mostly unintelligible through the gag/muzzle combo. 

This… makes a great picture. I snap one.

It earns me a slightly panicked glance from Reno, but Rufus’s shoe brings him back to full attention damn quickly with only a little extra pressure. Rufus looks domineering as hell like this, and it’s a side of him I haven’t had a chance to see yet. Already, I can tell that he’s coming off a lot more sadistic than Tseng. Less business, more play - and I can definitely get down with both sides of that coin.

I’m still trying to grip what’s going on as the shoot continues. Obviously this is some kind of punishment, or… scene? Both, I guess. Hard to tell. More shots of Rufus’s shoe on Reno’s dick, followed by Reno finally sitting pretty. I give him minimal direction, turning him to a 45-degree angle for most of the shots. 

“You know Lane, this puppy knows some tricks,” Rufus tells me with a meaningful look, “You can pose him however you’d like. Don’t be shy.”

Despite the encouragement, I still blush. This isn’t the first time I’ve been asked to participate in the scene I’m photographing - lots of couples turn boudoir shoots into scenes and playtime, and I’m almost always happy to participate, but the stakes of the relationships I have with these guys have me a lot more nervous than usual. What do I say?

“Um… Lie down?” I try something fairly innocuous. With almost no hesitation, Reno lowers his chest to the floor, positioning himself in a somewhat curled-up pose. That’s not a bad picture either - I start taking shots again, and continue to order him around on occasion. Beg, sit, roll over… With the blush on his cheeks and his sad puppy eyes, he looks positively cute.

We soon grab a simple straight-backed chair for Rufus to sit in, and Reno puts his hands on his boss’s knees and gazes into the camera. Rufus almost looks like he’s sitting on a throne - he’s regal like this, his eyes serious and a smirk on his lips just about the entire time. Just like the last shoot, those beautiful, near-perfect shots just keep rolling in, and I reflect on how difficult it’s going to be to pare these ones down too.

If they want them edited, that is. I honestly have no idea what’s going to happen with these photos - are these ones Rufus will want proofs of, or are they some kind of blackmail? Blackmail kind of seems to be the MO with these guys - I know they’ve got plenty enough on me already. I’m guessing that Reno hasn’t escaped that web either. 

Eventually, a moment passes where the shoot lulls. I turn back to check out the last few photos, and out of the corner of my eye I see Tseng dig through the bag again and move toward the center of the room. 

“Alright, pup,” he says, commanding attention, “Time for your potty break.”

The noise Reno makes sounds little like him - an animalistic sound, something between a groan and a squeak. I can’t tell if he’s dreading this, or if it’s turning him on. I guess it’s probably both.

Tseng spreads a white square of padding, edged with blue, on the backdrop floor. He points to the puppy pad and smiles cruelly.

“Go on - show Lane how you’ve been housebroken,” he says, sounding far too pleased with himself. Reno moans again, and Rufus steps off to the side, laughing as he goes.

“If you get a single drop on Lane’s background,” Rufus warns, “I’ll walk you out of here just as you are. Watch your aim.”

Reno’s entire face is bright red now, to the point that I can barely see his tattoos. I’m not entirely sure what to do - am I supposed to watch, or take pictures? I glance over at Tseng, who catches my eye and nods back toward Reno.

“Go ahead - I’m sure Reno would love some pictures of this,” he says, “While we’re on the topic of sharing fetishes, you ought to know that Reno is very much into watersports and humiliation.”

“O-Oh?” I say, perking up a little. So this is a scene, then - Reno’s getting off on this. On any other day, I might doubt Tseng’s trustworthiness, but right now the noises that Reno’s making and the rock-hard state of his dick are confirming exactly what I’ve been told. I smile and pull the camera back up to my face, taking aim and snapping a few shots of his desperation - gotta have the before-and-afters of that puppy pad, after all. 

The first dregs of piss start to dribble out, and once he feels the relief, Reno lets go, gasping and nearly shaking as he releases. The puppy pad is soaked, and the piss splatters back onto his thighs as I snap a long series of pictures. He almost looks as if he’s orgasmed, and the only sound in the room is the gentle hiss and the intermittent noises of pleasure coming from the puppy in the spotlight. Finally, after several very long seconds, the stream turns back into a trickle and Reno sighs deeply, revelling in the pleasurable feeling of emptiness.

Tseng doesn’t let him relax long before he steps onto the backdrop and leans down. I see that he’s got some kind of wipe in his hand, and he runs it over Reno’s cock and thighs, cleaning away any visage of piss that remains. The way he does it is almost clinical - like Reno’s less of a person or a dog and more a piece of furniture. I can tell that Reno feels that way, too, from the way he whimpers and squirms. It almost makes me want to squirm too - that sort of objectification presses a few of my own buttons. More than anything, I want to get some pictures of this (even if just for myself), but I recall Tseng’s order not to take any pictures of him without permission. I don’t want to interrupt, and, as much fun as it could be to get in trouble with him again, I don’t want to violate his consent. That goes too far.

“Stand up,” Tseng orders, his tone all business. Reno obeys, and Tseng makes sure to clean off the rest of his legs before dropping the used wipe on the soaked pad. From his back pocket, he produces a plastic bag and picks up the contained mess from the floor, tying the bag off to seal it away. The distinct smell of pee has only just reached me, and I hope that the bag is enough to suppress it. It’s not a stench I care for. 

“And now I think it’s time for the last part of your punishment. Rufus?”

Chapter Text

Tseng steps off the backdrop to allow Rufus to return. The handsome VP has a small paddle in his hand, composed of black leather and with small, smoothly-rounded rivets along the edges. Oh, that motherfucker is gonna hurt . I’m suddenly extra grateful that these guys helped me clear out the offices earlier - I have a feeling this is going to get loud. I get my camera ready.

“Hello, Elena,” Tseng’s voice from the corner distracts me for a moment, and I turn to see who he’s talking to. His phone is held up to his ear, “Yes, we’re almost ready. Lunch for five, if you’d still like to join us. ...Yes, that will be fine, thank you. Dismissed.”

He starts to put the phone back in his pocket, but my attention is pulled back to Reno and Rufus as a sharp smack lands. Reno yelps, on all fours now, with his ass facing right toward me and my camera… Which is hanging loosely in my hands, not taking pictures. I adjust it, and Rufus glances my way.

“Oh dear, was someone not paying attention?” He stands up a little straighter, pausing to look at me, “Perhaps you could also use a little help focusing, Lane,” Rufus glances over at Tseng, and before I can even look, I can feel his body behind me. 

“Ah!” I squeal as I feel the back of my pants get tugged upward, lifting me to my toes, and it’s immediately followed by several sharp smacks on my ass. It’s electrifying - not that it hurts very much, but rather that I’m immediately pummeled down into subspace as my authority is suddenly revoked.

“You get such good action shots, Lane,” Tseng says, releasing my waistband, “We’d hate to miss any of them.”

I’m almost panting now, trying to catch my breath and regain my balance. My legs feel shaky as I’m released and I nearly fall to the floor, but I keep myself upright and don’t waste any time getting my camera pulled back up to my face so I can take the pictures they want. Once he’s sure that I’m ready, Rufus smiles at my lens and turns back toward Reno, resuming his paddling with another strong strike. 

Having the camera in front of me is like an automatic focuser - I’m immediately drawn back in, timing my camera snaps with the snaps of Rufus’s paddle. I know I’m getting those great shots where you can see the ripple of impact as it screams over Reno’s ass - those shots are the best. The butterflies aren’t gone from my impromptu discipline just seconds ago, but it’s as if they’re frozen in place, put on pause by my need to complete this objective. 

Reno’s clearly not having a very good time. The silicone tail plug wags back and forth wildly as the spanks rain down, and Rufus’s arm seems practiced and steady. He dips a fair number of his hits onto Reno’s upper thighs, and the redhead’s ass is just about the same fiery color as his hair. In a few spots on the edges of the marks, I can see tiny rings where the paddle’s rivets have left their vicious footprints.

By the time Rufus decides he’s done, Reno is shaking. I imagine he’s barely managing to stay upright, and as Rufus finally stops and announces that he’s finished, Reno lets himself slowly slump down to the floor. In the same motion, I let myself loosen up a little, snapping only a few last photos of the aftermath of this intense scene. As I begin to let myself relax and move, the butterflies start to flutter again, coursing through me once more as I fully register the fact that I just got spanked by my supervisor - on the clock, no less.

Rufus walks over to the corner and tosses the paddle back in the bag, swapping it out instead for a handful of different items before walking back over to Reno. I watch as he slowly tugs on Reno’s tailplug until it slides out, producing a plastic bag and dropping the plug inside. He swaps the baggie for a small bottle, overturning it and dispensing what looks to be lotion into his hand before gently massaging it against Reno’s red-hot ass cheeks, one by one. The touches elicit whimpers from Reno, and I find myself tuned into those sounds. Something about the noises he makes are just so… I don’t even know, really. Intimate, I suppose?

It’s right around that point when the door quietly creaks open. I turn to watch a somewhat shorter girl step inside the room almost timidly, toting a bag with her. She wears the same black suit as Tseng, neat and orderly. Her hair is blonde and cut in a cool asymmetrical bob.

“Hey guys,” she says brightly, completely unbothered by the scene occurring in the center of the room, “Lunch is here!”

“Thank you, Elena,” Tseng says, beginning to get his duffle bag rearranged, “Go ahead and set it up on the table over there - we’re just wrapping up.”

“Yes, Sir!” she responds with a smile, then steps past me to reach the table. We catch eyes for a moment, and she stops short. 

“Oh, hello!” she grins, “You’re the photographer I’ve been hearing about, aren’t you?”

“I… Guess I am,” I reply awkwardly, “My name’s Lane.”

“I’m Elena,” she says, taking a half-step toward the table to get things ready, “Nice to meet you!”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too!” Formality is almost automatic to me at this point. This close, I can see how pretty her brown eyes are.

Fuck, she’s cute .

My train of thought is interrupted by a low, spacey chuckle from the floor behind me. Reno snorts.

“Heh… Lane and Laney,” he points out, finally moving to lift himself from the floor. Apparently, Rufus has already removed his gags and the rest of his puppy gear, save the collar. I hear Elena sigh across the room, giving him a playful glare over her shoulder. 

“Yes,” Tseng says slowly, also giving Reno a warning glance, “Lane, Elena is another one of our colleagues. Elena, Lane is Rufus’s new private photographer,” He smirks as he steps over toward the table, starting to grab chairs and set them up so we can sit and chat, “I’m glad to be getting the two of you introduced. You’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future, I’m sure.”

“Huh? Why?” Elena asks as she sets out sandwiches and soda cans from her bag.

“You’ve both got a significant common interest,” Tseng replies. All at once, I feel my heart drop out through my feet. Don’t tell me she’s…

“It seems you’re both very big fans of mouthsoaping.”

I don’t think I’m breathing anymore. Elena freezes, then whips around to stare me down. I stare back at her, and watch as a deep blush climbs up her face, inch by inch. I’m sure mine is doing the same.

“Y-You…?” she starts, not entirely sure what to say, “You like… You really like that ?”

“From what I’d gathered, it’s more than just a ‘like,’” Tseng smirks, grabbing a can of soda and opening it with a click and a hiss, “If I recall correctly, Lane described soap as their ‘main thing.’”

I try to look busy in what may be the world’s poorest attempt to seem unbothered - packing up my camera is the only thing that manages to keep me from hiding my face in my hands. 

“Oh, is that so?” Rufus steps up to the table, running his fingers through my hair as he passes by and making me jump with his touch, “That’s definitely good to know.”

“Talk about a fun fact,” Reno adds, standing and stretching his arms over his head in all his full, naked glory. In what’s almost certainly a health code violation, he also heads over to the lunch table and serves himself, opting to lean against the wall to eat instead of sitting in the chairs with everyone else. I’m the only one not situated with food yet, and I do my best to get a grip and grab the last sandwich and soda. It’s a club, with a big slice of tomato that almost certainly matches my face. The dynamic in the room has suddenly shifted, and now I’m the one at the bottom of the pile - just like that. 

“I’m sure the two of you have plenty of questions for each other,” Tseng grins as I sit, “So, really, go on - don’t let us keep you two from getting to know one another.”

Oh, that’s a setup and a half. He must know that neither of us are going to initiate a conversation about this. The only seat left had been the one next to her, and I find myself unable to do more than steal quick glances in her direction, staring otherwise at the sandwich in my lap. 

As predicted, neither of us say anything. The silence is thick with tension and broken only by the quiet snickering coming from Rufus and Reno, almost too low to hear. 

“I see I’ll have to facilitate some conversation today,” Tseng says, lifting his soda back up to his grinning lips.

“Maybe they need to lay off the soap for a while,” Rufus laughs, “Seems like you washed away more than just the bad words - they don’t seem to have any words right now.”

“Oh my gods…” Reno snorts at his boss’s joke, “The dangers of a soap overdose.”

Even Tseng can’t hold back some breathy laughter - his shoulders bounce just enough to give it away.

“If a ‘soap overdose’ made you stop talking, Reno, you’d have lost your voice a long time ago. I’m willing to bet you’ve had more soap than anyone else here. And you’re not even into it,” he smirks. 

So Reno’s had it, then? Tseng makes it sound like he’s gotten it as a punishment. But was that a punishment he’s gotten from Tseng?

“H-Hey !” Reno’s blush flares up again, “Fat chance. You and Elena do that shit at least once a week!”

“And you’ve been getting it nearly every other week for more than twice as long,” Tseng replies cooly, raising a brow, “Elena may get it more frequently, but she hasn’t been here nearly as long as you.”

My breath catches again. So it’s true, then - Tseng really does give them punishments, including mouthsoapings, at work. What this morning had been senseless fantasy was actually a real thing. Holy fucking shit. And… Am I going to be privy to that? Will I ever get to see? Take pictures? Participate, gods forbid?!

The rest of Tseng’s statement pulls me out of my fantasy spiral though, and it gives me enough courage to steal a real glance at Elena. So she’s also pretty new, huh? I should probably ask her when she started at some point, but right now doesn’t seem like a prime moment. 

“Well… What about Lane?” Reno points at me, “If they’re into it, I bet they do it all the time. They’ve gotta have me beat.”

All the eyes in the room fall on me. They’re waiting for an answer - for me to confirm or deny. Frankly, I don’t know what’s worse - admitting aloud that my real-life experience with this act is quite limited, or lying and ending up blowing Reno’s record out of the water. There’s no winning. 

“I…” I swallow, trying to get my voice to function, “I’ve only done it a dozen or so times,” I admit in a near whisper. Fuck, that fact almost makes me feel like a fraud. Seems like I might be the least-experienced one in the room. 

“You’ve done it to yourself?” Rufus probes, “Or someone’s done it to you?”

Gods, answering these questions is worse than pulling teeth. I can’t get myself to buck up and just answer.

“...Both,” I finally relent, “But… mostly with others.”

“Former partners?” Tseng asks.

“Yeah,” I reply.

“Hm,” Tseng reaches for his sandwich, “So, quite different from Elena’s experience, then.”

I look over at her. She’s still just as red as when the secret first dropped.

“Until I started doing it with these guys,” she admits sheepishly, “I’d only had it a few times… From my parents or teachers.”

That is very different from my experience. 

“Wow…” I say, searching for words, “It… wasn’t a thing at home when I was a kid, but a lot of my friends got it from their parents.”

Elena makes a soft noise, somewhere between a laugh and whimper. I hope we’re not dredging up painful memories here - I couldn’t imagine how I would’ve handled things if my parents had ever brought that punishment to the table in my youth. I’d be traumatized now if they had.

“Lane,” Tseng says, starting a new chain of conversation, “When you told me about your fetish on Friday, you specified that it was about soap ‘in general’ - Would you like to explain to me what you meant by that?”

I can’t help it anymore - one of my hands finds its way to my face and covers my mouth. If I could just learn to control the damn thing for once instead of saying the first thing that pops into my head every time…

“I’m waiting for an answer,” Tseng reminds me, leaning forward slightly. It makes me draw back even further in my seat.

I swallow and try to breathe.

“It just… goes beyond mouthsoaping,” I squeak, the last word trailing off into a whisper as I can’t bring myself to say it aloud, “It’s anytime… that stuff is involved. Baths, hairwashing, even just like, doing chores sometimes… It all just…” I let myself trail off and hide in my hand again. I can’t say any more.

“It all just turns you into a horny little mess,” Reno finishes, teasing me through a mouthful of sandwich. I squeak, and I hear the soft laughter resume. 

“That’s fascinating,” Tseng says, “And then, do you need to be the object of those acts? Or providing? Or does it not matter?”

“...Doesn’t matter,” I cringe, barely holding things together, “Just… needs to involve… yeah.”

“So then, I imagine that walking in on someone in the bath or shower would really turn you on,” Rufus speculates. All I can do is nod, keeping my eyes still fixed on the red tomato of my sandwich in my lap. The air feels like it’s vibrating, especially between me and Elena. 

“Elena, I think you fall somewhere similar,” Tseng addresses her, causing her to jump a little and lift her chin, “You get plenty of enjoyment from soapsticks as well, and baths when we get the chance to do them.”

Soapsticks? That’s a new term to me. I make a mental note to look that up later. Right now, however, Elena whimpers, and I listen carefully to her reactions. 

“Y-Yes, Sir,” she stutters.

“What else have we done?” Tseng asks. I’m not sure if he’s asking a rhetorical question, or if he’s seeking an answer.

Elena answers anyway.

“Well… A-Anytime you wash my hair, Sir… Or, in the- the showers…” Gods, she can barely get the words out too. It’s adorable, actually - really endearing. Do I sound like that?

“I feel like most people enjoy shared baths, or having their hair washed,” Rufus observes, “But for you two, it’s the soap that does it? I’m genuinely curious - what about it is so enticing?”

I glance at Elena, and find that she’s looking back at me. For a moment, we hold gazes, silently sharing our sentiment - Damned if I know. I’ve been into this for as long as I can recall - I don’t know why it’s hot. It just is. Ultimately, I turn back and just sort of shrug. Elena does the same.

“It can be hard to define why one has a fetish,” Tseng answers for us, sipping at his soda, “But, as someone who enjoys delivering a good mouthsoaping every once in a while-”

“Pffft,” Reno rolls his eyes, and Tseng cuts him a glare for interrupting.

“-For me, it’s about the vulnerability of it. It’s a punishment that absolutely requires active participation, and therefore requires the submissive to yield to direction. Not to mention how humiliating and objectifying it can feel to be washed like that.”

His description is pretty spot-on. Elena and I squirm in our seats.

“Hm…” Rufus smiles as he processes the information, “I can see that. Being scrubbed clean like the dirty little things they are. I suppose, deep down, they know they deserve it.”

“Of course they do,” Tseng replies casually, “There’s really some interesting symbolism in it, if you analyze - the innate desire to be punished and cleansed of shameful behavior. Which is especially interesting in the case of these two, because the more you scrub, the more filthy they’re going to get,” Tseng points with two fingers toward our groins, and I cringe again, “So ultimately, you perpetuate a cycle. They’ll never be truly clean...”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t try,” Rufus finishes with a grin. 

“Of course,” Tseng says, “It wouldn’t be any fun otherwise,” His eyes glide back up toward us, and I swear that gaze is going to make me combust. Being talked about like I’m not here is going to be my ultimate demise.

“You know, I gotta admit, I’m sorta glad that there’s two of them now,” Reno says, pausing to take a swig from his soda can, “Hopefully you’ll get so sick of soaping those two that you won’t be able to stand doin’ it to me.”

“You know, the fact that you dislike it is what makes it such a good punishment for you, Reno,” Tseng says, leaning back to catch the redhead’s eye, “And besides, I don’t think I could get tired of it. There are ways to change it up and make it so much more fun - isn’t that right, Elena?” I hear Elena whimper softly.

“Oh?” Rufus adds, “The two of you have been getting experimental lately, hm?”

“Oh yes,” Tseng says, “There are so many factors to consider - location, tools, positions… No two of our sessions are exactly the same, really, and that suits us both just as well.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun,” Rufus chuckles, turning back toward the last few bites of his lunch, “I’ll bet the two of you can’t wait to get Lane at the sink now.”

“I’ll admit I’m very much looking forward to it,” Tseng says, flashing his eyes at me for a second, “But it’s difficult to plan ahead these days. We’ll just have to wait and see when the time arrives. I don’t feel a need to rush, anyhow - nothing wrong with building a little suspense.”

Tseng takes another sip from his drink, but suddenly we hear a muted noise from his pocket - his ringtone. He sets down his soda and pulls his phone out, holding it to his ear.

“Of course, Rude. Thank you. We’ll be down shortly,” With a nod, Tseng hangs up his phone, then stands up. 

“Time certainly flies when you’re having fun,” he says with a grin in my direction, “But it’s past time for us to return to work. There’s a fairly tight list of meetings and tasks that need to be done today,” Tseng makes his way toward the bag in the corner of the room, “Reno, get dressed. Back to work mode.”

“Hmph,” Reno crosses his arms and saunters toward the corner where Tseng is holding his clothes, “Anywhere’s better than having to crawl on the floor like a dumb dog.”

“Oh Reno, have you really not learned your lesson yet?” Tseng asks, turning suddenly toward the redhead and grabbing him firmly by the ponytail, “Wasn’t that punishment enough for you? Or do you need to do your afternoon research with a bar of soap in your mouth? I’m sure that will motivate you to change your tone.”

Reno struggles in Tseng’s grip. I can see the threat take hold on his face, and he stops fighting, obviously eager not to have to go through that. 

“No, please… It’s fine, just… Please let me get dressed?” His tone had indeed shaped right up, fighting its way to politeness. I can tell it isn’t easy for him, but he does his best.

As Reno pulls up his pants, Elena stands and puts the lunch leftovers and trash back into the bag she’d brought in. The blush is still firm on her cheeks (mine too, probably), and she turns to look at me when she’s done packing up.

“It was… very nice to meet you, Lane,” she says, sounding utterly flustered, “I… Hope to see you again soon.”

“Yeah, it was really nice meeting you too,” I reply awkwardly, “I would… really love to see you again sometime.”

“You’ll both get your chances soon enough,” Tseng says, picking up the bag from the floor. He slings it over his shoulder and steps toward the door.

“Lane, go ahead and edit the photos as you normally would,” Tseng says, “Pick your favorites and then just do light corrections. These are for more personal use, so no need to go too in-depth - just give us a refined selection,” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, “I’ll be in touch with you soon regarding your next assignment.”

My hazy brain affords me a crumb of wit.

“Should I bring any dog toys next time?” I ask, delighting in the scowl that appears on Reno’s face from the doorway, “I hear bitches love dog toys.”

Reno audibly groans, and Rufus and Elena laugh in the hallway. Tseng smiles.

“Such disrespectful language, Lane. Maybe you need to join Reno for his next session at my sink?” My stomach drops, and I feel the smile fall off my face. Tseng smiles wider.

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” he says with a smile as he steps out, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day is an utter blur. I don’t remember my afternoon (though I know I get all the photos uploaded), and I don’t remember my train ride home. I don’t remember what I have for dinner or when I go to bed - it all just happens.

I remember the dream I have that night. Stood up at one of the sinks in the 16th floor bathroom, with all my coworkers standing in the door watching. Tseng on one side of me and Elena on the other, taking turns scrubbing my mouth out with soap. Elena was so blushy and shy, even in my dream - honestly, it’s sort of out-of-place, but I don’t mind. I still can’t believe how cute she was at work yesterday.

Fucking hell, I have a crush. Just like that - instant.

Details float in and out of my mind on the train trip to work on Tuesday morning. Disbelief at the fact that Tseng wasted no time spilling my secret in front of everyone… That number of people who know is climbing so damn fast. It has to have at least quadrupled by now from what it was five days ago. The way Tseng’s gaze could melt me to the ground, and how he and Rufus would talk about anyone in the room as if we weren’t there… Gods, just the memory gives me butterflies again. Tseng spanking me out of nowhere, and Reno looking so sorry for himself... 

I’ve got all the photos curated by eleven, which gives me about an hour of free time before I normally take my lunch. I sit at my open computer, staring at the screen, trying to figure out what to do.

Oh, yeah - there were a couple things yesterday that had piqued my interest that I wanted to look up. Well, now’s a great time, isn’t it?

I start back again with the company database. I try “Tseng” again, and “Reno,” and now “Elena.” No cigar still. I do get a few hits for “Elena,” but none of them are the one I met yesterday.

Tseng had mentioned another name when he was talking on the phone - someone named Rude, I guess? What a strange name. But, well, I picked my name out myself - I don’t really have great grounds to judge here. I named myself after a street, and then after… myself. So I don’t get a pass either. 

I type in “Rude.” To my absolute lack of surprise, nothing appears. No results. Same as ever.

Okay then, what was the other thing I wanted to look up again…?

Oh. That’s right… Soapstick. What is that? Tseng said it was something he’d done with Elena, and frankly it sounded right up my alley.

I open a new browser window, and make sure I have it set to private mode so none of this information is kept. You know, on second thought… If the pictures are secure on the secure laptop, then so is my browsing history, right? The company might be able to dredge up stuff I search on the desktop. I take the time to switch over, opening a new private browser window again. 

In the search bar, I type “soapstick.”

The search tries to correct me - did you mean “soap stick”? I… guess? I click on the correction to load it, but then the only results I get are articles or pages that happen to contain both those words. None of them yield anything of use. I hit the back arrow.

There are four results for the search term “soapstick,” two of which are typos. One is written in Wutaian, and it sort of looks like just a big jumble of random words and characters. 

The top result is from an old book - something written some two hundred years ago, now logged online. I click on it, and read the relevant passage.

“...Horace was unkind to his friends in the schoolhouse, and thusly was chastised upon returning home. His mother did best by him and the schoolmates he bullied, by administering a soapstick and a good whipping before sending him to bed with no supper...”

Well, I mean, the word is in there in a punishment context. But it still doesn’t tell me what a soapstick is. Is it just a fancy way of saying mouthsoaping? Maybe a certain technique, or…?

Fuck, I don’t know. That ultimately wasn’t very helpful - in fact, it was downright painful to read. I close the browser. Mobile games it is, then. 

Eventually lunch rolls around, and I’m glad to get out of my office chair for a while (comfy as it is). In the food court, I grab a salad and find an empty table to sit at. I’m never far from the studio folks, but I don’t think I’m going to be welcome to sit with them again any time soon. 

As I’m mixing the dressing into the greens of my meal, I peek around the cafeteria. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a familiar glimpse of bright red hair, and look up in full just in time to see Reno turn around across the room with a sandwich in hand. Just after him, a tall dark gentleman turns, wearing some interesting-looking sunglasses. He matches Reno’s pace, and right behind them, I see a blonde bob following behind - Elena. My breath catches, and I find I can’t look away as they stride down the aisle with their lunches in hand, talking and laughing.

Elena sees me first, and gives me a smile and a wave.

“Hi, Lane!” she says cheerfully. Reno (and the tall guy) both turn around just long enough to give me a nod of greeting, then continue on their way. I’m guessing they have somewhere to be, especially based on their speed. I barely have time to say hello in return before they’re long gone. I watch them go until they’re out of sight. 

Gods, why does just seeing them make me feel so fuzzy? They’re like, tough, badass bodyguards - not the kind of thing that attracts normal people. 

I turn back to my salad, but something feels off. I look up at the PR table, and find my instinct to be spot-on - I’m being stared at by every person seated there.

“Elliott, what the hell are you doing?” one of the guys asks. 

I hesitate.

“...Eating lunch?” I offer.

“Why the hell are you on a first name basis with the Turks?!”

I frown.

“...Turks?”

“Yeah, the company assassins? ” another employee says, “Those are definitely Turks, Lane.”

“Assassins? What are you guys talking about? They’re just… the VP’s bodyguards,” I stammer. Turks… I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before. Maybe at one of the BDSM parties, someone mentioned a kidnapping simulation scene where their partner pretended to be a Turk. I hadn’t been in Midgar for too long, but from what I’d picked up, the Turks were something of a local urban legend - a story that parents told their children to keep them well-behaved. 

They couldn’t be real, could they?

“Lane, the VP’s bodyguards are all infantrymen. Don’t you know what department these guys work for?”

“The… Administrative Research department?” I offer what I know.

“Uh-huh, those are definitely Turks,” he continues, “What did you think the Administrative Research department does?”

I wrack my brain.

“I… I didn’t know…”

“They do, you know, ‘special research ’ for the administrative department,” another adds, “Taking care of the execs’ dirty work. Keeping people quiet .”

I can hear my heart beat, and a cold bead of sweat sweeps down my neck.

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing with them, Elliott,” the first guy says, “But whatever it is, you better watch where you step. They’ll fuck you up, kid. Watch your fuckin’ back.”

This can’t be happening. 

No, this isn’t true. They’re just pissed from yesterday still - they’re lying to me.

I stuff down the rest of my lunch, my nose buried in the bowl. I try to piece it together - I mean, yeah, they don’t look like infantrymen, but I’ve not ever seen Rufus with infantrymen either. And Rufus is, well, himself. If he trusts these guys, then I can trust them too - right?

But my anxiety creeps in. All the bad vibes I got from those first few days… Feeling as though I was being watched and followed. Not knowing how Rufus found out about my side business, and the blackmail… I recall having a sense of being set up for something. For failure. 

Oh gods, I should’ve trusted my gut the first time. 

I rush back to my office and sit down at the computer. I open the secure terminal, and pull up the company database.

“Turks”

No results.

I open the browser.

“Turks”

584 results, most of which are news articles. 

“The Shinra Electric Power Company has admitted in the past to employing a special service of militant operatives known internally as the Turks, who are assigned sensitive or covert missions on behalf of the company’s military wing.”

One article speculates that the Turks are a myth. The next one wonders if they’ve been disbanded. 

The third is a newspaper article. It includes a photo. I click on it.

The headline reads “Shinra’s Turks Still Operate.”

The photo is blurry. It looks almost as though it was taken during some kind of standoff - guns are drawn, but no one is shooting. I can see men dressed like SOLDIERs in the background, along with typical infantrymen. But in the foreground is a face I recognize.

Tseng. 

Hair tied back in a ponytail, same black suit with red bloodstains peppering the white shirt beneath. It’s smeared on his cheek too - he looks more pissed than I’ve yet to see him, and he holds a drawn handgun toward something in the distance.

According to the picture’s caption, the photo is old - nearly eight years old, in fact, and was taken during a hostage situation involving the… Vice President. I swallow hard. Tseng is not identified as anybody other than “One of the company’s Turks,” but his face is unmistakable to me. 

The article is actually relatively tame - the photo’s a little misleading. It details how the Turks once held a height of power in the company, and talks about how little is known about them, and then how one day they suddenly seemed to die out after suspected insurrection against the company. But the article claims to have spotted Turks working over an extended period in the Sector Five slums, their motives unclear.

A second page of the article includes a second picture - a candid, undercover-style shot from the Sector Five slums. Sure enough, there in the middle of a marketplace, stand Reno and his tall bald friend - could that be the “Rude” Tseng mentioned on the phone the other day? The caption claims that Turks can be identified by their “signature” black suits.

What is this, fashion week? I close the laptop and slump backwards in my chair.

Holy fucking shit, they are Turks. Which means that I am in deep. My new friends - new crushes, I finally admit to myself - are the most feared assassins in the world. Waaaay too deep. Over-my-head deep.

What the fuck am I going to do?

I… can’t do anything, can I? I’m stuck now. They’re not going to let me out of this after the things I’ve seen. And oh my gods, the things I have seen. None of these articles speculate about kinky happenings. I’m sure the public wouldn’t have the slightest idea. 

Still, at this point, I’m sure I know too much. Much too much now, I bet. There’s no leaving, no turning back. I’m along for the ride forever now.

All I can do is try to enjoy it and not fall to my death.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I come in feeling way too tired. I hadn’t slept well last night - my anxiety kept me up. I don’t know how to approach this topic, or even if I should approach it. This doesn’t have to change anything, right? They were Turks before, they’re still Turks now. Nothing has changed but my perception, and to some degree, I am in control of that. 

There’s an email waiting for me when I sit down. From Tseng.

“Lane - 

Apologies for more short-notice work, but the VP is scheduled for a business meeting in Junon today, and would like someone to cover the photo ops. He would prefer that photographer to be you, and would very much appreciate if you can make it work. You’d be accompanied by a few of us at all times.

Please let me know ASAP if you can take on this opportunity.

Tseng

Director, Administrative Research

Shinra Electric Power Company”

Okay. Deep breaths, Lane. You can do this. 

A trip to Junon is not something I was expecting today, by any means. But, once again, I don’t feel like I have much choice. Not like I had much else to do today anyway. Knowing what I know now, I especially don’t want to piss any of these guys off. 

“Tseng - 

I would be glad to cover this opportunity. Let me know where I need to be, and when. Will I need any specialized equipment or lighting today?

Thanks

Lane Elliott

Principle Photographer, PR

Shinra Electric Power Company”

I pull out my phone, but I’ve barely got a game loaded by the time my computer dings with a response notification. Damn, he types fast. 

“Lane -

No special equipment, just your camera and a fresh SD card. Make sure you don’t bring any that have been used for previous shoots.

Please be in the lobby at 9:45. I’ll have someone direct you to where you’ll be headed. Bring a jacket, if you have one. 

Tseng

Director, Administrative Research

Shinra Electric Power Company”

I sigh. I do not, in fact, have a jacket - since it’s the middle of summer here. Why would I have a jacket today?

Wait, how are we going to get to Junon? There’s no way to drive there and back in one day. My anxiety bubbles up again as I realize we’ll probably be flying - I’ve never flown on a plane before, and I’m somewhat unnerved by heights. But this anxiety is admittedly very different from what I’d felt yesterday - it’s almost exhilarating. I’m hoping this will be exciting and not utterly terrifying. I’m… not great with heights. 

The morning rolls by pretty quickly - I only have 45 minutes to get everything ready, but it doesn’t take that much time to grab a fresh SD card and pack up my camera. I double-check that the used SD cards, filled with all the lovely pictures from the last shoots, are staying here in my locked office. You know, with the exception of the headshots that started this whole fiasco, this is going to be my first time shooting Rufus in a setting that isn’t boudoir. I’ve done plenty of this already, of course; I’m not too scared. But it’s an interesting thought - I suppose I’ve only just scratched the surface of what this job will entail over time. 

At 9:40, I get in the elevator and ride it down to the lobby. I wait patiently by the doors, scanning the crowd that walks by for black suits. I do see a few, but none of them are Turks. Or, at least, I don’t think any of them are Turks. I have no way of knowing yet how many of them there are. 

At 9:46, the elevators near me open, and I see Reno standing inside. He spots me and waves me over into the elevator with him.

“Hey kid, you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” I answer quietly. Reno swipes a card in the elevator console and types in a code. The LCD screen informs me that we’re headed to the heliport level. Heliport…? Oh shit, I was mentally preparing for a plane, not a fucking helicopter.

Reno straightens up and looks me up and down.

“No jacket?” he asks.

“Not today,” I say quietly. Before I know what’s going on, Reno stuffs something against my chest. 

“Tseng had a feelin’ that would be the case. Here - this is one of my civvy jackets. You can borrow it.”

“...Thanks,” I gingerly take what he’s given me. It’s a black bomber-style jacket emblazoned with the Shinra logo on the back, and looks like it will be the right size for me. It smells strongly of cigarettes - not ideal, but I’ll live. I slip it on in silence.

“You good, kid?” Reno asks, “You’re actin’ all quiet today. Cat got your tongue?”

I hesitate. Still about forty floors to go - this is gonna take a while. Now is as good a time as any… But is Reno the right guy to ask? Well, it’s now or never. 

“Reno,” I start shakily, “... How many Turks are there?” That’s the biggest question on my mind at the moment.

Reno looks down at me and grins.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna figure that out,” he says, stretching his arms, “Just the four of us. Plus Rufus, sorta. I don’t think you’ve met Rude yet, have you?”

“Is that the tall bald guy with the glasses?” I ask. Reno snorts, but I’m not sure what part of what I said was funny. 

“Yep, that’s him,” he answers, “He’s gonna be flyin’ you guys today, so I’ll introduce you two when we get upstairs. You’re gonna like him - he looks tough, but deep down he’s just a big softie.”

I smile for the first time all morning as Reno describes this guy. He doesn’t seem so bad at all. 

We do eventually reach the top of the building, where the helipad apparently lies. The elevator doors open, and I follow Reno out into the chilly air. Even though it’s the height of summer, it’s pretty cold all the way up here. The jacket makes a lot of sense, and despite the smell, I’m glad to have it. 

The heliport consists of rows and rows of choppers, all lined up next to one another. Ground crew members buzz around, pausing at the different birds to inspect or repair something on them. Reno walks me almost all the way to the end, stopping at the third to last helicopter on the left. 

The tall guy - Rude - appears, hopping out of the pilot’s seat in the front of the craft. He walks over and meets us in front.

“Hey, partner,” Reno addresses him, “Gonna let me introduce you to the newbie?”

“The one you all keep talking about?” Rude replies. His voice is deep and smooth - to be honest, it’s quite sexy. I resent the fact that that’s my first impression of him, but, well, if the pattern of what’s been going on continues...

“Heh, yep. This is Lane, the boss’s photographer. And this is my partner, Rude.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say politely, reaching my hand out toward him. He takes it in a firm grip and gives it a single deliberate shake, accompanied by a head nod. Reno’s addressing him as his “partner” really catches my attention - I thought Reno was partnered with Tseng, or Rufus? Or maybe they just all play together, and he’s really partnered to Rude? Gods, these guys have a seriously complicated relationship structure…

I can also see what Reno meant about Rude looking pretty intimidating. I had picked that up to a certain degree from glimpsing him in passing, but up close, he’s a lot more daunting. He tops me by at least eight inches, and I swear each of his thighs is as big around as my waist. And I am not a skinny person. Even below the suit, I can tell that he has a very muscular build. 

Well, Reno also said that he’s a softie at heart. I gotta give him a real chance, and not let myself get distracted by fear. 

Even though he’s apparently a Turk and could probably snap me in half like a toothpick.

“I gotta get moving, but the bosses will be here soon,” Reno says, stepping backward, “Gotta get back to Laney and hold down the fort. I’ll see you guys later - have a good trip.”

“Thanks!” I call after him. Man, it’s noisy up here, what with the wind blowing and all. I turn around to see if Rude needs any help... If there’s anything I would actually be able to help with - I doubt there is. He’s leaning against the side of the helicopter, looking at me.

“You ever been on a helicopter before?” he asks. His voice is so low that he doesn’t have to talk loudly - I can hear him just fine.

“No,” I reply, having to shout a little louder to get over the wind, “I’ve never flown before.”

Rude beckons me to follow him, and after only a few seconds of hesitation, I step along. He slides open the back door of the helicopter, and climbs inside. I peek around, surprised by how much space there is in there. He steps up into the cockpit in the front, and sits down in the pilot’s seat on the right. 

“Might as well come in,” he calls over his shoulder, “Not as windy in here. Boss will be here soon.”

I step up into the cabin - is it called a cabin on a helicopter? - and sit on one of the seats in the back. From my angle, I can see Rude working over the console, clicking button after button and flipping switches. He pulls a heavy-looking headset over his ears and begins to softly speak into it, continuing to mess with the controls as he goes.

He doesn’t really say anything else to me for a few minutes, absorbed in his task and letting me sit in silence in the back of the chopper. After a little bit, I pull out my phone and resume the mobile game I was playing earlier. 

It effectively distracts me until Rude suddenly turns back to look at me and speaks.

“Nervous?” he asks. I blush. Is it that obvious already?

“I mean… yeah, a little,” Part of me screams to look cool in front of this guy, but honesty wins out in the end. Maybe that lecture over Tseng’s knee last weekend did have a real effect.

“It’s a good day for flying,” Rude says, turning back around to flip some more switches, “Not much wind, and clear skies. Gonna be a real nice view. You can come sit up here and look out, if you want.”

Sit in the copilot’s seat? No fucking thank you - I feel like staring out into the abyss of the sky will make me pass out. But his offer tugs some kind of strange nostalgia from my chest. I feel like there was a time when I was younger, when my parents took me and my sister to a Shinra recruiting event, and they let me see the helicopters. A pilot had offered to let me, about age four, sit in the seat and pretend to steer, but I’d been too shy.

Some things never change.

“No thanks,” I say, “Feels a little more... contained back here.”

Rude smiles, a soft look (I think - hard to tell from the shades), then stands, taking off the headset and heading back towards the door once again. He steps back onto the ground. I, not knowing what else to do, stand and follow him. In front of the helicopter’s nose, Rude’s stance is straight and tall, his hands folded in front of him and looking out toward the building again. I step around him, and try to figure out what he’s looking at.

Rufus and Tseng are headed toward us. Rufus has that strange white belt-coat on again, and it flutters dramatically in the wind. I watch as they approach and pull Reno’s jacket tighter around myself.

“Good morning, Rude,” Rufus greets when he gets within earshot, “Good morning, Lane. Good to see you again.”

I smile and wave at the two of them, getting some reserved smiles in return. The four of us head back toward the helicopter’s side door, and one by one, we climb inside. As Rude closes the door and makes his way to the pilot’s seat, Tseng and Rufus sit down on the passenger seats on the right side of the cabin. They leave a seat between them.

“Here, Lane,” Rufus says, indicating the empty seat, “Sit here.” 

I sit down in the exact same seat I’d been in before. It’s already a little warm from when I’d been sitting there last, and it feels very nice in the cold up here. As I sit, Tseng looks me over.

“Good - Reno gave you a jacket,” he says, “For the future, please keep one in your office for moments like these. A spare change of clothes would be wise, too - just in case.” 

I don’t want to ask why I’d need a change of clothes right now - I’m happy to just get myself situated. Rufus watches me.

“Put your camera bag on the floor, Lane,” he says, “Here - between the seats. It’s safest there.”

I lean down and look at the floor below me. Sure enough, there’s a big enough gap in the seat supports for me to stash my camera bag out of the way. It takes me a minute to work it in there carefully, not crushing the bag too much as I go.

“Do you need help getting strapped in?” Tseng asks, standing again and stepping in front of me. He doesn’t let me answer before he reaches down on either side of my legs and clicks a lap belt in place, followed by the chest harness. He’s unafraid to grab my wrist and guide my arms where they’re needed, and I blush as I realize that I’m not about to stop him. I’d started to say no, then yielded so quickly… Damn. He could play me like a fucking fiddle. 

“Here,” he says, moving up toward the cockpit. Rude must know what he’s doing, because he hands three headsets to him. Tseng hands one off to Rufus, who puts it on with no effort whatsoever, and then puts his own pair on. Finally, he steps over to me again and puts the cups of the headphones over my ears himself. 

“That’s better,” I hear a voice speak through the earpieces as Tseng adjusts the band to sit snugly against my hair. Rufus smiles at me and continues, “Now we’ll be able to chat once the engine starts up.”

Tseng returns to his seat, securing his own harness in less than six seconds. He knows exactly what he’s doing - I bet he’s done this hundreds of times. 

“Your mic is live, Lane, so just talk into it if you want to say anything,” Tseng explains as he adjusts, “If you don’t want to be heard, you can move the microphone away from your face.”

“Okay,” I say, reaching up to find the mic. I toy with it gently as I try to calm down. Now that I’m sitting still, I realize that I’m starting to shiver and shake out of anxiety. This hunk of metal is not all that big and, despite the relative comfort of being between Rufus and Tseng, I still can’t keep my cool one-hundred percent. 

“Are you excited for the trip?” Rufus asks. He sounds crystal clear through the headset, like he’s talking right in my ear. 

“I... am excited,” I say, “And, um… A little nervous.”

“Nervous about flying, or about the destination?” Tseng asks, “I’d be happy to give you a more detailed rundown of what you’ll be doing today.”

“A bit of both, I guess. I’ve never flown before. And… a rundown would be nice,” I answer. Tseng nods, and launches into it.

“The VP has been called to conduct an audit of the company’s Junon facility...” he explains, “...Which is a bit of a glorified photo op. It will consist of a tour and a brief business meeting, which we need photographed. All you need to do today is keep to the sidelines and get those pictures. Just stay close to me and Rude, and you’ll be in the right place. Understood?”

“Understood,” I answer. I admit, that did help quite a lot - I hate going into jobs blind - but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m sitting in a fucking piece of metal that’s about to lift itself into the sky. My leg starts to bounce - anything to curb the shaking. 

“Pad to ground, this is Bird 6,” Rude’s deep voice suddenly rings through my ears, “Systems check complete, all systems go. Requesting permission to prime engine and prepare for liftoff.” 

Oh gods oh fuck, it’s happening. 

“Hey - don’t be nervous,” Rufus’s voice breaks the silence again, “We’re right here. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Sitting in a helicopter with two Turks and a man who is famous for how many times he’s been kidnapped? Yeah, absolutely nothing to be afraid of, Rufus. Sure. The shaking picks up as my confidence wavers and the airwaves melt into short-lived silence.

“Bird 6, this is ground,” an unfamiliar voice blasts through the headset, “You’re clear on our end. No flight traffic today - go ahead and engage, and we’ll clear the pad.”

In the distance, I hear the intercom echo through the helipad hangar space. I can’t make any of it out though, and I’m thoroughly distracted anyway as the helicopter’s engine roars to life.

Okay, well, realistically, it isn’t “roaring” to life any more than a typical car engine would. It has an overarching airy screen to the sound - the air filters, I guess, making sure that we can still breathe when we’re thousands and thousands of feet off the ground. 

Fuck, I’m already dizzy.

I can just barely see it through the front windshield, but something moves, seemingly right above us. As I gaze, another dark shape makes the same movements. It takes a second before I realize that those are the tips of the propeller blades, slowly revving up, bit by bit. It’s hypnotic, in a weird way, but instead of being calming it just redoubles my panic. I can’t get off if I wanted to - I’m effectively trapped. In an attempt to calm myself, I take a deep, shaky breath. 

Rufus and Tseng both turn to look at me at the same time, and I nervously exchange my glance between their eyes. Moving slowly, Rufus puts a hand on my thigh.

“Just breathe,” he says, “I promise, flying is not a big deal.”

Maybe not to you, but it sure as shit is to me.  

Tseng copies the move, laying his hand on my lap. His palm faces up.

“Take my hand,” he instructs me.

I don’t realize until right then that I’ve been white-knuckling the shoulder straps of my harness. Convincing myself to unglue my hand is a challenge in and of itself, but eventually I manage, jumping my hand between my start and end points as fast as I can. Tseng matches my grip strength, and already I can feel the sweat from my palms collecting on the leather of his glove. Fuck, I’m going to make them all gross…

“Lane,” he says, calling me back to focus, “You’re safe. Breathe.”

This is embarrassing in the kind of way that I don’t like. I feel like a crybaby - why am I struggling so much? In a weird kind of way, that thought actually helps - I take a deep, slow breath and loosen my deathgrip on Tseng’s hand. I’m still shaky, but right now I’m more worried about looking cool than I am about the fact that the helicopter blades are now moving fast enough to look like a blur. It’s loud now - plenty loud enough to hear through the headphones. I imagine that without the ear protection, it would be deafening. 

And then, the strange sensation of flight.

Well, so much for looking cool. My deathgrip returns as Rude slowly eases the craft into the air, straight up. I can feel it swaying, but he seems calm and practiced, which is immensely helpful. Tseng holds me tightly, and I feel Rufus move his hand from my thigh to my shoulder strap, where the other hand is located. He has to fight my hold, but eventually he pries my fingers off the strap and takes my other hand in his. My eyes are squeezed shut now - I feel like if I open them I’ll get so dizzy that I’ll throw up.

“Bird 6 to ground, we’ve cleared the pad. We’ll see you later.”

“Roger, Bird 6. Have a nice trip.”

I dare to peek, cracking my eyes open just the slightest bit. The helicopter rocks forward, and for a second there I feel like we’re going to nosedive back down into Midgar, but instead we move forward. I’m not dead yet - we’re okay.

Alright, back to looking cool. Or, as cool as I can get while I stare at the floor of the helicopter. I admit it - I really like these guys, despite their terrifying flaws of sorts. I want them to like me. I want…

Fuck.

I swear, sex has become a straight-up catch-all coping mechanism for me. My mind begins to drift away into a fantasy as I feel the heat from both men on my sides… Two warm hands against my own. Oh, wait… We’re holding hands, aren’t we? For the very first time. And I’m only just now registering that fact because I’ve been too panicked. This should be way sweeter than it is, and I begin to melt down into the warmth of their fingers laced through mine. Gods, I can’t keep from imagining how they’d feel… somewhere else. 

My breathing slows and I finally manage to stop shaking as I fantasize, regaining control of my situation by escaping into my own head, where I do actually have some modicum of control. Out there? Not so much.

I’m halfway broken from my fantasy as I feel Rufus’s hand split away from mine. I go to follow it, but it lands back on my thigh - somewhat higher than before.

“Ahh...”

Woah, did I just moan? Some kind of noise definitely came out of me. Guess it doesn’t help that I was just thinking about getting fucked endlessly. 

Well… I mean, it’s noisy up here - doubtful that they heard anything. I let another hot rush of breath leave me, trying to keep my chest from moving too much in the process, and I let those fantasies start to verbalize themselves just a little.

“Mm… Fuck, hah…”

“Lane?” Rufus says, his voice cutting clearly through my headset. Fuck, live mic. I totally forgot. They heard every bit of that, didn’t they? I glance up to see who might’ve been privy, and I can see Tseng and Rufus - and even Rude - all looking at me. 

Rude turns back to the console, but not before I catch a grin on his lips. 

“And here I thought you said you were afraid of heights,” Tseng says, smirking. His hand detaches from mine as well, and matches Rufus’s on my thigh, rubbing gently. Oh shit, is this really happening? Right now?

“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Rufus says, shifting his hand further up, “They may very well dislike heights, but… Well, a little comfort is all it really takes sometimes, isn’t it?” One finger runs up the length of the center seam on my slacks. The seam is lifted from my skin, but I can feel the vibrations of the movement surround the crotch of my pants and ripple through to my bones. 

The helicopter shifts to the side somewhat, tilting and redirecting my attention again as Rude turns it. We’re so high up now; I look straight out the window. The ocean is sprawled out before us, and soon we’ll be flying over it. I suppose that makes sense - the quickest way to Junon is to fly over the sea. 

In this morning sunlight, it’s actually really beautiful. More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen before, in fact.

Until a hand presses harder against my pussy. The stars I see right then might just top out the view. 

“Ohhh…” Another moan pours out of me before I can stop as Rufus pulls my attention back to him. Fuck, he’s good at doing that, isn’t he? His hand gently strokes against me, and I struggle to rut against it, restrained by the lap belt.

“Hope you’re not having too much fun back there without me,” Rude’s deep velvet voice speaks in my ear. In my field of view, he glances backwards and flashes us a smirk of his own.

“Oh, I’m hardly touching them,” Rufus says, pushing a little harder and pulling another moan from my chest. I can’t help myself, especially when they’re talking over me like this.

“Loud little thing, aren’t they?” Rude remarks. His comment redoubles my moaning, despite my best attempts to quiet down. 

On my thigh, Tseng’s hand shifts. Instead of grabbing me, however, I can feel that he takes Rufus by the wrist.

“As much fun as we’re all having,” he says, “I think it’s probably not wise to get ourselves too riled up before landing for a very public appearance. This might be better saved for another time and place.”

Rufus sighs loudly, but ultimately recoils his wrist.

“I suppose you’re right,” he says, sounding less than pleased with Tseng’s call. Even then, he still listens to him. That surprises me more than anything else, I think. Rufus ultimately settles for resting his hand on my knee, squeezing gently on occasion as he toys with me.

Even then, he eventually gets bored and shifts. Tseng turns to the side and begins working on something - I can’t tell what from this angle. Not my business, I’m guessing.

My eyes drift forward, gazing out toward the horizon as it stretches in front of us. I have no idea how long this flight will be, so I resolve to try to enjoy it as much as possible. Now that we’re in the air, things seem much more calm and still, and even though I still have butterflies in my stomach, I’m not feeling outright panicked anymore. In all honesty, I’m finding that I regret not taking Rude up on his offer to sit up front. This is a thrill ride, not a death trap. 

How did I get here? I find myself wondering that for maybe the eighth time in the last two weeks, and sigh as I recount the events that led to now. You know, Jenny might’ve actually been right - her food poisoning might’ve just been a work of fate. If fate exists, I guess. No other good explanations for how I managed to end up in this situation - promoted from an intern to sitting between a Turk and the VP of the company. What the fuck, Lane. 

This is not an outcome I ever could have predicted when I moved to Midgar three years ago. I remember thinking then that it didn’t matter where I ended up, as long as it wasn’t where I’d been. This world is just so big - I could’ve gone just about anywhere. I didn’t think Midgar was where I was going to end up staying, but right now? I feel like this might be exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I realize that, for the first time since I was a kid, I actually feel genuinely happy right now, despite it all.

I don’t let myself get too introspective - that’s a slippery slope with me. I don’t want to be thinking about the past right now, I want to think about the future in front of me. And my immediate future involves taking some badass pictures of Rufus to send to PR. 

I lean forward to retrieve my camera bag from between the seats, thinking about how I should adjust the settings based on today’s light and what I’ll be photographing. As I bend down, however, I remember that I’m caught by the shoulder straps of the harness. Damn - guess I’m gonna have to wait.

I do get just enough leeway to glance around Tseng’s turned form, trying to sneak a peek at what he’s doing. 

I wish I hadn’t.

The glint of metal catches me off-guard. He’s holding a handgun, bullets scattered on the seat next to him. He’s cleaning the gun carefully with a small square of cloth, and I find I can’t look away as he picks up the bullets and slots them into the weapon. It’s a jarring reminder that Tseng has a body count - and not in the bedroom sense.

How many people has he killed?

I lean back in my seat, forcing myself to avert my eyes. I try to relax, and gaze out the window again, allowing myself to get distracted by the sunlight shining off the water. 

That would make a really great picture.

Chapter Text

It isn’t much longer before Junon comes into sight. The fortress towers over a town on the shore, and Rude expertly navigates us toward a wide airfield. 

“Tower, this is Bird 6,” Rude breaks our long silence, speaking through the headset, “Requesting permission to land.”

“Permission granted, Bird 6. You are cleared for landing in Section 1,” a brusque voice speaks back. 

Rufus and Tseng shift, and Tseng subtly tucks his gun back into his suit - a shoulder holster, I’m guessing. Rufus pulls out his phone and looks at his reflection in the darkened screen, diligently adjusting the way his hair falls in strands across his forehead. I see no need to preen like that - I just want to get my camera adjusted. I premeditate how I’ll set it - Manual will get me the best shots, provided I have the time to take a few test pics first and then adjust my exposure. I want these to be perfect - they need to look as good as Rufus does.

The helicopter slowly drops down onto the tarmac, dipping lower and lower and causing my stomach to somersault repeatedly until the skids set down on the ground. Rude cuts the engine, and the noise begins to dial back.

Rufus and Tseng are already freed from their shoulder harnesses and headsets, but I can’t figure out how to free myself from the harness. I didn’t put it on, after all - no clue how to take it off. Tseng notices me struggling, and reaches to help me.

“Lane, can you hear me?” he asks over the beating decrescendo of the rotor blades.

“Yeah,” I nod, then bend down to retrieve my camera.

“You and Rude are going to get off first,” he informs me, “Rude is going to clear a path, and we’d like you to find a spot where you can get some good shots of Rufus disembarking. There will be a few higher-ups ready for handshakes right away, and we’d like pictures of that if possible.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say, slipping the camera’s neck strap over my head, “Just, pick a spot?”

“Yes. Feel free to follow us in as we pass you. Do you have your badge ready?”

“Yep!” I reach under Reno’s jacket and show my Shinra ID card, hung from a lanyard around my shirt collar. It clearly identifies me as a photographer.

Tseng takes it in his hand and squints at it.

“Didn’t they send you an updated ID?” he asks.

“Um… Yes? This is the updated one,” I say.

“Damn it, there’s no security clearance listed on here,” he frowns, “I’ll have to have a word with HR when we get back. That could become an annoyance today - you may not be able to enter certain rooms on the tour. Just keep as close to us as you can, and wait where you’re directed to.”

“O-Okay,” I stutter. Of course I’m going to become an annoyance. Should’ve guessed. I put the camera bag back on the seat and turn on my camera so I can adjust the settings. Tseng turns to Rufus and straightens his collar, making those last few fine-tuning adjustments.

Rude has stepped back up to the side door, and puts his gloved hand on the latch, preparing to slide it open. He turns and looks at me.

“Ready?” he asks.

One last exposure adjustment, then I step up to the door and nod.

“Ready.”

Rude pulls the latch, and the door slides open effortlessly in his grip. He stops it at about the halfway mark, keeping Rufus concealed so far. Rude steps off first, and I follow closely behind. 

Seems like Rude isn’t needed to help clear a path - infantry officers hold guns against their chests in formation, creating a barricade from the crowd. And, oh my gods, what a crowd it is. It seems like most folks are Shinra employees, their clothing business casual, and ID badges fluttering in the residual wind of the helicopter blades. They make no noise yet, waiting in silent anticipation.

And… Holy shit, every single one of these people has a camera or phone pointed at me. 

I’ve been nervous to shoot events before, but at least then I get the sanctity of knowing that the cameras aren’t on me . Despite my line of work, I detest being in photographs myself. I’d always rather be behind the lens than in front of it, and having so many pointed at me at the same time is giving me some major stage fright. It takes effort to get my feet down on the ground.

Focus, Lane. None of these people want to take pictures of you. They’re waiting for Rufus. I need to get my head in the game and pick a spot to get pictures. I step about twenty feet back from the helicopter and shimmy as close to the wall of guards as I possibly can, then squat down. Right now I’m on the left side of the aisle, but if Rufus happens to turn the other way, I’ll need to reverse and get to the right. Holding the camera sight up to my face recenters me, and I join the crowd in silent waiting, lenses pointing at the open helicopter door. 

Within a few heartbeats, Rufus’s form appears in the doorway. In the time it takes me to focus the picture and snap it, the crowd explodes. It isn’t cheering necessarily, but crying for attention - everyone trying to get Rufus to look their way for a good photograph. I’ve never been one for paparazzi opportunities. 

Three men approach Rufus from the sides, led in by infantrymen. I’m positioned just right, and I begin working as Rufus shakes their hands. Soon, the greetings wear out and the men begin walking down the aisle, right toward me. A few more shots of this executive parade, and then before I know it I’m on my feet again to follow. Tseng brings up the rear of the group, and I find a spot next to him to fall in line.

“Good job so far,” he tells me, leaning in and speaking lowly, “Now we follow the tour. Just keep close.”

I nod, clutching my camera tightly to my chest. Adrenaline pumps through my system as I try to appear as professional as everyone around me, though in all honesty that’s pretty difficult when I’m in a bomber jacket and everyone else is in three-piece suits. Well, except Rufus in that belt-coat thing again. I will admit - I don’t get it.

Rude pushes past us, heading back toward the helicopter. I suppose he probably needs to make sure that it stays safe. Rufus has plenty of security right now.

We’re led through the Junon facility, stopping to look into offices and then toward laboratories. I don’t pay too much attention - just snap photos every now and again as we go. Just outside the labs, I’m stopped.

“Hold it,” a guard says, observing my badge, “This area is for authorized personnel only. You’re not cleared.”

“Yes, Sirs,” I say, backing up a few steps. Tseng turns to look at me, and I wave him on.

“I’ll wait here,” I say. Tseng acknowledges my promise with a nod and the tiniest hint of a smile, which tells me that I did the right thing. 

I set up against a wall nearby, resting my feet after an already-long walk. Normally I’m good at looking blended-in, but with both these guards staring at me now in this otherwise-empty hallway, I feel very conspicuous. I’m clearly out-of-place here - we’re in the military side of the operation, and I might be the only civilian in this wing of the facility. A pang of guilt settles back down in my chest as I remember how Tseng referred to this inconvenience as an “annoyance.” I wish I were anywhere but here. Frustrating, too, that this mistake was beyond my control.

But still, it’s interesting to learn that I’m apparently getting security clearance. I suppose that makes sense - the sheer existence of the Turks seems to be very hush-hush, so I’m guessing it’s likely that I’ll be privy to some confidential information time and time again. I find myself wondering exactly what they’re looking at in there. I’ve heard that Junon is mostly a military facility, so I’m guessing that whatever they’re looking at involves weaponry and war. 

War.

...That’s right, I’d forgotten. Junon is where my sister Amelie was stationed before the Wutai War started.

That recollection casts a new light on these halls. I look down the way we’d come. I look at the ceiling, and the floor, and the walls. I watch people walk past at the hallway’s intersection. 

How much of it would she remember, if she were still here?

I’m interrupted by the door reopening. Rufus and our tour guide exit first, followed by the other VIPs and Tseng. How long was that? I don’t even know, I lost track of time. 

Whatever - doesn’t really matter. I’m glad to fall back in formation, and we move as a unit back up toward the offices. 

Our final stop of the day is a lavish conference room, clearly designed for executive board meetings. There are a few more suits in here, and I quickly find a corner and resume my picture-taking as more handshakes and business formalities are exchanged. Tseng steps over into my corner, keeping silent as I take my pictures, until the VIPs begin to take their seats and launch into a proper meeting.

After a few shots of the meeting from different angles around the room (taking care not to get in the way of anything), I return to Tseng’s side in the corner and lower my camera. With anyone else, the closeness might be uncomfortable, but the feel of Tseng’s suit sleeve against the material of my jacket instead courses through me like electricity. Despite our glaring proximity, I still almost wish to be closer to him… Bent over his knee like I was on Friday night…

Every few minutes, I manage to pull myself out of my own head long enough to raise my camera back up and snap a few pictures, but as soon as I lower the camera my brain floats away again. I think about Rufus’s domineering stature over Reno on Monday in the studio, and about how Reno’s ass looked after he’d been paddled. I’m not a heavy bottom when it comes to impact play, but fuck, I’d pay a lot of money to get spanked by Rufus Shinra.

I smile to myself as I recall that I probably don’t have to pay a lot of money to play with Rufus Shinra. Half of this planet probably feels the same way, but somehow I’m the bastard who got lucky enough to actually get it. I’m not convinced yet that I’m the most deserving person out there - I mean, I’m nothing special - but fuck if I’m not gonna take this bull by the horns and milk it for every ounce of pleasure I can get.

Oh my fuck, that analogy did not work.

Or… On second thought, maybe it did?

Gods, I’m a pervert. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Before long, the meeting wraps up. Another round of handshakes are had, and then, out of nowhere, Rufus gestures to me.

“What’s say we get a photo of the group?” he asks. The group murmurs in affirmation, and begin to arrange themselves against one of the longer walls.

“It’s interesting to see you letting a photographer follow you around, Mr. Vice President,” one gentleman says, “I was under the impression that you didn’t care for cameras.”

“I don’t care for paparazzi,” Rufus corrects him, “Lane here is highly skilled. Their professionalism is refreshing, and I can appreciate that. They’re working as my principle photographer now.”

The man gives me a glance, a pleased look on his face. He almost looks pleasantly surprised. I see that Rufus’s reputation of photographer-hating precedes him.

The group bunches together, and they require minimal direction from me. When I’ve got them all in place, I focus the shot.

“Alright everyone - three, two, one!”

I snap a couple pictures. Most of the executives are smiling. Rufus is not. But… he isn’t really frowning, either. He’s straight-faced, looking right at me. Compared to the glowering look he’d given me when I took his headshots, this is a marked improvement. Not a smile yet, but getting there. 

I lower the camera and grin, excusing the group and allowing them to mill about for a few minutes. Rufus gets caught up in conversation, and I move to take a step backwards - seeking to return to my corner of the room next to Tseng. But I don’t get too far - as I scan the crowd, I lock eyes with the gentleman who’d asked about me. He’s got his sights set on me, and barrels right over, grinning.

“Hello there,” he says. He has a brown mustache hanging over his lips - it reminds me of President Shinra’s, “I don’t believe I’ve caught your name yet. Lane…?”

“Lane Elliott, Sir,” I say, extending my hand to meet his. He gives it a firm shake, “And yours?”

“Bernard Ervin, Executive Operations Manager here at the Junon facility,” he says proudly, wiggling his mustache, “So the Vice President tells me that you’re his principle photographer? That’s quite an accomplishment, you know! Rufus has always hated being in pictures, ever since he was a boy.”

“Heh… thanks,” I say, feeling ever awkward.

“Why, I remember one time… He must’ve been about four years old when his father brought him along for an audit just like this one, and when the photographer tried to get Rufus to pose for a picture, why, he ran over and bit her! Oh, how we laughed! And then there was the time…”

I get the sense that this guy just likes to hear himself talk. I’m only half-listening to the stories of Rufus’s childhood (which, frankly, are rather cute), when I notice that the man himself is gazing at me over Mr. Ervin’s shoulder. Rufus is surrounded by others, but his eyes are focused squarely on me. When I meet his gaze, he flashes me a playful smile. 

Oh damn, there go the butterflies again. I blush and try to refocus on Mr. what’s-his-name in front of me, but in my peripheral, Rufus moves - headed this way.

“Bernard, my friend - I see you’ve been introduced to Lane,” he cuts into the conversation, resting a hand on my shoulder as he joins us.

“Oh yes, I was just telling them all about your feelings toward photographers…” he glances at Rufus’s hand on my shoulder, “Or, perhaps I should say your former feelings toward photographers. I’m not sure what makes Lane so different, but I must say that I’m glad you’ve come around, my boy!” Bernard leans over and, being too short to reach Rufus’s shoulder, gives him a solid pat on the arm, “I bet your father’s proud!” 

Rufus doesn’t say anything in return for a few seconds. The look on his face isn’t a happy one. Finally, he turns back to glance at Tseng.

“It’s been… nice chatting, but we really should be getting on soon,” he says. The tone of his voice has changed entirely. He lifts his hand and makes a small circle in the air with one finger, and Tseng promptly pulls his phone from his pocket and makes a fast call.

“Oh, of course! I always look forward to your visits, Mr. Vice President. You’re always welcome to stop by if you’re in the area - I’d be happy to arrange lunch!”

“Hm,” Rufus hardly gives him a response before turning toward the door, pushing me along with a firm grip on my shoulder. Tseng meets us at the doorway, and the three of us stride out into the hallway.

It’s a walk in silence for a few meters, then Rufus loosens his grip on my shoulder.

“You’re lucky I was able to come to your rescue,” he says with a breathy laugh, “Bernard will talk for hours if you let him.”

He doesn’t seem so angry anymore. I feel the tension relax, and I smile.

“Thanks for saving me,” I say.

“What exactly did he tell you about me?” Rufus asks, his voice somewhat quieter.

“Oh… I… wasn’t really listening, to be honest. He told me one story about how you bit a photographer when you were little.”

Tseng almost snorts with laughter, hiding his face behind his hand. Rufus sighs in exasperation.

“I swear, he tells that story to anyone who’ll hear it,” Rufus balks, “It’s like it’s the only thing he remembers about me.”

I laugh along with Tseng. Rufus seems to know his way around this building, guiding us effortlessly to the exit. I suppose, if he’s been doing these audits since he was a kid, that it makes sense that he knows his way through these halls. I wonder why we ever needed a tour guide in the first place. 

Finally, we reach the door that we came in from. Rude is waiting just inside, and nods in greeting.

“Crowd’s pretty lively,” he says, “The guards had to reinforce the space around the helicopter, so we’re mostly on our own for the walk there.”

“Damn it…” Tseng hisses quietly. He tugs on his gloves and steps back as he thinks for a moment. 

“I think Lane should walk right in front of me,” Rufus says, “You both know I can hold my own against a crowd.”

“Do you have your taser?” Tseng asks. In response, Rufus produces a small metal box from his pocket. Tseng nods, “Keep it close. I’m guessing you’ll need it. Lane, you’ll follow me, and Rude will bring up the rear.”

“What’s going on?” I blurt out. I’m clueless, honestly. Rufus chuckles softly behind me.

“Junon needs to hire more guards,” Tseng sighs tiredly, “We’re going to be mobbed by the crowd on the way out. We’ll be okay - just stay close, and keep a tight hold on your camera. It’s not far.”

I swallow hard and clutch my camera tightly to my chest. Rufus lays his hands on my shoulders for a second, giving me a gentle squeeze of reassurance before letting his hands fall back to his sides.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly. His voice in my ear makes me shiver. 

Tseng pushes open the doors with force, and in an instant my vision is filled with flashing lights. Dozens of cameras all go off at once, and Tseng walks briskly, pushing his way through the crowd. I jog to keep up.

Fuck, now the cameras are pointed at me. I feel like I’m going to go blind from this. We’re nearly halfway there now - I can see the helicopter in front of us. The blades are already spinning, producing a wind that compounds the chaos out here.

Suddenly, two hands dart out from the crowd. They latch onto my camera and yank. I shout in panic, pulling back on it.

“Hey!” Tseng is turned around in less than a second and kicks at the would-be thief, not close enough to hit them, but scaring them into letting go. Unfortunately, I don’t get much of a warning, and their sudden release causes me to careen backwards. I shout again, this time out of fear as I close my eyes and wait for my head to smack into the ground.

Instead, an arm wraps around my back and catches me. I open my eyes to find myself gazing up at Rufus’s blue irises.

“You okay?” he asks, helping me up. I nod, but I don’t get any time to recover before he’s pushing against my back. I face forward again and move my feet, catching up fast to Tseng as we continue to ford the river of people. Finally, after way too long under flashing lights, we crash through a wall of guards and shove our way into the helicopter. Rude wastes no time closing the door, and it enables the guards to start pushing back against the crowd, clearing our space.

All four of us stand still for a few seconds, catching our breath. Rude is the first to move, getting his ass back to the pilot’s seat as soon as possible. The rest of us slip on our headsets to dull the noise and sit down where we’d been earlier. Tseng leans over to strap me in again.

“I can do that myself, you know,” I say in a vain adrenaline-fueled attempt to regain my independent footing a little, “I might not be a… a Turk, but I’m not totally incapable.”

Tseng looks up at me. I detect a hint of surprise on his face, but for the most part, his gaze is just intense.

“I know you’re not incapable, Lane,” he says, turning back to my lap belt, “Being a Turk has nothing to do with it. I’m simply doing this for you because we need to get moving quickly. I wanted to help you.”

I blush. My footing was short-lived; I feel myself slipping already.

“You… didn’t ask.”

“Do you want me to ask?”

I hesitate. Do I want that? The opposite is admittedly tempting - having him just take charge and intervene in my independence is hot as hell.

I’ve apparently hesitated too long, because Tseng smirks at me.

“I’ll be more diligent about asking in the future. You can decide to let go whenever you like.”

Gods, he always does that - lays out the temptation in front of me and then backs away. He tells me to take my time, but I always feel like it’s now or never. 

“You don’t… always have to ask,” I concede quietly. Rufus chuckles softly through the headset, and I feel myself shrink.

Chapter Text

Rude reaches up and flips a few switches. His baritone pulses in my ears.

“Bird 6 to tower, requesting permission to take off.”

“Granted, Bird 6. Watch your groundspace for pedestrians.”

The helicopter slowly rises into the air once again, and the butterflies return to me. I’m not nearly as scared this time around, knowing full well now that it’s going to be a safe and relaxing trip back. It isn’t long before we’re well on our way.

My camera bag is still sitting out by my feet, and I carefully untangle my camera from the shoulder harness as I pull the neck strap back over my head. I prepare to put it away, but decide that I’d like to get a look at today’s pictures first. I open the gallery and scroll - wow, these were some great shots this time around. I scroll all the way through once before raising my chin and noticing that I have a screen-peeker. 

“Can I see them?” Rufus asks, grinning at me. I grin back, and carefully hand the camera off to him.

He takes his time scrolling through. Every two or three shots, he comments or laughs softly at something. Often, he leans over me to poke Tseng’s side and show him what he likes about a certain shot. Tseng’s face is mostly straight, but he humors Rufus, gazing at his partner more often than my camera. It’s kind of adorable, actually. The only time his straight face breaks is when Rufus shows him a shot that he happens to be in - in fact, he’s central to the photo. He happened to look very striking against the background, lit by the mako lights in the hallway.

“This one is easily my favorite,” Rufus says with a smile. Tseng scoffs and fumes, then points at me.

“I thought I told you no pictures without permission,” he says sternly. I’d figured he might say that, and I actually have an excuse prepared. 

“Pretty hard to get pictures of the tour without you in any of them,” I say, “I figured business photos were more acceptable.”

He huffs out a sigh, but ultimately just shakes his head tiredly. I take it as a relent, and a small victory.

When Rufus is satisfied that he’s seen every picture at least twice, he finally hands the camera back to me, and I get it turned off and packed back in the camera bag. I hold it in my lap in lieu of stowing it, seeing as I still can’t lean forward to do that as long as I’m strapped in. Instead, I gaze out the window again. It’s just as pretty now as it was this morning - the brighter light casts a more vibrant look over the ocean. I can almost see the shore from here, but not quite.

Tseng taps my shoulder.

“Do you want to go sit up front?” he asks, pointing at the copilot’s seat next to Rude. Rude glances back over his shoulder at me.

“I… I can’t move while we’re flying though, right?”

“Nonsense, of course you can,” Rufus says, patting my knee, “You’re more than welcome to go sit up there.”

“As long as you don’t touch anything,” Tseng adds, “But that’s easy enough. The seat’s moved back too far to hit anything accidentally.”

Well, I did really want to move up there. 

“...Okay,” I finally decide. 

“Here,” Tseng reaches in front of me and undoes the straps and lap belt. I move to stash my camera, but Rufus stops me.

“You can take it with you,” he tells me, “I imagine any photographer would love a helicopter ride. You can get great landscape shots that way.”

Hey, he’s right. I nod and instead extract my camera from the bag again, looping it back over my neck.

“Alright, go ahead and move up there,” Tseng says, “Hold it steady, Rude.”

“A-Aren’t you going to help me?” I ask. My legs are already shaking - I’m not sure I can make it up there all by myself.

Tseng raises an eyebrow at me and smirks.

“I thought you didn’t want any help,” he retorts, “You’re perfectly capable, aren’t you?”

My face burns red-hot. Of course he would - I walked right into that one.

You know what? I won’t give him the satisfaction. I grit my teeth and force myself to stand.

“Woah!” I’d forgotten that the nose of the helicopter is tilted downward to keep us moving forward. I almost instantly lose my footing, and for a second there I’m sure I’m going to wipe out.

Someone gasps over the headset as I flail. Once I find a semblance of balance, I turn my head back to look at Tseng and Rufus. Tseng’s brows are raised, and Rufus has his hand thrust out like he’s ready to catch me if I fall - even though he’s a bit too far away.

“Go ahead,” Tseng gestures toward the seat, “Or are you ready to admit that you need help yet?”

“...I’m fine,” I grumble. Gingerly, I take another step. I can’t believe that I’m managing to stay up at all, especially when the slick, worn-out bottoms of my dress shoes skid on the metal flooring. I really need some new work shoes. Well, maybe the combat boots are appropriate for this position. Rufus wears them, after all - I doubt he’d write me up for being out of uniform over my choice in footwear.

There’s two seats facing inward right by the opening to the cockpit, and I’m able to use them as a sort of checkpoint to grab onto to stop the slippage. Directly in front of me is a dashboard of buttons and switches. To my right is Rude, and to the left is my target seat, wrapped just around the corner. I’ll have to be careful not to slip and fall into the console, but I think I’ve got it from here, as long as I can keep at least two points of contact at all times. Gradually, I worm my way into the seat.

Oh… Wow . The view was great from the back, but from here it’s awe-inspiring. I can’t pull my eyes away from it, and almost unconsciously lift my camera to start documenting every second of this that I have.

“Hey,” Rude’s deep voice wakes me back up. He sounds stern, “Strap in first. Not about to have you slippin’ around up here. You got plenty of time to get pictures.”

“Oh, sure,” I say, lowering my camera again. Safety first, of course. I reach to my side to grab the lap belt, but I don’t see it. I switch to the other side and look again. 

There’s... nothing there?

I glance at Rude. He’s looking at me expectantly through the open side of his shades. Fuck, I’ve got to figure this out. Maybe by the shoulders, like the shoulder harnesses in the back?

Ah, bingo - there’s two straps there, one of which has a bulky connector on it. Okay, now to figure this out. I pull the not-so-bulky belt and lean to strap it to the connector beneath it.

“Nope,” Rude says calmly.

Oh… Well, I guess that makes sense. It wouldn’t strap me in that way anyway. I instead try to cross it over to the other side.

“Not it,” Rude says. I whip around to look at him, only to find that he isn’t even looking at me. His eyes are still directed toward the window, but there’s a little smirk on his lips. I hear snickering through the headset - Tseng, or Rufus? My gil is on Tseng, honestly.

Okay… I pull out the other belt and try to find a way to attach the two together. There seems to be an obvious answer, but when I push the connectors together, the belt doesn’t lock. They come right apart again.

“Wrong,” Rude quips. This is getting embarrassing. I huff through the mic, and Rude chuckles back, “Don’t worry, Reno can’t ever get it on his own either.”

As funny as that is, it doesn’t make my situation any better right now. I tug again, despite having just been told that it won’t work, and try to make the puzzle pieces snap into place.

“Lane,” Tseng’s voice makes me cringe - I already know what he’s asking, “Do you want some help?”

I feel my face redden with defiance. I refuse to give in, but… I’m just wasting time now. I don’t think I’ll be able to figure this one out without a hand. 

“I don’t want any help…” I mumble.

“But you need some help?” Rufus says. I sink down lower in the seat.

“...I might,” I growl.

“If you want me to help you, you need to ask me nicely,” Tseng says matter-of-factly. No way around it - he’s going to make me say it.

Unless there is a way around it.

“Hey, Rufus-” I start. Rufus cuts me off.

“No,” is all he says. Well, fuck you too, I guess.

“Rude…?” I attempt.

“Little busy,” Rude reminds me. Fuck, duh. I lean over enough to glance behind me, casting a glare at Tseng. He’s got that characteristic hint of smile on his lips, satisfied by the state he’s got me in. 

“You’re only wasting your own time,” he reminds me, “Whenever you’re ready.”

I’m starting to hate when he does that. I grit my teeth.

“Help please?” I grumble.

“Oh, you can do better than that,” he says. I blush harder.

“Can you please help me?” I try.

“What do you need help with?” Rufus tacks on.

“Can you please help me with the straps?”

“Try addressing him properly,” Rude jumps in now. He’s smiling, and it makes me boil in embarrassment. How long is this going to go on?

“Can you please help me with the straps, Tseng?”

“That’s not how you should properly address me,” Tseng says, shaking his head, “And I can hardly understand you when you’re mumbling like that. Try one more time. I know you can do it.”

I resent how they’re dragging this out. What is this, my fifth try? It’s getting old. 

“Can you please help me with the straps… Sir?” 

“That’s it,” Tseng says. His harness was already undone in anticipation, and he effortlessly glides to my side. I shrink beneath his stature as he leans down and pulls the connector belt over my shoulder, then reaches under the seat and pulls another belt free and up between my legs. Oh, come ON. Why the hell would a belt be there? I’ve been set up for failure here.

Within seconds, Tseng has this ridiculous belt contraption locked in place around me. Before he returns to his seat, he leans down again and lifts my chin to meet him. Our noses are inches away.

“When I ask you to address me properly, I always expect to be addressed as ‘Sir,’” he says in a voice that’s low and stern, “And I expect you to obey promptly . Do you understand?”

I’m hypnotized by the leather against my face.

“Yes, Sir,” I can’t help it - it’s automatic when he treats me this way. His hand shifts from my chin to my cheeks, gripping my face in one hand and giving my head a gentle shake.

“There’s a good little copilot,” he purrs, then turns on his heel and returns to the back. I manage to suppress a moan, letting out a shuddered breath instead as I shiver.

I’m left slumped in my seat, secured by the mass of entangled belts as the blush and butterflies dance their finale. Or, at least, I think it’s the finale. Can never really be sure with this group. I try to forget about the feel of his gloves on my face, but I think the sensation has already imprinted. The cut of his gaze and the steel of his voice never fail to turn me into a pathetic little puddle. 

A fiddle. It’s not “He could play me like a fiddle.” He outright does. And I let him. Next time he does that, I swear to gods I’m going to lean in and kiss him. That will shut him up.

Okay, nah, I won’t really. I don’t have the guts. I wouldn’t actually do it until I get consent, anyways.

I just… Can’t stop thinking about it.

Chapter Text

I eventually manage to shake off the butterflies (and the horniness they wrought, for the most part), and I get my camera back up to my face. The fiasco was well worth it - these shots are stunning indeed. I wish I’d brought a panoramic lens - I can see the curve of the planet’s horizon from up here. It’s like a dream.

Not to mention the stunning aerial pictures of Midgar, oh my gods… Just amazing. I get pictures of the entirety of the city as we approach, and when we start to dip back down toward the Shinra building, I can get pictures of the plates below. I think I even manage to spot my little flat off on the outer edge.

But all good things do eventually come to an end. Before long, the skids are landed back on the pad of the heliport, and Rude cuts the engine again. I turn to watch how he removes his harness, and I think I’m about to get it when my line of sight is cut off.

Tseng leans over and undoes the latch for me, bringing those butterflies and associated feelings right back. Just when I thought I’d lost them… hmph. He gives me a tiny smile and hands me my camera bag, allowing me to pack up for the last time before standing and heading out the side door in the back. 

The four of us make the long walk back across the pad, stopping in front of the elevator doors. Tseng calls it, but it’s going to take some time to get here. In the meantime, he turns to me.

“So, was your first flight as bad as you thought it would be?” he asks with a grin.

“It was… amazing,” I admit, then reach for my camera bag, “Do you want to see the shots I got?” 

“I’d like to see you edit them and send them along with the other pictures from today,” he says, putting a hand up to stop me, “Perhaps they’ll make good publishing. I’m guessing the PR team would love to have photos like those.”

He’s right. I can picture it now - one of those beautiful landscape photos, on the cover of a book or magazine. 

“And speaking of PR,” Rufus cuts in, “The photos you took at Junon need to be edited as well. I’d like to see them before you send them on to PR - I’ll make a selection for you to forward. Can you have those done before the end of the week?”

“Yes, Sir!” I reply enthusiastically, “I’ll get started as soon as I’m back to my office!”

The elevator arrives. All four of us pile in, and Tseng presses the button for the employee food court. Huh? I lean forward, reaching for the button that will take me to floor 16, but Tseng catches my wrist.

“No,” he says firmly, “You didn’t get any lunch today. We’re all stopping to get something to eat first - then you can return to your office."

I pull my wrist back, trying not to let his touch steal my brain. He’s got a point. I pull out my phone and see that the time is currently 3:42. That trip took five hours - two hour flights both ways and an hour for the tour and meeting. Damn… That time really flew by. And Tseng’s mention of food alerts my body to its absence. My stomach begins growling incessantly. Okay, yeah, food is a good plan. 

When the elevator doors open again, we all stride out and start heading toward the counters to select our meals. Though the room is mostly empty at this hour, I’m temporarily distracted again as many eyes still swivel toward us, which unnerves me. At least there aren’t any cameras flashing this time. I’d be happy to never have to do that again, but from what I’d gathered, Rufus and the Turks all feel the same way. I vow to never, ever become a paparazzo - nobody deserves that.

The group fragments as we choose which counter to visit. The employee cafe is always diverse - there’s a counter for hot food like burgers and fries, a counter for salads and sandwiches, one for soups, one for noodles, one for bakery items… We’re rather spoiled for choice. I want something that I can eat with one hand while I edit with the other, so I’m thinking soup and a salad bowl again today. Seems like Rufus has the same idea - he follows me there. 

As I’m scooping veggies into my bowl, he grabs the tongs and picks up a bunch of lettuce. 

“Lane,” he says quietly, “How did you know that Tseng was a Turk?”

“Oh… Well, one of my coworkers asked why I was being friendly with Turks. And they sort of… pointed out what I’d missed.”

“I see,” he says, then stays silent for a moment, as if pondering something before he finally continues.

“Does that fact… make you uncomfortable?” His voice is so soft that he’s nearly whispering.

I consider that for a moment. I mean, it did this morning. It still does a little bit, but I don’t want to worry him either. I want things to stay as they are.

“I mean, nothing’s really changed just because I found out. It doesn’t have to change anything, right?”

Rufus nods once, gazing down at his bowl.

“I’m glad you think that way,” he says, “Just… I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. I want you to remember that you’re our equal, and you should feel comfortable voicing any concerns you might have. You can always talk to any of us, or even take breaks, or…” He trails off. It seems like there’s something else on his mind. 

“I know,” I say, trying to reassure him, “Tseng talked to me about that. I know how important it is to communicate, so… I’ll do my best.”

That makes him smile.

“Thank you, Lane,” he says, “I’ll let you go now. I’m really looking forward to seeing those pictures.”

“Me too,” I smile back, “See you around!”

I don’t really want to turn away, but I do need to get back to the office. Tseng and Rude are already gone - they must’ve gotten their lunches together and headed to their offices while Rufus and I were talking. Come to think of it, I wonder where their offices are. I know Rufus has one on the executive levels… Are the Turks up there too?

The elevator arrives to take me up to the 16th floor again, and I turn around inside to see that Rufus is still standing on the other side of the cafe, watching me. As the doors start to close, he gives me a short wave, and I barely get enough time to wave back before the doors seal entirely and the elevator begins to move.

I’m glad that it hides my flushed face.

The afternoon continues with a little bit of curating today’s shots and a little more editing of the photos from Monday. Seeing those on my screen makes me reel all over again as the events replay in my head. I don’t get time to finish my work that day, but I come in the following morning ready to get back to it.

On Thursday, I manage to get all the Junon trip photos edited and curated. I send them off to Rufus for selections, and within the hour he sends me back a file containing the ones he has okayed for publishing. I forward it straight off to Marjorie, who is thrilled to have them. She’s especially complimentary of the landscape shots.

I’m nearly done with the puppy Reno photos by the end of the day, so I decide to just stay a little bit later to get them done with. But, of course, that’s a slippery slope - I try getting creative, and by the time I pull my nose out of the screen, it’s almost 8. Shit… Ah, well. Maybe I’ll flex my time tomorrow. That’s apparently a thing I can do now. 

The sun is starting to set, so I figure my walk home will be chillier than usual. I grab Reno’s jacket that’s still slung over the back of my chair. Yeah, whoops - I forgot to send that back with Tseng on Wednesday, and I didn’t see anyone today, so I’ve just held onto it. I hate to admit it, but despite the cigarette smell (which is thankfully starting to fade), it’s really comfy. I wonder how long I can get away with keeping it. 

On my way home, I decide to stop by a sushi joint I like for dinner. It’s normally out of my price range, but in anticipation of receiving my paycheck tomorrow, I choose to spoil myself a little bit with the gil from last weekend. I’m happy to stay and chat with the staff for a bit before I get back on my way. 

It’s really dark out now, especially as I get closer to the sector’s edge. These streets are mostly familiar by this point, but the darkness has cast a strange unfamiliarity over everything. 

Something feels… off. 

My gut tells me not to walk straight down the street tonight. A few of the streetlights are burnt out down there, and I happen to know of a shortcut through an alleyway just around the corner. I swing around and try to keep my chin low as I walk fast toward home. 

“Well well… You lost, kid?” 

A voice rings out in the night, several meters in front of me. I can hear another person snicker, and I swing my head up to identify what’s out there. It’s two guys  - their hair spiked, leather sleeveless jackets, and chains… They’re gang members. I’m probably walking straight through their turf.

As I look up at them, their expressions change.

“Dude… That’s the kid on the cover of the gossip rag this week! The one with the Vice President!”

What?

“Shit, bro… You’re right. Betcha they got some good gil on ‘em, then…” 

They step toward me, and panic grips my chest. Oh fuck, I need to get out of here. Without thinking, I whip around and take off in a dead sprint back the way I’d come. The thugs follow me back out onto the street and down the way into the darkness under broken streetlights. I make the mistake of turning down another alleyway, trying to ditch them with corners, only to find that I’m faced with a dead end. A brick wall stops me in my tracks, with only an unreachable fire escape above the space between me and these guys.

Shing. I can hear the sound of metal as they unsheath pocket knives, and they laugh as they creep towards me.

“Nowhere to run now, Shinra bitch,” the first one laughs.

“Just hand over the gil, and nobody gets hurt…” the other hisses.

“We should hold ‘em for ransom… Bet Shinra will pay a pretty penny to get ‘em back!”

I’m out of breath, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I should call for help, but I can’t get myself to make any noise. At the worst possible time, I’m frozen in place as the reality of my situation really creeps in: They’re going to kidnap me.

Without warning, a dark shape drops down from the fire escape, separating me from my attackers. It unfolds and stands before me.

A man in a black suit, back to me, with a long red ponytail trailing behind him.

“Reno, ” I whisper.

“Don’t you assholes have something better to do?” Reno says. He’s got some sort of weapon I’ve never seen before rested over his shoulder - a baton? “Pretty sure I told your friends last week to get off these streets.”

“Hey, they got in our face! Just defending our territory, bro!” one of them snaps.

Reno laughs, nearly doubling over. I’ve heard him laugh before, but this one sounds different - almost unhinged.

“They got in your face?” he turns halfway around and points his baton at me, “You don’t actually expect me to believe that bullshit, do you?”

“How would you know?” the other thug barks, “They suck your dick, too?”

In a flash, Reno zaps over to the second thug. The baton sparks wildly as he pins the gangster against the wall. I didn’t know people could move that fast.

“Not yet,” he chuckles. He presses a button on his weapon, and more sparks fly off the tip. Not just a baton, then - an electric baton, “You got any other lame jokes you wanna share, or are you ready to apologize and run home to mommy?”

The first thug yells loudly and lunges at Reno, arm raised to stab, but the Turk is too fast for him. Even though the guy brandishes a knife, all it takes is a swift kick in the groin to take him down. Without his backup, the pinned guy looks panicked.

“H-Hey, just… L-Let us go, man! We’ll get outta here, we swear!”

“You’re damn right you will,” Reno growls, “Or I’ll shove this EMR so far up your ass you’ll see sparks. Pick on someone your own size next time.”

With that, he pulls the weapon - EMR, apparently - away from the guy’s chest and zaps his leg with it. The thug screams in pain - a bloodcurdling noise that I don’t ever want to hear again. He falls on the ground next to his partner and writhes for a moment before they both manage to scramble up and dash back to wherever they’d come from.

I start to regain control of my reactions. I’ve been hyperventilating, and I try to slow my breathing some and get ahold of my shaking.

Reno watches to make sure that the thugs are gone before turning back toward me.

“The hell are you doin’ out here at this time of night, kid?” he steps over to check on me, slinging the weapon up to rest on his shoulder once again, “This is gang territory. You’re askin’ for trouble.”

“I live on the outer edge of the sector,” I pant, still trying to regain my bearings, “I was just trying to get home.”

“Damn, you live all the way out here?” Reno cocks his head, “Not the nicest neighborhood you coulda picked.”

“Only one I could afford,” I grumble, double-checking to make sure that I still have my wallet and phone, “What are you doing out here anyway? Following me again?”

“Again?” Reno looks confused, “We ain’t ever followed you, kid. Hate to break it to you, but you aren’t exactly on our watchlist. I’m just out on evening detail - same as every night.”

“You’re out here every single night?”

“Not always me. We take turns,” he shrugs, then beckons, “Here, let me walk you home. Don’t want any more trouble.”

“I’ll be fine on my own,” I try to insist, but my voice is still shaking too much. I’ve lived here for a while, but I’ve never been face-to-face with real trouble like that before. I wasn’t ready for it to happen tonight.

“Like hell you will,” Reno says, voice dipping in tone as he steps closer. He grabs my arm, “I’m comin’ with you, whether you like it or not. Now walk.”

His pushiness would probably otherwise piss me off, but instead it stirs heat in my core. The adrenaline pumping through my system has primed the way for a whole cocktail of other hormones, and it isn’t helping me cement any independence. Instead, I relent, resuming my walk toward my apartment on the sector’s edge. Reno keeps my pace.

I keep seeing motion from his EMR out of the corner of my eye. When I turn to look, I see that he’s tapping it against the leather shoulder panels on his suit jacket, fidgeting as we walk. A green orb occasionally flashes at me from the handle.

“Is that… materia?” I’m too curious not to ask. I’ve heard of the stuff, but I don’t know much about it.

“Yeah, it’s lightning materia,” he says, lowering the rod so I can look more closely. It almost looks like it’s embedded in the side of his weapon, “It’s kinda my specialty,” He raises the handle of the EMR, holding the materia close to his face as he sticks his tongue out. In the center of his tongue is a piercing - a tiny green orb that glows with the same sort of flare when the larger materia orb is held up to it.

“Woah,” I say in awe, “Your piercing is materia too?”

“Yep, same stuff,” he says with a satisfied smirk, “Lots of fun in bed, if you catch my drift.”

“Electroplay?” 

“Hell yeah,” Reno smiles, “EMR’s got some low settings for that, too. Rufus is all about it.”

“He’s into electroplay? Really?”

“Well, it’s not a huge thing for him, but he likes it,” he shrugs, “Same way I hear you like spanking, but not in the same way you like soap.”

I turn away, trying to hide my red face from view. He isn’t being rude about it, but it still just catches me off-guard that he brings it up so casually.

“Chill out - not like anyone’s gonna hear us,” he says, giving me a playful shove to the side. I whine in feigned protest, and he laughs at me.

“That’s a nice jacket you got there,” he comments after a moment, giving me a side glance, “Where’d you get it?”

“It’s on loan,” I play along for a second, then laugh, “You want it back?”

“Nah, it looks good on you. You look like a real professional photographer in it,” he grins at me, “Just need your flat cap on top and you’re good to go.”

I laugh, “I look like a professional photographer in this?”

“You did in the tabloids.”

Oh fuck, that’s right. Those guys had mentioned something along those lines - a gossip rag. What the hell did that even mean? The smile wipes clear off my face.

“What tabloids?” 

“Just the dumb gossip rags. You know those things just make shit up,” he sneers, “Don’t even worry about it.”

“Those guys jumped me because they recognized me from one of those ‘gossip rags,’ Reno,” I retort, “I wanna know what the hell’s going on.”

“Relax,” he says, “So you ended up on the cover of one of ‘em. None of the other ones gave a shit, so don’t sweat it. There’ll be a new edition tomorrow and no one is gonna remember anything in a week. You’ll be fine.”

“The cover!?” I balk.

“I been on dozens of covers with the VP,” he shrugs, “It’s no big deal.”

I’m silent as I process everything that’s going on. I got jumped, then rescued by the guy I spent all night editing photos of, and now I’ve learned that I’m on the cover of a tabloid with Rufus. Could today get any worse?

We’re on my block now, and I look up toward my building. 

“This is it,” I say quietly, stepping toward the door, “Um… Thanks for the rescue.”

“Just doin’ my job,” he says, “But seriously, if you ever need help, call one of us. We’ve got your back.”

“Yeah… Thanks. Goodnight,” I call over my shoulder as I get the door unlocked. From the time the door shuts until I’m laying face-down on my mattress, I attempt to process what’s gone on.

I sit up.

I need to see that tabloid.

There’s a convenience store just across the street from me that’s got to carry them. I’ve not bothered to undress yet, so I carefully creep back down to the door and out onto the street, looking in front of me and to my sides and over my shoulders the entire two-minute walk. I bolt up to the counter, where the shop owner Murray is currently manning the till.

“Hey Lane, what can I-”

“Tabloids?” I cut him off, too nervous to deal in politeness.

“Huh? Oh,” Murray turns to the wall behind him, where the publications are kept, “Which one did you… want…” He trails off as he spots what I’m looking for. I follow his eyes, and I see it. 

There I am, right on the cover of Midgar Daily . A paparazzi shot, interspersed with ridiculous headline blurbs and text bubbles. It’s the moment I slipped backwards in the crowd and Rufus caught me. The way this picture was taken, it seems like he’s dipping me.

Murray puts the magazine on the counter without a word.

“H-How much?” I stutter, trying not to lose it.

“Uh…” Murray hesitates, then slowly says, “5 gil.”

I look up at the sign beneath the gossip rags, which clearly reads “3 gil.” I glare at Murray, who looks away from me. Gods, I thought he was my friend… 

I slap three gil on the counter and book it back to my building.

I can’t stop staring at it. It’s like a train crash I can’t look away from - my face looks so fucking stupid. I really hate being in pictures, and this is part of the reason why. My mouth is open; I look like a fish, gazing right up at Rufus’s eyes. But he still looks so regal and stunning, not a hair out of place. I don’t even help make him look good in comparison, honestly. I just look frumpy. If anything, I drag him down.

I slump over in my bed and let the paper fall to the floor. I hope I never see it again after tomorrow. If Reno’s wrong about that, I’m going to kick his ass.

Okay, well, I probably couldn’t kick his ass if I tried. I replay the moment in my mind where he dropped down from the fire escape. I think about just how fast he moved, and the growling tone he took with the thugs. It was the same tone he pulled out on me when I tried to refuse his help, but it didn’t terrify me - it turned me on.

That… can’t be normal. Am I going crazy?

Chapter Text

The next thing I know, I’m waking up with the sun in my eyes. Fuck, my alarm never went off - I fell asleep before I set it. I flip over and find the clock display.

9:21 am.

I’m late. 

Gods, I slept like shit. I’m still in my clothes from yesterday even - I must’ve passed out from the stress. As I scramble to my feet, I slip on the tabloid and nearly wipe out. Fucking piece of… I pick it up and chuck it across the room in anger. 

I hate to do this, but I need to leave as soon as possible. Tardiness is not how I’ll make a good impression so soon after a promotion. I decide to just walk-of-shame it and not change, only grabbing a granola bar to eat on the train as I book it out the door.

By the time I arrive, it’s almost 10. That makes me a full hour late, but it’s better than nothing. I’m glad I managed to get here as quickly as I did - five more minutes of sleep and I would’ve missed that train. Then I wouldn’t have gotten in until almost 10:30.

I sit down at my desk, satisfied to finally be where I need to be, but realize that I don’t have any work to do. I stayed late last night and got all the remaining photos edited.

Well, I haven’t sent them to Rufus yet. I might as well start there. I open the laptop, package the photos I wanted to send in an encrypted file, and type out a nice message before sending them off to Rufus, CC: Tseng. I let out a deep sigh as I send it off, and let myself finally take a damn breath for the first time all day.

Having the opportunity to relax keys me in to all the uncomfortable thoughts that I’d manage to avoid earlier - starting with the fact that I wasn’t able to shower this morning. My short hair gets gross fast if I don’t wash it every day, and it’s already showing that characteristic greasiness. It’ll be atrocious by the end of the day… I’ll have to shower between work and the weekly party tonight. I didn’t put any deodorant on either, and the stuff I had on from yesterday is mostly faded away. At least the cigarette smell from Reno’s jacket mostly covers that up…

Not to even mention the fact that the image from the tabloid is now glued to my subconscious. I feel like I see it every time I close my eyes. It haunts me.

Ugh, I’m a fucking mess. Hopefully I can just hide in here until 3, and then I can leave. I did do overtime yesterday, after all - I can flex it today.

The knock on my door botches my plan.

Fuck, I hope that isn’t Marjorie… She’s probably going to ask why I was late. I drag myself across the office and open the door.

I’m more than a little surprised to see Tseng standing there.

“Good morning, Lane,” he says, straight-faced as ever, “May I come in?”

“Uh… Sure,” I stand aside to let him through. Just as soon as he’s past the threshold, he closes the door behind us and engages the lock. 

“Glad to see you finally made it in today,” he begins. Oh fuck, he’s about to chew my ass for being late.

“I… Listen, I’m really sorry I was late… I had a rough night last night, and I passed out before I could set my alarm and-”

“Don’t apologize,” he cuts me off, “Reno already let me know. When things like that happen, you’re more than welcome to take time off to recover. Besides, you worked so late yesterday, you have plenty of time to flex. As far as I’m concerned, you weren’t late at all. Though a text would be nice for next time.”

“Oh… Yeah,” I say quietly. How did he know I worked late yesterday? I never told Reno that, did I?

“I was just stopping by to check in with you,” he continues, “I’m very sorry to hear about the events of last evening. I’m glad you’re okay. It was lucky that Reno was doing his rounds nearby.”

“Yeah, definitely…” I sigh, “I’m glad he was there. I would’ve been toast otherwise.”

“Hm,” Tseng nods, “Are you sure you want to stay at work today? You’re allowed to head home and take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh no, I’m totally fine,” I reply, brushing him off and turning to sit back in my chair, “I’m just a little stressed from my morning, that’s all. Not even worried about last night,” That might be a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“Were you rushed this morning?” he asks, his expression taking on a slight look of concern.

“I mean… Yeah,” I scratch at my hair - it’s already starting to get itchy, “I woke up at 9:30, so I pretty much just ran right back out the door.”

“Did you get any breakfast?” Tseng asks. Ever concerned about when I last ate…

“Yeah, I got something,” I say, “I’ll have more at lunch,” I scratch again - the first scratch didn’t get the itch. 

Tseng looks at my hand as it falls back to my side, then scans me up and down.

“You haven’t changed clothes,” he observes, “Did you get a chance to shower?”

I blush deeply. I hate when my personal hygiene habits are questioned - even casually. It takes my brain to unprecedented places, and I try to keep a handle on it now and not jump to the defensive.

“...No,” I mumble, “But I’m fine. No big deal.”

Tseng raises a brow at me. I didn’t do a good job of hiding that shift - I’m sure he can sense my change of tone. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to go home and shower?” he presses.

“It’s not worth the trip,” I state. That’s perfectly true - it’s a thirty-minute train ride either way.

Tseng is silent for a moment as I stare meaninglessly at the laptop screen. It’s just the desktop - nothing at all of interest. But it’s better than having to look at him while we talk about the prospect of a shower.

“You know,” he finally says, “There’s a shower facility downstairs that you can use.”

I know this - the employee showers have been available to me since I started my internship. But the showers in this building are more or less public locker rooms - not a place I’ll be able to handle without getting turned on against my will. That’s more uncomfortable than anything, and is something I’ll avoid whenever possible. Including now.

“I… can’t use the employee showers,” I say quietly, hoping he doesn’t question why.

“I didn’t mean the employee showers,” he says, much to my surprise, “There’s a private shower facility on our office level. Technically, it’s reserved for use by Turks, but I see no reason why you can’t use it as well. Especially since you have some… extenuating circumstances in play.”

Even my butterflies are frozen. Of course he already knows why I can’t use the public showers… He plays with Elena, after all. She’s probably the exact same way.

His offer is way more tempting than I’d expected it to be. I… do really want to take a shower sooner rather than later. While I hesitate, he continues.

“You’re welcome to borrow a towel and toiletries - I’m sure none of us would take any issue with that. And if you’re willing to share your sizes, I might be able to find you some clothes to change into. I still have a small stockpile of civilian wear in my office somewhere.”

“Why do you have civilian clothes?” I ask, curiosity distracting me momentarily.

“Undercover missions, mostly,” he says with a small shrug, “That, and we seem to end up with most of the items that sit too long in the lost-and-found. They’re laundered and given to us , for some gods-forsaken reason…” Tseng rolls his eyes, and I almost smile. But before I can, he turns his eyes back on me and gives me an expectant look, bringing me back to the matter at hand. He’s waiting for an answer.

I swallow and shift in my seat, trying to will myself to make a decision. I know what I want the answer to be - yes - but my stubbornness forces me to hold out. I don’t want to give in to Tseng yet again, but he’s played a trump card. He’d let me borrow toiletries… It’s tempting to go if just to see what sort of shampoo everyone uses. That’s some very easy fantasy fuel. 

Now or never. I have to choose.

“...Okay,” I finally relent. Tseng smiles.

“Good. I’ll show you there,” he steps to the side and gestures toward the door. The suddenness springs a cold sweat on my skin, and I struggle to get myself to stand up. I’m halfway to the door before he stops me.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks, pointing toward my desk. Shit… My keys are laying there. I swipe them up and let Tseng open the door. We step out and I lock up my office behind me, sticking the keyring in the pocket of my slacks. 

Walking through the 16th floor office spaces with a Turk is always a harrowing experience - I think everyone knows what’s up now, because they all stare at us as we walk past. I’m starting to wonder just how much they know. I hope the walls of my office are soundproof.

In the elevator, Tseng pulls out a card and swipes it in the console. It allows him to select one of the basement levels - B3. He presses the button and we begin to move.

“Before I forget,” he asks as we descend, “What’s your shirt size?”

“Oh - I wear a medium,” I say.

“And pants?” he asks.

“36 by 32.”

“Thank you,” he nods with a small smile, “After I show you to the showers, I’ll see if I can find something for you to wear.”

“Th-thanks,” I stutter nervously. Gods, I hope I can do this without fully breaking down into a puddle. But then, maybe going down the drain would solve all my problems. 

The elevator shifts to a stop on level B3 - what I assume is all Turks office space, since Tseng needed that special clearance card to access it. If this is Turks turf, what am I about to witness? I half expect to be greeted with a wall of weaponry or newspaper clippings when the door opens, but instead I’m greeted with an empty hallway. That was… probably to be expected. Tseng steps out, and I follow him as he turns to the left. 

“You can come in,” he says, pressing a button to open a door, “I just need to grab something. I’ll only be a minute.”

I step through the doorway into the tall-ceilinged room. It’s set up like a fancy conference room, but it’s functioning like an office bullpen. A large screen on the back wall shows a news feed, and smaller screens throughout the room show similar images. Elena, Reno, and Rude are all set up in here, working away at computers on respective projects. When Tseng and I walk in, all three of them look up at me and smile.

“Oh, hi Lane!” Elena says brightly, giving me an excited wave. I timidly wave back - gods, she’s still so cute.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Reno jokes, “What are you doin’ down here, kid?”

I blush, unable to admit the reasoning behind my visit. Tseng is already halfway across the room, headed to a desk just beneath the screens, but I can still hear him chuckle.

“Lane didn’t get a chance to shower or change this morning, so that is what they’re here to do,” he says matter-of-factly as he reaches the desk and begins gathering papers. I glance nervously around the room. Reno and Rude are both positioned to look right at me, and they give me sly smiles. Elena turns back to her computer, but not before I catch her blush bright red. 

“I have an important call in about ten minutes, so I’m just getting my papers together now. I should be back within half an hour or so,” Tseng straightens up and begins to walk back toward the door. Reno and Rude both murmur in understanding, and gradually return to their projects as Tseng and I leave the room once again.

“Thank you for your patience,” Tseng says as we walk. He turns and flashes a grin at me, “Let’s get you to the showers now, hm?”

I feel myself shrink under his smiling gaze, even as he turns to face forward again. A slight smile stays on his lips as he walks me down to the other end of the hall, where he opens another door with the touch of a button.

We enter a locker room. Rows of standing lockers line two of the walls, along with sinks and a single doorway off to another space on the right. A few restroom stalls line another side. And in the back, several open showers stand in waiting, separated from the main space only by short segments of tile wall. They’re so short that even I could see over them, and the tops are lined with various bottles of soaps and shampoos. Unlike a typical locker room, the space smells fresh and clean, and the scent draws heat downward through my body.

“As I said, feel free to use anything you find lying around,” Tseng says. He saunters over to a locker and spins the combination lock, popping it open and extracting a black towel from inside, “Here’s a towel for you to use. I’ll be back in a few minutes with some clothes for you - feel free to take your time.”

Tseng lays the towel on a bench, not far from the short tile walls, and turns on his heel. Before he leaves, he turns one last time and flashes me a smile.

And then I am alone.

Chapter Text

I start taking off my gross clothes right away. I’m almost too jittery to look around, but “almost” doesn’t mean “unable.” 

The room is unorganized, sure, but not dirty by any means. It’s clear that there are four distinct individuals using the space in here - Elena’s stuff is easiest to pick out, having feminine labelling and often being relegated together in little pods. There’s a combination of top-shelf products and cheap, 1-gil store stuff… Most of the cheap stuff is haphazardly scattered around, and I somehow get the sense that those spaces are Reno’s. I can’t quite find a big difference between Tseng and Rude’s stuff, but in the same stroke there’s a separation - a few high end products mixed in amongst Reno’s things. Those could very well be his too, but I suspect that they’re not. 

Makes little difference to me at the moment. Here I am, standing in their locker room, stark naked. I toss the dirty clothes onto the bench, carefully laying my glasses on top of everything. I want to get behind that wall before Tseng walks in - even though he’s already seen me half-naked; I don’t really have much to hide. But still.

I step gingerly into the shower space. There’s a little bit of cold water still puddled on the floor from the last time it was used - within the last day or so, I’m guessing. There’s five showerheads to choose, and I end up going with the one right in the center, standing to the side as I turn it on. A blast of cold water comes out at first, but as I’m steeling myself to hop into the spray (as I do every morning), the water starts to slowly grow warmer. Oh my gods, I’d almost forgotten that hot water exists. I wait patiently for the water to warm up, one hand outstretched. Oh, this is gonna feel amazing… I haven’t had a hot shower since I moved above plate months ago.

A pneumatic hiss alerts me to the fact that the door opens. I jump and shrink, looking over the short wall to watch Tseng step in. He smiles when he sees me.

“You can get in,” he says as he steps toward the bench, “The water isn’t going to bite you.”

“Hhheheheh…” I laugh from the nerves, and I can feel my face going red-hot. I keep him in my peripheral as he disappears behind the wall, leaning down to the bench to no doubt leave some clothes for me to change into. From his angle, he can’t possibly see more than my head, even at his closest. When he comes back up, he turns back toward the door, giving me a smirk over his shoulder as he leaves once again.

I take a deep breath of steam, trying to get my thoughts in order. I’m not going to lie - there’s a little part of me that’s disappointed that he just came and went. Somewhere deep down, I was almost expecting him to…

Oh, to what , Lane? I have got to knock it off with these improbable fantasies. This isn’t him flirting - he was only being courteous. I make a mental note to thank him before I head back to my office - he didn’t have to offer this to me. This is his space, after all. 

Thrusting myself under the hot water helps immensely to calm me down, ironically. My body zeroes me into the sensation of warmth that I usually miss during my daily ablutions. Not to mention the water pressure, which just isn’t a thing at home. This feels like heaven… So much so that I don’t even want to move. I stay still under the spray for a long time, letting the hot water just sluice off my body and splatter to the tiled floor. Fuck melting into a puddle - I wanna stay right here forever. 

Can’t really do that, though. I shouldn’t use all their hot water down here, right? ...Or does the Shinra building never run out of hot water? I try to picture Rufus turning on his shower in the executive suite and getting greeted with a frigid spray after one too many employees beat him to the warmth of the hot-water reservoir. I feel like if that happened, someone would lose their job. The thought is almost silly, and it makes me laugh. 

Okay, focus, Lane. I should really start making progress here. But… it isn’t really that simple, is it? The next step to making progress is to wash up properly, and for that, I need shampoo and soap.

Which means I need to borrow something from what’s available. And, by gods, to a soap fetishist with several crushes, this is a fucking buffet.

There are three bottles of shampoo lined up on the shelf, all near one another (makes sense - I’m guessing Rude doesn’t need any shampoo). The labels make it easy to pick out which one belongs to who - Elena’s shampoo “for ladies” touts a fragrance of roses. Reno’s is a three-in-one bottle of “Racer’s Edge” from a convenience store, and Tseng’s is some top-shelf, salon-quality stuff.

...Which should I use?

I take my fucking time with the decision this time. I uncap each bottle and inhale the scents, nailing down exactly whose is whose - Tseng’s in particular smells exactly like him, and also a little bit like Rufus somehow. I suppose that probably shouldn’t be as surprising as it is.

I wish this was easier. I like all three of these guys, and I want to be even closer to each of them… 

Well… Hey, here’s a concept - Why can’t I use all three?

I blush as the lightbulb goes off. My eyes dart back and forth from the door to my task at hand, praying to gods that no one walks in and witnesses this. I dispense a small amount of each shampoo into my palm, letting the smells mix together in a cocktail that’s somehow wholly aphrodisiac. Maybe that’s just Pavlovian at this point with me, but whatever. 

I let my fingers run the mixture of product through my hair, feeling soft and luxurious as it foams up under my touch. I let the lather run down my body and eventually melt away under the stream. I feel like I’m sighing every four seconds, but I can’t help it - I’m in heaven.

Ah… Okay Lane, don’t get too lost in it now. I need to get done in here eventually. I don’t know what I’d do if anyone walks in on me, so I should probably just hurry up and get done. 

There are three containers of body wash in the shower, which puzzles me for a second until I notice that there’s also a bar of soap on the shelf. I guess you don’t always need both… I wonder who uses the bar soap. It’s probably not appropriate for me to grab that and use it - body wash is different; I’ll just use a mix of the three products available to me, like I did with the shampoo. Once again, one of these is clearly Elena’s with its sweet fragrance, one is Reno’s with a store-brand label, and one is… either Rude’s or Tseng’s. I can’t tell - it’s masculine, but in a classy way. The bottle is designed to look like it’s made of wood grain, and the smell is fresh and minty with a hint of musk. It doesn’t really smell like Tseng, so I figure it’s probably Rude’s. Either way, I’m glad to add it to my secret mix. 

I run my own hands against soft skin, feeling it grow slick as I wash. Elena’s body wash is exfoliating, with scrubby particles in it. Reno’s body wash is cooling, and I feel the icy wave as it washes over me. The combination of sensations has me biting back moans all over again, and I almost regret having to rinse away all the suds.

I let myself stay under the water for a bit longer, gazing at the bottles on the shelf and taking in their every detail, memorizing them in case I never get this chance again. I want to be able to think about them later when I jack off to the memory. 

That bar of soap catches my eye again, and I find myself curious once more about who it belongs to. Well, none of those body washes really smelled like Tseng, so I’m thinking that the soap bar probably does. But there’s only one way to really find out, isn’t there?

I shake as much water off my hand as possible and reach for it, holding it gingerly in my palm to avoid getting the surface too wet. I hardly look at it and instead bring it up to my nose and sniff, trying to decide if I can tell what brand it is just by smell. Mm… Definitely a generic white Shinra-brand bar, easily the most common type for sale in Midgar. It’s not typically my preference - Barclay was my favorite brand back home - but the floral scent of the white variant does have some fond memories attached.

I open my eyes to get a better look at it - see if a brand-name is still visible, or if the carved letters have been washed away. What I see instead is unexpected enough to make me gasp.

There’s teeth marks embedded in this thing. Deep ones, set in a full arc across the surface of the bar. They don’t exactly look fresh - like the bar’s been otherwise used since it last took a trip into someone’s mouth - but they’re deep-set enough to cement their existence beyond a fluke. 

Who… Whose teeth marks are those? Who ended up with this soap bar in their mouth? Who put it there?

Fuck, my mind absolutely buzzes with questions. Enough logic prevails for me to convince myself to put the soap down before my cover is blown, but I can still clearly see it when I close my eyes. What a wonderful replacement for the tabloid image from last night. I can’t stop thinking about it. 

And to go back and answer my original query - it does indeed smell a bit like Tseng. That’s definitely his soap (and he appears to have used it since it was last used for disciplinary purposes, which is titillating), but I still don’t know who ended up with it in their mouth. Reno or Elena seem like prime candidates… But what if it was Rude? He doesn’t seem very talkative, but now I’m picturing him with a bar of soap in his mouth, tall and strong and submitting to Tseng’s punishment method of choice. The image is jarringly sexy. Oh, or what if it was Rufus? He mentioned that he was a switch - does Tseng ever punish him too? It even grazes my mind that those teeth marks could belong to Tseng himself - having the soap shoved in there by his subordinates in revenge, or even by Rufus for his own taste of discipline. Questions devolve completely into fantasy as I dream of what the answers could possibly be.

Phew… Okay, dial it back, Lane. I can’t let myself get too carried away. Somebody is gonna walk in on me masturbating, and I can’t imagine that would go over well for me. I can dream that it might, sure, but reality is not fiction. I have to hold back until I know I’ve got consent and all my details straight.

In the meantime, I face the biggest challenge thus far - turning off the water. I do need to get out and dry off and get out of their hair for the day… But fuck, this feels so nice . I just don’t want to let it go, especially with all the steam and scents and fantasy swirling around me. It just feels so perfect… But I do eventually manage to drag my hand up to the faucet lever and turn it off.

I’m quick to get my ass around the wall corner to the bench where Tseng laid the towel. Without the hot water to refresh my body heat, it feels absolutely freezing in here. I rub the towel across my hair first, wrapping it around my head so it doesn’t drip down while I try to dry everything else. With the towel up to my face like this, I can’t help but inhale deeply - the soft black cloth smells just like Tseng. Is this his towel? I shiver at the mere concept. Or maybe I’m just cold. I don’t waste any more time before starting to dry off the rest of my body, working my way down before wrapping the towel around myself at my underarms.

I reach toward the pile of clothing for my glasses, only to find that it’s changed quite a bit from last I saw it. The haphazardly strewn items of clothing that I’d arrived to work in are nowhere to be seen (aside from my shoes resting under the bench), and in their place is a neatly folded stack, topped with my glasses, phone, and office keys. I put the glasses on and get a better look at whatever Tseng picked out for me. 

The first item is a pair of black boxer briefs. It’s not dissimilar from what I typically wear on a usual day, but I’m still thrown off. Did Tseng really just give me some random underwear that came from the lost and found? I know he mentioned that they’d have been laundered, but still… I hardly want to touch them. But they’re all I’ve got. Could just go commando, I guess… 

I pick them up and read the label on the interior. It’s pretty faded - I can’t tell what brand they are, but I can read the size marker: Large. Exactly what I wear. I can also see a name clearly written with permanent marker in the pale gray inside of the waistband - Tseng.

My blush amps back up as I realize exactly whose underwear I’m holding. He straight-up gave me a spare pair of his underwear, oh my gods. I can’t tell if that helps or hurts my ability to put them on.

...Oh, who am I kidding? It totally helps. 

I step into the boxer briefs and pull them up. They’re slightly snug - I’m sure my large is different from his. The fabric hugs the curve of my chubby hips. It’s so soft.

I eventually manage to regather my wits and move on to the next item in the pile. That would be a shirt, but frankly, I’d rather get the pants on next so I can get socks and shoes on as soon as possible, so I move the shirt to the side and grab the pants. They’re just a simple pair of tan slacks, and the tag reads 36/32 - my exact size once again. Wow, Tseng really nailed this. I pull the pants on, making sure that the legs don’t drag into any errant water puddles. They fit me just perfectly - perfect length, perfect width. On top of that, they have a nice clean crease on each leg - far more professional-looking than the frumpy gray khaki pants I’d slept in last night. They feel high-quality. 

I sit down on the bench and reach for my shoes next. There’s a bundled pair of socks shoved into one of the openings - black, soft, and clean. I pull them on one at a time, then slide on my familiar old black dress shoes. Next to these quality clothes, they look extra beaten-up. It really is time to replace them. Well… I get paid today. Maybe I’ll go to a shop this weekend.

The last item is the shirt. It’s somewhere between a plum purple and a navy blue color - a polo shirt, made of soft knit fabric. It again seems pretty high quality… Did Tseng really drag this out of the lost and found? If I owned this shirt, I wouldn’t leave it laying around anywhere.

Before I pull the shirt on, however, I’d really like to know if there’s any deodorant I can get away with using. I have my doubts - not like I’m going to borrow anyone’s stick deodorant - but maybe somebody uses a spray?

Ooh, score - must be my lucky day. There’s a mens’ spray deodorant on the edge of one of the sinks. Not sure who it belongs to, but it’ll work just fine. I grab some and spray it on. Oh shit, it makes me cough - that’s a musky, manly kind of smell, really sort of spicy. Not something I’d pick for myself, but it will do the job for today. 

Once the cloud of aerosol clears, I pull the shirt over my head and do up the buttons. Oh shit, I actually look kind of professional like this. I run my fingers through my hair to comb it into place and grin at myself in the steam-edged mirror. For the first time in a damn long time, I actually feel good in a physical sense. Not that I usually feel bad, but, well, cold showers and thrifted work clothes don’t exactly constitute effective self-care. This is several steps up from my usual routine, and it’s got me in a very good mood. 

Now to start getting back to work.

My phone tells me that I’ve been in the shower for twenty minutes, so Tseng should probably be finishing up that phone call. I… don’t really remember where the elevator is, so I should probably go find him. I also want to thank him for letting me use these showers. And also his towel and underwear, if I can find the words to do so.

I grab the keys and pocket my phone, leaving the towel on the bench since I don’t know what else to do with it. I press the button to open the locker room door (which is way cooler than the plain old door handles on the upper floors of the building, by the way) and step back out into the hallway. 

There are several doors down here that all look identical and are entirely unlabeled. I’m not sure what’s what - there’s only one door that I remember. The one at the very end of the hallway - that conference room of sorts. Fuck, I don’t really want to go disturb anyone, but… maybe Tseng is down there? If he’s not, then maybe I can wait for him there. It seemed like that big desk in the front of the room was his, so he’s bound to come back that way at some point. I make my way down there and slide open the door to step inside. 

Reno, Rude, and Elena all look up at me again, still hard at work in the same spots they’d been in earlier. Elena turns her head back to her computer when she realizes that it’s me, but slowly turns again to look at me in her peripheral. Rude and Reno both smile at me, and Reno speaks.

“Hey kid - ooh, lookin’ sharp. All clean, huh?” He’s got that smirk on his face that lets me know that he’s teasing me on purpose. I hate that I give him the satisfaction of a blush.

“Hmph… Where’s Tseng?” I ask, changing the subject as much as possible.

“Probably still in his office. You know where that’s at?”

“Uh… no.”

“Here,” Reno pushes his chair away from the table and stands, “I’ll show you.”

“Thanks,” I say, stepping aside to let him take the lead as we head back into the hallway. We walk until we reach a door on the left, not many steps from the conference room. Reno knocks with two loud raps, then pushes a button and sweeps his hand out, dramatically gesturing for me to enter. I give him a playfully annoyed look and take a single step inside as he turns to leave.

Directly in front of me is Tseng’s desk. It’s large and black and strewn with papers. He sits behind it, a landline phone held up to his ear as he shifts through sheets and forms. There’s two chairs in front of his desk, and when he sees me, he gives me a nod of acknowledgement before pointing to the chairs, inviting me to have a seat. 

Tseng continues to talk into the phone - I’m not following any of it; it’s all numbers and quotas and deadlines and business jargon. I tune it out, and instead begin to peek around the room. Filing cabinets line the wall to my right. To my left, more cabinets, interrupted by a door. Behind Tseng’s desk stand tall bookshelves, loaded with binders and books with spines thicker than my arm. The office space is way bigger than any normal office - it feels like a mile between the door and the desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Vice President,” Tseng’s voice draws my attention back to him, “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss right away? Lane just walked in, so I’d better be going soon,” he pauses, then grins as he listens to Rufus on the other end, “Yes, they’re looking much cleaner. I-” He cuts himself off and listens again, then rolls his eyes, “Yes, Sir. Lane - Rufus says hello.”

I smile.

“Hi, Rufus,” I call playfully toward the receiver. Tseng smiles too and shakes his head, listening in.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll see you for the three o’clock meeting. ...Of course,” And with that, he hangs up, turning his full attention to me. 

“Apologies for that. Rufus wanted some input on a report,” He shifts the papers away from the center of his desk, then looks at me again, “Stand up.”

My stomach leaps at his sudden command, but I do as I’m asked. Tseng stands as well and looks me up and down, analyzing.

“Hm… You look very professional,” he remarks, affirming my earlier feelings, “But I have a feeling we can make it better. Give me a moment. Tuck your shirt in.”

Tseng steps over to the filing cabinets on the right side of the room. He digs through them for a moment, and I busy myself with attempting to get the shirt shoved into the pants. When Tseng turns back, he’s got a belt in his hands. 

“Put this on,” he says, “Shoe size?”

“Huh? Oh - 9,” I answer, attempting to get the belt threaded through the loops. As I’m securing it, Tseng returns with a pair of brown wingtip leather shoes in his hand.

“Try these on,” he says, waiting and watching as I trade my old shoes for these new ones. When I finish, I look up at him - he still has a hand on his chin, analyzing me. Without a word, he turns and walks back to his desk, pulling something out of a drawer and returning to me. Before I can do much of anything, he hooks his hand under my chin and begins to run a comb through my hair, parting it on the side the way I usually do for work and slicking it towards the back. I almost whimper out loud - I’m weak for having my hair touched - but I manage to bite it back, letting him style me how he wants. When he decides that my hair’s in place, he steps back, looks me up and down one more time, and nods. 

“How does it all feel? Everything fit well?”

“It’s all perfect,” I say in full truth, “These clothes are… really, really nice. This is seriously all lost and found stuff?”

“Actually, none of it was,” Tseng says, “Some of the clothing I have stashed away belonged to previous Turks. You happen to share a size with a former employee who left his civilian clothing here upon retiring.”

“Oh,” I say. For the first part of that explanation, I was almost afraid that I’m wearing the clothing of someone who died, but Tseng’s mention of retirement puts me at ease. 

“The socks and underwear are mine, though,” he adds casually, “I hope you don’t mind - I figured they’d suffice for the day.”

“Oh… Y-Yeah, they’re, uh… fine. Thanks,” I stammer awkwardly. Tseng gives me a grin.

“Good. I’ll return your clothes to you on Monday, after they’ve been laundered,” he explains, then sits back down at his desk, relaxing and looking up at me, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

That edge of secret implication is back in his voice. On first listen it sounds like a perfectly innocent question, but on second thought, there’s a darker, naughtier edge behind it. Is he… asking me if I got off?

“It was… a very nice experience,” I say, trying to be honest, “I’d almost forgotten what hot water felt like.”

That makes Tseng’s brow furrow.

“Do you not have hot water in your home?” 

“Not usually,” I shrug, “I’m used to it, honestly. No big deal.”

Tseng looks confused - almost taken aback. He turns to his computer and begins typing as he talks.

“If that’s the case, then I’d like to extend your invitation to use our shower facility,” he says, “I’ll work on getting you an access key card. If you’d like to use the showers here instead of at home, you’re more than welcome to, though it would probably be best for you to bring your own towels and toiletries in the future.”

“Oh… Sure,” I say slowly. I’m struck by his offer - to just waltz down here on my own and do that again. Every day, if I wanted to. He’s really going to get me an access keycard just so I can come shower whenever I want?

“Alright,” Tseng finishes whatever he was typing, and stands, “Let me walk you back to the elevator, then. It won’t open without an access card,” I follow him out the door of his office and back down the hallway to the elevator, where he swipes the key card and lets me step inside as it arrives.

“Thanks for the offer to do this,” I say, fighting my shyness, “It was… much appreciated.”

Tseng smiles at me, almost knowingly.

“You’re very welcome, Lane,” he says, “Come back anytime.”

My heart tumbles with his offer. I can’t wait to do this again.

Chapter Text

I return to my desk to find an email from Rufus waiting for me.

“Lane, these pictures are just perfect. Thank you so much for your professional assistance. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Hope you enjoyed your shower, too.

That will be all for this week. Have a wonderful weekend.

Rufus”

His compliments fill me with butterflies again. Too much more of this, and they’re going to take up permanent residence in my guts. They’ve probably already started a nest - let’s be real.

I’m a little bummed that I won’t have anything to do for the rest of the day, but I think I’ll manage. I can’t keep the fantasies out of my head - everything I saw and learned during my morning, coupled with the fact that I’ll get to do it again. As soon as Monday, even. That’s only a few days away! 

In all honesty, I’m not sure if I’ll do much of anything differently. Tseng mentioned that I should bring my own towel and toiletries for next time, and I won’t lie - that’s got me slightly disappointed. Makes perfect sense, of course… But I wonder if I’ll be able to sneak some shampoo from the Turks’ bottles every now and again without anyone noticing. 

I especially can’t stop thinking about that marked-up bar of soap. There’s still so much mystery and possibility surrounding it - how am I supposed to let it go? It takes honest effort not to touch myself in my office, but I manage, opting instead to stare blankly at my computer screen for most of the day. The stillness of the desktop is a good backdrop for my perverted thoughts.

At 2:45, I get a text from Tseng.

"You should leave around 3 today - no need to work overtime when you don’t have much to do.”

He’s got a point. I type out a response.

"Got it, I’ll head home soon. Will I see you later?”

I hope that wasn’t too forward for me to ask. But I’m curious. I’m really hoping that I do get to see him tonight.

Ding.

“Not likely. I’ll be working late. I’ll see you on Monday, on time.”

“Okay. Have a good weekend!”

Well, that’s a little disappointing. For as good as this day’s started, it’s a double-edged sword - none of the rest of the day can top this morning. It all seems like a let-down in comparison.

Meh, shake it off, Lane. You’ll survive. 

I pack my things up and head out, travelling my patterned path from my office to the elevator, street to train to street to home. I step inside my apartment, much earlier in the day than usual, and sigh.

My place has been a real mess lately. It’s small, and I’ve packed it full of my belongings over the time I’ve lived here. When I’d gotten here, there were half a dozen bookshelves along the walls, and a small dirty mattress in a corner. I did end up getting rid of that mattress and scrounging for a new one - not that hard, since I was working in Wall Market at the time. It took me a whole week to clean this place top to bottom, and even then there were stains and spots that wouldn’t come out no matter how much elbow grease went into them.

I consider using my free time to clean my place up today, but I just can’t motivate myself to do it. Ah, well - I decide that my time is best used taking a nap anyway. After the awful sleep I got last night (and with plans to stay up late tonight), I better catch up with it as much as possible. I need to be able to do my best tonight.

Gotta admit, though - I don’t really want to take off these nice office clothes. I go and stand in the bathroom, peeking at myself in the only full-length mirror I own on the back of the door. I do look super professional, especially with the borrowed shoes and belt. It was a tad degrading to get styled like a doll in Tseng’s office, but he clearly knew what he was doing. It felt good in the end and, I mean, a little degradation here and there can be sort of hot. 

I do really wanna nap, though.

I compromise - I’ll just keep on the underwear and socks. I take off the shoes and belt and place them neatly by my door, then remove the shirt and pants and neatly fold them, following the crease lines. Maybe I can wear them again sometime? I wish I’d appreciated them more while they were on.

When I’m mostly undressed, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror again, standing there in just Tseng’s boxers and socks. Just the sight of it makes me blush. I can’t believe he just lent these to me without so much as a second thought. 

I set my alarm for 6 and crawl under my covers, bundling myself in a comfy little nest before reaching for a very good friend of mine - my favorite wand vibrator. I’ve been buzzing with fantasies all day, so why not keep up the buzzing and fantasizing now? Mm, fuck… It isn’t sex, but I still know where the best spots are to hit with my wand. I can’t help but roll back through those fantasies again… Imagining every possible combination of who could’ve had that soap bar in their mouth, what they did with it, who punished them… 

That could all be me soon.

That does it. With all the buildup of the day, it doesn’t take me long at all to cum and feel spent. I let my wand roll to the floor and turn over myself, drifting off as the dopamine rushes through me.

I dream about something, but I can’t remember it as soon as my alarm goes off. It’s easier to get up from a nap than it is to rise from real sleep - Gods know I needed that.

Now that I’m up for real, I have plenty of time to get ready for the party tonight. I put on my usual Friday-night clothes and my flat cap, grabbing my mask and my camera bag as I head out the door.

I grab dinner from a street vendor and hop on the train, eating on the way. It’s too bad that Tseng won’t be there tonight, but it comes with a silver lining. After last week’s interruption, I’m ready to redeem myself and focus on pictures all night long. 

I get there at 9, right when the doors open. I slip inside, breathing in deeply as this bar begins to stir to life. Time to find Spicier and grab the SD card.

“Hey, Aperture! How’s it going?” Spicier finds me first, heading my way from his spot at the bar.

“Great,” I say with a smile, “You got the card?”

“Sure thing - here,” He hands it to me, “How was your week? Did you make it home okay last Friday?”

“Oh… Yeah, I was totally fine. My week was… really good,” I say, finally pausing to think about it. I’m happy to be honest - it was a really good week, wasn’t it?

“Hey, I’m glad to hear it,” Spicier grins, “Say, by the way, you wouldn’t happen to know if Shion is gonna be here tonight, do you? He told me it was still up in the air.”

“He… told me that he probably won’t make it,” I say, shrugging off a blush. Why did Spicier think that I would know? Shion is just a house top that I happened to scene with last time - as far as he knows, we don’t have any other connections, right? Regardless of how he guessed, I’m embarrassed to confirm that he guessed right.

“Aw, that’s too bad,” he says, “You two seemed to really hit it off last time. You know… Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, but after you left and Shion finished his scenes, he came over and talked about you for a while. He made it sound like you two were gonna hang out more in the future. I think he really likes you!”

So much for hiding my blush.

“Really?” I say quietly.

“Oh yeah, totally! Have you guys hung out at all since last weekend?”

“Um… Yeah, we… uh…”

I don’t want to say that we’re coworkers, so I stutter a little. Lucky for me, someone calls Spicier’s name, waving him toward the door. Looks like some folks from the street managed to wander in again. He makes a brief apology and runs off to take care of things, leaving me alone with my camera and my butterflies. Thinking about Tseng talking to the group leaders about me fills me with a really strangely warm feeling. 

The feeling eventually fades away again as I turn to my task of the evening. I get distracted as I chase the scenes and pink bracelets for hours, finding that rhythm that I know and love to shoot. Time is lost on me, and the next time I check the clock, it’s already 1 am - around the time when most folks start to take it easy, and the time when I usually give the SD card back to Spicier. Last call is in about an hour.

I wait for the scene I’d been shooting to wrap up, and I’m about to make my way to the bar when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Hello, Aperture,” that velvet voice - no way .

“Ts- Uh, Shion?” I almost screw up, but I catch myself, “I thought you said you weren’t going to make it.”

“I said it wasn’t likely,” he corrects me, “But I managed to finish up much more quickly than I’d anticipated.”

“Oh, well, that’s good!”

“Indeed,” he smiles at me, “I would ask you to scene tonight, but it seems the spaces are all booked up for the evening,” He turns and gestures toward the couches in the corner, “Could I instead steal you for a few minutes to chat?”

“Sure! I was just finishing up for the night, actually.”

“Wonderful,” he glances at me over his shoulder, “Then I know I’ll have your undivided attention.”

Leave it to Tseng to somehow figure out how to turn me on with only his words. I flush, but follow closely behind him, having a seat right next to him on one of the sectionals. I try to leave a little professional distance, but he slides in enough to close the gap. I don’t try to move away any more.

“How’s this evening going for you?” he starts, “Better than your morning?”

I know he’s referencing my very rushed wake-up panic, but in all honesty, this morning might’ve been the best part of the day.

“It’s been good,” I say, “I got a nap in with my spare time, caught up on some sleep.”

“Good, good,” he says. He leans back and swings a leg up, resting his ankle on his knee in a relaxed posture. His arm slides across the back of the couch behind me - not wrapping around my shoulder, but just barely touching the back of my neck. Gods, every time he touches me, I burn with static. I hope that I stop doing that soon… What’s it going to take to get my body to just feel normal whenever he’s in the room?

“Did you… work late tonight?” I say, attempting to make conversation and distract myself. Tseng glances at me through his mask and smiles.

“I don’t do much else,” he sighs, shaking his head. I don’t have much response for that - this isn’t an environment in which I can pry. I don’t think I should pry at all anyways. 

Instead, we sit in silence for a few seconds before Tseng turns to me. His brow is furrowed, and he takes a deep breath, like he’s going to ask me something. But then he exhales, and spends another few seconds staring at me.

“...What?” I can’t take the suspense anymore. What the hell is he looking at me like that for?

Tseng smirks.

“Did you use Rude’s deodorant after your shower this morning?”

“Ah, I…” I feel my face flush again.

“The spray-on one?” Tseng pushes, “I can smell it on you,” I feel his hand shift and now wrap over my shoulder in full. Even at such a simple touch, I find I have to bite back a moan.

“M-Maybe…” I hedge, too embarrassed to admit the truth.

“There you go again, neglecting honesty,” he says, his voice taking on that familiar teasing purr. He puts a hand under my chin and tilts it up so I look him in the eyes, “Do you want to try that one again? It was a simple yes-or-no question.”

I wince and whimper, but ultimately find the footing to reply.

“Yes,” I squeak. Tseng hums in response, satisfied with my answer. 

But he doesn’t let it go.

“And then which shampoo did you use?” he pries.

“...Why do you care?” I ask sharply. I’m not usually bratty, but for some reason it bursts out of me right then.

It’s answered with a hard grip on my chin. Instant regret.

“I was kind enough to let you borrow what you needed,” Tseng growls, “And I would like to know what you used. Is that a good enough reason for you-?”

He’s about to say “or…” but I’m not about to let him finish that threat.

“Yes, Sir,” I say, cutting him off. He must be enjoying the fear in my eyes. He smiles as he releases me and returns his hand to his lap.

“Well then - go on, tell me. Which shampoo did you use? Or were you too distracted to remember?”

Oh, I remember clear as day, but I don’t want to confess the truth to him. I squirm in my seat until I feel him pinch my shoulder in stern reminder. I gasp at the pain and spit it out.

“...All of them,” It’s very nearly a whisper. I just can’t quite do it. 

“All of them?” Tseng repeats, making sure he heard me right, “Don’t you think that’s a little wasteful? I know you can’t help yourself, but really… Maybe I need to teach you some self-control?”

This casual degradation and his threats are driving me up the wall. I just know that he can read on my face the effects that his words have on me. 

“I-I used them all at once!” I whine in defense, “Just a little of each - I wasn’t wasteful...”

“A little of each, huh?” Tseng says, cocking a brow, “Alright, I’d buy that. And then what did you use to wash the rest?” His hand finds my knee and trails halfway up my thigh. The momentum casts a ghost of his touch directly to my pussy. 

“...The body washes,” I admit, “A little bit of each again.”

“Oh? That’s interesting,” He’s taking every opportunity to draw this teasing out, “I would’ve thought that you’d gravitate toward my bar of soap.”

“I… picked it up,” I squeak, “But it… uh…”

“ Surprised you?” he presses, smiling. He doesn’t have to say anything more - I know exactly what he’s referring to. 

“N-no,” I attempt to backpedal, “Just… Didn’t seem appropriate to use it, that’s all.”

“Fair enough,” Tseng says with a nod, “Though I wouldn’t have minded. In all honesty, I almost expected to find fresh marks in that bar when I took my own shower later.”

I can’t take it anymore - I shift to the side and hide my face behind my hand. Tseng chuckles and tugs, pulling me in against him. 

“Relax,” he tells me, “I’m only teasing.”

“I know,” I sigh, trying to relax like he asked me to. It’s not as easy as it sounds, though - not because of the teasing, but because of his touch. We’re literally almost cuddling right now, though it’s a lot more like I’m leaned up against him while he sits up straight. He’s even put his hand back up on the couch - this is all me. 

“Oh,” Tseng says softly. I tilt my head back to look up at him, then follow his gaze back to the bar. Spicier and his friends are all looking at us, smiling and laughing amongst themselves.

“Seems like we have an audience,” Tseng says with a chuckle, “Here, stand up. Why don’t we go chat with them for a while?”

“Oh - sure,” I sit up, letting go of that fleeting moment that I was up against his chest. Tseng and I walk over to the bar side by side. Spicier, Hera, Chilla, and Greyed all greet us, and step aside to let us order at the bar. I order a rum and cola, and while Tseng orders a bourbon neat, I grab my camera again and pop out the SD card, handing it back to Spicier.

“Here, Spice.”

“Thanks, Aperture,” he says with a smile, “Hope we weren’t interrupting you guys.”

“No, not at all,” Tseng cuts in, turning back toward us, “We were just catching up.”

“‘Catching up,’ huh?” Hera can sniff out budding relationships a mile away, “Sure, sure… Seems like the two of you have really hit it off.”

“Yeah, I guess we have,” I answer shakily, looking to Tseng for approval. That much, I suppose, is inarguably true - we did hit it off. 

“Are you guys an item yet?” Hera asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. I feel Tseng prod my hand, depositing my drink into it.

“Aperture is under consideration by myself and my other partners,” Tseng says confidently, “So far, we’ve all thoroughly enjoyed their company, and we’re looking forward to more opportunities to get to know them better.”

“Ah, I see - the collection grows, then. What is this, Shion, your fifth partner?” Hera laughs. Tseng laughs with her.

“Yes, it is,” he says.

“Speeeaking of getting to know Aperture…” Spicier says, turning his eyes toward me, “You got them to drop a pretty interesting fact last week. Really, Aperture - you like having your mouth washed out, huh?”

Fuck, that’s right - consequences . For the longest time, I’ve been dreading this conversation, feeling like everyone would just think I’m weird for this fetish. But with Tseng at my side, I somehow feel much more confident.

“...Yeah, I do,” I say quietly. I’ve got the same feeling in my gut as I did earlier this week, when Tseng and Rufus and Reno held a similar conversation with Elena and me. 

“That’s really neat!” Chilla says, “I’ve never heard of that one before. It seems like it could be really fun! Well, not fun for a sub, but I bet it’s a blast to punish someone else that way!”

“Oh, it certainly is,” Tseng says, laughing along with the group.

“That’s right - isn’t one of your other partners into that too, Shion?” Greyed asks. Tseng nods. 

“Indeed. Aperture fits in very nicely with our little group,” He glances down at me and gives me a smile. I sip my drink in an attempt to avoid having to look at him.

“That’s wonderful,” Hera gushes, “I’m so glad we got to introduce the two of you!”

The conversation carries on, mostly between Tseng and the group leaders about relationship gossip and general upcoming events. I down my drink faster than I normally do, and Tseng pays my tab off when he pays his own, much to my displeasure.

“I can do that myself, you know,” I grumble. Tseng smiles.

“I seem to recall you telling me that I didn’t have to ask,” he counters. I roll my eyes in return.

“Careful,” he warns me quietly, “You’ll earn yourself a punishment that way.”

“Good,” I snark. Put any alcohol in my system, and my inner brat appears out of nowhere, “Thought you couldn’t wait to punish me again.”

“Oh, we’ll get there,” Tseng says casually, “You’ll just have to wait.”

“Huh?” I’m somewhat taken aback - I thought he was the impatient one here. But being told that he’s going to make me wait to be punished is extensively more frustrating than I thought it would be. Why not now?

“What - are you just too chicken to punish me tonight?” I sneer. Tseng huffs out a breathy laugh.

“I’m not punishing you tonight because you’ve been drinking. And so have I, for that matter. I won’t scene while either of us are drunk.”

Oh… Well, he’s got a point. But the brat won’t let go.

“I’m still sober,” I insist, “I hold my liquor well.”

“You’re acting up quite a bit,” he observes, “Which tells me that you’re not holding it as well as you think you are,” Bastard.

“Well… C’mon, you’ve never scened drunk before?”

“I scene while drunk often enough,” he replies, “But only with my partners, and only after sober negotiation. Until we sit down and set some boundaries, I won’t be persuaded.”

I lower my chin and think about that. 

“Why don’t we sit down and set boundaries now?” I offer, “Or… tonight, once I’m sober enough for you?”

Tseng laughs at me softly, and sips his drink.

“We’ll get there soon enough,” he says, “At any rate, the bar will close soon. We should be heading home.”

Aw, but I’m having fun… I don’t want it to end. He’s right though; it’s really late. This is about the time that I normally leave.

“...Okay,” I concede. I reach for my camera bag and start packing up.

“May I walk you home?” Tseng says quietly, out of nowhere. I turn to look at him.

“...I-I’m fine,” I try to insist, but he doesn’t let me get far. 

“After last night’s incident, I don’t want you walking around by yourself at night. Please, I insist.”

I have a feeling that he won’t let this go.

“Fine,” I grumble, “But you’re gonna have to let me lead for once so I can get us there.”

Tseng smiles wide, baring his teeth.

“I can’t wait to see you lead, Aperture.”

Chapter Text

I walk us down the streets of Wall Market to the train station, hopping on the rail line to Sector 8 and riding it to the end of the line. On the way, we banter even more.

“You guys have been too nice to me lately,” I say. I’ve still got just enough liquor in me to feel like being extra honest.

“Hush - we’re simply trying to be hospitable. We want you to be comfortable around us.”

“You, in particular,” I add, “Walking me home, paying my tab… Lending me your underwear!” I grin, “I’m almost starting to think you like, like me.”

Tseng rolls his eyes. We’ve both ditched our masks by this point, and I can see his facial expressions more clearly.

“If you were genuinely uncomfortable with my forwardness, I’d hope you would use a safeword, as we’d discussed,” There’s a serious tone in his voice, but it lightens up again as he continues, “But the fact that you accept my kindness tells me that you enjoy my company, too.”

“No way!” I say playfully, making sure he can see on my face that I’m messing around. He cocks a brow and smirks.

“Whose underwear are you wearing right now, Lane?”

I squeak and turn away from him, thoroughly flustered. He chuckles at me in return. It takes me a minute to regain my composure, but when I do, I try to tactfully change the subject.

“Thanks for lending me those clothes, by the way,” I say genuinely, “They were really nice. Should I bring them back on Monday?”

“Keep them,” he says, waving a hand dismissively, “I’ve got more than enough clothes piled up in my office. They looked like they belonged on you - please take them off my hands.”

“Shouldn’t I at least return the shoes?” I press, “Or the belt?”

“Do you already have a belt?” Tseng asks.

“No…”

“Then keep it. And it’s been looking like you needed some new dress shoes anyway. As long as they fit well, there’s no reason why you can’t have them.”

“...Hmph,” I pout, but ultimately accept his gifts. I really did need new shoes, after all…

We fall into silence for a few steps. We’re in my neighborhood now, and I find myself glancing over my shoulder and down alleyways a little more often, trying to keep my eyes open for those thugs from yesterday. I have to keep reminding myself that as long as I’m with Tseng, I’ll be safe. 

With no pretext, Tseng suddenly chuckles.

“I’m surprised at you, Lane,” he says lowly.

“Huh? Why?”

“I expected you to have asked by now.”

“...Asked what?”

“About the marks in my soap bar.”

Woah, and my brain does a 180. Wasn’t really expecting that to come up in conversation. I can’t get myself to make any noise, so I don’t respond - I just blush.

“Well?” he says, “Don’t you want to know?”

“...Yes,” I squeak after a pause.

“Then ask.”

Fuck this bastard, always making me have to say it out loud. The brat refuses to obey. I shake my head.

“No?” Tseng purrs, “Well, that’s too bad. I guess you’ll never know, then.”

“...You’re such a dick,” I whisper.

“You haven’t seen my worst yet,” he growls, “Though the way you’re going, you’ll find out very soon.”

I go quiet again. I really do want to know about those teeth marks. 

I grit my teeth, take a deep breath, and force the words out.

“Whose are they?”

We’re in front of my building now. I stop walking, and Tseng stops as well. He waits for me to look up at him, then smiles. 

“They’re mine,” he says. 

I feel like I’ve died on the spot. Passed away. Wish I could just be buried underground for forever now. 

“Who-?”

“Elena turned the tables on me,” Tseng shakes his head, grinning, “I suppose it was fair. She and I have mouthsoaping sessions on Mondays - normally with her on the receiving end. It’s a bit of a reward - motivation for her to be productive for the rest of the week, but this time she wanted to exact a little revenge for my teasing the two of you during lunch.”

I can’t help but smile and laugh at that thought. So Tseng got his just desserts for that, after all… And picturing Elena being the one to do it is just too good. I imagine her having to pull Tseng’s hair to get him lowered down to her level, and the thought is simultaneously adorable and hot. 

“Go ahead - laugh it up,” Tseng says, shaking his head, “I’m sure it won’t be long before you start begging for the same treatment.”

“Eheheheh… I mean… I wouldn’t really object,” I say, shrinking back a little bit.

“I’m sure,” Tseng replies with a smile. He looks up at my building, “Is this it?”

“Oh, yeah, it is,” I say, following his gaze upward. I think about how far he’s come out of his way - it would be courteous of me to offer him a drink or something. He probably won’t take me up on that, anyway - it’s so late. Before I think that through fully, I open my mouth. 

“Would you like to come up? Grab a drink before you head back?” I’m already starting to walk up the steps, fully expecting him to reject the offer.

“How kind,” he comments, then steps toward me, “I would love to, thank you.”

Oh… shit. Well, I’m not about to go back on my offer. I lead him up the narrow stairwell to my door, fumbling my keys as I go.

“Sorry for the mess,” I apologize preemptively as I unlock the door and open it. That’s more or less an automatic sentiment that I recite to my few-and-far-between guests, but it isn’t until I’ve stepped inside properly that I get an idea of just how bad things are in here. I’m thankful that I did the dishes the other day, but clothes and papers are strewn across the floor. The rug is wrinkled. That stupid tabloid is splayed open on the kitchen floor, the cover facing up.

“This is smaller than I expected,” Tseng says quietly, “You don’t have any roommates, do you?”

“Nope - just me,” I say, which is somehow more embarrassing. No blaming this mess on anyone else. Luckily, he doesn’t comment on the state of the room.

I remember that I should probably offer him a drink, like I said I would, but I recall too late that I don’t have much in the way of selection.

“Can I get you a drink? I’ve got… water… uh, orange juice… milk is expired, I think…” I trail off, trying to figure out what else I’ve got. I look over at Tseng to see if he’s reacting to the poor state of my kitchen, but instead he’s looking around the room. I know those eyes - he’s analyzing. 

“Water is fine, thank you,” he says, not sparing me a glance. I break off my own stare and busy myself getting a glass from the cupboard and filling it at the sink. Don’t need to wait for ice-cold water here - it’s the standard that comes out of these old pipes. I walk the glass over to him.

“Here,” I offer. He takes the glass from me, nods in thanks, and sips.

“Thank you,” he finally says once he swallows, “I hadn’t realized how much I needed that until now. It’s quite a walk to get all the way out here.”

“Yeah, it’s a long way,” I shrug.

“Long commute then, too, I suppose.”

“I mean, yeah, but I don’t mind,” I smile, “I like the time to think. It’s kinda cathartic.”

“I understand that,” Tseng says. He pauses to think for a moment, then turns to me again.

“Do you want to move out of here eventually?”

“Oh, definitely,” I sigh, “This place is okay - the landlady is really nice - but I want a place with carpet someday. And a bathtub with hot water. And an actual bed,” I pause to think, “I’ve already started saving my money for it. The new job is going to make it a lot easier.”

Tseng nods.

“If you could move anywhere in Midgar,” he asks, “Where would you want to go?”

I stop to think about that. It’s not a question I’ve ever really considered the answer to - I’ve always just gone where it’s cheapest.

“I mean, if it were possible to get a nice place near Wall Market, I’d want to go there,” I say, “But I don’t think nice places exist near Wall Market, honestly… I guess if I had to choose, I’d like to stay in Sector 8. It’s nice, and it’s becoming familiar. I’d just want to be a little bit further in. Somewhere safer, in a nicer apartment - Oh! I’d love somewhere where I can set up a little photo studio,” I step over to the corner of the room, where I’d kept photo props and background rolls once upon a time, “I used to use this, but it’s gotten a little… well, crowded,” The space now functions as temporary storage, full of boxes of cooking supplies and bulk prepackaged foods. I didn’t have anywhere else to put them all, and my boudoir business got a little more mobile. I had to sell most of the backdrops and props to pay rent when I was in between jobs there. 

Tseng takes all this in, nodding with a soft smile. 

“I see,” he says, “I suppose if you had the proper space for it, you could run your side business out of your home.”

“Exactly,” I say, “That would be a dream come true, honestly.”

“Hm,” Tseng has just been taking all this in without interruption. He looks around for a few more seconds, then finally turns to me, “Well, thank you for your hospitality, but I should be on my way. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“Well, there’s no rush,” I shrug, “But if you are heading out, well, thanks for walking me home tonight. And for the clothes, and the bar tab.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, that visage of a smile coming back to his lips, “I’ll see you at work on Monday then. I suppose you’ll want to shower there, instead of in cold water here?”

“I, uh… yeah,” I blush as I admit.

“Very well - I’ll be sure to have an access card for you by then. You’ll find it on your desk on Monday. Furthermore, feel free to use your hours for that - no need to come in early. And remember to-”

“Bring my own towel and toiletries?” I guess what he’s going to say. He gives me an annoyed look at first, but it quickly melts back to a mischievous smile.

“Yes - that,” He turns to the door now and opens it, ready to step outside, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Yeah, okay,” I smile back, “See you Monday.”

He closes the door behind him on his way out. 

Listen, I seldom masturbate - honestly. It’s not like a daily thing that I do every time I shower - I can hardly say I do it weekly.

I cannot remember the last time I masturbated twice in one day. But I guess tonight’s the night. 

Almost as soon as the door is shut, I’m happy to change out of my dressy clothes. I add them to my awful laundry pile before crashing on my bed again, back to just Tseng’s socks and boxer briefs. I can’t help but stroke myself through them - the fabric is so fucking soft, and it just feels so good… The vibrator joins not long after, keeping to the outside of the underwear as I push myself ever closer to the edge. The memories of the day’s events keep me going - and now that I know the answer to the teeth marks conundrum, I can get off to specifically that fantasy. Elena, pulling Tseng’s hair in the shower, both of them naked and likely already soapy while she reams his mouth out with that bar of soap… Ordering him to bite down hard enough to leave marks… All because he teased her. And me . It was revenge enacted in at least some part on my behalf - were they thinking about me while they did that?

It doesn’t take me long like this, once again. I can’t believe I cum as quickly as I do, especially when I’ve already gone a round today. 

But it isn’t without consequence - the last of my energy is drained, and my heavy eyelids droop until they’re closed. I drift off in a cloud of bliss. 

Chapter Text

I wish I could say that the weekend stays that exciting, but it really doesn’t. Routine takes over. Saturday morning is nice, waking up in the remnants of yesterday, but eventually the day rolls into same old, same old. Tseng’s impromptu visit did inspire me to clean house a little bit though, so I go ahead and get the laundry taken care of (throwing Tseng’s underwear and my new clothes into the load) and reorganize the studio/storage corner. It honestly makes me feel a lot better.

By Monday morning, I admittedly feel pretty gross. After my nice hot shower on Friday, it was impossible to convince myself to get back under the cold stream here, so I’d forgone showering all weekend. I was really looking forward to getting to do it again today, though. I was surprised that Tseng had told me to clock the hours I spent doing it - even though it should only be, like, thirty minutes out of the day, I doubt any other upper management would okay such a use of company time.

Not that I’m about to complain, of course. Just strange to think that I’ll be getting paid to shower.

It also feels weird to be packing up my shower stuff to take to work with me. I have to grab a large duffel bag to fit my towel, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, and face wash bottles into, as my camera bag was simply too small. I guess I could feasibly put the toiletries in the bag and then just sling the towel over the top of it to tote along, but fuck letting strangers on the train see me carrying a towel. I’m sure they wouldn’t bat an eyelash - I’ve seen weirder stuff on the rail lines myself - but I still wouldn’t be able to shake the anxiety. 

The last thing I do before leaving the house is toss on my flat cap. My hair is atrocious, and I don’t want my coworkers seeing it in this greasy state. The hat is usually reserved for Friday night parties, but today I’ll make an exception. I’ll stash it away after my shower, anyway.

When I arrive at the Shinra building, I try to make haste to my office. Peters, the friendly guy from PR who I normally ride the elevator with, happens to catch the same trip.

“Morning, Elliott,” he says as always, then double-takes, “Hey, nice hat! That’s a good look on you!”

“Th-thanks, Peters,” I struggle to suppress a blush, “Morning to you, too.”

This hat is weirdly intimate to me - putting it on pretty much always puts me in a kinky mood, so wearing it to work feels… dangerous, somehow. Even though my job is getting kinkier and kinkier by the day, it still feels almost risqué to wear it during daylight hours.

I can’t get to my office fast enough.

Sure enough, there on my desk is a shiny new access key card. It’s labeled with my name. Next to it lies my clothes from Friday morning, clean and stacked, and a brand new nametag lanyard as well, using my same ID photo and information, but with updated security clearance - A2. That’s one of the highest ranks. Holy shit, I can’t believe they trust me that much. Especially after I almost managed to get kidnapped the other night. I’m gonna end up getting interrogated and held for ransom or some shit with those letters near my name.

No, no - focus, Lane. It’s not like I know anything important anyways. The worst I know is that Rufus Shinra likes posing for boudoir photos and is apparently pretty kinky, and I’m not going to lie - I don’t think most of the populace would be very surprised to discover that. In all honesty, I’ve probably just got that clearance so that I can access the right places. They’re not going to let me just go looking for top secret info. 

That thought helps calm my nerves. I take off my old badge and stash it in my desk drawer, then slip the new one on over my neck. I pocket the access card, grab my duffel bag, and make my way right back to the elevator.

I swipe my key card, and it causes the buttons for the basement levels to light up. I select floor B3, and the elevator begins to move. It’s weird to ride this far down in the elevator on my own - once it passes the ground floor, the lighting gets slightly darker, and it’s a little unnerving. The good news is that it doesn’t last long - the door opens, and I step out. 

I’m… not sure I remember which door leads to the locker room. I’m thinking I’ll have to make a lucky guess, but I’m saved by a note stuck to one of the doors on the right. It reads “Lane - locker 12. 14-42-7.” Locker and combo already assigned, in Tseng’s neat handwriting. I peel off the note and press the door’s button. It slides open to the tiled space inside. 

The room is filled with steam, and I can hear the sound of dripping water echoing through the space. It seems like somebody else showered in here just a little earlier.

…Smells like Tseng. I shiver.

Lucky for me, the room is currently empty. I set my duffel bag down on a bench and unzip it, extracting my toiletries and my towel and laying them on the bench surface. Piece by piece, I start arranging things: The towel, shampoo, and face wash stay on the bench for now, and the deodorant, toothbrush, and toothpaste migrate to the sink counter. I find an out-of-the-way little corner to claim as my own, not too close to anybody’s things. And then the duffel bag… Well, I guess I should just stash it in my locker so I can take my towel home on weekends and stuff. 

With Tseng’s note in hand, I approach the locker. It seems like it’s fairly close to the one that Tseng pulled his towel out from on Friday, but I can’t remember exactly which locker that was. For the time being, I dial in the combination, and the lock pops open effortlessly. I stuff the duffel bag inside and head back to the bench. I can hardly wait to get in there, so I waste no time at all shedding my office clothes and laying them out before grabbing up all my toiletries and stepping into the shower.

It’s still so warm in here. The water on the floor has even retained some of its heat, and it feels so nice. Turning on the water, it doesn’t take nearly as long as last time to warm up, and I’m more than happy to thrust myself under the stream. Gods, that just feels so fucking good… Especially with a weekend’s worth of gross to wash away.

I’m eager to get busy washing, and I reach for my own shampoo. As much as I would love to use someone else’s again, I don’t want to go stealing their stuff. I had permission once - I need to practice some self-control from here on out.

Thinking about that makes my mind wander back to Friday night, when Tseng threatened to “give me a lesson in self-control.” I’d cut him off at the time, but right now, I can’t help but wonder what that kind of lesson might entail…

My fingers work the suds through my hair, doing away with the greasiness of the weekend as I continue to let my mind wander. My eyes start to wander with it - back to that bar of soap, still perched up on the wall shelf. Its surface is wet from being used earlier - shiny, and adorned with just a few tiny soap bubbles. 

A hand snakes between my thighs. Fuck, I just can’t help it… I know if someone walked in on me I could get in big trouble, but… Well… Maybe it’s the kind of trouble I would want to be in. What would Tseng do, if he found out I was being so naughty in here? The possibility of getting caught makes this all extensively hotter. 

Since my shampoo doubles as a body wash (I know, I know… it was cheap!), I am unashamed to run my hands across my body, groping and fondling and stepping away from the shower stream as I feel the lather cover me. Gods, nothing feels better than slippery, soapy skin rubbing on itself. My thighs slip past each other with no resistance. My arms feel soft against my sides. From the neck down, it all just feels so fucking erotic.

I refuse to rinse it off until I’ve cum. 

The suds drip down my form, settling along my fingers as they stroke my clit. I lean against the wall, shuddering at the cold tile on skin, but it isn’t enough to stop me now. My speed picks up - faster, faster, yes… Ah… 

F-Fuck, I’m cumming…!

I moan, having to slap a soapy hand over my mouth to muffle the noise. I don’t need anybody coming down here to check on me while I’m in the middle of this. 

Holy shit, ohhh… I’m damn glad that I propped myself up against the wall before going at it - I can hardly stand up now. Slowly, I regain feeling in my legs and return to the warmth of the water, letting it flow over my head to rinse away all the sensations and fantasy. Or, most of it, anyway. It almost feels like that soap bar is staring me down and won’t leave me alone… But I’m not complaining. 

I make fairly quick work of washing my face, then give everything one more rinse while I appreciate the hot water for just a little longer. I find myself not wanting to get out again - I’ve just missed this feeling so much, I don’t want to let it go. But, well, I can’t waste too much time. I’m guessing that since I’m on the clock, I’ll get in trouble if I take too long. I turn off the water and step out, running my towel through my hair and down my form before wrapping it around me.

I usually chill out and let myself air-dry a bit before trying to get dressed, and while I can’t quite do that here, I do my best. Towel still wrapped under my arms, I wander over to the sink, standing on my tiptoes to keep as much of the cold tile as possible off my feet. I reach for my toothbrush - I can at least do this while I dry a little. It will help save time in the end. 

I’m halfway through brushing my teeth when the door slides open, scaring the living daylights out of me. I almost choke on toothpaste.

Tseng pokes his head in.

“Good morning, Lane. Oh, I’m sorry - did I scare you?”

“Little bit,” I mumble, then lean down to spit the foam out of my mouth so I can hold an actual conversation. 

“My apologies,” he replies. He sounds genuine enough, but his tone is all business, as usual, “I was just making sure the locker worked for you. Is there anything else you need from me?”

Simply the fact that he’s in here with me while I’m only wearing a towel is more than enough to make me blush. Insofar as his inquiry is concerned, it seems like a strange question to ask - almost feels like some kind of odd test. I’m torn between “Get out,” and “Come help.” 

Help? With what, exactly? Brushing my teeth? Nothing to help with, not to mention how creepy that would sound. Wake up, Lane - just do something normal.

“I’m good,” I say, averting my eyes. Maybe if I turn my head far enough away, he won’t see my red face.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him smirk.

“Very well,” he says, “I’ll leave you to it,” And with that, he sweeps back out the door and lets it slide closed behind him.

I sigh.

“Morning to you, too…” I mumble to myself sarcastically. What if I’d still been in the shower? He totally popped in on purpose just to fluster me. That wasn’t a test - it was a tease.

Within a few minutes, I finish brushing my teeth, combing my hair, and getting dressed. I gather my toiletries and stash them in my new locker, making sure to pocket the note that lists my combination before gradually making my way upstairs. 

In the elevator, I sigh and try to plan out my day. I don’t really have any work to do just yet, but maybe I’ll have an email from Rufus waiting for me when I get back to my desk. In the meantime, it feels good to be clean. My short hair dries pretty fast, so it’s already looking neat and fresh by the time the elevator doors open on the 16th floor. 

I head into my office again, stashing the combo note away in a drawer for future use (tomorrow, maybe?), and open my laptop. To my surprise, there’s nothing there yet. Huh… Well, maybe he’s busy. But then what to do in the meantime?

Well, I guess if I’m subtle, then I could go down to the break room and make some coffee. Though I’m not really keen on getting seen by anybody from the studio offices - I avoid them if at all possible.

But… Coffee. I decide to go for it, but not before putting on my cap again. Okay, I’ll admit it - I do really like this cap. I know I said I’d hide it, but, well, it also hides my cyan hair, and I’ll take any anonymity I can get at this point. The fewer people recognize me, the better. Maybe I should just let my hair go back to blonde - no one would recognize me then. 

In the break room, I put the pot on and fill the reservoir with water. Almost as soon as I press the start button, somebody else comes into the room.

“Oh, Lane! There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Marjorie comes in swinging. She’s got something in her hands, but I can’t tell exactly what. 

“Morning, Marjorie,” I say, giving her a smile. She’s always so nice to me, no matter what - I think she might be the only person in this department who’s been on my side since the beginning of all this. 

“I have an important message for you,” she says, smiling proudly, “From the Vice President!”

My ears perk up. Marjorie clears her throat and delivers.

“He sent me an email letting me know that he doesn’t really have any work for you this week - apparently, he’s very, very busy for the next few days.”

My heart sinks a little - damn, no fun shoots this week, then. Bummer. 

“He asked me to give you some department projects to work on instead,” Marjorie continues, “So I’ll send you something later. Don’t worry about finishing it - it’s just something to keep you busy until the VP gives you some work to do again.”

“Thanks, Marjorie,” I say, making myself smile again. At least I’ll have something to do besides phone games. Now I know where to go for work when Rufus doesn’t have anything for me. 

“And, I couldn’t find you on Friday either,” Marjorie says. She pokes her head out the break room door, then slowly and quietly closes it, “But I’ve got something for you!”

She holds out the thing she’s got in her hands.

Gods fucking dammit, it’s a copy of that tabloid with me on the cover. I feel an angry blush well up on my cheeks.

“So you and Rufus Shinra - an item, huh? Oh Lane, I’m so happy for you, that’s just wonderful news! The whole department’s been talking about it!”

“What?!” I balk. She can’t be serious.

“Oh, haven’t you seen this yet?” she asks, “I figured you had, but I wanted to make sure you got a copy to keep anyway. I bought several copies - the article about the two of you is one of the best I’ve read in a long time!”

“Article?!” I shout, ripping it out of her hands. Gods, I saw the picture, but I never even opened the damn magazine… I page through.

“It’s on page 47,” Marjorie happily informs me, “Mostly about the VP’s appearance in Junon, but there was a whole feature on you and your relationship!”

“Marjorie, we are NOT dating!” I’m somewhat panicked, flipping through until I get to the right page. As I’d suspected, the title page photo is just bait. The rest of the photos are of Rufus walking down the aisle on the way into the facility. I’m in only one more picture, from when we were leaving. Tseng and Rude are visible too. Marjorie has gone through and highlighted sections of the article that pertain to me, but on a precursory readthrough, I can tell that she’s done a lot of interpreting outside of the text. There’s a singular sentence near the end that speculates that Rufus and I could possibly be dating, but it doesn’t outright claim that. Nowhere else in the article is that nodded to - I’m only mentioned twice.

“It’s such a well-written article. I was so happy to see that Midgar Daily picked up the story. They’re a very reputable publication, you know - not like some of those other fakey rags.”

Calling Midgar Daily reputable is a hell of a stretch. Marjorie is sweet, but I’ll be honest - she’s not that bright. I’m not even sure she heard my refutation.

“Marjorie, Rufus and I are not a couple,” I stress, lowering the tabloid to look her in the eyes, “This is all rumor. It doesn’t even say that we’re dating in here…”

“You’re… not?” She looks confused. I sigh. 

“Of course not! He’s my boss, and I… don’t mix relationships and work.”

Oops - that was a big fat fucking lie. If Tseng heard that one, I’d catch a soaped mouth for sure. 

Marjorie looks a little crestfallen, but nods in understanding.

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense. I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions… Perhaps there was just a little bit of… wishful thinking involved,” She gives me a smile and an over-exaggerated wink, “Anyways, just wanted to keep you in the loop! I’ll be on my way - expect an email from me later!”

“Yeah… Thanks, Marjorie,” I sigh, looking down at the publication in my hands. Fuck, I’m going to be stuck taking this home now, aren’t I? I’m not going to throw it away in the building - she’d be so offended if she saw it in the trash. 

The coffee finishes brewing not long after Marjorie leaves. I fill up my mug, add enough creamer to turn it white, and head back into the hallway.

As I pass the water cooler, a group of studio office employees turn to look at me. I do my best to shrink away, lowering the brim of my cap to make myself as unnoticeable as possible. 

“Hey, Elliott?” one of them says. He doesn’t sound mean or angry, and I freeze in my tracks and turn to face him.

“...Yeah?”

“Hey, listen… We just wanted to apologize for last week,” he says. The others around him share a similar expression - something remorseful, in a genuine way, “It was really rude of us to disregard your request… And you can count on it not to happen again.”

“Oh,” I say, caught somewhat off-guard, “Well, that’s okay, guys. No harm done, really,” I start trying to keep on my way, but one of the ladies speaks up.

“You… You haven’t heard any talk about actual firings, have you? Like, from the Vice President? Or the… the Turks?”

“What? Um… no. I don’t even think they remember,” I say, shrugging. Why do they care so much?

“Oh, that’s good,” she says. It seems like the entire group breathes a deep sigh of relief, “We really do love our jobs… and with families at home, we would really hate to lose them.”

“Yeah,” another guy continues, “So we, uh, just wanted to make sure. Everything’s cool?”

“...Yeah,” I say slowly, “It’s all good.”

“Awesome. Thanks for being so chill, Lane. And, congrats on the promotion, by the way! We didn’t really get a chance to say it before.”

You had plenty of chances, I think to myself, you’re only saying it now because you’re scared I’ll get you fired. Is that it?

“Congrats on the Midgar Daily article, too!” the first girl says, “We’re super happy to hear that you and the VP are getting along,” She also gives me a weird wink, just like Marjorie had.

“Oh gods, we’re - I mean, it’s not what the article made it seem, you know. We’re not… dating…” I trail off, realizing suddenly that my energy is much better spent elsewhere. Instead of panicking, I actually let myself laugh for once.

“Oh, whatever,” I say, “Thanks for the congrats, guys. See you around.”

They give me waves and goodbyes and congrats as I walk away. In all honesty, I hope I never see them again, but with the way things are headed, I don’t want to make any more enemies than necessary.

Let them think what they want. I’ve got the power now.

Back at my desk, I set the tabloid down. I don’t really have anything to do yet - apparently, I’ll not be getting anything from Rufus, and I’m sure Marjorie won’t get back to me for another hour or two - so, out of pure boredom, I open it again to page 47 and read the article in its entirety.

It’s not too different from what I’d gathered on my precursory read in the breakroom. It’s honestly just pretty standard reporting on the VP’s Junon trip, with details included about the people he shook hands with, his “security guards” (Rude and Tseng), the helicopter he arrived in, and… me. There’s a whole paragraph all about “Rufus Shinra’s newest posse member - a photographer,” and gives a brief description of me. It basically paints me as mysterious - “a person about whom not much is known yet” (that “yet” makes me highly nervous). It also mentions how the VP has previously been hostile toward photographers of all sorts, which makes my presence that much more intriguing to the media. 

I roll my eyes. 

The very last paragraph of the article describes the event of me “slipping” (sure… not like anybody tried to steal my camera or anything) and Rufus catching me “like a princess.” Oh, I hate that so much… Princess, my ass. It’s the last straw, and I stuff the tabloid in a drawer, not keen on ever seeing it again. Maybe when I take my towel home on Friday, I’ll put the stupid thing in with it and throw it away at the train station. I thought Reno had said it would fade... I guess now I get to chew his ass for lying. 

So… What to do while I wait for more work, then? Last time I was bored, I played mobile games, but those are starting to get really stale. What else can I do when I’m bored?

I guess I could see if there are any more news articles on the Turks, though I’d better be careful of where I look for that. I open the secure laptop terminal and click on the browser, bringing up a private window before typing in my search query. 

“Shinra Turks”

589 results this time. I scroll through, and one article in particular really catches my eye. It’s titled, “The Rise and Fall of Shinra’s Turks.”

Click.

The article is a long feature, and only includes those same two photos from the last article I read. It begins with a disclaimer of sorts, mentioning that the author struggled to research this topic due to lots of conflicting information being put out by the company. They remind readers to take this reporting with a grain of salt, and to not present it as fact - only as the most accurate guess.

I can see what the author means pretty much immediately - the history seems pretty convoluted. The Turks have supposedly been around since near the formation of the company, and have stayed a tightly-guarded company secret for most of that time. The article details how Turk sightings were relatively high up until the Vice President’s sudden disappearance.

What? I read a little more slowly.

Apparently, Rufus was suddenly sent on an “extended business trip” to Junon after the Corel reactor was destroyed. Shit, I remember seeing that on the news… The author details how the timing seemed suspicious, and speculates that perhaps the VP was involved in some of the destruction that occurred during the events of those months. Apparently, many believe that there was some sort of coup among Shinra leadership at the time, during which the Vice President attempted to seize power. 

...Rufus? That… Doesn’t seem right. And yet... I recall Rufus’s face when that executive in Junon mentioned his father - he left right away after that, like he didn’t want to be there. It really seemed like it pissed him off. 

Well, shit, maybe there is something going on that I’m not aware of. I’m not really one for politics, so this is getting hard to follow… Maybe there’s another source with a better idea?

I open a new private browser window and search “Rufus Shinra disappearance.”

214 articles appear, with titles like “Shinra - Cutting Edge, or Cutting Corners?” and “Where’s the Heir?”

I spend nearly an hour clicking down the line. Reportedly, Rufus was promoted almost right before he was sent on that business trip, which to me seems like evidence against the case. Many of the articles are from more underground publishers… or should I say “under-plate?” Many of them criticize the company and contain long lists of its flaws. Many of them call for its disbandment. Some call for the executives to be killed. Yikes.

Ugh, this is giving me a stress headache - I can’t wrap my head around all this. I think it might be time to quit this search. At any rate, it’s almost time for lunch. 

Lucky for me, by the time I return to my desk with a sandwich, Marjorie’s email is waiting. Oh, good - just some image descriptions to write. I enjoy that, and I get to work.

This sort of feels like the first normal day I’ve had in a while. My afternoon is just plain old work, all the mindless tasks that Marjorie has given me. I’m a fast worker, so she has to send me a few extra tasks before I finally clock out at five. I grab dinner on the way home - Wutaian cuisine tonight, from my favorite old lady street vendor - and I’ve got my door locked before it’s dark outside. 

I’ve kept the hat on all day - I guess I just forgot to take it off, but now I remove it and hang it by the door. Actually, I really liked getting the chance to wear it around today. Maybe I’ll wear it again tomorrow. It is a pretty good look for me, after all - I won’t lie. I know my style.

For now though, I’m glad to curl up on my bed with my takeout and watch TV. A new nature documentary dropped on stream today, and I can’t wait to watch it. It’s all about the creatures that live near the icy crater at the planet’s northernmost pole. Super cool.

Heh. Cool .

Chapter Text

When my alarm goes off the next morning, I actually smile at the sunlight for the first time in a long time. Somehow, I’m actually looking forward to today, even though I don’t have any shoots scheduled this week. What’s got me in such a good mood? Maybe it’s the weather. Or maybe it’s just the idea of repeating yesterday morning’s shower.

Yeah, probably that second one. 

I don’t waste any time getting ready, grabbing an oat bar for breakfast as I get dressed. Before long, I’m on the train, and not long after that, I’m in the elevator to the building basement, more than happy to get the water started. Gods, how did I get this lucky?

I’m not about to beat around the bush this time - just gonna skip right to beating off. I wet my hair and run my shampoo through it, letting the lather snake down my body as I step away from the shower spray. My hand is unashamed to dive down toward my clit, and I stroke at it with not a drop of hesitation in me. A few quiet moans escape, but I’m sure they’re drowned out by the sound of the running water. Looking around lets me fantasize freely about what other things have gone down in this room in the past. 

Fuck, fuck - I’m close-!

But I freeze as I hear the door open.

“Ohohoho, what do we have here?” Reno’s pale eyes take me in, in all my glory - from the angle I chose against the wall, I’m totally visible in the gap between partitions, my hand still clamped over my groin. In a panic, I scramble back behind the wall to the shower stream at top speed, nearly slipping on the wet tile as I move. Reno laughs at me.

“Reno!” I shout, “What the hell?”

“Chill out, kid. I was just walkin’ by -  thought I heard something. Almost sounded like someone moaning ,” He gives me a damning smile, “Figured I’d drop by and see if our guest needed anything.”

I can’t stop the blush from rolling over me. Honestly, I bet my shoulders are red at this point. I immediately thrust myself under the water again and frantically try to rinse off the suds - for whatever reason, Reno seeing me all soapy like this feels a hundred times worse than him simply seeing me wet. 

“I don’t need anything,” I say hastily, keeping my eye on him as he steps closer. I’m almost sure he’s going to step around the wall and join me, but instead he grabs something from the bench.

“You sure?” he asks with a smirk. As he stands and waltzes across the room, I can see he’s got my towel slung over his shoulder. When he finds a spot near the door, he leans on the wall and smiles wide.

I scowl back. Whatever - he’s just teasing me to get a reaction. He’ll put the towel back when he gets bored in a few minutes, right?

“But seriously,” he continues, “I’m sorry for interrupting you… You can go back to what you were doing before I walked in.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and whimper.

“No thanks,” I mumble, trying to expedite my shower.

“No?” Reno questions, “Whatever happened to those ‘exhibitionistic tendencies’ you mentioned?”

“You scared them away,” I say, mostly in honesty, “I wasn’t really expecting company.”

“And I wasn’t expecting to find you in my bathroom,” Reno grins, “But, well... Guess we both should’ve known better, huh?” 

I huff in frustration and turn off the water. I run my hands down my body to wipe off as much water as I can - it’s meant to signal Reno to return my towel, but when I turn around, I find that he’s still propped up against the wall with it.

“Reno…” I whine, “Come on - give it back.”

“What are you gonna give me in return?” he teases. I balk, looking around.

“I… don’t have anything?” I answer, stating the obvious. Reno laughs at me, that same wild laugh he had the other night in the alley. In this one, he snorts. Fuck, that was weirdly endearing.

“Kid, you’re adorable,” he says, and when he recovers from his laughter, gives me a cutting smirk, “How ‘bout a kiss?”

I sink back behind the wall, trying to obscure as much of my face as possible. That little proposal has me redder than ever. I swear, if I blush anymore, the water’s going to evaporate right off my skin and I won’t even need the damn towel. He laughs at me again.

“Tell you what - You want it? Come and get it,” he gives me a wink and sticks his tongue out, acting all kinds of playful. It almost makes the game seem worth playing… I wonder how his lips feel…

But that just brings out the brat in me again.

“Fuck you, asshole,” I hiss. Reno chuckles.

“Ooh, ouch … Better be careful with that kinda language, kid. Wrong person hears that, and you’re gonna end up with a mouthful of soap,” 

“Speaking from experience?” I cut back. Reno chuckles again and shrugs.

“Not really. Tseng doesn’t care if I cuss - I let my mouth get me in trouble in other ways,” He demonstrates that innuendo with another presentation of his tongue, this time flicking it back and forth suggestively. I roll my eyes.

“Why can’t you bring my towel over here?” I sigh.

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s dripping wet and desperate!” He grins at his own double entendre. 

I’m past the point of flustered now, and seethe in frustration behind the protection of the wall. He just wants me to walk over there so he can see me naked again. And, well, I mean, let’s be real - is that the worst thing? It’s really not. I did burlesque for a few years there - plenty of strangers have seen me naked, and Reno no longer qualifies as a stranger. What’s the harm?

The only harm is to my pride, if I give in to his demands. And as much as I hate to do that, I really don’t want to catch a cold from standing here. Not to mention not wanting to overstay my welcome… This will make me late for work. I have a sneaking suspicion that Reno will gladly push me overtime and get me in trouble.

Fuck it, I’m going to get it. 

I hold my hands down in an attempt to preserve what little modesty I have left, and I jog as fast as I dare across the tile floor. I reach out for the towel, intent on grabbing it, but in less than a blink, Reno has moved out of the way. On the slippery tile, I can’t really stop, and I continue to slide forward until I feel a hand grab my wrist and tug me backwards. With no traction, I can’t stop myself from getting careened around wherever Reno wants me and suddenly, before I can even determine what position I might be in, I feel his lips press against mine.

It’s a brief kiss - it lasts less than a second - but it still rocks my world. I wasn’t expecting him to pull that one on me, and the feeling leaves me briefly dazed. His hot breath against me, and his lips were… so soft…

“See ya ‘round, kid!” he says, bringing me back to reality. I turn to stop him, but it’s too late - he’s already out the door, and it slides shut.

He took my towel with him.

Gods, FUCK that asshole! I stomp angrily on the tile and try to stop a shiver. Damn, it’s so cold in here… I try to think fast to come up with a plan. What can I do?

Well, I could follow him out of here. Everything’s carpeted, so I wouldn’t have to worry about slipping… But would I get in trouble for leaving a trail on the carpet? Not to mention the possible embarrassment of being seen naked and dripping by everyone else… I don’t think we’re all there yet. Reno and I had already broken the nudity barrier before today, so it wasn’t too big a deal with him. I guess Rufus and I have broken that barrier too - at least on his end. And Tseng, to a degree, having seen my lower half. 

Wait. Tseng. That’s right - I can text him and ask him to hunt down my towel for me. Oh, he probably won’t be happy with Reno’s antics this time… That’s perfect. Slowly, trying to keep my shivering under control, I make my way over to my locker. In a last ditch effort, I try to open some of the nearby lockers and see if they might have a towel I can use in the interim, but I can’t get any of them open. Oh well - texting Tseng it is, then.

I’m halfway through putting in my combo when the door opens again. 

“Lane?” Oh fuck, that deep voice - Rude.

“Uh, yeah, d-don’t come in, I’m-” But before I can carry on, Rude has stepped inside and turned my way. He lets a little hint of smirk through on his lips, and holds something out to me - my towel.

“This belong to you?” he asks.

I’m too stunned to form words. I nod and grab the terrycloth, wasting no time wrapping it around me.

“Sorry for interrupting you. Reno came into the office with that, and I figured he was up to no good,” He turns away halfway and adjusts his glasses. Is that a hint of blush on his cheeks? “Thought I ought to bring it back - but not before he got a swift kick in the ass.”

“Heheh… Thank you,” I say. I’m still flustered, but Rude’s lighthearted tone helps me relax a bit, “I was starting to think I was gonna have to walk out there like… this.”

“What did he do, anyway?” Rude asks, turning back toward me, “Waltz in here and make off with it?”

“Well… Not necessarily… He sort of teased me and made me come over to the door to get it, but then he…” I hesitate, the memory bringing back fresh butterflies, “...He kissed me instead, and then ran off.”

“Did he now?” Rude asks, one eyebrow raised so high that I can see it from behind his glasses. There’s a surprised kind of smirk on his lips. I nod to confirm, and Rude chuckles and shakes his head, “Rat bastard… Always gotta be first. He’s gonna catch hell for that one.”

I chuckle with him, then glance back to the shower stall. I may have the towel back, but I still need to actually dry off with it.

“Uh… Well, anyways, thanks again for the rescue,” I say, edging my way back toward the privacy of the showers, “But… I’m… gonna go dry off now.”

Rude smiles at me, raising a brow again slightly.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, “I hear you’re something of an exhibitionist.”

Fuck. I wonder who spilled that one to him - Tseng, Reno, or Rufus? My money’s on Reno.

“Well,” he continues, “I’m something of a voyeur myself. With consent, of course,” he purrs, posting up on the wall right where Reno had been, “I’ll never say no to a show, if that’s something you want.”

I don’t really know what to say. Is that something I want? Not like there’s anything he hasn’t already seen… And as mentioned, I’m always down to do a little burlesquing. But - confession - I’ve never done burlesque wet. I’ve always been convinced that I would be too flustered to do it.

That, and Rude is… Well, gods, he’s Rude . He’s hot as hell, and while he seems like a sweet guy, this is a darker side that I haven’t seen yet from him. I’ll admit - it makes me curious. I want to see more.

“You can… stay, if you want,” I smile and relent. I reroute from the showers to one of the benches, drying my hair as I go. The towel usually fluffs it up, and that will be distinctly unsexy, unless…

When I reach the bench, I pull the towel away. I put one leg up on the bench seat for dramatic effect, and I run my fingers through my damp hair, pushing it back. It neatens things out, and is a whole lot hotter than fluffy hair. 

I drag the towel up my leg in long, smooth strokes, picking up the water droplets as I go. It travels in my hands up my entire body, collaring my neck for a few seconds. I hope I’m not putting too much effort into this… It’s like my performer instinct just took back over. I try to dial it back a little bit - he didn’t ask to see me dance. He asked to see me dry off.

Gods, but simply that thought makes me want to hide all over again. In a way, that’s somewhat helpful, because it breaks through the artificiality and makes me genuinely cower a little before finding the courage to resume the drying, just trying to bend at the right angles to give him sneak peeks. 

When I’m dry, I turn back around. Rude’s still standing there, hands in his pockets just like before, with a smile on his face. When I look at him, he bites his lip and shifts. I chance a glance downward and find it easy to see the outline of his cock in his pants - my gods, he’s big.

“That was lovely ,” he says, standing up again, “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to say yes right away.”

“You weren’t?”

“Not entirely,” he admits, “Figured you were going to ask me to buy you dinner first.”

Oh fuck, now I just look easy.

“Well - listen, I-”

“I’m just teasing,” he says with a smile, “Thank you for the show. You’re beautiful, and it seems like you really know what you’re doing - are those tricks you picked up from shooting boudoir?”

“Oh… uh, yeah, some of them,” I half-lie. There I go again, omitting the full truth. I think about Tseng’s threat to punish me if I’m not honest, but frankly, right now that’s a risk I’m willing to take. It’s too soon to be talking about that segment of my life with these guys. 

In return, Rude just smiles.

“Well, I look forward to seeing it again sometime,” And with that, he turns and walks out the door.

Chapter Text

My butterflies are mostly quelled by the time I get back in the elevator. The hallway was silent on B3, but on the 16th floor it’s back to bustling. It has me quick to return to my office, feeling clean and warm in the absolute best ways. Rude’s compliment really sinks in as I sit down at my desk - He called me beautiful . It renews my red cheeks and, even though I’m alone now, I still bury my face in my hands and squeal. Reno and Rude seem like polar opposites, but despite that, I think I might be falling for both of them.

Eventually, I recover and return to my work. Marjorie has sent me some catalogues to weed through, and I spend my morning working them over. It’s tedious work, but it’s half-mindless, so I don’t mind it. I put music on in the background - my old burlesque playlist - and run my routines in my head, for fun. I do sort of miss it, but I don’t think I can work both jobs at the same time. Maybe once I accrue enough vacation days, I’ll just take time off here and go back to the Inn for a weekend. 

Andy did say I was welcome back anytime. I might just have to take him up on that offer. 

Lunch comes and goes, and when I return to my desk, I find I have an email waiting from Tseng. 

“Lane -

Are you available for a short meeting at 3:30 today? I just wanted to check in with you regarding your new position.”

Oh, a meeting? He says it’s just to talk about my new job, but (call me a skeptic) I have a sneaking suspicion that this might have something to do with my morning misadventures with Reno and Rude. Or does he not even know about that yet?

Only one way to find out.

“Tseng -

Yes, I’ll be available at that time. Where should I meet you?”

Ding. Fuck, he always responds so fast. Does he have the email half-typed by the time I respond?

“Lane - 

Thank you. We can meet in my office - please wait outside, and I will bring you in when I’m ready.”

I send a quick confirmation, then lean back and sigh. That’s still two and a half hours away… I have a feeling that my productivity is going to decline until then. 

My feeling is spot-on - I’m mostly distracted throughout the afternoon, daydreaming instead of working about what might happen while I’m down there. Does Tseng know what Reno caught me doing? Am I going to be in trouble for that, or am I going to be teased? I never did finish my little objective… Maybe Tseng plans on helping me finish…

My mind runs away with me, and before I know it, it’s 3:25. I take a deep breath, trying to control the shivers, and grab my keys and keycard before heading to the elevator. The ride down sees more butterflies with every passing floor - what’s going to happen at the bottom?

Finally, I arrive back on level B3 and make my way to where (I think) Tseng’s office door is. I wish they would label these doors… I lean against the wall in silence, waiting for him to make an appearance.

3:30 comes. Now 3:31. 3:33. I’m beginning to wonder if this is some kind of joke - am I on the right floor? I double-check my email - am I supposed to just come in? No, he said to wait…

At 3:34, the door next to me finally slides open. Tseng steps out into the hallway, slipping his jacket on and buttoning it as he goes.

“Ah, good, you’re here on time,” he says, “I apologize for my tardiness. A situation arose that required my immediate attention.”

“Oh, it’s totally fine,” I brush it off. I’m sure he had a good reason for being a couple minutes late… Probably just a phone call or something. But his jacket was off at first - oh fuck, what if he was, like, torturing somebody or something?

That thought leaves my head as I step into his office. He closes the door behind me, and while I’m mentally prepared to have to take in the space again, there’s a new detail that immediately distracts me.

It smells exactly like soap in here .

It’s unmistakable - I’d know that smell absolutely anywhere, and I know it didn’t smell like that last time I was here. It’s strong and pervasive, filling the entire room with the scent of delicate flowers and an underlying cleanness.

It makes me immediately wet. 

“Come in, please,” he says, casually walking toward his desk like nothing’s going on, “This shouldn’t take too long. I just had a few things to discuss with you.”

“...Sure,” I reply hesitantly, gingerly sitting down in one of the two chairs that face his desk. I’m on edge - surely this has something to do with this morning - but Tseng is entirely poker-faced, giving no hints that this meeting will be anything less than routine. 

“First of all,” he begins, pushing aside some pens and papers, “I wanted to check in with you regarding your feelings for your new company position,” a slight smile plays at the corners of his lips, “And please - remember to be honest .”

I can literally smell the threat in the air. It’s almost tempting to lie, in truth, but I know that this is supposed to be a serious discussion, so I push the thought from my mind as best I can and put on an enthusiastic look.

“I really love it,” I say with a smile, “This sort of feels like my dream job. I’m… still getting the hang of it, I guess - learning the ropes. But I’m really enjoying it, and I’m definitely looking forward to doing more!”

Tseng returns my grin.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he says, “Do you have any questions or concerns regarding the projects we’ve given you so far? Anything to discuss about the nature of your work?”

“I mean, to me, it’s just photography, all the same. Plus all the stuff that comes with it,” I shrug slightly, “And it’s stuff I love to do. I’m very happy with what we’ve done so far!”

“How about the field work you did for us in Junon?” Tseng adds, “You seemed nervous about that at first.”

“I was mostly nervous about the helicopter ride,” I admit, “And I… didn’t really care for the paparazzi.”

“None of us do,” Tseng rolls his eyes, and I chuckle before continuing.

“...But once I got a rundown of what was expected job-wise, it was a breeze. I’m sure it’ll just get easier with time as I get used to what Rufus wants to see.”

“I’m sure,” Tseng nods. He turns his chair slightly, angling himself away from the direct eye contact we’d been maintaining, “Then, working to the next level… How are you feeling about your more… general involvement in our group?”

I blink, trying to make sense of what he’s asking.

“Huh?”

“I’m sure you probably have some questions about our relationships,” Tseng says, giving me a meaningful look, “Has anyone taken the time to explain things to you yet?”

“Uh… no?” I’m still not entirely sure what “things” he’s referencing, but… well, even if I do know about whatever he’s referring to, a second round couldn’t hurt. Tseng nods slightly.

“Then allow me,” he says, turning back towards me, “All five of us - Reno, Rude, Elena, Rufus, and myself - are engaged in a polyamorous relationship dynamic. All of us are involved with everyone else, both sexually and romantically,” he smirks, “Though I’m guessing you picked up on that to at least some degree.”

Oh, he’s referencing their relationships. I nod. I’m glad that I asked now - I have indeed been wondering what’s been up with this tangled web. 

“We don’t like to label things outright, but you could call our relationship an open one,” he continues, “Everyone is welcome to seek partners outside the group. And that, Lane, is where you’ve come in.”

I’m taken aback.

“It’s been my understanding that there’s been some… flirting going on,” Tseng says slowly, “Which is perfectly well and fine. All in all, we’ve been quite forward about our interests… It appears that each one of us has developed something of a… Well, as Elena put it, a crush .”

I already know that I’m blushing, but I’m surprised to see a little pink on Tseng’s cheeks, too. He clears his throat and straightens his collar, apparently seeking some composure.

“I have assumed so far that if you’d wanted any of these actions to stop, you would’ve used a safeword,” he continues, “But I still wanted to take a moment to check in with you properly. Is there anything about these advances that are making you feel less than comfortable?”

I pause to consider this. 

“Honestly, not at all,” I force myself to be honest, “I… I really like all of you. A lot, actually. I’m really… interested in this sort of relationship.”

Tseng smiles at me.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he says, “We’ve come to the agreement as a group that we’d like to eventually initiate a formal relationship with you, but we also agreed that it would be wise to foster this consideration for a bit longer. In many ways, we’re still just getting to know you, and you us, so for now, we’ll continue with things as they have been. But, this all being the case, I thought it would be best to brief you on some of the practices that we’ve agreed on to maintain the health and safety of the group. Communication is key with us, and it’s very important that everyone is forward, clear, and precise.”

Tseng’s language is starting to get technical. Brief me? Well, I can definitely tell he’s a Turk - he sounds like he’s getting ready to send me on a mission. 

“First and foremost, please be smart about having sex. If you do decide to play with anyone beyond our group, we prefer to be informed, and for everyone involved to get testing before and after. Use protection where necessary, of course - though I’ll disclaim that we often overlook that amongst ourselves. Second, as I’d mentioned, you’re free to continue seeking company and partnership beyond us - both romantically and sexually. And, finally, if you’re going to play with anyone, it’s wise to negotiate beforehand, every time. That said…'' Tseng pulls his computer in front of him and begins typing something, “I’ve devised a system to make that process easier. If you’ll allow me to write up a brief profile of sorts, I can share it with the rest of the team, and share theirs with you. Is that alright with you?”

I blink, trying to catch up. That was a lot of info all at once, but… I think I got it. I nod.

“Good. Just a few basic questions - you don’t have to answer them if you aren’t comfortable doing so. Then, to begin - any health conditions you’d like to make us aware of?”

“No,” This feels strangely clinical, like I’m at the doctor. In a really strange way, it’s almost turning me on. Maybe that’s just the soap smell still eating away at the back of my brain. 

“I think we all have a good idea of your interests - soap, domestic discipline, exhibitionism… Anything else to add?” He grins at me, and it makes me feel shrunken in my seat.

“No,” I squeak, too shy to admit anything else.

“Hm,” Tseng smirks and turns back to the screen, “Then, what are your hard limits?”

Ooh, this is always an interesting question. I don’t really have any that I can think of off the top of my head.

“Well… I don’t like, like, dirty stuff, y’know… Watersports are okay-” I clarify, thinking of Reno, “-But not like, anything else like that,” I hope he understands what I mean, and luckily, he nods.

“The same goes for the rest of us,” he says, typing down the details, “Anything else? Knives? Blood? Fire?”

“I’m… not experienced with any of that,” I confess, “But in general, I won’t knock it ‘til I’ve tried it.”

That makes Tseng smile widely. He hastily types it in.

“Wonderful,” he says, “I believe that’s all for now.”

“Does… this count as a sober negotiation?” I ask, remembering the other night. It’s only half in jest.

“Yes, it does,” Tseng says, smiling, “Though I think I’d like to see you play when you’re sober quite a few more times before we attempt any scening under the influence.”

“Heh, yeah, I agree. I guess… the liquor had me a little overzealous,” I admit sheepishly. So much for acting like I can hold my drinks - just one rum and cola was enough to inhibit my judgement that night.

“I’m glad you can recognize that,” Tseng says, pushing his computer to the side once again, “Thank you for your patience with this. I know discussing these sorts of things isn't necessarily fun, but it is important. I’ll send our profiles to you shortly, and with your permission, I’ll send yours to everyone else.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say.

“Wonderful. Another thing before we move to wrap up - Rufus was interested in scheduling a shoot on Thursday, after work hours. He would like to hold it in his apartment suite this time - are you interested?”

“Definitely!” I smile wide. Hell yeah - I get a shoot this week anyway!

“Excellent. In that case, please flex your time tomorrow to accommodate a two-hour slot,” Tseng says. He pushes his chair back and stands, “Now, there’s only one more matter to attend to. If you’ll please follow me.”

I feel the butterflies return. What else could he possibly have to discuss - and why does it involve moving? Slowly, I stand and follow Tseng across the room to the door on the left wall of his office. I’d noticed it the other day, and had figured that it was a storage closet or something. But when Tseng presses the button, I learn that I was dead wrong.

The room in question is a bathroom. And it’s not empty.

Reno’s shock of red hair catches my eye first. He’s stood at the sink with his back to us, and as Tseng and I step into the room, I stare at his reflection in the mirror.

There’s a bar of soap protruding from his mouth. His lips and cheeks are painted with swirls of foam. Has he been in here this whole time?! That explains the soap smell, I guess.

“I apologize again for my tardiness, Lane,” Tseng says, “But after hearing about what Reno did this morning, I felt that the issue needed immediate resolving. I’m sure it’s very humiliating to have someone walk in on you in the bathroom, but… Well, turnabout is fair play, isn’t it, Reno?”

Reno groans around the bar of soap and lowers his chin. He looks dejected and sorry, very different from the last time I saw his face.

“Why don’t you sit down here, Lane?” Tseng gestures to the closed lid of the toilet, right next to the sink. I can’t help but obey, never taking my eyes off Reno for a second. The view from here is very much ideal. I can’t believe this is happening - am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. As I try to wake myself up, Tseng turns to Reno.

“Let go,” he orders him, pulling up a hand and plucking the bar out of his mouth. Reno releases it and grimaces, waiting patiently for the next command. Eventually, Tseng gives him mercy.

“Spit.”

Reno leans forward and does his best to clear his mouth. That should probably be gross, but instead I can feel myself getting wetter by the second. This is obscenely hot.

“Rude informed me that Reno ran off with your towel today,” Tseng says, addressing me, “Is this true?”

I can’t form words. I nod.

“Speak when spoken to, Lane,” he says. I gulp.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And Rude also told me that Reno kissed you. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

At that, Tseng leans over the sink himself and turns on the water. He rinses and rubs at the soap bar, building fresh bubbles on the surface, then holds it up to Reno’s mouth.

“Here, Reno,” he says, his voice dipping into a devious tone, “Kiss it.”

Reno gives his boss a skeptical look, but obeys, leaning forward and giving the bar a casual smooch - the same sort he gave me this morning. With all the soap already on his lips, it hardly matters.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that,” Tseng says, reaching around and giving Reno a sharp smack on the ass, “Take it from me and really kiss it. Use your tongue.”

I can’t stop myself from moaning at the very concept of that, and when Reno reaches up and takes the bar, the quiet misery on his face has me biting my tongue just to stay quiet.

“Reno, did you negotiate with Lane before your actions this morning?” Tseng asks sternly.

“No, Sir,” Reno mumbles, only briefly pausing his soapy makeout session to answer his boss before resuming. The amount of soap in his mouth is straight-up audible.

“Then were your actions appropriate?”

“No, Sir.”

“We like Lane, Reno, and we want them to stick with us for a long time,” Tseng says, “It’s absolutely critical that you respect their boundaries, and you cannot do that without knowing where their boundaries are. This may very well have been fine, but if it hadn’t been, then you could’ve seen much worse consequences than this. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Give.”

Listening to them proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is routine for them, to at least some degree. Reno has little hesitation to give the soap back to his boss (though the way he slaps it into his hands suggests that the sass hasn’t been done away with yet), and he opens his mouth again without being asked as Tseng lifts the bar toward his face. I’ve got a front-row seat to the greatest show in the world right now - watching Tseng really work the soap over Reno’s tongue. I wish that I could stop time, or grab a video camera, or something… Anything to preserve and relive this moment. I want to stay right here forever. 

Eventually, Tseng sticks the bar back into Reno’s mouth, then turns to me. 

“Lane,” he says, his tone inquiring, “Reno informed me that he caught you masturbating in the shower this morning.”

My stomach leaps so high that I think it’s fucked up my brain. I scramble to make amends.

“I-I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise, I-”

“No,” Tseng says firmly, shutting me up, “There’s no need for you to apologize. I was just going to say that you’re welcome to bring toys from home if it would make it easier for you,” I swear I could melt into a puddle, “But the way you jumped to the defensive makes me think that you believed you were going to get in trouble for that.”

“...Maybe,” I squeak. 

The most terrifying, arousing sort of smile creeps over Tseng’s face.

“Did you want to get in trouble?” he asks. His tone is damning - he already knows what the answer is. I shudder, trying to get myself to just say it.

“Y-Yes,” I whisper. I can barely even hear myself, but Tseng chuckles.

“I thought so,” he purrs, “And I’m sure I know exactly what you were hoping for. Both of you - switch places.”

For a second there, I’m not sure that I’ll find the strength to stand, but I do ultimately manage. On shaky legs, I trade spots with Reno, standing in front of the sink while he takes a seat. The soap is still stuck firmly in his mouth, but I’m rapidly distracted as Tseng kneels down next to me and prods open the cabinet door beneath the sink. I step back to give him the space to reach inside, and when he stands back up, he’s got a fresh new box of soap in his gloves. I watch, totally frozen, as he reaches into his suit jacket and extracts a black marker from a pocket, popping off the cap and writing on the box, in big bold letters, “LANE.”

Holy fuck, this is actually happening right now. I think I might pass out. I have to grab the counter to stay upright.

“Strip,” he orders me. 

“W-What?”

“I said, ‘Strip.’ You can keep on the hat and glasses, if you’d like, but I want everything else off - Don’t want to get soap all over your work clothes, do we? I’m sure you wouldn’t want to walk around sporting that look all day.”

Tseng opens the end of the box and lets the soap bar fall out into the palm of his leather glove. Those gloves were sexy before, man, but now? I have little control over my whimpering, and if anything else hits me the right way, I’m sure that they’ll hear my moans on the 16th floor. Slowly, I manage to get myself undressed, one piece at a time - my button-down shirt comes off easily enough, and the pants, underwear, and shoes all come off as a single unit. I fold it all haphazardly and toss it to the floor, undistracted by the fact that it ends up in a crumpled heap. I’m acutely aware of the room’s temperature, and of the way Tseng and Reno’s eyes trail me up and down, taking in every detail of my body. Yep, nudity barrier’s well and broken now. 

Tseng takes his time rolling the soap around in his hands, holding it under the flow of the faucet for a few seconds before pulling it back out and rolling it some more, quickly forming foam that will soon be in my mouth.

“Poor, naughty little thing,” Tseng says lowly, his grin baring his teeth, “Misbehaving just to get my attention.”

Something about that accusation is particularly moan-inducing. He doesn’t even have to tell me to open my mouth - it pops open automatically, like he’s just offered me candy. I can feel the round edge of the bar slip through my parted lips and slide across my tongue, leaving those silky, bitter suds in its wake. 

“Mmmmfuck…” I gasp out as the bar is removed, unable to hold back. My hand grips at my mound, fingers stroking my clit, no longer under the influence of modesty.

I feel my cap disappear, swept effortlessly off my head. In its place, a rough hand grabs my hair.

“Get your hand out of there,” Tseng growls in my ear, sounding threatening enough to make me obey immediately, “You’re not allowed to touch yourself while you’re being punished unless I give you permission. And if I were you, I’d be watching my mouth right now,” Tseng’s threatening facade falters, and he chuckles, “Do you realize how profane you get when you’re turned on?”

“I… I can’t help it…” I pant, whimpering again at the soap taste that blooms when I talk, “It’s a habit at this point.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m specialized in breaking habits,” Tseng’s growl returns, and so does the soap bar. He gives my mouth another thorough workover while I whine and moan. All the noise I’m making actually manages to produce a few soap bubbles at the corners of my lips, which for some reason just makes everything twice as hot. Fuck, I’m just broken - there will be no recovery from this. This is all I’m going to think about for weeks to come. 

Tseng rinses and scrubs at the soap bar one more time, building fresh suds before sticking it deeply into my mouth and holding it there.

“Bite,” he orders. I obey without hesitation, latching my teeth onto my kryptonite. Gods, fuck, I am weak .

“Lane,” Tseng says, commanding my attention, “Did you actually manage to orgasm this morning?”

My cheeks burn hot, but I can’t help but be truthful now. I shake my head.

“Because Reno interrupted you,” Tseng states. I nod, confirming his statement. With that, Tseng reaches over to Reno, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him out of his seat and down to the floor behind me.

“Turn around, Lane,” Tseng instructs, leaning down and pulling the soap out of Reno’s mouth, “Reno’s going to make it up to you now. He’s going to get you off with his soapy tongue.”

I’ve never whined this much in my life. The mere thought of the act has me in shambles - I’m hardly close to ready when I feel Reno’s hands press my thighs against the cabinet and his tongue lick along my folds. I nearly scream as I feel him caress my clit, using his thumbs to spread me open and gain full access. I try to reach down and push him away - not because I don’t want this, but because the stimulation is too much on top of the horniness induced by the circumstances. 

“Reno, pause,” Tseng commands, giving me a reprieve. I use it to breathe and recover, hardly even noticing that Reno has turned up toward Tseng and opened his mouth for yet another short round with the soap. When Tseng finishes, Reno turns back to me and begins to fervently lick again. I can tell that he’s doing his damndest to get me to climax as quickly as possible, and for what it’s worth, it’s working tremendously well. 

Even then, it takes me a few minutes. Tseng stops Reno every thirty seconds to resoap his mouth, then lets him take another try at me. In the interim, I find myself drooling suds over my chest as I look down around the bar and watch Reno’s efforts. Some of my soapy drool drips into his hair, and the visual of that is what ultimately sets me off. After his sixth round with the soap, Reno presses back against me, and I grab his head and pull him in tightly. He takes the cue and runs his tongue rapidly over me, bringing me up and over the edge. 

If these walls aren’t soundproof, we’re going to get noise complaints. I scream around the soap as I cum hard - harder than I’ve ever cum before, in my memory. As the peak washes over me in waves, I gradually get weaker and slump back against the counter, trying to catch my breath around the soap without swallowing anything.

“Come on, stand up - both of you,” Tseng says gently, pulling the bar of soap from my mouth, “Turn around and rinse.”

Reno doesn’t waste very much time getting up and getting water to his lips - he’s had that soap in his mouth for a damn long while, if he really was in here the whole time Tseng and I were talking. He seems more than happy to get the froth off his tongue, but I’m a tad slower about it. I don’t see the rush just yet, to be honest. I’m not getting any burn - just pure enjoyment from it all. But I don’t want to swallow anything either, so I do eventually start rinsing. As my strength returns, I turn around and stick my hands under the faucet, cupping cold water to my lips in turn beside Reno. We swish and spit, alternating between us who gets to dip their hands under the water stream and rinse again. 

I didn’t get it near as bad as Reno, so I don’t feel a need to rinse quite as long as he does. I turn back around to face Tseng, who I find is holding a washcloth out to me. 

“Reno, turn the water to warm,” he instructs, “Lane, when it’s warmed up, you should wet that down and wipe up. You don’t want that soap to stay where it is.”

“Ah… Right,” I pant, still trying to catch my breath. When Reno moves away a moment later, I test the water temperature with my finger and, deciding that it’s plenty warm, wet down the washcloth. I have to steel myself to press it between the folds of my oversensitive pussy, but I do ultimately find the nerve. Tseng directs me to leave the rag in the sink as he boxes up the soap bars, one by one in the proper boxes - mine labelled with my name, and Reno’s with his. 

“You may want to get dressed as well, Lane,” he tells me, “Unless you want to return to your office like that.”

“Heh… No thanks,” I joke, reaching down and retrieving my clothing from the pile. As I get dressed, Reno finishes recovering and turns to face Tseng. 

“Why did I wash your mouth out with soap, Reno?” Tseng asks him sternly. Reno lowers his chin.

“‘Cuz I jumped the gun on kissing Lane,” he mutters.

“What should you have done instead of assuming that they were okay with it?” Tseng presses.

“I should’ve asked and negotiated boundaries,” Reno answers, almost like he’s reciting a line. I feel like the two of them might’ve had a little “meeting” of their own before I came in today. 

“Very good. Is there anything you’d like to say to Lane before I dismiss you?” Tseng asks. 

Reno hesitates for a minute, thinking, then lifts his chin back up. There’s a twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah,” He turns to me, “Can I kiss you?” 

I’m caught off-guard and blush deeply, but I know there’s only one right answer.

“Y-Yeah, of course!”

Reno’s more dramatic about it this time - he swings up next to me and drags my face up to his with both hands, pressing his lips even harder against mine. Freshly soaped, they're even softer than they were this morning, and he gently nibbles at my lip. He doesn’t include any tongue this time, but I get the sense that he thinks about it. It lasts longer, too - nearly a full five seconds before he finally pulls away. 

The look Tseng gives him is something conflicted - he looks like he’s trying not to smile, but is simultaneously pissed off. Reno just smirks at his boss and sticks his hands in his pockets. It clicks for me - he did that to be a brat in front of Tseng. That was textbook malicious compliance. 

“Am I excused, Sir?”

Tseng narrows his eyes, but ultimately sighs.

“Yes Reno, you’re dismissed. You too, Lane.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Reno and I both say in our own time. Reno has little hesitation to get the hell out of Tseng’s office, but I’m a little more prone to linger. Tseng steps out of the bathroom behind me, shutting the door behind him and cutting off my view.

“You’ll get plenty of chances to see it more often,” he says with a grin, noticing my staring, “That was certainly fun. You are quite vocal, you know.”

“Heheh… Yeah, I’m aware…”

“I wasn’t lying about you becoming profane when aroused, either,” he adds, “You said it was a habit?”

“Yeah… I got into the habit of cussing a lot when I was younger, mostly when I was turned on. I guess I sort of fantasized about swearing too much during sex or something, and then my partner getting fed up and dragging me off for a… a…” I can’t quite bring myself to say it. 

Tseng raises a brow and grins.

“A what?” he prods. I squirm.

“A mouthsoaping,” I say in a near-whisper. Tseng huffs out a breathy chuckle, and stops at the door of his office. I stop too, hesitating for a few seconds to see if anything might happen.

“You look like you’re waiting for something,” he says, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Oh, uh, no - I’m good,” I stutter, turning to walk away. I don’t even get one step when I feel Tseng grab my arm and spin me back around to face him. His lips are inches from mine.

“Were you waiting for this?” he asks, then leans in slowly. I’m sure my closed eyes and shuddered breath tells him all he needs to know, and he puts his clean, soap-scented glove on the side of my face and presses his lips against mine for a few seconds. When he pulls away, he takes my breath with him. 

“Thank you, Lane,” he says with a gentle smile, “I’ll see you on Thursday evening. I’ll send more details to you tomorrow over email.”

“Y-yeah… Bye,” I blubber, too out-of-sorts to be professional anymore. I nearly stumble with every step as I make my way back to the elevator and ride back up to my office.

In addition to the smell of the soap, I’m sure my coworkers can see the heart-shaped bubbles that are surely rising over my head.

Chapter Text

The train ride home that afternoon is a blur. All I really remember about the rest of my day is how the soap makes my teeth squeak together. That should feel absolutely awful, but in truth, it just serves to remind me of that fucking perfect experience. It plays in my head on repeat all evening and well into Wednesday, supplementing fap fodder for an uninterrupted shower in the Shinra building basement and only being briefly paused by Tseng’s emails. He informs me of the details for Thursday’s shoot - bring a couple lights, fresh SD card, and dress comfortably. He refuses to give me details about exactly where in Rufus’s apartment we’ll be shooting, so I start preparing to shoot in pretty much every room, brainstorming possibilities.

In addition, I do read through everyone’s profiles that Tseng sent. I can tell that he typed all of these - they’re all in the same notational style, very professionally worded. There’s not too much in there that I didn’t already know - Reno’s into watersports and humiliation, as I’d figured out. Elena’s into soap and domestic discipline, just like me, but she’s also into shibari, along with Rude. Oooh, that makes for nice pictures… It’s a skill I never had the time to pick up, but I admire those who can do it. Maybe I can get Rufus tied up for a shoot sometime… 

Rufus is listed as enjoying edge play of all kinds - electroplay, knife play, blood play, and materia play, among other things. That explains why Tseng had asked me about those while we filled out the profile. I’ll admit, I’m a little shaky about it, but as I said, I don’t intend to knock them until I try them. Tseng’s profile is more or less exactly what I’d expected - he’s a sadomasochist, very much about domestic discipline from every angle.

There are other details to be gleaned from these profiles, but frankly, I’m still too distracted with the memories of yesterday. Still just thinking about Tseng and Reno’s lips pressed against mine. I’ll read these in greater detail another time.

Work floats by effortlessly, and soon it’s time for me to head out. I’m leaving early today, as instructed, to flex my time. As I’m clearing off my desk for the evening, there’s a knock on my door.

“Hello?” I open it, and find myself faced with Marjorie.

“Oh, hi Lane! I was just stopping by to check in - it looks like you finished the catalogue project.”

“Yeah, I got it done this afternoon,” I say cheerfully.

“Well, that’s great, but… I think you might’ve missed a step in the process.”

“Huh?”

“You need to save the edits in chunks, remember? It looks like you tried to save them all at once, but the system couldn’t handle it, so nothing was saved.”

“Oh… no,” I flounder. Dammit, I fucked up - undoubtedly because I was distracted. I totally forgot about the staged saving.

“It’s no big deal,” Marjorie says, “It shouldn’t take you long to fix, right? Do you have time today?”

“Oh… Actually, I was just about to leave for the day,” I say, indicating my bag on my shoulder, “I’m staying late tomorrow for a shoot, so I need to flex my time. But I can get it done first thing in the morning!”

“Oh - an evening shoot? How interesting! I didn’t see you book the studio - where are you shooting?”

“That’s… proprietary,” I say slowly, deciding to lie in lieu of telling Marjorie that I’ll be spending the evening in Rufus’s apartment. I don’t need any more rumors flying around.

“Got it, got it,” Marjorie nods, then turns to get out of my way, “Well, I hope you have fun! I’ll see you tomorrow morning then. Have a good evening!”

“Thanks Marjorie, you too!”

After using the extra time at home to jack off to yesterday’s memory and then take a well-deserved nap, I get dinner and spend my evening fantasizing about tomorrow’s shoot. I wonder where Rufus will want photos - though I’m guessing it’ll mostly be in the bedroom. Maybe on a couch? Or maybe he has a dungeon or a sex room or something - man, that thought gets me all ravelled up in self-satisfying thoughts. Eventually, I exhaust myself… There’s only so much one person can fantasize in a single day. I must be approaching the limit.  

Thursday morning’s shower also goes uninterrupted. Obviously, everyone now knows that I’m using these showers at a certain time of day, and yet… This is becoming strangely routine. 

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised - they’re only respecting my privacy. But still, after Tseng’s open negotiation with me and supposedly sending things on to everyone else, I guess I assumed that things would get a little busier in here at this time of day.

Whatever. I decide to skip the masturbating today - I want to save it for after the shoot tonight. I’m sure I’ll want to go at it then, and I don’t want to overdo it and end up frustrated. I can’t often get myself to cum twice in one day. 

After my shower, I get myself dressed as usual. I wore my comfiest work clothes today, as I’d been asked - a pine green, well-worn button-down shirt and some comfortable gray khaki pants. It maybe looks a bit sloppy, but I don’t think it’s too bad. Doesn’t matter that much anyway, right? Not like I’ll be the one on camera.

My work is fairly standard - I finish the catalogue project for Marjorie, having to redo half of what I did yesterday. I save everything properly this time, sparing myself from a third round. Marjorie stops by to thank me for completing the project, and sends me more work to do. 

And that’s how I spend my day - until five o’clock. 

The shoot is formally scheduled for five-thirty, but Tseng had suggested I head upstairs right at five to get things set up. I grabbed some lights earlier and left them in my office, so now I can easily snag all the bags I need before making my way to the elevators. I have to ride them back down to the lobby, then switch to the executive elevators there. They require a keycard to access, but my new card from Tseng does the trick. E2 is the executive suite level, and I feel a bit of cold sweat form on my skin as I hit the button. I’m not scared of Rufus or his apartment, but I’m hoping I don’t run into any other important people. I do have the keycard and the security clearance to access this level, but heading there on my own is still pretty intimidating. 

Lucky for me, the floor seems fairly empty. It doesn’t take me long to find Rufus’s apartment, and I swipe my card once more to step inside. 

Tseng is already here, sitting on the couch and reading from a stack of papers. When I open the door, he looks up at me and smiles - that little barely-there smile that’s so characteristic of him. 

“Hello, Lane,” he greets as he stands, “Do you want some help with the lights?”

“Yeah, here - you can carry this one,” I accept his offer, mostly because my hands are starting to hurt. As he takes it from me, I step inside. The room I’m in is a spacious living area, colored mostly in pale neutral tones. A black leather sectional, arced in shape and plenty large enough for all of Rufus’s several partners, is the focal point of the room and faces a huge TV. A glass coffee table sits between, reflecting the waning sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows across from us. I kick off my shoes and leave them near the doorway, not wanting to dirty the beige carpet as I follow Tseng through the room. 

“So, uh… Which room are we starting in?” I ask him, trying to will away the mounting nervousness in my stomach. This is it - the moment when I start to find out which of my fantasies are true or false. I have such a love/hate relationship with that. 

Tseng glances at me over his shoulder and smirks.

“We’ll only be using one room today,” He pushes open a door and strolls through, clearly leading the way for me to follow. I tail him closely, but I stop short as I realize where we are. 

It must be Rufus’s master bathroom. Already, I’m face-to-face with an absolutely massive whirlpool bathtub, easily large enough to fit four people. A tall glass-windowed shower stall stands nearby, and I can see an alcove with sinks and mirrors off to the left. On the right, there’s a borderline terrifying setup that looks a lot like a dog grooming station, with a large metal tub and a grooming hook. For a second, I forget that Rufus has a dog, and my brain immediately believes that it’s for Reno until I remember Rufus’s pet. I should tell Reno that next time he taunts me - it’ll really piss him off.

For now, though, I’m thoroughly distracted by my own flustering fate. 

“In… here?” I squeak, attempting to get my voice back under control. 

“Indeed,” Tseng says, his tone almost playful, “Rufus wanted a bath shoot today.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m frozen in place, unable to move. In all my fantasizing, this was the one scenario I did not dare picture - it was too much, even for me. It felt too much like wishful thinking to entertain, but now it’s suddenly becoming reality. 

And I am completely unprepared for it. How am I going to find the nerve to direct things?

Tseng bends down and begins unzipping the light bag, but looks up at me in my silence.

“Is this something you’ll be able to handle?” he asks, deep implication in his voice. He can see right through me - he knows I’m already struggling.

“I’ll be fine,” I try to speak up, but my voice cracks. This is quickly moving beyond my realm of control. 

Tseng raises a brow at me.

“Are you sure?” he presses, “You can always use a safeword. There’s no obligation to perform if you don’t feel comfortable. No one will be upset.”

Fucking hell, he thinks I want to leave. Gods no - more than anything ever, I want to stay . I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I just don’t know how useful I’ll actually be - I might just melt at the sight of Rufus in… in the...

No, Lane, focus! You must succeed! I shake a little stress off with a shiver, and give Tseng a determined look.

“I’ve got this!” I say, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Tseng smiles at me, trying not to laugh, and I feel my confidence slip out from under me again as his expression suddenly changes to something a little more sinister.

“Good,” he says, “Then I have a task for you before we begin,” He points to the edge of the tub, where a variety of products are lined up, “Since you’re the resident expert, you’re going to run the bath. Use whatever you think will be the most… appealing . I’ll take care of the lights.”

He says that with a look that’s surprisingly playful. He’s drawing this out to torment me, and I know he knows that. I can manage a nod, but not much else as I step toward the bathtub.

I’m really surprised at the variety of products at my disposal - two types of bubble bath, a bottle of bath oil, bath salts and powder, and even a fancy bath bomb all up for grabs. What would look most appealing on camera? I mean, probably the bath bomb, or maybe the powder… making the water nice and opaque, just enough to hide Rufus’s anatomy. I pick up the bath powder and start reading the label.

“Allow me to amend my previous statement,” Tseng says, catching me off-guard, “Rufus wants you to use whatever’s most appealing to you . If you need a starting point, I believe he was envisioning a bubble bath.”

Hearing those words come out of Tseng’s mouth has the strangest effect on me - he’s the kind of person that you’d never expect to hear that from, but the words themselves never fail to give me shivers. I work to distract myself, reaching down into the bottom of the tub and locking the drain before turning on the strong taps and adjusting the water temperature. 

The two bubble baths available for me to choose are quite different from one another. One of them is luxurious and touts skin-softening properties. That translates to “contains oil,” which means that it will make the bubbles dissipate more quickly. However, the other bottle… Gods, fuck , it’s an aphrodisiac formula. The liquid inside is bright pink, and the illustrations on the label are subtly suggestive.

I have to choose one of them, and I know I’ll be judged for which one I pick. This could set the tone for the rest of the evening…

I grab the bright pink bottle and open it, adding a significant amount to the tub. The secret I’ve figured out with bubble bath is to add a lot. Like, a lot , a lot. Especially in a tub this size… I’ll be honest, I go a little overboard. 

When I’m done pouring it in, I cap the bottle back up and glance at Tseng. He’s got his eyebrows raised in surprise, and when he sees me look, he shakes his head.

“I thought I’d warned you against being wasteful,” he says lowly. I blush.

“It’s not wasteful - you’ll see,” I retort, getting sassy in defense, “What happened to trusting the expert?”

Tseng’s face goes from skeptical to threatening.

“Didn’t you get enough soap earlier this week?” he growls. It makes me whine out a hasty apology.

Despite my tail being tucked between my legs now, I still stand and step over to help set up and adjust the lights. I’d turn back to my task at the tub, but I’m not sure what else I should add. The bubbles will cover up the water anyway, and (though I might be a little biased) there’s just something so playfully sexy about a classic boudoir bubble bath shoot. I hope Rufus doesn’t take this too seriously - from an industry viewpoint, bath shoots are meant to be fun. 

Ah, yes, there’s the photographer brain at work. Now, if I could just grab hold of that and make it stay with me until the end of the shoot…

“I think I can leave this to you,” Tseng says, stepping away from the light stand, “I’m going to get Rufus. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He steps into the alcove on the left, and I hear him open a door and leave the bathroom. I’m guessing that the door leads to the bedroom, though I can’t quite be sure. In the meantime, I check on the state of the bathtub - it’s only about a third of the way full, but we probably don’t want it filled all the way, either. Probably should’ve accounted for that when I poured in the bubble bath… Maybe I was a little wasteful.

I’m prepping my camera when the door opens again. Tseng steps back into the bathroom, carrying a short stack of snow-white towels, and I see Rufus follow him in. The Vice President wears a fluffy white bathrobe - it looks luxuriously comfortable. When he sees me, he smiles.

“Lane, I’m so glad to see you,” he says with a warm smile, “I haven’t had the chance yet this week.”

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been busy,” I reply.

“Ugh… ‘Busy’ is a gross understatement,” he groans, but then grins and locks eyes with me, “I’m very much looking forward to this bath.”

I blush deeply, immediately losing my professional footing again at the reminder of my situation. I watch as Rufus steps up to the tub and shuts off the faucet - it’s less than half full, but I suppose that makes perfect sense. Like I said, not too deep.

“Just look at all those bubbles,” he says, stealing glances at me to watch the effects of his teasing, “That’s pretty damn impressive.”

“You can thank Lane for that,” Tseng interjects, “They were in charge of drawing your bath. It appears that this is what they wanted to see you in.”

Rufus chuckles softly, and I avert my eyes, desperately trying to hide my embarrassment. He’s unfazed, and instead straightens himself back up.

“Well, let’s not waste any time then,” he says, “I want to enjoy this while the water’s still warm. Lane, are you ready?”

I feel like I’m going to melt and slip between the cracks of the tile, but I find the will to nod anyway. I lift my camera toward my face - maybe I can ride on autopilot for a while until I get the hang of things again. In response to my nod, Rufus smiles.

“Good. Let’s start with this…” He takes a seat on the edge of the tub, pushing the leftover bath products to the side. Tseng enters the frame just long enough to pick them all up and move them out of the picture, and once the space is clear, I lift the camera sight to my eye. Rufus is smiling at the camera, but it’s a sultry look - cutting and clear, and screamingly sexual. My breath shudders as the shutter snaps.

I can’t produce more than a single word at a time for the first several minutes, most of my speech just confirming what Rufus comes up with. As predicted, I’m useless - little more than a tripod as I snap away, but luckily Rufus has done his homework. He knows exactly how to move, and his poses progress effortlessly. Slowly, he sheds away the robe, then sits on the edge of the tub again, totally nude. 

“How’s this?” he says, more flirtatious than serious, “Does this look good?”

“Uh-huh,” I’m sure I sound like a moron, but I’m dumbstruck. I feel almost numb, like I’m photographing wildlife. One wrong move, and I’ll scare away this once-in-a-lifetime shot. I’m too scared to do anything other than nod politely and rotate my camera angle.

Rufus puts a leg up on the edge of the tub, putting himself on full display to me. In combination with the rest of the circumstances, I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter as I go. He moves again after a few shots, opening his legs and spreading them wide, facing me head-on. He’s presenting himself to the camera in all his glory, and it’s making me reel. He’s hard already, clearly enjoying himself as well. 

“Do you want me to get in, Lane?” he asks out of the blue, catching me off-guard. I fumble for a second, but manage again to nod.

“Tell me, then,” Rufus purrs, tilting his head, “Tell me what you want me to do.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and dig deep for the resolve to make the words come out. Slowly, I stutter.

“I w-want you to… to get in the… the water,” I find a well-worded solution that doesn’t tear me to shreds. Rufus laughs softly before lifting his legs over the edge and slowly, slowly, sliding himself down into the suds. Bubbles seethe up around him, not quite high enough to obscure his chest, but enough to leave something to the imagination (or, rather, to memory).

He keeps on smiling as the shoot carries on. He does indeed get a little playful with the camera, picking up handfuls of fluffy bubbles and blowing them into the air with staccato bursts of breath. It sends tiny bubbles floating around the room - a visual that never fails to arouse me, for whatever reason. It’s not the only thing in the room that’s got me hot and bothered, though - I made sure the water was plenty warm when I ran it, and it’s causing the room to steam up slightly. I wore a long-sleeved shirt today, and even though the sleeves are rolled up, I’m starting to sweat. Is that more from the heat, or from the horniness? Doesn’t really matter, I guess - I pause to wipe my sweaty forehead on my arm, then return the camera to my face.

Rufus scoots over to the nearest edge of the tub and grins at me, smiling right into the camera. Click - oh, that’ll be a keeper for sure. He looks so pleased.

“I’m really enjoying this, Lane,” he says quietly, “Are you?”

“Y-Yes,” I stammer, trying to catch my breath, “I… I love it.”

Rufus just beams in return, more than I ever knew the man could smile. I smile back, something smaller and more awkward, but suddenly gasp as I feel two hands on my shoulders.

“Relax,” Tseng’s voice purrs in my ear, “Here.”

His bare hands slide down my arms and wrap around the front of my body, cradling me from behind. One by one, he starts to undo the topmost buttons on my shirt.

“T-Tseng…” I gasp out, desperately trying not to moan. Focus, Lane, focus…

“Shhh… It’s hot in here. We don’t want you to overheat,” he says. I can hear the smirk in his voice, “Why don’t you shed a few layers?”

I’m about to tell him that I can’t do that because I’m not wearing any other layers, but I’m cut off by Rufus before I can make a dumbass of myself.

“Here, let me help…” He reaches out for me, and I feel Tseng push me toward the tub, close enough to Rufus for the blond to start unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. Tseng lets Rufus handle the rest and instead reaches for my camera, plucking it from my hands and moving it out of the way.

I nearly protest, but then it all clicks. 

This was never supposed to be a serious photo shoot.

This is an excuse for them to have sex with me.

That realization leaves me powerless, yielding to their whims and letting myself get swept away in the tide of lust. I let Tseng take the camera. In the meantime, Rufus finishes unbuttoning my shirt and pushes it open, exposing me to him for the first time. He runs wet, soapy hands over my bare chest, stroking my skin and finding every excuse to glide over my nipples. There’s no holding back my noises now, and they trickle out of me steadily, increasing in frequency and volume with every touch to sensitive spots. 

Tseng returns to me and peels off my shirt entirely, tossing it off to the side somewhere. I could care less where it ends up, though, because the next thing I feel is his bare chest against my back. The feel of his warmth against mine draws out a loud moan, and I passively allow him to wrap his arms around my front and undo the button and fly of my pants. I’m sure he’s going to push them down, but instead he surprises me by hooking his arms under mine and suddenly lifting me to my feet. While I’m up, Rufus slips his fingers into my waistband and lowers my pants and underwear, revealing the rest of my form.

Tseng releases me and leans down, helping me step out of my pants and socks. I can see as I turn that he’s got his shirt off, but is still dressed from the waist down. Once he’s got me completely stripped, he gives me a gentle push toward the tub again.

“Come on,” Rufus takes my hand and tugs me toward him, “Get in.”

I swear I could die. Half of me wants desperately to run the other way and hide, refusing to submit to their seductions in spite of how bad I love it. The other half is utterly swooning - knowing that I’m being catered to is almost too much. They totally just set this whole thing up for me. 

Ultimately, I give in to the swooning side and lift my legs over the tub’s edge. The water is deliciously warm, and the foam is soft. I hate to admit it, but I can tell that the aphrodisiac formula is doing its job. Slowly, I lower myself down into the water.

“Here,” Rufus takes me by my arm, pulling me closer to him. I’m not entirely sure where he wants me until he grabs my hips and hauls me downward into his lap. I can feel his cock resting between my thighs now, and it takes a whole lot of willpower not to grind against him right away. I’ve seen it several times already, but this is easily the closest I’ve ever been able to get. In a strange way, it almost feels like I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this. When I’m settled where he wants me, he lifts a hand to my face and strokes my cheek. His thumb strokes my lips.

“I heard Reno got the first kiss from you,” he smirks.

“Y-yeah,” I say almost breathlessly. Rufus’s eyes narrow slightly.

“And I heard you both got your mouths soaped after that.”

I squeeze my eyes shut again, unwilling to admit how much I enjoyed that particular experience. I whimper, and Rufus laughs and pulls me closer to him. His cock nestles against my mound.

“A clean slate for me, then” he says, leaning forward. I’m helpless to deny him, and I let his lips press against mine. Gods, they feel like down pillows... This must be heaven.

He pulls away slowly and smiles at me, but I’m a bit distracted by the feel of the water moving behind me. I turn just in time to see Tseng lower himself in behind us, and I gasp as he runs hot, wet hands over my back. Rufus, however, doesn’t let me stay distracted for long - his grip shifts to my chin, and he turns me back to face him. I hardly get a second to breathe before his lips are pressed against mine again, and this time they part, allowing our tongues to meet.

I’m swept up in sensation, no longer in control of my own reactions - Tseng and Rufus working my back and front respectively. I can feel Rufus’s dick twitch against me, and I’m thankful that the water disguises how fucking wet I am right now. Tseng presses against the back of my neck, and at the same time Rufus moves down to nuzzle at the front, both slowly kissing up my shoulder, where they eventually meet. They let their lips touch, making out with me sandwiched right in between them. Fuck, that’s hot... I fight to keep still.

When they pull back, Tseng grabs my hips and hauls me backwards. Rufus shifts too, lifting himself out of the water and up onto the edge of the tub. The sight is delicious - bubbles slip down his hips to trickle back towards the water. A few errant suds cling to his dick, but are quickly swept away as his hand sheathes over it. 

“On all fours,” Tseng softly commands me, still with a firm grip on my hips. The position puts me in a perfect spot for him to do whatever he wants with me, and it puts my nose mere inches away from Rufus’s cock. 

Tseng’s fingers tease my slit, making me pant like a dog. I’ve been reduced to my barest state, utterly taken.

“Gods, you’re soaked…” he says, blowing my cover. I groan, and I hear him chuckle in response, “That’s going to make this easy.”

He slips two fingers inside, drawing a throaty noise from me, then withdraws them slowly, fucking me at an agonizing pace. I want more - want him to go faster… I want…

I’m almost too distracted to notice Rufus place the head of his dick against my lips. My eyes burst open to see him looking down at me.

“Lane…” he huffs, sounding just as breathless as I am. The look on his face makes me gasp, and I take him into my mouth almost automatically. I can taste the bubble bath in the water that remains, but mostly I just taste him as I bob back and forth. 

I whine when Tseng withdraws his fingers a moment later, but then I feel something else press into me, just a bit at a time as he allows my body to accept him. I haven’t even been able to see Tseng’s cock yet, but now it’s deep inside of me, pressing deliciously against my g-spot as he rocks back and forth.

Names are exchanged in breathy huffs, and time begins to blur. Tseng’s speed gradually increases, and eventually I don’t have to put effort into sucking Rufus anymore - the rocking does it for me, as long as I keep my tongue low and mouth wide. 

As wonderful as it all is, I’m not going to get off successfully without some sort of touch to my clit. After who-knows-how-long of pounding, I manage to pull myself off of Rufus. He lays his hand in my hair and looks at me, waiting patiently for me to speak. Tseng comes to a rest too, panting in his exertion.

“Ah… oh… I…” I can’t form words at first, but Rufus shushes me and waits patiently until I find some footing, “I’m starting to get… overstimulated. I need something on my clit…”

“Here,” Tseng offers a solution, pulling out of me and straightening out. As I turn, I finally get my first look at his cock. To me, it is perfect in every way. I could just throw myself at him right now, but instead I try to be patient, biting my lip.

Rufus and Tseng rearrange themselves, indicating for me to take Rufus’s spot on the tub edge. It’s a little chilly up here after being in the water so long, but when Tseng gets on all fours in front of me, I heat right back up. Rufus lines up behind him, stroking himself as he aims his cock toward his lover.

I feel like I wake halfway up for a second, almost like I’m seeing myself in third-person - Here I am, seated on the edge of Rufus’s bathtub, covered in bubbles and with a front-row seat to watch Tseng get railed. It has me in awe for a few seconds, but Tseng’s tongue on my clit drags me right back down to ecstasy again, and I lose my mind. My eyes squeeze shut for several seconds, but when I feel Tseng begin to rock back and forth and moan, I realize that I’ve lost the visual. 

And, holy shit, just the fucking sound of Tseng’s moan nearly makes me explode. Opening my eyes, I see him for the very first time in a totally new light. This man - Mr. oh-so-serious, deadly Turk - is coming completely undone, piece by piece. He lets Rufus have his way, picking him apart as he goes. Tseng’s tongue works me over expertly, but it’s the look on his face and the tone of his gasps that’s captivated me the most. His hair is wet on the ends and looks disheveled, a far cry from his usually-professional appearance. 

He’s open and vulnerable, and it strikes me that I’ve been permitted to witness something rare and special. The intimacy between these two displays the strength of their bond, and I’ve been allowed to take part.

I feel like this emotional realization could hit a lot harder if I wasn’t grinding against Tseng’s tongue right now, though. In a desperate attempt to hold out a little longer, I glance up at Rufus (I’m not sure why I thought that would work - soaking wet Rufus is a one-way ticket to O-land) and find him staring right at me. Not at Tseng - at me . When our eyes meet, he smiles in an almost feral way, and his pace suddenly picks up, forcefully fucking Tseng with everything he’s got and making the volume of the moaning in the room increase. 

The orgasm hits me like a fucking freight train. I cover my mouth and lurch forward, seeking that final push, and Tseng obliges. A hand teases my entrance, and right as I start to cum, his fingers dive back into me, stroking rapidly as my body pulses. I nearly scream, but I get my shit together just long enough to look at Tseng again as his tongue departs from me and he cries out, shouting as he bursts with an orgasm of his own. I begin my wind-down, but I guess the sight of both of us coming together knocked Rufus over the edge too, because he grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut before choking out yet another shout, pressing deeply into Tseng as he cums. 

The air goes from feeling like a tornado to feeling incredibly placid and still as we all fall gracefully back to relative silence, broken only by our staggered breaths. Rufus makes the first movement, pulling himself out of Tseng and drawing one last soft moan from the Turk. Tseng lowers himself into the water then, and they begin to move toward one of the tub edges. Rufus reaches over and grabs me by the hips, slowly hauling me back beneath the warm bubbles and into a soft embrace. Tseng and Rufus recline side by side, and I somehow find myself seated across both their laps, being touched and kissed in the gentlest of ways. I feel like jelly, and have little choice but to relax into the touching, lest I start shaking.

Not like it’s a hard choice to make. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anywhere else I’d rather be.

Chapter Text

I have no idea how long we lay there… Did I fall asleep? Eventually, I open my eyes to the sound of Rufus’s voice.

“Did you two enjoy yourselves?”

“Mm,” Tseng and I both hum in affirmative tones, grinning and nuzzling Rufus once again. He smiles back, and adds, “This may be my favorite of the photo shoots we’ve done so far.”

Gods, I’d nearly forgotten that this was a photo shoot. Tseng chuckles. 

“It’s my favorite, as well. I can’t wait to see the shots once they’ve been edited,” Tseng says, “Are you going to be able to contain yourself while you work on them tomorrow, Lane?”

I whimper for a second before remembering that I need to be strong here and show them some confidence. I turn the whimper into a laugh and nod.

“I’ll be perfectly fine - I just need a few more minutes to recover from all this. This is… way beyond anything I’ve ever done,” I say quietly, “In boudoir and in… in sex, I mean.”

“I can imagine you’ve never been so involved in a shoot before,” Rufus laughs, “But what do you mean, in terms of sex?”

“Well, never had a threesome, for starters…” I admit, “And I’ve… I’ve never actually had sex in a tub before.”

“Oh, really?” Rufus says in surprise.

“How about in the shower?” Tseng asks.

“Shower sex, yes,” I say, “A few times. But I… Man, I haven’t even had an actual bath since… since…” I don’t know where to go from there. They don’t really need to know that, do they?

“Since?” Tseng prompts me to continue. I sigh, trying to find a decent explanation.

“Since I moved to Midgar,” I reply, happy with that solution.

“Well, if you ever do want a bath, you’re always welcome to ask,” Rufus says with a smirk, “Though if you want to use my tub, I’ll have to insist on chaperoning.”

“Heheheh…” I giggle nervously, already feeling the butterflies at the thought of there being a “next time” to chase this experience. It was all so perfect, I can hardly believe it. There’s not a thing here that I would’ve changed if I could. 

As much as we’re enjoying ourselves though, the hot water is starting to get a bit overwhelming. I can tell that the red color hasn’t left my face in close to an hour, and I’m still sweating despite being in the water.

“Actually, I’m… I’m sort of starting to overheat,” I admit quietly.

“Should we make moves to get out?” Rufus asks, looking to Tseng for confirmation. 

“We can begin heading that way,” Tseng says, back to a commanding tone (as if he wasn’t in shambles less than ten minutes ago), “But I think you and Lane both need your hair washed first.”

I flush even brighter, but Rufus sighs deeply.

“I washed it yesterday,” he mutters, “It will be fine for another day.”

“This isn’t up for debate right now,” Tseng informs him, “If you expect to share the bed, then everyone should be fully clean.”

“Then you should wash your hair, too,” Rufus insists, giving Tseng a somewhat defiant look. Tseng raises a brow at him.

“And who’s going to make me do that?” he asks, the corners of his lips just barely turning upwards.

“Give me the shampoo,” Rufus says, holding out his hand. Tseng grins and rolls his eyes as he grabs the bottle from the tub edge, depositing it in Rufus’s hand. Rufus reaches toward the tap and turns on the water. It puzzles me for a moment - is he going to make Tseng stick his head under there? But to my surprise, he instead pulls a pin on the faucet, and without warning, water begins to rain down from the ceiling. A look up reveals the integrated waterfall showerhead panel that I’d clearly missed. Fuck, that’s fancy .

“Go ahead,” Rufus pokes Tseng’s side, “Get it wet so I can wash it.”

Tseng huffs, but the smile on his face tells me that he’s enjoying this anyway. He holds his hand under the flowing water, reaching to the tap to adjust the temperature before he sticks his head in. I can instantly feel the water currents in the bathtub bringing the water my way - cooler streams lick along my legs, quelling some of the heat that had been bugging me.

When Tseng’s long hair is fully wet, he returns to our little corner of the tub and sits. Rufus upcaps the bottle and dispenses some shampoo into his palm before rubbing his hands together and combing his fingers through Tseng’s hair, building up lather as he goes. The white suds contrast sharply on Tseng’s dark hair, and I can’t help but bite my lip as I watch this all go down. Tseng’s eyes are closed in bliss, and he sighs contentedly. For me, shampoos are pleasurable in a totally different way. Are they just going to hand the shampoo off to me when it’s my turn, or are they… planning to help?

Eventually, Rufus gathers all of Tseng’s hair together at his crown and gives it a final scrub before declaring him finished.

“Go ahead and rinse,” he instructs his lover. But Tseng just wipes the soapy water from his eyes and looks at me.

“Lane should get their hair wet first,” he says, “You can wash them while I rinse off.”

“Hm,” Rufus nods, agreeing, “Well then - go ahead, Lane. Wet down your hair, and I’ll wash it for you.”

Simply the instruction makes me squeak, and I think the verbal reaction reminds the two of them that my fetish extends to hairwashing as well. Tseng smirks as he watches me, making me feel warm all over again until I lean my head forward under the water.

Ooh, it’s so cool… It feels really good running down my back, and it instantly helps undo some of the fluster from being teased just seconds ago. Eventually, I manage to pull back, and Tseng moves past me into the spray while I gingerly make my way to a spot in front of Rufus.

“Turn around,” Rufus directs me, “You’re not going to mind if I just use my own shampoo?”

“G-Go for it,” I stutter, trying not to let myself get horny all over again. But that’s a losing battle, which becomes instantly apparent as Rufus’s fingers run through my hair. I bite my lip, fighting those natural noises for as long as I can as he scrubs me. I can feel the suds beginning to build, and the feeling is ecstasy.

I don’t manage to hold the noises back for too long - especially not with the view I’m getting. Tseng, instead of staying seated, stands up under the spray. My gods, this is the first good look at him that I’ve managed to get. His dick is half-hard, still just as stunning as it was the first time, and it looks even more incredible with the suds from his hair running over it as he rinses them away. His form is lithe, but muscular, and he’s covered in deep scars - dark patches and stripes that dot his skin from head to toe. With his back turned to me, I can see one that cuts across his ass directly above his thighs - ouch, right on the sit spot. It runs side to side all the way across, a perfectly straight slash of some kind. I imagine that it wasn’t a very pleasant injury to get - that positioning probably made healing a bitch. But I’m quickly distracted from the scarring by the way his hands run through his hair, combing it out. He turns again and leans over to grab a bottle of conditioner, smirking at my reactions as he moves.

And, of course, none of this is enough to fully distract me from Rufus’s touches. He rubs at my hair in small circles, massaging the shampoo in with a professionality that I’d imagine is hard to find outside of a salon. Well, both these guys have such amazing, well-kept hair, I guess it isn’t much of a surprise. What is a surprise, however...

“Ah!” I gasp and jump a bit as Rufus suddenly runs his soapy hands down my neck.

“Relax,” he laughs, resting them on my shoulders, “Just a little massage…”

He digs foamy fingertips into the muscles of my shoulders, working out the knots that live there permanently thanks to my photography work. It makes my groaning redouble, but this time it’s less sensual than it is satisfied - fuck, I need that so bad. Getting a proper shoulder massage is a treat that I haven’t had in a while. 

Finally, after a few minutes, Rufus changes it up. He runs his hands over the front of my shoulders and up under my chin, catching me off-guard as he tilts my head backwards. I feel myself get pulled until I’m fully leaned back, my soapy hair up against his chest and his face tilted down over mine. From this angle, he appears upside-down, but I can still tell that he’s smiling at me before he leans in for a kiss.

“Okay - you’re clean. Go ahead and rinse,” he tells me as he lifts away, giving me a gentle push to help me sit back up. The cuteness of that little gesture has me red-faced all over again though, and I have to bury my face in my hands and concentrate on biting back a squeal for a moment before I can move. 

As I slip toward the shower spray, Tseng steps away, having rinsed the conditioner out already. He looks at Rufus and grins, beckoning him as he sits on the edge of the tub.

“Your turn, Sir,” he says softly.

Rufus just smiles in return and leans forward, joining me under the spray for a few seconds to wet his own hair and return to Tseng’s side.

I have to focus on getting rinsed off, and I stand up to make it easier, but I still can’t help but sneak glances at the two lovers I’ve shared this bath with. Rufus looks so happy and carefree as he lets Tseng work the shampoo through his hair, resting a chin against his partner’s knee. The intimacy between them is again palpable, and I’m reminded that I bore witness tonight to something very special. I’ve got the snapshots in my head of this experience, and gods, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget what Tseng sounded like when Rufus had him unravelled. It was beautiful. 

Within a few minutes, I’m fully rinsed, and Tseng has Rufus’s hair properly washed. As Rufus shifts toward the shower spray, I shift out, giving him space. I stay there for a moment - more than happy to watch.

Someone taps my shoulder, and I turn to see Tseng offering me a towel. He’s already got one of his own wrapped around his waist.

“Here,” he says, “I know you might want to stay in there forever, but you do need to get out eventually.”

“H-Hey!” I squirm indignantly, “I don’t want to stay here forever…”

“Don’t be silly, Tseng,” Rufus pipes up behind me, “Of course they’re happy to leave. It just puts them one step closer to being back at your sink with a mouthful of soap.”

I whine loudly and bury my face in the towel. Gods, will the teasing ever stop? They seem perfectly content to keep this game going forever.

But for as much as I’m whining, I’m not complaining. 

I step out of the tub and get myself dried off, trying not to stare as Tseng unwraps himself and dries his hair some more. Looking over at Rufus drying himself off gives me enough breaks in between that I can bounce my eyes between them and never stare for too long. It’s just perfect.

“Alright,” Tseng says as he straightens back up, “Should we make plans for dinner?”

Ah, they’re ready to get on with their night. I start to let my mind wander, looking around for wherever Tseng threw my clothes. I’ll have to take the lights down, too…

“Lane?”

“What?” I start, suddenly rejoining the conversation when I hear my name.

“Rufus asked if you’re okay with takeout.”

“I… Me?” I stutter. 

“Who else?” Rufus grins, “You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?”

Something about the way he looks at me and says that flusters me all over again. I nod sheepishly and hide behind my towel once more.

“Shall I get you the usual, Sir?” Tseng asks Rufus as he grabs his phone from a pile of clothing on the floor. He slings the towel over his shoulder - a very good look on him, I must say.

“Of course,” Rufus says, “Then you should let Lane see the menu.”

“Just a moment,” Tseng replies, “Let me find it first…” Once he’s got it brought up on his phone screen, he hands the device to me.

“Order whatever you like,” he tells me, “We’re already getting an order of wontons, but if any other appetizers catch your eye, then go right ahead.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly. Damn, I’m not sure I brought my wallet - I won’t have a way to pay them back until I see them next. Which, for all intents and purposes, might be tomorrow morning. Meh, whatever - I’ll just order an entree, something small. 

Once I’ve selected something, I hand the phone back to Tseng, and he sends off the order.

“Alright, that’s about thirty minutes out,” he says, putting the phone away, “In the meantime, we should get dressed.”

“Yeah - where did you put my clothes?” I ask Tseng, scanning the floor. There’s a pile near his feet, but I can’t quite get there in the narrowish space between him and the tub.

“Don’t worry about your work clothes, Lane,” Rufus takes my wrist and begins to lead me off, “You can borrow some pajamas.”

“I-I don’t want to impose-” I begin, but Rufus cuts me off.

“You’re not imposing at all,” he says, “It will be much more comfortable than your clothes from earlier, I’m sure - please, I insist.”

I allow him to take me by the hand and lead me through the lavish bathroom into an equally lavish bedroom. The sheets on the bed are made of black satin that would make an absolutely lovely background for boudoir pictures…

“Here,” Rufus leads me, still naked and wrapped in my towel, right over to the closet on the right of the bed. He dips inside the walk-in space and begins to shuffle through some drawers. I try to peek around the corner to watch him, but I’m distracted by a strange jingling noise coming from a corner. Sounds like… a collar.

A dark shape stands up behind the bed - tall enough to be visible even from where I’m standing. A long tentacle stretches out above its form, and I suddenly remember - Rufus’s dog.

Wow, she’s way bigger than she looks in the pictures. Slowly, she makes her way around the bed and sees me, stepping ever closer. On her hind legs, she would be far taller than me - already, she comes up to my waist at least. I feel a bubble of fear rise in my chest. That’s a war dog - she could tear me to shreds in seconds if she wanted to. I stay perfectly still.

The dog sniffs at me, analyzing my scent. She’s a big dog, and obviously made for fighting (judging by the size of the visible muscles), but she seems like she isn’t in combat mode at the moment. Actually, I’m really tempted to try petting her. Truth is, I love dogs of all shapes and sizes. 

“Hi, puppy,” I say softly, trying to move slowly so I don’t scare her. I hold a hand out, fingers curled in gently for her to sniff. She gives me a tiny lick.

“Can I pet you?” I ask, slowly moving my hand over her head. She allows it, letting me scritch gently behind her ears - she seems to really enjoy it.

“That’s her favorite spot,” Tseng’s voice surprises me, “Seems like she really likes you. Perhaps because you smell like Rufus now,” He chuckles, and I turn away in embarrassment.

“I love dogs,” I change the subject, smiling down at her, “What’s her name again? I feel like I should know this one, but I forgot… Darkstar?”

“Dark Nation,” Rufus corrects me, stepping out of the closet with an armful of clothing. He tosses a few items to Tseng, and a few on the bed for himself, then approaches me. He’s grinning ear-to-ear, “You’re not scared of her?”

“Nah - look at her! She’s just a big ol’ pubby,'' I say, giddy enough to bring out my baby-talking voice reserved especially for sweet dogs, “Aren’t you, pubby? Such a good girl!”

My incessant petting is making for one very happy dog - she lets her tongue loll out and flops to her side, looking just adorable as she asks for belly rubs. I’m more than happy to drop to my knees and oblige her, regardless of Tseng and Rufus’s snickering above me.  

“Here, Lane,” Rufus finally reminds me that I still need to get dressed, “See if these will fit. If not, I’ll try to find something else.”

He hands me a pair of loose-fitting boxers and a very soft t-shirt. The boxers are a solid merlot color, deep and vibrant red, while the shirt is striped in different shades of gray. I pull them on - everything fits like a dream, and it’s super comfortable. 

“It’s perfect,” I say with a smile, “...As long as you’re sure it’s okay for me to-”

“I’m absolutely certain,” Rufus cuts me off, “You know, you seem to do that a lot.”

“Do… what?”

“You make apologies,” he says, pulling his own t-shirt on, “It’s always ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘I hate to impose…’ You know you’re not imposing on anything. If you were, I wouldn’t offer.”

“Oh,” I say softly, processing this information. I didn’t always apologize this much - it mostly started when I got the Shinra internship. I was so afraid of getting in the way and stepping on toes… It became an automatic reaction.

“I’m starting to lose track of how many times I have to tell you not to apologize,” Tseng adds, grinning as he gets dressed, “Perhaps that’s just another habit we need to break.”

I cower, and Rufus snickers.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed with plenty of soap and water, I assume,” he says, “Maybe that should be the rule - anytime Lane apologizes unnecessarily, they earn a mouthsoaping.”

I pull the shirt back up over my face to hide it. They can probably still see the red glow through the knit fabric.

“That will just encourage them,” Tseng says, dismissing the idea, “But we can certainly put a punishment in place to help cure that bad habit.” 

“Not a bad idea,” Rufus says, “But what sorts of punishments does Lane dislike?”

“I don’t know,” Tseng says playfully, “Lane - care to enlighten us?”

I shake my head, perfectly content to stay hidden in my t-shirt turtle shell. 

“There must be something you don’t like,” Tseng pries, “I think it’s safe to assume that you enjoy soap and spankings, but what about... say, figging?”

“...What?” I poke my head out in curiosity.

“Do you not know what figging is?” Tseng inquires, eyebrows raised.

“...No,” I confess. Should I know?

“Figging is the anal insertion of peeled ginger root,” he explains, “It produces a very intense burning sensation, but causes no damage.”

“Oh, wow,” I say, “I’d never heard of that before. In all honesty, it sounds… really interesting.”

Tseng grins.

“Perhaps we’ll have to try it sometime,” he says, “I’d love to see how you react.”

“Heheheh…” I slowly pull my shirt back up over my mouth.

“What else?” Rufus goads, “Surely, there’s got to be some sort of punishment you’re not fond of.”

I wrack my brain.

“I mean… As far as physical stuff, I’m into most of it,” I confess, “The punishments that worked best on me growing up were, like, lost privileges. Getting grounded, or having toys taken away… One time my dad unscrewed my door and just took that.”

“Took your door ?” Rufus says incredulously.

“Yeah. That was after I cut my hair short for the first time,” I recall, “They didn’t really trust me anymore after that one. I… I left pretty soon after that.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Tseng looks like he’s going to say something, then decides not to.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here now,” Rufus says, “I have to say, you look very nice in my clothes.”

I blush and laugh again, trying not to let my shyness overcome me.

“I bet you’d look wonderful in my bedsheets too,” Rufus purrs. I give him a surprised look - in fact, I almost say something about not wanting to get in his way again, but the threat that’s now been hung over my head stops me in my tracks. 

“I was hoping you would stay for dinner and a movie,” he says, looking me right in the eyes, “And, if that goes well… I was planning to ask you to stay the night.”

I’m speechless for a few seconds, floundering as I look for words.

“There’s no obligation,” Tseng adds, “It’s entirely up to you.”

You know what? From here on in, I’m not going to hesitate anymore. First answer that pops into my head - or my heart.

“Yes,” I smile wide, “I’d really love to!”

Rufus’s smile just about melts me. He has such a pretty smile when he chooses to show it. Someday, I’ll capture that one on camera… Someday.

“We’re very glad to hear it,” Tseng says with a smile of his own, “So then, while we wait for our dinner, perhaps we should move to the living room and start a movie?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Rufus says, “Lane, what sorts of movies do you like to watch?”

“Oh, I usually just watch nature documentaries, actually,” I admit, “But… I don’t know, that’s probably too boring…”

“Hey,” Tseng says in a warning tone, “That’s dangerously close to sounding like an apology.”

“They’re not boring. I enjoy them too,” Rufus says, “Reno really loves them, but I think he watches them more in his free time alone. With the group, he’ll usually pick an action movie, or a thriller.”

“Reno likes nature films? Really?” I cock my head. Didn’t peg him as the type.

“He doesn’t like to admit it,” Tseng smirks, “But he loves learning new things. He has three university degrees, you know - and he’s going for a fourth. A doctorate this time, I believe.”

“Holy shit, no way!” I say, “That’s amazing!”

“He’s the smartest idiot I know,” Rufus laughs, “He could list facts for hours if you let him, but doesn’t know when to close his mouth.”

Tseng and I both laugh at that one.

We settle onto the long leather couch, with me curled up between both of them. Dark Nation joins us, laying across Rufus’s lap and resting her head on my knee. I’m more than happy to give her idle ear scritches while we bring up the documentary. It’s one I’ve seen before - the creatures and topography of the wastelands on our continent.

We only get in a few minutes of the movie before the food arrives, and then pause everything to eat at the kitchen island. The guys share their wontons and let me sample their entrees, and Tseng insists that I don’t need to pay him back.

“Payment for the shoot,” he says.

“I hardly shot anything,” I counter.

“Which is why I’m paying you in food,” he smirks.

There’s no arguing my way out of that one. I let him take the win. 

When our food is gone, we return to the couch, curling up against each other again and picking up right where we left off. D returns to our laps (only a bit dejected at the lack of table scraps), and Rufus pets my hair while I pet his dog.

To my surprise, Tseng actually gets way into the movie. Midgar rests within the very wastelands that the movie is discussing, and Tseng seems to have a particularly memorable story to share about every topic in the movie. Rufus keeps pausing it to let him speak, staring at him over my head. Normally, constant pausing like that would annoy me, but this is too adorable to interrupt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tseng this talkative, either - he must be really, truly comfortable, finally out of work mode.

Well, partially. He is still talking about work, technically.

“Ugh, Kalm Fangs…” he says as the creatures sprint across the screen. Rufus already knows that he’s got another story to tell, and hits pause, “Those things are a massive pain. Rude and I had a run-in with a pack of them just a few months ago - we were flying too low to the ground. They have a significant leap, and they managed to get onto our skids… I had to waste bullets shooting them off, one at a time, and had to keep running from one side of the bird to the other...”

“That’s unfortunate,” Rufus replies. Despite the nature of the conversation, he’s still smiling, gazing at Tseng with that same look I’d witnessed when I first met this pair - that dreamy, teenage-girl-in-love look. It makes my heart melt, and I have to stop myself from saying “Awww!” out loud. I don’t want to disrupt the moment.

“Tseng,” Rufus speaks out of nowhere, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence. Tseng pauses in surprise, and I watch as Rufus reaches over my head and pulls Tseng in, bringing their lips together in a tender kiss. I lean forward just a little to give them the space to go at it - it’s honestly romantic as all hell, and they both just look so content and comfortable and utterly… in love. Though that particular L-word doesn’t make an appearance.

When Rufus pulls back, he resumes the movie, and we all settle back down and curl up against one another again. Once more, I feel as though I’m in their way, invading their intimacy. I have to stop to remind myself that I’ve been openly invited to stay here - and that it would be much better to stay put than to find out what a ginger fig feels like. As curious as I am, I’m sure it’s used as a punishment for a damn good reason. 

The movie keeps on playing, showing lots of drone footage of the creatures running through the land. As Tseng carries on with his stories, Rufus carries on with his gazing, and I carry on petting the dog and enjoying the feeling of being cuddled up in the warmest, safest spot in all of Midgar. Possibly the whole planet. 

Eventually, the movie comes to an end. Rufus stretches and yawns, then runs his fingers through my hair.

“I’m starting to get tired,” he says, “Shall we all go get ready for bed?”

Tseng just hums in agreement and shifts to stand, unravelling his arms from our pile. Rufus and I can’t quite move yet, since there’s an absolutely massive dog in our laps. Rufus gives a short whistle to her.

“Bed, D,” he says concisely. The dog is up and off of us within a split second, happily trotting back to her corner of the bedroom. Rufus and I don’t wait long to follow her, making our way back to the room too.

I, however, am rerouted.

“Come here, Lane,” Tseng beckons me back through the bathroom door and points for me to stand up at the sink. I’m unsure of what’s about to happen, but the circumstance of being back in front of a sink with Tseng at my side wakes the butterflies back up. Is he…?

“Here.” 

I start back to life as Tseng hands me a toothbrush, already dolloped with toothpaste. Ah, of course… That makes total sense. I begin the task he’s given me, trying not to feel disappointed or let my mind wander. It’s more difficult than it should be, but focusing on the basin of the sink is helpful. As I brush, Tseng walks back over toward the tub and begins to take down the lights, packing them away one by one.

“Hey,” I interject, pausing to spit, “You don’t have to do that right now. I can take care of it when I’m done here.”

“Rufus will want you back in the bedroom, I’m sure,” Tseng says, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, “This will only take me a moment. I’ll be done by the time you’re finished.”

I pout a bit, but decide that it’s not worth putting up a fight. I turn back toward the mirror and let Tseng handle it. It was only two lights, anyway - not that hard to put away.

When I finish brushing my teeth, I chance one more look at Tseng, making sure he’s still going to reject my help. I’m met with a stern finger, pointed toward the door in a silent instruction to return to the bedroom. With a pouty huff, I obey, returning to find that the lights have been dimmed considerably. 

Oh.

“Look at you,” Rufus smiles at me from where he sits on the end of the bed, “Gods, you’re just beautiful.”

I’m awful at taking compliments about my appearance. I fight the urge to turn around and hide - not that I’d have anywhere to go, anyway.

“Please come here,” Rufus says, his tone low and inviting, “I want to touch you.”

I can sense the shift in atmosphere again, not dissimilar from the one that took place in the bathroom earlier - a sudden recognition of the fact that these casual, playful, sweet moments are turning somewhere more sensual. A shiver runs down my spine as I walk up to him.

He’s unafraid to grab me by my hips and pull me up against him, indicating quietly for me to kneel over his lap on the bed. It takes some adjusting, but once I’m situated where he wants me, I focus back on Rufus. This position is so intimate, right up against him like this… He reaches up and runs his hands through my hair, finger-combing it into different styles. 

“Your hair is so soft,” he marvels. 

“I think that’s just from your shampoo,” I deflect. I almost want to reach up and touch it myself now, but I don’t dare disturb this stillness.

In reply, Rufus just smiles, letting out a single chuckle without ever letting his hypnotic gaze turn off. His eyes are just the prettiest shade of blue… I could look at them forever.

“Lane,” he steals my attention back, “I want to fuck you.”

My breath is stolen, and I feel all my blood rush south, directly away from my brain. I can’t speak.

“May I?” he asks. One hand wraps around my waist, and the other caresses my blushing cheek. I still can’t form words - especially when his thumb strokes at my lips - but I manage a nod, happily prepared to throw myself back into this sea of passion without a second thought.

With my permission given, Rufus lays back on the bed, finding a hold on my shoulders and pulling me down with him. I’m more ready to roll with it this time, and I feel his lips press against mine, tongue on skin as we steal tastes. His hands roam my back, and mine find their way to his hair, not caring if I mess it up. Loose like this and free of styling gel, it’s so soft… His skin too, feels almost like velvet. His hands are uncalloused, his caress pillowy along my back as he lifts my shirt and bares me to his touch.

He catches me a little by surprise as he begins to turn over and pushes me around, reversing our positions on top of his satin sheets. When I get my bearings, I realize that he’s hovering above me now, nearly glowing in the soft light. He smiles down at me, that same dreamy look still in his eyes, with only the barest bit of visible intention. His eyes and hands trail down me in tandem, finding the hem of the loose shirt and pulling it far up and out of the way, exposing my chest to him for the second time this evening. He seems more than content to take his time, touching me just about everywhere that I’m uncovered, then finding my nipples and lightly rolling them between soft fingertips. I put a hand over my mouth to keep the noise under control, but he breaks me with a tongue against those sensitive spots. The heat of his mouth melts me as he licks them, nibbling so gently just to listen to the gasps and whines it elicits. 

“Rufus… Oh...” There’s no more holding back now, especially as his hands shift downward and find the waistband of the boxers he lent me. I shut my eyes as I feel them slide down off my hips, and Rufus backs up enough to pull them off entirely. When I open my eyes, I look up to watch him remove his own underwear, his cock hard and proud to be on display. I know I’m wet enough for us to need no lube, and as his fingers explore me teasingly, I know he’s found that out, too.

“I fully intended to get to this in the bath,” he admits softly, “But it all happened a little faster than I’d anticipated,” He leans in to kiss me again, long and deep, “I wouldn’t change anything now - this evening has been just perfect.”

I feel the same way. If I had the brain to speak, I might be able to say something romantic or sexy, but right now I could barely squeak if I tried.

Rufus shifts, picking up my hips and putting me in the right place for him to slowly slip inside. It’s ecstasy, the feeling of him in me to the hilt, pulsing with his own desire. His hands straddle my head, and very gradually he begins to pull out and push back in, taking his sweet time with this warmup. I melt beneath him, not caring anymore if I’m too loud or if I look or sound stupid - just living, and absorbing every second of this experience that I can. 

By the time Rufus is fucking me nice and steady, my eyes are shut and my hands grasping at his shoulders. My bitten nails leave no claw marks, but they’re there in spirit, perhaps replaced with fingertip-shaped bruises that will be visible tomorrow. 

I’m having such a wonderful time that I’m quite disappointed when Rufus pauses.

“Hey…” I start to complain, but I’m silenced as Tseng’s hand finds my wrist and pulls me upward. Rufus takes my place on the bed, lying down again, and grins up at me.

“Sit down and bend forward,” he tells me, “If you’re willing to let us share you.”

I nearly drool at the proposition. I glance backward at Tseng only to find him stripped from the waist down and hard as rock, and he gives me a smirk and an expectant look that has me mounting Rufus that much faster. I follow the instructions exactly, taking the time to line myself up and ride him properly, then bending forward to give Tseng open access. He’s already lubed, and I exhale deeply as I feel him begin to press against my ass.

“Fffffuck…” I growl out. Tseng’s cock felt amazing in my pussy, and it’s just as wonderful in my ass. The amount of sensation I feel will be more than enough to knock me over the edge for a second time tonight, and I brace myself for the feeling of Tseng rocking back and forth.

I swear I’m going to scream, but Rufus finds my mouth and kisses me hard, letting Tseng pick up the pace until we’re shaking the entire bed. Rufus doesn’t have to do anything - me getting utterly pounded is doing all the moving required to get him off. From behind, Tseng delivers a sharp smack to my ass, which is both deliciously painful and devastatingly hot. I cry out in pleasure, closer and closer, and closer...

“Ah-! Oh, I… I’m gonna -! Aah!”

I seize as I orgasm, reeling with the rush as their motion continues. It shows no signs of stopping for a moment, leaving me near-screaming from the overstimulation, but finally Rufus gasps and shouts. I feel his cum run deep within me, and only seconds later, I feel Tseng do the same, gasping and gritting his teeth as he fills my ass.

The motion stops, and is replaced with heavy breaths. Fuck, I think I might be high…  Is this what an out-of-body experience feels like? In an instant, my eyelids grow heavy, and I feel every muscle in my body relax as I slump forward.

Time blurs again. I don’t remember getting up and heading to the bathroom to clean up, nor do I recall getting dressed. When I do finally start to regain my senses, Rufus is turning out the light.

I lay in the bed on Rufus’s left. Tseng is curled up on his right, and Rufus has an arm around each of us, tucked under our necks. Despite our sleepiness, I idly stroke his chest, feeling his deep breathing rise and fall, and my fingers brush against Tseng’s hand. He brushes back briefly, but I can tell from his sluggish motion that he’s exhausted. I am too, honestly. But I just can’t help but briefly pause in reflection again - here I am, in the bed of one of the most coveted men in the world, freshly fucked and flying high.

What did I ever do to deserve this?

As I drift into dreams, I realize that my gambles have paid off. I’ve really hit the jackpot this time around.

I wonder when my luck will run out.

Chapter Text

I don’t wake up to my alarm the next morning. In fact, I’m not sure what I wake up to at all… Perhaps the sunlight streaming through the windows?

Wait, no, there’s no window in here… Hold on, where am I?

Someone shifts next to me in the bed, and in an instant I recall the entirety of last night. I jolt awake, and am ready to sit up and start rushing to find a clock when Rufus’s sleepy arm curls around me.

“Nooo…” he whines softly, his voice gravelled with sleep. His hold tightens as he snuggles up to me, every motion sending fresh shivers through my body.

“Wh… what time is it?” I mumble, finding it much harder to speak than I’d anticipated. Another shift in the bed, from Rufus’s other side as Tseng stands up.

“It’s 7:45,” he informs me calmly, sounding plenty awake, “You’re in no rush. You can take a few more minutes.”

Huh… I guess he’s right. I remember that technically I’m still in the Shinra building. No, not “technically,” Lane - you are in the Shinra building, snuggling Rufus Shinra of all people, still aching from all the action yesterday. I shift my legs to adjust my position, and find that there’s a dull ache left in my hips. Fuck, last night…

Rufus shifts slightly too, and I can feel his face nuzzle against my shoulder. In all the times we cuddled up together last night, he was never quite this clingy… I suppose being sleepy has disrupted his composure.

I don’t mind it at all, honestly. The feel of his warmth pressed against me is so serene... I exhale deeply, and choose to relax back into his touch.

And I guess I nod back off, because the next thing I know, Tseng is pushing at my shoulder.

“Lane, wake up. You can’t sleep in all day - you still have work to do.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I know…” I grunt, slowly rousing myself and trying to sit up. I rub sleep from my eyes. To be honest, I think that might be the best sleep I’ve ever gotten. 

Rufus is no longer in the bed with me - I can hear water running in the bathroom. I turn back to look at Tseng, and see that he’s already fully dressed in his suit - gloves and all. His hair is neat, and he looks very put-together while he types away on his phone.

“What time is it now?” I ask.

“It’s 8:15,” he informs me.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late!” I go to jump up and start frantically looking for clothes, but Tseng puts a hand out to stop me.

“You don’t have a commute today. You’re already here.”

“Oh… right…” I draw back. Now it’s tempting to hide under the covers and try to pretend that I didn’t just embarrass myself. Duh. I even thought about that earlier, the first time I woke up.

Lucky for me, Tseng doesn’t acknowledge my dumbassery.

“How do pancakes sound?” he asks instead. I look up at him.

“That sounds great,” I reply quietly. The corners of Tseng’s lips turn up a little, and he resumes the typing.

“Oh, are they up?” 

I turn toward the voice to see Rufus step out of the bathroom, his hair neatly styled into place as it usually is. He’s bare-chested, wearing only his boxer briefs and a pair of socks. He heads toward the closet, but his eyes stay locked on me.

“Yeah, I’m up,” I reply, trying to find a cheery tone behind all the sleepiness. Rufus returns my grin.

“Well, good morning then,” he says, then glances at Tseng, “I assume breakfast is on the way?”

“Of course, Sir,” Tseng replies.

“Excellent,” Rufus says, turning toward me, “Then it will be here soon. Lane, feel free to freshen up in the bathroom. I’ll work on finding you something to wear.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s not necessary, I can just wear-”

“Ah, ah - don’t you recall our conversation last night?”

“What?”

...Oh. Shit. The memory of their threat to punish me for apologies and the like. I guess that counts, doesn’t it?

“...Oops,” I shrug, and without thinking, I add, “...Sorry.”

I hear Tseng sigh, and he gives me a raised eyebrow that instantly makes me shrink. Motherfucker, this is gonna be way harder than I’d anticipated… In all honesty, I didn’t really think they were going to take it this seriously.

“Oh, dear,” Rufus says, a hint of sarcasm in his tone, “Whatever are we going to do with you?” He turns to Tseng and raises his brows, prompting the Turk to answer. Tseng looks down at me, taking his time calculating the best sanction for my offense. I hold my breath.

“You’d mentioned that lost privileges make an effective punishment for you,” he starts, a damning smirk creeping across his lips, “I think we can have a little fun with that. What do you think, Rufus - should we revoke their morning routine?”

What the hell does that mean? Whatever it is, it’s already giving me butterflies. Rufus grins at Tseng, but gives him a slightly puzzled look.

“Well, that certainly sounds fun, but… elaborate?”

“Since they’re so insistent on avoiding borrowed clothes, I think it’s fitting that they should have to wear any outfit you choose for them,” Tseng says, “And I’m more than happy to style their hair for them, and perhaps brush their teeth. But they’ve lost the privilege of doing those things on their own.”

For whatever reason, that prospect sends me reeling to redness. I can’t stay up anymore - I flop face-down into the pillow to hide my blush. Through the downy fluff surrounding my head, I can still hear Rufus laugh.

“That does seem very fitting,” he says. I whine into the pillow, but it’s cut off in a yelp as a sharp smack lands squarely on my upturned ass.

“Then you can go ahead and choose their outfit for the day,” Tseng tells Rufus, “I’ll get Lane sorted in the bathroom.”

I feel winded, like my soul has left my body, but I’m also not looking to get another spanking. I force myself to sit up, and no sooner am I upright than do I feel Tseng grab my wrist and haul me out of bed.

“Come on,” he says, “You should know by now that it’s a bad idea to keep me waiting.”

I’m not brave (or awake) enough to argue. I can only manage to whimper as he drags me off to the bathroom and stands me up in front of the sink. I’m already shivering, but I still dare to look up at him in the mirror. He’s gazing back down at me, eyes sharp, lips smirked. 

“So, what do we need to do?” he asks me, enjoying the state he’s got me in, “I’ll need to fix your hair and brush your teeth… Anything else?”

I look myself up and down in the mirror. Normally, I shower in the mornings, so I hardly ever have to put any effort into my hair. I’ve got bad bedhead this morning… Or at least, I think I do. Everything’s kinda blurry.

“I… will eventually need my glasses,” I say quietly. They’ve been AWOL since I started taking pictures last night - I left them on top of my camera bag before I started shooting.

Tseng laughs softly.

“Noted,” he says, “But for now, which task should we start with?”

So much for trying to quell my blush. I feel my face light back up as he looks at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

My mind is blank.

“...What were the choices again?” I ask, like a dumbass. The look Tseng gives me is almost a pitiful one, with a healthy smattering of disappointment.

“Am I fixing your hair first, or brushing your teeth?” he reminds. Oh, fuck, right… I remember now, for sure. Still, making the choice is not easy. The thought of either is titillating, but there’s just something about the idea of having my teeth brushed by someone else that just… hits differently. I have little doubt that my brain has made some connection to mouthsoaping in there somewhere, even though that’s very much not the same thing.

“Hair first,” I decide, postponing the inevitable.

“Ask me nicely,” he orders. I scrunch up my face - shouldn’t have expected anything less from Tseng. He always takes the opportunity to make me ask.

“Fix my hair first… please, Sir?” I amend, lowering my chin so I don’t have to look him in the eye.

“Very good,” he says, reaching into his suit jacket and extracting a short comb from one of the inner pockets, “Turn and face me.”

I do as he asks, trying not to gasp as he cups my chin with one hand. He runs the comb through my hair with the other, but his expression changes from a smirk to a frown. I can’t see it, but I have no doubt that my hair just bounced right back up. It being naturally sort of curly, it gets really wild in the morning, and nothing short of wetting it down is going to tame it. Judging by the look of Tseng’s long straight locks, he probably doesn’t have much experience with hair this unruly. 

He tries to run the comb through my hair again, and his brow furrows. I can’t hold back a tiny snort of laughter, and he cuts me a glare.

“How do you normally fix your hair?” he asks, clearly swallowing his pride. I can’t stop from smiling as I shrug.

“I dunno. I usually shower in the mornings. I style it while it’s wet.”

Tseng’s face morphs right back to a sly smirk, and only then do I realize how bad I just fucked myself.

“Wait - you could just, y’know, wet down the comb or… something!” I attempt to backpedal.

“Oh, but it would be so much easier to just spray you down,” he comments, leaning in closer and forcing me to back up against the sink. Less than a second later, he’s got a firm grip on my wrist once again, and pulls me behind him to the shower stall.

“Just so you’re aware,” he states, releasing me so he can reach past the glass door and retrieve the sprayer, tethered on a long hose, “Your office is not a place for... misbehavior . We’re expecting you to stay professional in there.”

“...Okay?” I reply, not entirely sure why he’s bringing this up now.

“And that is the only reason that I’m not about to give you a full shower,” he says, that grin returning, “I don’t want to send you to work too excited. Besides, I’m sure you’ll have a hard-enough time as is with your project for the day.”

“My… project?”

“You’re going to spend the day editing the photos from last night.”

“... Oh ,” I feel as though my chest has been pierced with an arrow. Gods, fuck, I am doomed .

“I just thought it fair to give you a warning,” Tseng says, turning on the water and adjusting the temperature, “I will know if you break that rule. So it’s very much in your best interest to behave yourself in your office, as there will be severe consequences if you don’t.”

Standing here under heavy threat and anticipation, I can do little but nod and shiver. 

“I’m glad you understand,” Tseng purrs, “Now, take off your shirt and come stand in here. Good - now bend forward.”

I obey his instructions, leaning over and allowing him to hold the sprayer directly over my head. I squeeze my eyes shut as water trails down my face and over the back of my neck, soaking my hair and dripping down to the floor below. I almost feel hyper-sensitive to the sensations, tracking each droplet that flows over my skin.

It doesn’t last long, though - after less than thirty seconds, Tseng decides that my hair is wet enough and turns off the water, hanging up the sprayer and tossing a towel over my head. I reach up to start rubbing at my hair, but I feel a sharp slap on my hand.

“You’ve lost that privilege,” Tseng reminds me sternly, “Hands behind your back.”

I fold them as ordered and slowly stand up, turning toward him to let him gently dry me off. When I’m no longer dripping, however, he grabs me by the arm and leads me back to the sink. My hair’s still a little too wet, but I no longer have the gall to question him. 

“There - now we can make some progress,” he says. I watch in the mirror as he sheds away his gloves and reaches for a small jar of styling product hanging out on the countertop. He unscrews it and takes a fingerful of whatever kind of cream it contains, then rubs it between his hands. I have to bite my lip to keep from whining as I brace for the feeling of his fingers in my hair.

I apparently don’t brace enough, because when he does finally touch me, I gasp a little bit before refinding the grip on my lip. I close my eyes to avoid seeing the smirk on his face, and try to stiffen my neck so he doesn’t drag my head every which way as he works the product through my wet hair. Though, because my eyes are closed, I don’t notice him grab a hair dryer until it’s blasting warm air at me. The comb makes a reappearance, but I continue to refuse to look at him, too flustered to do anything but wince in embarrassment. 

Before I know it, the hair dryer turns off.

“There,” Tseng says, “You can open your eyes, you know. Why don’t you take a look?”

Slowly, I let my eyes flutter open, readjusting to the bright lights of the bathroom. I hold my breath as I turn around, not sure what to expect. 

You know, I cut my own hair, so it’s just naturally a mess. Normally, I comb it back while it’s wet, so it appears kind of slicked-back for work. When the evenings roll around, I run my fingers through it until it looks sort of shaggy and loose. And on weekends I just roll with the bedhead, to be honest. I haven’t actually taken the time to style my hair since leaving the Honeybee Inn.

This look could change my mind about it. 

Tseng slicked down the sides of my hair, but left the top a little more voluminous, letting what could be vaguely considered my bangs to dust at the top of my forehead. They curl up on the ends somehow, and there’s a distinct, clear part on the left that I honestly didn’t think was possible. It looks clean and professional, but also sleek and trendy. Whatever product he used makes it look so shiny and soft, too.

“ Woah ,” is about all I can muster. I want to run my fingers through it, but I have a feeling that that’ll ruin it. Instead, I just keep turning my head, gazing at my reflection and waiting until I recognize the attractive person standing there. Though, speaking of attractive people in the mirror…

“I’m glad you like it,” Tseng looks perfectly pleased with himself. I give him a big smile.

“Thank you,” I say in earnest, “Seriously, you gotta teach me how to do that!”

“I’d be happy to - another time,” he says, a roguish twinkle in his eye, “But we have another matter to attend to first.”

Oh, shit… that’s right, I’d forgotten. I gulp as my heart tumbles downward, beating deep in my stomach as I try to steel myself for what comes next. The sight of Tseng grabbing my new toothbrush, however, comes very damn close to undoing me.

“Stand up straight,” he commands me, his tone firming up, “Hands behind your back.”

I obey him, but right at that moment, the reality of the situation kicks in. I groan lowly, more out of embarrassment than eroticism. Fuck, I’m really about to have my teeth brushed by someone else… That’s downright humiliating. It’s not like I’m incapable…

“Don’t give me any of that,” he says sternly, bringing the brush up to my lips, “Open.”

...Oh, and that command brings things right back to horny again. The embarrassment and arousal clash in goosebumps as he begins to scrub my teeth, beginning in the back and working his way forward. He’s damn thorough - more so than he was with my mouthsoaping the other day, in fact. He spares no spot in my mouth, and takes a full two minutes to accomplish his task. I can tell he’s drawing it out on purpose, but at least he’s merciful, letting me spit frequently. Still, I can’t quite keep it together - especially when he lifts his hand and grips my chin about halfway through. The whimpering is uncontained.

“Alright,” he finally releases me, “Spit and rinse. You’re done.”

I don’t waste any time following those directions, and when I’ve gotten a slight handle on myself I stand back up.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” I mumble, attempting to mind my manners (but only succeeding in grovelling). 

In reply, Tseng produces my glasses and holds them out to me.

“You’re very welcome,” he says with a grin.

I slip the glasses on while I return to the bedroom. I shouldn’t be as caught off-guard as I am, but the sight of Rufus seated on the bed and the outfit he’s laid out for me causes a fresh wave of blush to run through me. 

“There you are,” Rufus grins, “Breakfast is already here. What took you so long?”

“Their hair, mostly,” Tseng sighs, “Have you chosen an outfit for them?”

“I certainly have,” Rufus purrs, beckoning me closer. Tseng gives me a push toward the bed before I can convince myself to lift my feet, and I stumble over to the spot that they want me. Rufus, fully dressed himself now, hands me a pair of socks.

“Start with these,” he says, “We’ll have to see how everything fits. I couldn’t find any pants that I think would fit you, so I grabbed the ones you wore yesterday. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, that’s totally fine,” I say, happy to get to wear at least something of my own today. The socks are finely knit and very soft, with some tiny initials embroidered on the back top in gold thread - RS , in a very fancy script font that overlaps itself.

When the socks are on, I’m handed the pants next, and then the shirt that Rufus has picked out for me. It’s a simple black dress shirt with gilded buttons - I wonder if they’re real gold. 

“I’m not sure the shirt will fit,” he tells me, “But we might as well try. I figured you could wear something this color to the play party tonight.”

“You… know about those?” I say as I pull the shirt over my shoulders.

“Oh, of course I do. Tseng and Reno go to them most often, but Rude and Elena frequent them as well,” Rufus looks away for a moment, “I often wish that I could go too, but… Well, I don’t think the masks would be enough to prevent me from being recognized.”

“...Yeah, I get that,” I say. I finish the top button on the shirt, and we both look down to investigate the fit. It’s pretty long on me - I have a short torso. The sleeves are pretty long, too.

“The chest fits fairly well,” Tseng observes from his spot near the doorway, “Perhaps if you rolled up the sleeves and tucked in the hem, it would look well-fitted.”

Rufus nods in agreement and stands up, grabbing the left sleeve of the shirt and beginning to roll it up with no hesitation.

“I-I can do that myself…” I start, but his finger on my lip silences me.

“You lost the privilege,” he reminds me, “Just let me do this for you, okay?”

What a life. Rufus fucking Shinra, bent down in front of me and rolling up my sleeves.

“...Okay.”

I allow him to roll both the sleeves and tuck the ends of the shirt into the pants. He stands back to admire his handiwork, and nods and grins before handing me the last piece of clothing.

“I think you could use a belt… Put that on. It should fit right - it’s a little too small on me nowadays. I’ll be right back,” he says, disappearing into the closet once again.

The item of clothing that he’s handed me is a vest. It’s light gray - the same color as my slacks. It’s definitely not something I’d usually wear, and it occurs to me quite suddenly that wearing this getup around the office today is going to prompt some questions, or at the very least comments. People are going to ask when I switched up my style.

...This is going to be the strangest walk of shame ever. 

I’ve got the vest on by the time Rufus returns, belt in hand. As soon as he sees me, he stops short and beams, looking incredibly pleased with my appearance.

“You look… dashing,” he says, deciding on the right word. Is that the right word? I’ve never thought of myself that way before… I let him thread the belt through the loops on my pants and secure it, then watch as he steps back to admire his choices. Tseng takes a stance next to him, sharing his smile.

“You did a good job,” Tseng compliments his lover.

“As did you,” Rufus returns, “Though I have to say - I’m going to add one more requirement, and I’m afraid it’s going to obscure their lovely hairstyle.”

Tseng just sighs at that. I give Rufus a curious look.

“Do you have your hat here with you, Lane?” Rufus asks.

“Yeah - it’s downstairs, in my office.”

“I want you to wear that with this outfit. It will complete the look.”

“O-okay,” I feel myself blush a little again. I mean, I know the hat is a good look on me, but… is it really that good? Did Rufus style this whole outfit just to go with the hat?

“Perfect,” Rufus says with a grin, then gestures to the door, “Shall we have our breakfast then?”

“Yes, please,” Tseng says with a sigh, “I need coffee…”

The three of us return to Rufus’s living space and head toward the tiny kitchenette in the corner of the room. There’s a small dining table there, with three plates of delicious food already set up. Pancakes drizzled in syrup and butter are spotlighted, accompanied with bacon and fresh fruit slices. Each plate is paired with an empty mug, which is probably for the coffee that steams away in a carafe in the center of the table. 

“Wow… This looks amazing!” I comment, allowing Rufus and Tseng to pick their spots first.

“The executive food team is world-class,” Rufus says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, “Pancakes are one of my favorites of theirs. They never let me down.”

Tseng hums in agreement, but he’s already sipping at a mug of coffee. Not wasting any time, apparently… Though according to the kitchen stove clock, it’s only 8:28 - we still have plenty of time to eat.

Although… My stomach feels like it’s going to start growling at any second. I take a seat and pick up the fork, digging into the stack.

Oh. My. GODS.

I take another bite. And then another. Fuck, I want to talk about how delicious this is, but I’m too preoccupied stuffing my mouth. These are easily the best pancakes I’ve ever had.

“Slow down, Lane,” Tseng breaks my stride and causes me to pause, “Here - coffee?” He’s filling up his own mug (again? Already?) and holds the pot toward me in offer.

“Mmm-” I swallow, “Yes, please,” I reach out to take the pot, but Tseng pulls it back out of my reach.

“Hand me your cup,” he points. I narrow my eyes at him.

“I can pour my own.”

“I’m sure you can,” he says, smirking, “But right now, I’m choosing to do it for you. Consider this an additional privilege lost. If you want coffee, you’ll hand me your cup.”

Oh, I’m very prepared to just reject that offer altogether then. I can get coffee from the break room in a short while. However, Rufus interjects.

“You don’t want to miss out on it, Lane,” he grins, “The beans are some of the finest in the world, imported from Costa del Sol. They’ve got an amazingly rich flavor, and it makes the coffee naturally sweet. Really - you should try it.”

...Fuck. Okay - Rufus is right. I don’t want to miss out. Reluctantly, I slide my cup across the table, and Tseng fills it up before handing it back. 

I don’t wait to take a sip, even though I don’t normally drink my coffee black. Wow - Rufus was not kidding! It’s delicious, with a honeyed sweetness that compliments well with some sort of fruity flavor underneath. It isn’t bitter or burnt at all, highly unlike the cheap break room coffee. I could definitely get used to this. 

“...Hhholy shit…” I whisper as I bring the cup away from my lips. Rufus and Tseng both snicker at my reaction, but I’m not bothered by it. I just want to put more of this delicious coffee in my mouth. And pancakes. And fuck, I haven’t even tried the bacon yet!

Rufus and Tseng eventually begin a conversation about business or politics or something - I don’t pay any attention; I’m too caught up in this meal. The bacon is crispy and perfectly cooked, and the fruit is so fresh. I lived on a farm growing up, but I’ve still never tasted anything quite this good. My compliments to the executive chefs - damn.

I honestly have to restrain myself to keep from licking the plate. Gods, note to self - stay for breakfast again sometime.

If there ever is a next time. I really, really hope that there is. Absolutely everything about last night and this morning has been…

...It’s been perfect.

I… Ugh, fuck. I think I have a… a crush. On Rufus. 

And Tseng. And Reno, and Rude. And Elena. 

Oh gods.

The realization washes over me quite suddenly. I stare at the swirls of syrup on my plate as I process the epiphany. That’s, what, five crushes? On totally different people, and in short succession. That’s ridiculous - it seems like this should be wrong, but it’s… not. It feels so right. And, I mean, they’re all okay with it - just like Tseng said. They’ve all shown at least some sign of interest, if not more (as in the case of last night).

This could feasibly happen. Like, for real. 

I feel dazed, but my train of thought is interrupted by Rufus’s voice.

“Did you like it, Lane?”

“Huh? Like what?”

“Your breakfast,” Rufus laughs, “You cleaned your plate pretty quickly.”

“Oh, yeah, it was delicious!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Rufus smiles widely, “But I’m afraid that time is getting on.”

“It certainly is,” Tseng sighs, “We should get moving, Lane.”

“Oh,” I glance at the clock - 8:56, “Yeah, you’re right. Where did the lights end up?”

“They’re right over there,” Tseng points to the door, where I now notice the bags sitting, “I made sure everything was packed up for you this morning.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to-”

“Ah, ah…” Tseng gives me a stern look, silencing me, “Instead of apologizing, why don’t you try thanking me instead?”

I lower my chin and pout.

“...Thank you, Sir,” I mumble, trying not to sound too flustered.

“That’s better,” he grins, “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go.”

Rufus follows us to the door and waits for us to put our shoes back on. I’m glad I wore the wingtips - they look excellent with the outfit Rufus picked for me. As I reach for the light bags, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Before you go,” Rufus says, turning me around. I look up at him curiously, entirely not ready for the kiss he plants on my lips. I make a tiny noise of surprise, but I have no intention of pulling away - I love the way he kisses me.

“Thank you so much for staying, Lane,” he says as he pulls back, a genuinely soft look in his eyes, “I enjoyed the time we spent together more than I can express. I’m very much looking forward to the next opportunity to do this again.”

The way he’s looking at me is making me melt. 

“Yeah, me too,” I say in earnest, “Last night was… just amazing. I… am looking forward to next time too.”

Rufus smiles widely at that, that dreamy look on his face - a truly comfortable kind of happiness. It could turn me into a puddle, but right now, I’ve got somewhere else to be.

...Now I kinda don’t want to leave. 

“Goodbye, dear,” Rufus stands back up and faces Tseng, giving him a quick but sweet kiss, “I’ll see you later. Unless you find a way to get the meetings cancelled.”

“Not likely, I’m afraid,” Tseng grins, “Make sure your phone is charged before the 11 o’clock. Heidegger will be presenting.”

“Ugh…” Rufus huffs.

“We’ll find a way to survive,” Tseng says facetiously. I can’t help but snicker at their exchange.

“That we will,” Rufus finishes, “But for now, you two need to get going, or you’ll be late,” He holds open the door for us, as Tseng grabs one of the light bags before I can pick it up, “Have a good day at work - both of you.”

“You too,” I reply, grabbing my bags and stepping outside. Tseng just nods.

The two of us walk down the hall toward the elevator, stepping inside and riding it back down to the lobby, where we both switch to the main elevators. Tseng presses the button for floor 16 first, and waits until the elevator begins moving to swipe his card and select B3.

“...Why’d you do that?” I ask him curiously. He sets down the light bag on the elevator floor.

“So I could do this.”

Tseng leans into me, cupping my face in his hands and lifting me into a deep kiss. I melt into his touch, swimming in the unexpected gesture until he releases me again.

Ding . The door pops open while my head is still spinning.

“Thank you, Lane,” he says, “Reno and I will see you tonight. Have a good day.”

“Th-thanks, you too,” I reply in a daze. See me tonight? So… they’ll be at the party, then?

I watch in dreamland as the elevator doors close, and Tseng disappears from my view, off to the basement level. I do my best to collect myself, gathering up the light bags before making my way toward the studio. People are staring at me… but frankly, I just don’t care.

Chapter Text

I’m happy to see that the studio is empty when I walk in, and I head straight toward the storage corner to get the lights set down. As I turn back around though, I see something move out of the corner of my eye. It makes me jump before I remember what it really is - it’s the full-length mirror we keep in here for models. But right now, I’m the one within the frame.

Holy shit. This is my first time actually seeing Rufus’s outfit choice on myself. 

My pants don’t look nearly as frumpy as they did yesterday - in fact, it looks like they were ironed; there’s a slight crease on the legs. Did Rufus do that? The vest really does match the pants almost perfectly, and it seems perfectly fitted for me. He’d mentioned that it no longer fit him… I can’t help but wonder if he’s going to let me keep it. The shirt collar isn’t buttoned all the way to the top either, which is different from my usual style. It’s not quite as open as Reno’s shirt normally is, but it still feels like a lot to me.

...But all in all, you know, Rufus is right. Despite how nice my hair looks, the look totally needs the hat. Without it, something seems to be missing.

I gradually make my way back to my office, only getting stopped about six times by folks complimenting my “new outfit.” I feel my cheeks get redder with every thanks - does anybody know? It feels like everyone can tell that these aren’t really my clothes, even though nobody actually gives any indication to that. I must just be paranoid. 

Stepping into my office and locking the door behind me is a relief, but at the same time feels almost foreign. I shouldn’t be back in here yet - I never went home first. The atmosphere is so different from usual.

My hat is laying on my desk, and I pop it right on my head - right where it belongs. I think it ought to start taking up permanent residence there from now on.

Slipping into my chair, I sigh deeply. This is the first chance I’ve had to really process the events of the last twenty-four hours, and I decide to work my way backwards, starting with the little epiphany I had at breakfast this morning.

I admit it - I have a crush on Rufus and all of the Turks.

I’m almost ashamed to have only realized that earlier today, quite a while after having sex with at least half of the people in question. And thinking about that… Fuck, I really have had sex with three out of five now, haven’t I? Four out of five have seen me nude. And for all intents and purposes, I’ve now slept with my boss in my workplace. Actually, slept with both my bosses in the workplace.

Good gods, two months ago I wouldn’t have even considered this as a possibility. I would’ve sneered at anyone who did the same. What the hell am I doing?

…Well, I mean, I did enjoy the hell out of it. Last night felt like a dream. Rufus and Tseng have this indescribable chemistry, and being trusted enough to be welcomed between them like that was… fuck, I don’t have words for it. It was borderline magical. I regret absolutely none of it. And to think that Rufus wants to do it all again at some point…

I sigh, exhaling the dreamy mindset as I gingerly pull my camera from my bag and pop out the SD card. As Tseng had pointed out, I do have a project to do today… And it isn’t going to be easy. I better get my headspace under control before I break the rule he set for me this morning.

It… doesn’t help much. Bringing up the photos breaks me down immediately again. In an instant, I’m transported back to last night, sitting in Rufus’s bathroom, utterly stunned by my predicament. I’m surprised more of these pictures aren’t blurry - wasn’t I shaking?

Gods, they turned out SO good though - the way Rufus looks at the camera with those piercing eyes, obviously having a damn blast teasing me. The bubbles flying through the air when he blew them out of his hand… Oh, it’s so playful and tasteful and just… perfect. It’s perfect.

I gaze up at the empty frames on the walls of my office. Tseng’s little note is still tucked into the corner of one of them - “For your favorites.” I’ll admit it, I’m tempted… Not sure anything can top this. I should probably keep it professional, though... As Tseng said, this is not a room for mischief, and frankly, he’s absolutely right. That’s sensible.

I take a deep breath and convince myself to zoom in and start fixing the lighting.

Editing is a painstaking process, and the nature of these pictures keeps me scrambled through the whole day - I forget to go through and weed them down first, and then when I try, I find it nearly impossible. Good thing I don’t need to weed down much, since this shoot was a lot shorter than the other ones we’ve done so far. So many of these photos are blurry… I was absolutely not focused while I did this. I have to do a lot of angle adjustments and cropping to get the rule of thirds to apply in a lot of cases. Frankly, I sort of did a terrible job with this, but hey - editing is a chance to redeem myself. With that in mind, I power through, only pausing briefly for lunch and coffee (highly mediocre after my morning meal) before resuming and pressing on until the end of the day.

I finish just about right on time - the clock reads 4:47 when I hit “send” on the email to Rufus and Tseng with the proofs. I might have more to do on Monday when I come back - should they decide to ask for more edits - but for now, my time belongs to me once again.

As I’m packing up my things and focusing on keeping my hands busy, I get a text.

From: Tseng

“I’m sorry for the short notice, but could you meet me in the lobby on your way out today? Something came up a bit earlier than we’d expected.”

Something came up? I furrow my brow - what could that mean? Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good. I type a quick affirmative reply, then sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way to the elevator. I spend a few minutes idling as I wait for Tseng, but eventually see him step out, and I wave him down.

“Hey, what’s up? Is something wrong?” I ask him right away. He looks quite pleased, actually, and smiles as he shakes his head.

“No, nothing’s wrong. We just didn’t expect things to be ready for you so quickly. I suppose we can thank Reno’s boredom for that,” Tseng reaches into his pocket and extracts a small ring of keys. He holds them out to me, and I gingerly reach up to take them. I don’t notice the note in his hand until it’s wrapped in my fingers along with the keyring.

“Before you go home for the evening,” he instructs, “You are to stop by the address listed on that note. There’s a detailed letter there that will give you further instructions.”

“...What?” I give him a confused look, “What’s going on?”

“It’s a surprise,” Tseng teases, holding a finger to his lips as if to shush me. He’s acting strangely playful, and the uncharacteristic nature of his actions has me on edge.

“Seriously,” I say, “Is this something bad? I’m not gonna get, like, attacked if I go here, am I? Is this… a test?”

“What? No, of course not. There’s no test, nothing to be concerned about - I just need you to trust me.”

I lower my head, glancing at the note and the keys. The paper only contains the one address - somewhere in Sector 8, quite a bit closer to the inner part of the ring than where my place is. The keys look perfectly normal - no strange markings or anything. 

Trust a Turk? Anybody else would say I’m crazy, but, well… I let him fuck me last night. 

I guess I do trust him.

“...Okay,” I finally nod, giving him my word to follow his directions. He smiles at me.

“Thank you, Lane. I promise - this will be well worth your time,” He turns back toward the elevator, “I still have some work to get done, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah… See you,” I say in parting, watching as Tseng gets back on the elevator and disappears from view.

I look down at the note again. I probably pass by this place on my way home every day. 

...Might as well get going. 

I can’t pretend that I’m not antsy on the ride there - I can’t stop running through possibilities of what might be waiting for me. Is it some sort of secret hideout? Maybe someone is going to meet me there? 

The address requires me to get off one train stop before my usual stop for home, so it’s actually a lot closer than I thought. This area of the sector is a lot nicer though, not having any dark streets. There’s a greater infantry presence in this area, so way less gang activity, which is nice. I don’t feel particularly uneasy walking around - not anymore than I already felt on the train, anyway. My anxiety over this little “surprise” is in high gear.

It’s not too far of a walk from the train station, actually. 824 6th Street - this is the place.

It’s a nice townhome, newly built. Some of the townhomes down the road are still under construction, judging by their lack of siding, but the rest of the street is lined with identical buildings. It’s very unassuming in a lot of ways, but in other ways it’s quite lovely - tall windows on the second floor, and a few plants nestled near the walkway to the doorsteps.

I stand on the stoop for a moment. There’s a doorbell, but I have a feeling that one of the two identical keys in my hand have a purpose right here. I try the handle and, finding it locked, slip one of the keys into the deadbolt.

It’s a perfect fit. I turn the lock and open the door, stepping inside.

“Hello?” I call out from the entryway. There’s no answer - just an empty reverb. It smells like fresh lumber and sawdust in here - new house smell. It’s a good scent, and I inhale it deeply.

I pocket the keys and lock the door behind me, slowly making my way through the ground floor. A storage closet and coat hooks, then a boiler and laundry room. All the appliances look brand new… There’s a bathroom next door with a shower stall, but it also contains a fancy dressing table with a lighted mirror, and a tall, full-length mirror setup in one corner. It almost looks like a dressing room or something, which I find curious.

There’s only one more door down here. Tseng had said something about a letter… Maybe it’s in here? I open the door.

Oh my gods. 

I gasp in surprise as I take in the room. A photo studio.

Fancy lights and stands, a selection of backdrops and fancy seats and other props, all topped off with a state-of-the-art camera, sitting on a stool in the middle of the room as if in a spotlight. It’s the same brand as mine, in an expensive, updated model. I’d been intending to get one of these on my new salary - though it was going to take some saving.

Is… this supposed to be my surprise?

No. There’s no way. If that was the case, why put all this stuff in a random townhouse? I need to find that letter - something else is going on here. I’ll come back to this room later, but for now I step back out into the hallway and head up the stairs.

The top of the staircase brings me to a wide kitchen and dining room, again with beautiful modern appliances. A living space with a TV and long sofa takes up the other half of the room. Though the place is furnished with shelves and bookcases, it’s undecorated - all bare. Everything looks untouched… So weird.

Oh, yes - there on the table, I see a few things lined up, a piece of paper among them. As I approach, I make out finer details one at a time. A Shinra PHS is lying there - a company phone. The way these things are arranged makes me think that its presence isn’t accidental - it was left here on purpose, not forgotten. 

A short stack of papers is the only other thing there, and the very first page on top appears to be the letter in question. My heart skips a beat when I read the heading at the very top of the page.

“From the Desk of Rufus Shinra

Dearest Lane,

Welcome to your new home!

Tseng and Reno filled me in with the details of your current living situation, and I will not tolerate any of my employees living with less than the most comfortable possible surroundings. The five of us have been working together all week to find a suitable location that we thought you might like. We did our best to fill it with only the essentials - with just a few little treats hidden around (check the bathroom cabinets and the nightstand).

I want to stress that this is not some cheap attempt to buy your affection - I assure you that I would never stoop to such a low tact. I’m plenty content with all that you’ve shown me so far, and I do hope to see more of it in the future. This is not a gift - consider it a benefit that comes with your promotion.

In addition to your new set of house keys, you’ll find with this letter a company-issue PHS that has been locked and encrypted. Anything you send from this device can be considered confidential and secure. You’ll find that we’ve already added you to a few messaging groups for easier communicating. 

Below this letter, you’ll also find a contract of homeownership. If you choose to accept, please sign the contract. Once you do, give me a call to address the next steps. My number is logged in your PHS.

I look forward to hearing from you.

-Rufus”

I only get halfway through the letter before I burst into tears. I haven’t cried this way in a damn long time, but there’s no stopping it now.

This is a joke of some kind. A prank. They… they didn’t actually…

I look around the room again. Everything in here… the furniture, the appliances, the electronics - they all look brand new and untouched because they are. They were specially purchased, just for me. 

This whole house is mine. 

And I absolutely cannot fucking accept it. 

I must cry for twenty minutes, catching my breath every few minutes just to break down again when I read more letter or recall more details. That camera… the whole downstairs is designed to be a photo studio. I recall last week, speaking to Tseng in my old place (I’m already thinking of my apartment as my “old place”...) when he asked me where I’d want to move in Midgar. Mentioning that if I had a suitable place, I could run my side business out of my home.

Those were not conversation topics, they were serious inquiries! Oh my gods… He snuck it all right by me.

They all did, apparently. All five of them worked on this? Well, I suppose that makes enough sense… One person alone could not have furnished this whole place in a week. I wonder if they really did it all by hand, or if they hired movers…

Oh my gods, this must have cost SO MUCH MONEY. I can’t accept this. I just can’t. 

When my head finally stops reeling, I sit down in the chair at the dining room table, gazing down at the letter one more time. Eventually, I find the nerve to move it to the side and look at the contract underneath. The financier’s signature is already filled in - Rufus Shinra’s elegant scroll. He’s purchased the house outright - this contract is simply a transfer of ownership from him to me, no questions asked, no conditions. 

I would just need to sign and call, and it would all be mine.

But there’s other issues to contend with, too… I’d need to move out of my old place. It’s too far to walk, and taking the train would suck… But I guess it’s doable. To a degree, I could leave a lot of my stuff there - it’s not like I’d have to drag that nasty mattress here. Seeing as how the rest of the house is furnished already, I’m guessing that there’s already a bed upstairs waiting for me. 

...Maybe I should go see. Tour the whole place first, and then make up my mind. 

I stand back up from the chair and climb the second flight of stairs, investigating the bedroom and bathroom that compose the upper level. There’s a small balcony just off the bedroom, with a lounge chair already set up. The bed catches my eye next, spread in a simple set of navy sheets and a comforter approximately the same color as my hair. Two nightstands rest on either side of it, and I hold my breath as I step over to open the drawer on the side closest to me. The letter had mentioned some sort of treat…?

Oh my fuck, there’s sex toys in here. 

I slam the drawer shut again in shock, not getting a good look at first. Slowly, I find the nerve to try again, opening the drawer more slowly this time. 

The first thing that catches my eye is a bright pink curved toy, shaped almost like a U. One end has a ridged vibrator, and the other end has a head for clitoral suction. I’ve heard of these - they’re supposed to be really, really good. Looking back in the drawer, I find a sleek dildo, dark cobalt blue and very stylish in a way I can’t quite explain. The base is flared widely - I bet it can be used as a suction cup. A small bag holds the next surprise: a set of glass butt plugs in graduating sizes. They’re elegant and beautiful .

I replace everything in the drawer for now and sit back on the bed. When I rest my hand on the pillow, I feel something hard beneath it. What…? Holding my breath, I shift it out of the way.

Waiting for me is a wand vibrator - one of the largest and strongest models out there. It has an adjustable slider, but my understanding is that it’s ridiculously powerful. That might take some working up to… 

Gods, where did all of these come from? Did… Did Rufus buy them for me?

I sigh, standing and turning to head toward the bathroom. The letter had mentioned checking the cabinets in there, after all… Might as well get all the surprises out of the way first. However, I’m stopped short when I realize for the first time that the walls in this bedroom are decorated with picture frames, already filled with photos - photos that I took.

One is a landscape shot, taken from the helicopter. One is that phenomenal shot of Rufus dropping his robe during our very first boudoir shoot together… Gods, I do love that photo. And another one is of Tseng, highlighted by mako lights in Junon. Yet another is of Reno, looking perfectly sorry for himself just after his spanking at Rufus’s hand. It’s like a catalogue of nearly every shoot I’ve done for Rufus and his Turks so far - minus last night’s job. There are a few blank frames on the walls too, ready for me to fill however I want. 

If I accept.

I take a deep breath and steel myself to head into the bathroom. I need to finish seeing everything so I can make a decision. I wonder what Rufus will say when I say no.

The bathroom is surprisingly normal, but is also a hell of a lot nicer than my current apartment’s. There’s both a shower stall and a beautiful deep tub with jets. The sink, toilet, counters and mirror are all standard fare, though I see that the lights have dimmer switches. Fancy. 

Slowly, I open the bathroom cabinets one by one, looking for whatever that last surprise might be. So far, so normal - a stack of fluffy navy towels, some washcloths, a supply of standard medications and first aid accoutrements… Nothing out of the ordinary, until I open the cabinet right under the sink. 

What awaits me almost makes me screech. It’s a whole gift basket full of bath treats - bottles of bubble bath, bath bombs, powders, and several boxes of bar soap scattered throughout. It’s a rather obscene amount of soap, if I’m honest - though nearly any amount feels obscene to me. I’m out of touch with what a normal person would perceive when it comes to this particular topic… I shiver.

For now, I leave the basket tucked away. I’m not about to touch anything else until I make up my mind. 

Fuck, what am I going to do? I feel somewhat obligated to accept - they clearly put a lot of work and thought into this, not to mention gil. But I’m still under contract for my old apartment too… And this is just too generous. I will never be able to repay him - I’ll be indebted to him forever. 

I can’t.

Slowly, I descend the stairs back to the dining table. The PHS is still sitting there, waiting for me to pick it up and call. Whether or not I plan to take the house, I guess I still owe Rufus an actual phone call with an answer. When I open the phone, it prompts me to set a new passcode, and I punch in my usual PIN before beginning to investigate what sorts of apps and functions are available to me. 

I touch the phone icon and type “Ruf” into the search bar. Rufus Shinra’s contact number appears, and I take a deep breath before tapping on it and letting the phone start to ring.

I can’t.

“Hello?”

“Hi, um… Rufus? This is Lane.”

“Ah, there you are! I was wondering when you were going to call,” His tone is immediately more cheerful, “So - what do you think?”

“Rufus… I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can,” he brushes aside my denial, “It’s a part of your promotion. Lots of employees get offered company housing as part of their benefits package.”

“Rufus,” I try to sound serious, but it comes out sounding like a whine, “This is… too much. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“You’re not meant to repay me,” he says concisely, “Again, this is a job perk.”

“Other principle photographers get houses, too?”

“There’s no such thing as ‘other principle photographers,’ Lane. You’re the first and only.”

This is news to me. I freeze and try to remember how to breathe.

“Well… Lead photographers, then?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rufus deflects, “I wrote your job description - I make the rules. If you want an example to compare to, then I can inform you that housing is offered to our administrative teams, engineers, and scientists, as well as executives and supervisors. And, seeing as how you are the highest-ranked photographer with the company right now, that includes you.”

I hesitate. Another tactic is needed, then. I’m sticking to my guns.

“I’m not sure I can move,” I counter, “I’m under contract at my old apartment.”

“I’ll buy out your contract,” Rufus says nonchalantly, “As soon as you sign the paper you have with you there. Give me the word and I’ll take care of all the details.”

“Stop spending money on me!” I borderline shout into the phone. I swear I hear Rufus snicker on the other end.

“I spent less than 150 of my own gil, Lane,” he says, “Does that fact make it easier?”

“Huh?”

“As I said, this was considered company housing. All of the related expenses are write-offs. Company money, which technically comes out of my father’s wallet. The only money we spent was on your little gifts - did you find those?”

“...Yes…” I admit with a blush. Rufus laughs at my obviously flustered tone.

“I really hope you like them. We each pitched in to get something for you - and we decided to set the budget at 150 gil each, to keep it reasonable,” He chuckles, “Though between you and me, I think Tseng broke his own rule there.”

They… They each got me a gift? I count things out in my head - three sex toys in the drawer, plus the wand, and the gift basket… makes five. Four Turks plus Rufus...

They all bought me a sex toy. I blush as I do the math. The most expensive thing in that lineup was definitely the wand. Those run something around 300 gil. I would definitely believe that particular gift came from Tseng. Who else got me what, though?

Ugh, no - I’m getting distracted.

“It’s still…” I hesitate. In all honesty, I’m running out of excuses to tell myself, “Gods, I just can’t , Rufus. It’s too much.” 

“Lane,” Rufus commands my attention, “If you really feel that strongly about it, you’re not obligated to accept. It’s your choice. But in all honesty, it pains me to think that you’d willingly go back to your apartment with no hot water in a dangerous part of the city. This is not a gift to accept or deny - think of it as an investment in yourself. Your business. Your health, and your safety, and your work.”

I can’t reply. I stare at the floor and feel tears well up again.

“It’s your call,” Rufus says quietly, “You can take some time to decide. Give me a call back when you make up your mind, alright?”

I stay silent.

“Lane? Alright?” Rufus asks for verbal confirmation, and it shakes me just enough to spur a deep breath.

“I accept,” I say in a soft voice, “It’s… an investment.”

I can hear the smile in Rufus’s voice.

“That it is. In that case, go ahead and sign the contract on the table. Are you going to the party tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. Then you can take the contract with you and give it to Tseng. You’ll see him there.”

“...Okay,” I grab my camera bag and pull a pen from the side pocket, scribbling down my signature before thinking to add, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Lane,” Rufus says, his voice warm and pleased, “I will see you on Monday. Or maybe sooner, depending on how your night goes. Take the weekend to get adjusted, and let us know if you’d like any assistance.”

“O-Okay?” What does he mean by that? See me sooner than Monday, depending on… my night?

Rufus laughs softly through the phone at my confusion.

“Okay,” he repeats, “Goodbye, Lane.”

“...Bye,” I say, trying not to sound overly strange in my closing. I hang up the call and set the phone down on the table. I look down at the contract, which now has my name signed on it in ink - irreversibly. Then I turn around and look at the room again.

Mine.

My new home.

I thought I would feel more guilty for taking this, but instead I feel almost light, as though a weight has been lifted off my chest. Rufus’s reframing of this house makes it far easier to accept - this really is an investment in me. I wasn’t going anywhere living in that old place, but now that I’ve started to grow, I need to move up.

It’s time.

Though, speaking of time, I should probably be getting home soon. The party is tonight, and even though I don’t really need to change, it would be really nice to get home for at least a little while tonight before I go out again. Rufus insinuated that he might see me soon, depending on how my night goes… Does he expect me to end up in his bed again? I mean, if that’s going to be the case, then I definitely want to get home for at least a little bit. I want to freshen up and get some dinner.

I take one more walk through the house, pausing to check out the photo studio one more time in particular. That camera is so nice… I’m almost scared to leave it here, but there’s no windows - no one would know it’s here except me.

At long last, I convince myself to walk out the door and head back to the train station. It’s a short ride home, but every time I feel the contract still clutched tightly in my fingers, my head starts to spin all over again.

I can start moving tomorrow. First thing. 

What the actual fuck.

Chapter Text

I have more time at home than I thought I would. I freshen up a little in the bathroom and order some dinner, reading back over the note with my new address listed on it. I guess I’ll have to memorize it now.

After I eat, I decide to use my spare time to start weeding through my possessions. There’s still a lot of things that I’ll need to pack, but a significant quantity of junk is staying behind. None of the kitchen items really need to go with me - my new kitchen is already fully stocked - but I’ll probably take my favorite wooden spoon. No need to bring any gross old towels, but all my clothes should move over - the closets at my new place are currently empty. I still have piles of boxes in the corner from bulk food purchases, so I can use those to pack. I guess I should move the food too - no point in leaving it here…

Eventually, my new PHS buzzes. As I open it, I notice the time - shit, I should leave here in about five minutes.

The notification leads me to an app without a label. Upon opening it, I see that it’s simply a messaging app. There are currently six chat channels open, and the one that’s been pinged is titled simply “Private Channel.” The rest of them seem to be personal lines, each labelled with a name - Rufus, Tseng, Reno, Rude, and Elena. I tap on the private channel.

“Rufus: Hope you three have a good time at the party tonight”

Fuck, that shouldn’t make me blush. Why did that make me blush? As I look, another message pops up, then another.

“Elena: Wish we could go with!!! Would really love a Friday night off sometime…”

“Tseng: You get Sundays off, Elena. Others need their turns, too.”

“Rude: We still on for later?”

“Reno: You bet your ass we are! Shouldnt u be napping?”

“Rude: Working on it. Phone kept going off…”

“Reno: Turn it off dumbass”

“Tseng: Watch it, Reno.”

“Reno: Whatever, im already in trouble lol”

I can’t help but snicker at their exchanges. I feel like I should probably say something, but there’s just not really a good place for me to jump in. At least, not until Rufus finally speaks up again.

“Rufus: Quite the intro you’re all giving Lane to our group chat. @Lane, are you going to keep lurking forever?”

I jump a little in surprise at my mention, and dig deep for the courage. This is strangely nerve-wracking, even though it really shouldn’t be.

“Lane: lol sorry. Hi everyone!”

I have to put my phone down for a minute at that point to grab my camera bag and fix my hat, then get out the door. I need to make it to the train station. As I walk, I get my phone back out and watch the messages continue to fly as everyone greets me and welcomes me to the group. It leaves me feeling warm and happy.

I’m grinning like an idiot by the time I arrive at the venue. As routine as always, I track down Spicier and retrieve the SD card, popping it into my camera and leaving the bag with him. I don’t see Tseng and Reno yet, but they don’t need to be here for me to do my job. I get lost in the crowd and start following my beat around the room.

I’m about four scenes in when I spot the two of them - before they approach me this time. No getting the jump on me tonight, Tseng - I’m ready for what he’s got. Or at least I think I am. They don’t wait long to slip over to me.

“Hello, Aperture. Good to see you, as always.”

“Hi, Shion! And, uh, hey…?” I obviously know Reno’s name, but what does he go by in the scene? Reno laughs at my hesitation.

“Everyone just calls me Rush,” he says, “I don’t really care, to be honest. Call me whatever you want.”

“Heh - got it,” I grin, “Are you guys gonna scene tonight?”

“We are,” Tseng says, that faint smirk on his lips, “In fact, that’s what we wanted to talk to you about. Do you have a moment to chat?” He beckons to the couches in the quiet corner.

I hesitate for a second. I’ve hardly taken any photos…

“...Sure,” I belatedly agree, taking a step toward him. Tseng puts up a hand to stop me.

“You can meet us there,” he directs, “But first, I want you to put your camera away. This will require your full attention.”

I pout, gripping my camera a little tighter.

“I haven’t taken very many photos yet.”

“Have you taken some ?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“The group leaders would love to see you get more engaged in the activities here, Aperture,” he says, “I’m sure no one will take any issue with you putting the camera down for a while.”

I keep my pouty face on, but… 

“...Fine,” I finally agree. Tseng grins and slips off to the couches with Reno, leaving me on my own to approach Spicier.

“Hey Spice, I… uh…” I’m trying to find the best way to ask for a break when I look up to see my camera bag. Spicier is holding it open for me and smiling widely.

“Give it here,” he says, “Put it down for once and go have fun.”

“But… I need to-”

“Everyone wants you to have a good time, Aperture,” he cuts me off, “You know, Chilla’s going around taking pictures tonight, too.”

Oh fuck, I hadn’t even noticed. I spin around, looking. There she is, over by the impact corner. 

“See? We’re prepared in case you wanna take a break. Don’t take this so seriously - just go have fun tonight, okay?”

I blush, not entirely sure how to feel about this. Part of me is almost offended, but… Spicier is right. I do take this really seriously, but it isn’t my job. I don’t get paid to be here. And as long as there’s some sort of backup, I don’t really have an excuse.

“I’m gonna come back for it later,” I warn, stuffing the camera into the bag. Spicier just smiles at me as I turn and walk toward the couches. 

Tseng and Reno smile at me too as I take a seat next to them.

“So, what did you guys want to talk about?” I ask.

“We’re planning to scene in about twenty minutes,” Tseng states, “But we were hoping that you might be willing to join us.”

I feel my stomach jump.

“Join?”

“Yes. We’re flexible, but we were hoping that we might get a chance to see what you can do from a dominant position. Would you be willing to join me in co-topping this evening?”

The feeling that rushes through me is something I’ve never felt before - some sort of elation and excitement, mixed with fire. It makes my fingertips tingle. 

“I would love to,” I let my honesty take center stage, “But I… Well, I guess we just have to negotiate.”

“Which we can do right now,” Tseng says, leaning forward, “I’ll remind you both that safewords are on the table and need to be respected - stoplight system, as always. With that in mind, let’s start with a basic check-in. Rush, have you had anything to eat and drink today?”

“Duh,” Reno snarks. Right - a brat . Fuck... I’ve only ever topped a handful of times before, and even though I’ve fantasized about doing it a lot, I’m not a hundred percent sure that I can pull this off without a hitch tonight. I have no experience with brats.

Tseng shakes his head and sighs at Reno’s response.

“I see we’re getting to this not a moment too soon…” He turns to me again, “Well, I’m in good condition to play as well. How about you, Aperture?”

“Yep - I had dinner a while ago,” I state.

“Good. Then I believe it’s time we discuss the details. Tell us, Rush - what are you looking to get out of our scene tonight?”

“Well,” Reno leans back, a smile curling over his lips, “I’m pretty down for anything. I’d like to see what Aperture can come up with.”

“That’s too wide-scoped. You can be more specific than that,” Tseng chides him. Reno sighs.

“Okay, okay… well, I like impact with just about anything you can throw at me. Bondage and stripping are cool too, and… degradation and humiliation are always a good time,” His voice gets a little quieter at the end there, and I can tell that he had to work to admit that out loud. That’s a clear indication of a real weakness, and I file that away in my mind.

“It’s… been a little while since I’ve done impact,” I say, “But I’d like to go for that, I think. I… don’t have any bondage experience, so I guess it’s up to Shion whether we do that or not.”

“Aperture,” Shion says, leaning forward, “Right now, my plan is to simply defer to you,” He smirks, “I’ll be right there, of course, and I’ll give you guidance if you need it, but otherwise I don’t plan to intervene.”

“Wait, seriously?” I balk. A burst of fear swirls through me. 

“You asked me just last week to let you lead,” Tseng smirks, “This is your chance. I’ll work by your directions tonight - all you need to do is say the word. Is that something you think you can handle?”

Leave it up to Tseng to throw in a curveball. I’d been talking about walking home last week, not topping Reno. Butterflies spring up within me, but I take a deep breath and drum up some confidence. This isn’t anything I’m not used to - it’ll be just like one of my old burlesque numbers, the one with the riding crop. Yeah, just like that.

“Yeah, I can do that,” I say, then look around, “But, uh… Do we have any, like, tools that I can work with?” I don’t immediately see anything that I can use, so I start rolling ideas around in my head - what can I use in absence of impact implements? Oh, wait, I’ve got-

“Here,” Tseng cuts off my train of thought and reaches to the floor, producing a duffel bag that I’d clearly missed, “We brought some of our own toys today.”

“You mean you brought some toys…” Reno mumbles. Tseng sighs and gives him an irritated look.

“Either way, feel free to have a look,” he says, “Let us know what you like, and just remember that Rush reserves the right to take certain items off the table.”

“Just no canes,” Reno says with a grimace, then smirks, “...Or soap.”

“There’s no soap in there…” Tseng sighs tiredly, chastising Reno with a glare. I shiver at Reno’s jab and take the bag into my lap. But…

“Well, there’s definitely some interesting stuff in here,” I say tentatively, “But I actually had a thought… How do you feel about these ?” I reach down to the floor and pull my ankle up into view, knocking on the side of my heavy combat boots. I love those things, and I’m used to making a show with my shoes on stage - kicking can be damn fun with the right bottom for it. Tseng smiles widely at the proposition, but Reno looks hesitant.

“I don’t do bootblacking,” he says, “But if you’re just gonna use ‘em for impact, I’ll agree.”

“That’s what I meant,” I assure him, “I’m not much of a bootblacking person, either.”

“Cool,” Reno smirks, “They’re on the table then.”

I smile in response, and look back into the bag. There’s a really good selection of stuff in here, including a smooth wooden paddle and a riding crop, both of which really catch my eye, along with those sexy black leather floggers that I saw Tseng use a few weeks ago. I pick one up and hold it - it’s hefty, with a good weight to it. It will be easy (and very fun) to swing.

“How about these?” I say, extracting the three tools from the bag. The smile on Reno’s face tells me all I need to know.

“Approved,” he says, giving me a thumbs up. Tseng smiles too, and helps me gently tuck the implements away before zipping up the bag.

“Excellent,” he says, “Is there anything else we need to address? Last words?”

I shake my head and smile, and Reno does the same.

“In that case,” Tseng says, “We’re ready to go. You two watch the center mat - we’ll be up after that couple. I’ll be right back.”

Tseng stands and walks off toward the bar. I look over at the mat, but turn back around as I feel Reno slide up next to me.

“Man, this is gonna be fun,” he chuckles, throwing an arm over my shoulder, “I’ve been lookin’ forward to this.”

“Yeah?” I smirk, matching his confidence, “Looking forward to me kicking your ass?”

“I won’t settle for less,” he smirks, “But don’t think it’s gonna be easy. I plan to make you work for it.”

“You’ll be bruised up tomorrow when I’m through with you,” I promise... maybe a little too confident in my abilities. Reno laughs at my claim.

“You think so, huh?” he pokes me hard in the side, “We’ll see about that.”

I jab back at him, trying to disguise my squeal. What can I say? My sides are ticklish… 

For a moment, we sit and watch the mat. Looks like the couple is still in their buildup phase. They’ve got a way to go before their scene crescendos, which means we have quite a bit of time to sit and talk.

“Rufus said you saw the house today,” Reno says, his tone returning to something more casual.

“Yeah… It was really nice,” I say, trying to decide how much detail I want to include about my near-rejection.

“Ha, good! Rude and I moved a bunch of the furniture into it this week. Just about broke my damn back over that couch… Glad to hear it’s gonna work out. That sorta makes us neighbors, you know.”

“What?” I look up at him incredulously.

“Yeah, Rude lives in one of those townhouses too. A couple blocks over I think, and way down the street, but, meh - close enough, right?”

“And you?”

“I don’t have my own place,” Reno says lowly, as if he’s trying and failing to sound nonchalant, “But I usually crash with Rude.”

“You don’t have a place?” I repeat, surprised, “Then… where do you keep all your stuff?”

“Turks get assigned dorms in the basement,” Reno explains briefly, keeping his voice low and looking about for eavesdroppers, “I use mine as long-term storage. No one else uses ‘em, anyway - I just like to couch-hop, that’s all. Don’t really wanna have to pay for my own place. Or take care of it. Don’t really have the time. I’ll stick to hotels and the office,” he turns to me and grins, “And everyone’s beds, of course.”

“Heh,” I laugh good-naturedly, but I’m still struck. When I first moved to Midgar, I was homeless for a week, and it was utter hell. Who on Gaia would choose to live like that? 

“Speaking of your bed,” Reno smirks, changing the topic, “Did you find the surprises we left you in the nightstand?”

“...I did,” I reply, trying to sound composed. Reno laughs.

“We all got you a little something,” he says, “My gift was the plug set.”

“Oh?” I say, somewhat surprised. Those plugs were so elegant and pretty, I would’ve thought they were from Rufus, “Well… Thank you, they were really lovely.”

“Rude got you the dildo,” Reno grins, “And Elena got you some pink thing. She said she’s got one and she really loves it, so hopefully you like it too, I guess.”

“Heh… Yeah, I hope so,” I say. So then if Reno got me the plugs, Elena got me the pink toy, Rude got me the blue dildo, and Tseng surely got me the wand… Does that mean that Rufus’s gift was the gift basket in the bathroom?

I’m going to have to deal with the embarrassment of that realization later. For now, Tseng has returned, three glasses in hand. They’re filled with a clear liquid and a few ice cubes. I figure it’s just water, and a sip confirms my guess.

“I want all of these empty by the time we’re up to scene,” Tseng directs, “We can’t come back to them once we walk away.”

Having learned the ways of Midgar from three years spent in Wall Market, I know that he’s right. I gulp it down.

By the time my glass is finished, the scening couple has reached their peak. The submissive shouts, her screams of pain echoing through the space alongside the snap of the flogger impacts from her partner. Slowly, her partner begins to wind her down, rubbing her sore skin with soft hands. Eventually, the domme wraps her partner in her arms and begins to move our way, toward the couches for some aftercare. We take the cue to stand, depositing our glasses back on the bartop while a volunteer wipes down the mat with a sanitizing solution.

“Well,” Tseng turns between Reno and I, “Are you ready?”

I psych myself up - showtime . For a split second, I’m back at the Honeybee, seconds before call. So many eyes are going to be on me, but I am not afraid. Anxious though I may be in my daily life, I’m a seasoned performer, and to me, this is just a different type of stage. I used to do this all the time, actually.

I roll a plan in my head as we step up to the mat. Many times, I’ve been part of the crowd gathered to watch, but tonight I’m here in the center of the ring. I take a deep breath, then turn to Reno.

“Strip,” I give him a one word command. It’s a little awkward, since he’s a bit taller than me, and I guess I don’t sell it - he seems to think he doesn’t have to listen. He makes no move to start stripping, and snorts instead.

From behind me, Tseng steps forward, ready to correct the brat, but I move faster, grabbing Reno by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down until our noses nearly touch.

“I said strip ,” I growl in as low a voice as I can muster, putting some persuasion behind it this time. Reno’s eyes widen behind his mask, and he finally moves to obey, undoing the few buttons still closed on his shirt. As he works, Tseng moves behind him and pulls up his waistband to give him several sharp smacks on the ass. Reno yelps, only to have Tseng wrap a hand around his throat and speak softly in his ear.

“You are going to show as much respect to them as you do to me,” he instructs, “Or you will suffer . Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Reno coughs, clawing at Tseng’s hand until he’s released. I bite my lip - fuck, that’s hot.

“Go ahead, Aperture,” Tseng says as he steps back, “Let’s see what you can do.”

I nod and make my way to the bag laid on the floor. I unzip it and pull out the tools we agreed on, laying them out neatly as Reno finishes undressing. I glance around, ignoring all the eyes around the ring of the crowd - Reno threw his clothes on the floor haphazardly, and I eye them while I pick up the riding crop.

“Hm…” I say, giving the implement a few test snaps against my hand. It’s surprisingly easy to aim, and stings like hell, “Not very neat, leaving your clothes strewn all over like that,” I step around Reno’s side and give him a warning snap on the thigh - about 40% power, “Pick them up and fold them properly.”

Reno groans as he leans down, and I respond to his complaint with another sharp snap, this time on his ass. He yelps at that one, and I can’t help but smile at the sound. The dynamic has shifted, and I feel a swill of power course through me. Oh, I’ve missed this - feeling in command of something, fully in control. 

“That’s better,” I comment as Reno lays the stack of folded clothing neatly off to the side, “Now we can get started,” I point at the floor by my feet, “Come here and kneel.”

Reno’s much more compliant this time, kneeling at my feet without a word. When he gets there, I take a half-step back and line up-

“Oof!” 

I don’t so much kick him as I push him with my boot, knocking him backwards onto his ass as I press my sole against his chest.

“Aww, poor thing - he fell over!” I tease loudly, turning back toward Tseng. He looks very satisfied as he stands watching us, and gives me a nod of approval. I hear a quiet laughter roll through the crowd. From the floor, Reno whines, and I turn back to watch his dick begin to stand at attention. Ooh, that worked very well…

“What’s the matter, kid? ” I throw back the little nickname he’s given me, “You really like getting pushed around that much?”

Reno’s face is red now and his dick twitches ever upwards. He tries to turn away, but I snap my crop on the inside of his thigh, earning another yelp.

“Don’t turn away from me,” I growl, kneeling down to get on his level. Pulling a move straight from my stage set, I tuck the riding crop flange right under his chin and lift his eyes to meet mine, “I want to see your pretty face when I hurt you.”

Reno moans at that one, and it makes me grin. Damn, I can feel my inner sadist crawling out of the woodwork. Where have they been all this time? Doesn’t really matter - they’re here now, right when I need them. 

“Turn over,” I command, an uncharacteristic decisiveness charging through me. Reno obeys, turning over onto all fours. His ass faces me.

“So pale...” I comment idly, “I wanna see these turn red before I let you go…” I lower the crop and reach down with a hand instead, grabbing a handful of Reno’s ass. I test the waters by giving him a sharp smack with my palm, and he responds with a head-jerk and a groan. I repeat the smack on the other side to similar results. 

“Poor thing…” I let my tone go sarcastic as I give Reno a harder handspanking as a warmup. He moans through it, making ample noise, which gives me an idea.

“...Shion,” I say, pausing to remember the right name to use, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a gag of some kind?”

“I didn’t bring one with me,” Tseng replies with a smirk, “But perhaps you can find a way to get creative.”

Creative. Hm… I look around, trying to decide what to do about this. Reno’s stack of clothing catches my eye - I could gag him with his underwear.

“Here,” I say, stepping over to the pile and retrieving the skimpy briefs that Reno had been wearing, “Open.”

Reno groans, which gives me enough of an opening to stuff his underwear into his mouth. I take my time tucking in the ends, and laugh at his bulging cheeks.

“Aww, you almost look like a chipmunk!” I snort, “I wish I had my camera.”

That makes Reno’s face even redder, and I watch from the side as his dick jumps. His scrunched-up face tells me that he hates how much that turned him on, and it just makes me laugh harder.

“Now,” I say, returning to my perch from behind, “No more messing around. I promised to leave you bruised, and that’s a promise I intend to keep,” I lift my heavy boot from the floor and plant it firmly against Reno’s right ass cheek, grinding it lightly against his skin. I know from experience that boots can cause bad cuts and scrapes if I’m not careful - I don’t want to make him bleed, so I have to be gentle with the friction.

I pick up the boot and give Reno a square kick on the right side. It rocks his skinny frame forward, but he’s got the leverage now to stay up. I get a mild moan - not as much as I have been getting. I take that as a cue to kick harder, landing this time with the toe of the boot. That one gets a pained shout.

“That’s more like it!” I grin sadistically, and kick the other side the same way. I can hear the way Reno grits his teeth around his briefs, already choking back cries of pain, and it fuels me in a way I’ve never known. When I perform, I usually tease, but never have I gotten off on pain like this before. It’s foreign, but it’s definitely not unwelcome.

I walk around Reno’s side, taunting and degrading him as I find different spots to kick and slide my boots off of. My favorite is when I tuck my toe under his chin and lift his eyes up to mine, spending several seconds just gazing down at the pained lust in his eyes.

“How are you doing?” I ask quietly, checking in. His eyelids flutter, and he brings up a hand to give me a thumbs up. I smile, then continue around his other side, working him down again. When I get all the way to his backside, I give his ass a few more kicks until I see dark red splotches - the beginnings of bruising.

“There,” I say, “That oughta do it for now. So,” I switch back to the riding crop and hold it against his reddened ass, “I seem to recall that you were being pretty disrespectful earlier.”

“Hmm?!” Reno throws his head back and gives me an almost panicked look. His eyes ask his question - “When?!”

“Oh, come on,” I roll my eyes, “In the group chat, first of all. I saw you being told to watch it,” Reno lowers his head and looks away, “And then just a little bit ago, while we were negotiating. You weren’t very respectful to your dom, were you?”

Reno shakes his head slowly, admitting defeat in guilt.

“So now I think I need to give you a punishment,” I look back at the arsenal of tools I have at my disposal, planning out the rest of the scene in chunks, “We’re going to start with… twenty with the crop, and then at least thirty with the flogger. And then I’ll decide how many with the paddle.”

Reno whines lowly in anticipation, but he doesn’t make any moves. I tap the crop against his ass, bringing him to attention.

“And I want you to count,” I tack on, grinning, “As best you can, anyway. Try not to drool all over the mat.”

Reno’s dick jumps again, and he whimpers. I smile and draw back the crop.

“Ready?”

He nods, and I’m quick to bring the crop down against him with a harsh snap.

Reno screams and tries to count one, but it comes out as a muffled “mmph” sound instead. Whatever - I’m sure that’s the best he can do right now. Hit two comes down on the left side, and I earn another shout and count. Slowly, we work our way through the twenty smacks, with me holding back just a little more to ensure that Reno can make it through the rest of my plans for him. 

“Mm-mph,” he finishes, counting out the twentieth stroke. There are dozens of raised red marks on his ass. He is indeed drooling fiercely at this point, and it makes me laugh.

“Aw, what a mess,” I tease, getting particularly ballsy, “Maybe I’ll have to find a time and place to clean that mouth up.”

I don’t think I’ve ever threatened to mouthsoap anyone like that before. It’s a fucking rush, right to my stomach. Reno looks up with a sneer and a long whine, shaking his head in vehement denial of that little proposal. I hear Tseng laugh aloud behind me.

I turn around and swap the riding crop for the flogger. I let the falls drag over Reno’s back, switching it up. I’ll give his ass a break… for now. I want to be able to hit him hard when it’s time to switch to the paddle. 

“Now… let’s see…” I say slowly, circling the redhead and looking for the best angle to flog him. I give a test swing as I stand on his right side, and he gasps in pleasure.

“That’s it,” I crow, happily swinging across his back again and again. I start with gentle thudding strokes, warming him up, and gradually begin to pick up the pace until movement catches my eye.

Tseng, holding an identical flogger of his own, steps up on Reno’s left.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, running the flogger through the leather of his gloves. The sight makes me shiver, and revs me up.

“Please do,” I growl, giving another swing. Tseng joins in, matching my intensity and timing his swings to land right in between mine. It takes Reno’s whimpering to lusty shouting, crying out at the sensations with pure erotic pleasure. He might tease me about being vocal, but now I understand why - he’s pretty damn vocal himself. I’ll have to keep that in mind. 

When Reno’s back is covered in red welts and his shouts begin to take on a note of real pain, Tseng and I begin to wind down, lightening our hits until we’re barely dusting the falls over his back. I kneel down and caress the wealed skin, and Tseng does the same. He seems to know exactly how to match me, not necessarily mirroring but complimenting my motions. It’s almost artful in a way I can’t quite explain. 

“Okay,” I eventually speak as I reach up to pull the soaked underwear out of Reno’s mouth, “How are you feeling? Can I get a color?”

“Phew… Feelin’ good,” he purrs, sounding almost high with subspace, “Approaching yellow, I think, but you still got some room.”

“Good, because there’s still one last step to your punishment,” I reach over and grab the paddle, placing the smooth finished wood against his ass cheeks, “But first, I wanna switch things up a little. Ts- uh, Shion, could you stand up please? You too, Rush.”

Tseng gives me a curious look, but they both obey me. We end up having to help Reno stand on shaky legs. I press his body against Tseng’s.

“Here Shion - hold him up,” I instruct, “And hold him tightly. Give him some support through the last few blows - he’s gonna need it.”

Tseng looks somewhat surprised. Still, he doesn’t say a word, obeying in silence. Reno gingerly stands up against him, straightening his body out.

“Okay, Rush,” I say, giving the paddle a few test swings in the air, almost like a baseball bat, “I’m going to give you five with the paddle - big ones. Do you think you can handle that?”

Reno shudders, but nods.

“Yes, Sir,” he replies. The title nearly makes my head spin. I could get used to that.  

“Good. Here we go then,” I lay the paddle against his red ass one more time, then lift it up and bring it down at about 80% of my power. It lands perfectly, with a satisfying thud and loud smack. The force makes Reno’s knees buckle, and he stumbles against Tseng, just as I’d figured he would. So nice when a plan works out. 

“One!” he yelps.

“Aw, counting out loud without being asked,” I jeer, then deliver another smack, “You’re a fast learner.”

“T-Two! Thank you, Sir!” Reno cries. He sounds close to breaking - right where I want him. I let down another blow, then another, both to cries of real pain.

“Alright, last one,” I say, “Hold him tight, Shion,” And with that, I bring the paddle down at nearly the maximum force I can muster. It cracks against Reno’s ass hard, and the redhead shrieks as he loses his footing entirely, falling to his knees as Tseng controls his descent.

I put the paddle down right away and kneel by Reno’s side, gently touching and stroking and soothing him as I’ve learned over the years of watching.

“Shh… It’s okay, it’s over. You did such a good job…” Tseng stands over us, watching what’s going down at his feet for a moment. Reno is gasping and snivelling, clearly struggling to keep it together. Even the strongest people can be broken down when they’re in subspace, so I hold no judgement against him - I’ve been in similar places myself.

“Here,” Tseng leans down and taps my shoulder, “Let’s all move back to the couch. I’ll gather things up.”

He steps away to grab Reno’s clothes and pack up the toys, leaving me to help Reno stand on shaky legs again and walk off toward the couches. When we arrive, we wait for a moment for Tseng to return - Reno needs pants before he can sit on the couch cushions, after all - and while we wait, I lean in to give Reno a hug.

“Thank you,” I say, noticing the way he stiffens under my touch, “You did a great job. Thanks for trusting me.”

Reno says nothing for a moment, staying frozen in place, until I feel him gingerly place a hand against my hair and the band of my cap.

“...Yeah,” he says softly, “Thanks for… keeping your promise.”

It’s then that Tseng returns, and we help Reno pull his pants on. He winces through the pain as they pass his abused ass cheeks, then curls up and lays sideways on the couch, resting his head in my lap as we sit for a few minutes, letting him rest while we catch our breath. In the silence, Tseng heads up to the bar and retrieves more water for each of us. I gladly drink it all down. 

“So,” I eventually break the silence, “How… did I do?”

“Well, judging by the fact that you nearly had Rush in tears, I’d say you did a damn good job,” Tseng says, sipping his water, “As far as technique, I’ll admit I was very glad to see that you knew what you were doing. You know your way around an impact session very well.”

“Thanks,” I say, glancing down again at Reno. His eyes are closed, and he looks very peaceful now, “Hey, you asleep?”

“No,” he mumbles, “Jus’ recoverin’,”

“Heh, okay,” I grin, gently petting his hair. He seems to melt into that touch, letting a little smile of his own peek through. It’s actually kind of adorable. 

“If you’d like, Aperture,” Tseng says, “You can return to your camera now. I can take care of things from here.”

I look up toward the bar. Chilla is back to her talking circle now, not taking any photos - which means no one is doing photos now at all. I sigh. 

“...Are you telling me to return to my camera?” I clarify, “Or is that just a suggestion?”

“It’s just a suggestion,” Tseng responds, “You can stay with us as long as you like.”

I look down at Reno again, nestled so peacefully in my lap.

“I can spare a few more minutes,” I say quietly, “I want to make sure that he’ll be okay.”

“He always is,” Tseng replies, and Reno nods to confirm, “Though I think you took him pretty deep into subspace tonight. He’s not normally out for this long.”

“Mm-hm,” Reno replies, sounding almost sleepy. I’m surprised when Tseng reaches over and pokes his arm.

“Don’t you fall asleep on us now,” he says, “We still have plans.”

“What plans are those?” I pry, mostly out of curiosity over whether or not those plans include me. Tseng glances up at me and smiles. 

“We’re headed back to the office after the party for a little extra fun,” Tseng reveals, “We’ll gladly extend you an open invitation to join us… but we will be leaving a little early. Closer to midnight. I know you’ll want to stay and take pictures, so I’ll leave it up to you.”

I chew my lip. That’s frustrating - Tseng’s right. I want to go with them, but I also feel obligated to do photos. 

“What sort of ‘fun’ are you planning on?” I ask, fishing for clues. Tseng just smiles back at me.

“Let’s just say that we’re planning on making a mess,” he says playfully, “You’re free to tag along, but if you want to participate, you’ll need to drink more water.”

Reno wriggles in my lap, and I suddenly realize that whatever fun they’re planning probably has something to do with piss. Is that something I want to be involved in? Well… it’s not something I’ve ever tried before. Plus, I really want to spend more time with these guys, and Rufus had mentioned possibly seeing me later - so will he be there too?

“...Okay,” I say with a smile. Internally, I’ve made up my mind.

I know I’m going with them.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Reno recovers enough to sit up and, despite the wincing pain, get dressed (sans underwear). It leaves me free to return to my camera for at least a while. Reno and Tseng continue to float around the party, making conversation with people they know and watching scenes. 

For the first time in what feels like eons, folks actually approach me and compliment the scene I led earlier. They tell me how much they enjoyed watching it, and how hot it was. One guy even tries to ask if I’d top him, but I do my best to politely turn him down - I only top for very close friends, I say. At least he seems to take it okay. 

I keep gulping down water, too. Every once in a while, Tseng sweeps past me and deposits a fresh glass of ice water in my hand, instructing me to drink more. There’s no bathroom in this area of the building, so I couldn’t cheat if I tried.

I’m starting to notice the need to pee by the time Tseng and Reno find my side again.

“We’re nearly ready to go,” Tseng informs me, “Can you finish up soon?”

“Just finished shooting this scene,” I reply, “Let me just go drop off the SD card with Spicier and grab my bag.”

Tseng nods, and I head off to find Spicier at the bar.

“Hey, Spice,” I say hesitantly, “I’m actually… headed out a little early tonight. Here’s the card back.”

“Hey Aperture! No prob. Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, I did… Just… Sorry I can’t stay longer to take more-”

“Ah, ah!” Spicier holds up a finger to silence me, “You’re here to have fun and relax, not to work your ass off. Go home, Aperture - take some time off. Fun first, work later! We got this!”

I give Spice and Chilla a warm smile and a wave as I head out, tucking my camera back into its bag. I let Tseng and Reno lead the way, heading the opposite direction from the train station and back toward the streets of the Sector 6 underplate. 

“Didn’t you guys take the train?” I ask. I thought that was the only way to get around under here.

“No - I drove,” Tseng replies, “I’m sorry, but it’s a bit of a walk to the nearest parking spot. I should’ve warned you sooner.”

“I’ll survive,” I reply with a grin, but the pressure in my bladder is starting to get to me. I’m really gonna need to pee within the next hour… But we should be back at HQ within that time, right?

“Hm,” Tseng nods at me, then turns to Reno, “And how about you, Reno? How are you doing?”

“Just peachy, Chief,” he replies, reaching a hand down to adjust his junk.

“I’m not going to need to put a towel down on my seats, am I?” Tseng gives him a playful look, and Reno’s face turns bright red.

“No!” he loudly proclaims, “I can wait until we get back…”

“You’d better,” Tseng says, “I know how much you love it when everyone gets to watch.”

That draws a low whine from Reno’s chest.

I see what Tseng meant - we must walk half a mile before we finally pause at a vehicle. It’s a sleek, black car, well-kept, with a leather interior. I have absolutely no trouble believing that this is Tseng’s car - it very much suits him. 

“Here, Lane,” Tseng points, “You can sit in the front.”

Reno whines at that, which just makes me laugh. I’m still riding the power high from our scene - on any other day, I might hesitate to sit shotgun, but tonight I have no issue relegating Reno to the back.

Tseng waits until we’re buckled in, then pulls out of his parallel-parked space, slowly navigating the cracked-up streets of the underplate back toward the freeways that lead upwards. As we drive away from Wall Market, I gaze backward at it. I’ve never seen it from this angle before. 

Something about it has me feeling strangely melancholic - I lived in that little sliver of this city for almost three years, hardly ever leaving. And now look at me - living on the upper plate, about to move into a fancy townhouse. I’d slept out on those streets, and now I’m…

Here.

What did I do to end up here?

“Lane? Everything alright?” Tseng asks me, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, turning to give him a smile, “Just looking at the lights, that’s all.”

“They’re certainly bright…” Tseng comments, reaching up to adjust his rear-view mirror.

Maybe it’s the residual confidence, I don’t know - something compels me to reveal a little more than usual.

“I lived in Wall Market for my first few years in Midgar,” I admit, “I still think of it as my home, I guess. I miss it some days.”

I can’t even tell if Tseng and Reno heard me. If they did, then they absorb the information in silence.

You know what? That was dumb. Nevermind.

The drive carries on quietly, and I choose to keep my reflections to myself as I gaze, watching as the lights disappear behind the edges of the plate. 

By the time we make it back to the Shinra building, I’m trying not to squirm in my seat. How long are they expecting me to be able to hold out? Tseng parks the car in the underground employee garage, and we get out. I try to keep my hand off my pants, not wanting to come off as desperate as I am.

Reno gives me a sly look as he stands, glancing downward at my slightly-twisted legs.

“Gotta go?” he asks lowly, his voice heavy with lust.

“Maybe,” I concede, trying to maintain my dominant headspace, “Do you?”

“Nope,” he lies through his teeth, “I’m just fine.”

“For gods’ sake you two, we’re nearly there. Can’t you wait just a few more minutes?” Tseng cuts in, beckoning us to follow him to the elevator. Reno and I share cutting glances, eager to get back to our game as we descend just two floors down to the Turks’ office level. Tseng leads us out.

“This way,” he directs, walking us down the hallway. I hesitate for a second as he stops in front of the locker room door, opening it and stepping all the way over to the shower stalls. I have to force myself to follow. I guess it makes sense - if they’re doing something involving piss, they wouldn’t want to do it anywhere but in the bathroom. That doesn’t really make it easier, though - standing in here, just the three of us… I’ve fantasized about something along these lines one too many times already to not be getting ideas.

“Get where you belong,” Tseng hisses at Reno, giving him a rough shove into the showers, “Don’t keep us waiting,” He steps in behind the redhead, and without a second of hesitation, pulls down his zipper. From where I’m standing behind him, I can’t quite see, but I can tell from the sounds of splattering and Reno’s gasp that he’s... using Reno as a urinal. 

And, apparently, Reno loves it. He moans loudly, echoing through the tiled room as he dips to catch Tseng’s piss in his mouth, letting it flow down over his shirt and soak him completely. I’m frozen with a deep blush - I’ve never been an enthusiast for pissplay, but the look on Reno’s face could sell it for me. That’s hot as fuck. 

After a long moment, Tseng finishes and tucks his dick away, zipping himself back up as he turns. It’s almost as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. His eyes land on me, and he smirks.

“Well, seems like the urinal is open again,” he comments idly, his sentiment eliciting whimpers from Reno, “So, if you’re interested, you’re more than welcome to try it out. Otherwise -” He points to the restroom stalls nearby, “You’re also welcome to use the stalls as usual. This is more or less what we had planned - you can stay and watch, if you’d like. The more people present, the more Reno gets off on it.”

Although this sort of thing is unfamiliar to me, the sadist in my brain wants so badly to participate. Reno looks up at me, panting and soaked and with big doe eyes, begging me silently to use him just like Tseng did.

“I…” I start confidently, but hesitate when I recognize a problem, “...I don’t think this is going to be as easy for me as it was for you, Tseng. Different… hardware,” I remind. Tseng laughs quietly at that and steps over, taking me by the hand. 

“It’s easier than you think, although if you don’t want wet pants then you’re better off stripping from the waist down,” he instructs, “Over time, you’ll get used to the process, and you won’t need to take them off anymore.”

Tseng is unafraid to put his hands on me, stepping up behind and undoing the button on my pants. At that point, he pauses.

“Is this okay?” he checks in.

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, “I just… I’m figuring it out.”

“We don’t have to rush,” Tseng says softly, “It’s okay if you don’t feel ready just yet. I promise, there will be more opportunities.”

“No - I want to. I… I need to,” I say, squirming uncomfortably as a wave of urgency ebbs and flows, “But… Isn’t it going to be messy?”

Tseng grins sadistically.

“Why do you think we do this in the showers?” he purrs, “Easy cleanup when we’re finished. And if you end up dirty, well… You won’t object to joining him for cleanup, will you?”

That’s less of a question and more of a callout. I gasp. So much for a dominant headspace - it’s been blown out the window now. I reach down and push my pants off, shedding my shoes and socks in the same move, leaving me bared.

“Okay,” I say, turning to face Reno. He’s already rubbing at his own junk through his pants - probably only half out of arousal. Doesn’t seem like he’s peed yet, either, but I’m sure he only plans to hold out for so long. 

“Make him ask,” Tseng tells me. I look up at him with surprise, but realize immediately that he’s prompting me to reclaim my dominating aura. I smile and look down at the soaked redhead kneeling in front of me.

“Do you want me to piss on you, Reno?” I ask, clear-cut. He winces and whimpers, and I continue, “I’ll take that as a yes. Why don’t you ask me nicely?” Yeah, I’m taking a page right out of Tseng’s book with that one.

Reno tries to hold back, but it doesn’t take much to break him.

“Fuck… please use me,” he whines, “I… I want you to… to…”

“To what?” I press. He shudders.

“...To ruin me,” he whispers between gasps.

“That’s it,” I say, stepping up to him. I give Tseng a look, silently asking for him to explain what I need to do. Instead of explaining, though, he steps right up behind me, and I feel his fingers stroke against me.

“It might be easier if you swing a leg over his shoulder,” he instructs. Reno is all too eager to slip himself under my leg, holding me up. He’s nearly panting like a dog, opening his mouth and huffing right against my pussy. In the crook of my knee, I feel moisture - Tseng’s piss, sealing my fate. I’ll have to shower for sure now. Tseng moves his hands to my labia and gently spreads me open, lifting up and back.

“You hold like this,” he says lowly, “And then let go. Try to keep it steady.”

“Hhf… Fuck…” I gasp as his fingers stroke over my clit. I’m not normally pee-shy, but having somebody breathing against me while I try to release goes against what I’ve trained my body to do. I have to close my eyes and focus for a few seconds, but eventually I feel the beginnings of relief start to trickle out of me, and it produces an almost instant moan from Reno. Slowly, I open my eyes and look down at him.

It’s always a little strange to watch myself pee, but this is a whole new level. With the way Tseng is holding me, the stream sprays straight out instead of down, and it hits Reno right between the eyes. He squeezes them shut and lowers his head, letting it get into his hair and run down over his face before lifting his chin and opening his mouth, letting it splash onto his tongue and run right down his chest. I can feel a little bit of sprayback, and a few droplets slither down my lowered leg. 

My brain tells me that this should feel wrong, but somehow, it doesn’t. It feels very hot, and very right. 

I can hardly breathe through it all, right up until the last of it dribbles out. Reno catches the last few drops on his tongue, and catches me off-guard as he presses his nose and lips against me and licks. I shout at the sudden touch and groan in pleasure, letting him grasp at my legs and ass to clean me up. In a second surprise move, he pulls back from my pussy and leans down, trailing his tongue all the way up my leg to lap up the rogue dribbles. It makes me shiver, and he gives me a final workover with his tongue before pulling back and letting me lower my leg and reclaim my balance.

“Wonderful,” Tseng says, helping me readjust to an independent footing, “You made a good mess of him. You’ll get better and neater in time - with practice.”

“That was… really hot,” I admit, still trying to stop panting. Reno gives me a lust-filled smile, plenty pleased with my participation, apparently.

“Hm,” A deep voice laughs from the doorway, jarring me back to reality, “Was wondering if you were going to join in tonight.” 

Rude grins at me as he steps into the bathroom, hardly bothering to look at Reno as he steps up to the community urinal of the evening. With hardly any fanfare, he unzips his fly and pulls out his cock, taking aim and spraying piss in Reno’s face.

“Is Elena back yet?” Tseng asks, making perfectly casual conversation over Reno’s moaning. They act like he isn’t even here…

“She’s on her way,” Rude says, “Should be back soon.”

“Good,” Tseng says, “It’s starting to stink in here.”

That comment makes Reno whine loudly. The bulge in his pants jumps - woah, apparently he gets off on being told that he smells. That’s… hotter than I expected it to be. In a really strange way, I think I can relate - there’s something really weirdly hot about being told that you stink and… need a bath.

...Oh, that’s coming next, isn’t it?

“Well, if she’s late, you can always just hand the job off to them,” Rude tilts his chin toward me and grins as he zips his pants back up. I blush and try to tug my… actually, Rufus’s shirt down. Luckily, it’s long enough on me that it hides most of my lower half. 

“Oh, but that’s not nearly as much fun as it could be if they work together,” Tseng purrs, hooking a hand around my upper arm. I feel the last of my dominance slip away at that touch - he’s claimed me for the evening, and I’m now instantly at his mercy again. I’m still not entirely sure what they mean by “working together,” but I’m sure it has something to do with a shower. The mere thought has me weak in the knees.

The door slides open. I look up, expecting to see Elena, but have to stifle a gasp when I see Rufus stride in. He locks eyes with me and smiles widely - especially when he observes my bared state.

“Oh, Lane…” He stares at me, “Look at you. Going to join in the fun?”

“They already have,” Tseng replies for me, “Lane wasn’t at all afraid to get dirty, it seems. All too eager to prove what a filthy thing they can be.”

I whimper, wishing desperately for a way to hide my face. Tseng keeps his grip locked tightly on my arm though, holding me on display.

“Oh, is that so? I missed it, then? Damn - I knew I should’ve come down sooner.”

“There’s always next time, Sir,” Tseng says.

“I suppose,” Rufus sighs, approaching Reno and unzipping, “But the first time is always special.”

“It also isn’t completely over,” Tseng says, catching my attention, “There’s still so much to come.”

Rufus smiles deviously at us.

“There certainly is,” he confirms, sighing as he lets go in Reno’s face. The redhead is soaked to the bone now, absolutely dripping from head to toe with pee. Has he pissed his own pants yet, or not? It’s impossible to tell with all the urine pooled on his slacks already... His wet hair is plastered to his face, and there’s a wide, lust-blown smile plastered on his lips. He looks high, like he’s having the time of his damn life, just getting used like a public urinal. It’s simultaneously foreign and hot to me. 

“Is Elena back yet?” Rufus asks as he finishes and zips himself up, “He really reeks.”

“We’re all well aware,” Tseng says with a tone of disgust, “Elena should be back any minute now.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Rufus drawls sarcastically, grinning down at Reno, “Guess he’ll just have to wait. That’s got to be going cold by now.”

“Mmm… You warmed me up again, Sir,” Reno sighs.

“Hmph,” Rufus smirks, “You consider yourself lucky to have my piss on your face. How disgusting.”

“I’m the luckiest motherfucker in Midgar,” Reno giggles, nearly sounding drunk now. 

“Are you still holding, Reno?” Tseng asks him. Reno nods, pawing at his junk through his soaked pants, and Tseng smiles, “Good boy.”

At that moment, the door opens again, and quick footsteps run into the room. Elena joins our group, and I’m glad to see her - until I see what she’s wearing.

It’s the usual Turks suit, of course, but her dress shirt is deeply stained, looking more dark red than white. Her face and hair are splattered too, and I’m sure her pants and her jacket are worse for wear, though I can’t see the stains on the black fabric. 

She’s covered in blood. I stiffen.

“Sorry I’m late,” she huffs, immediately stripping off the jacket and tossing it off to the side, “Had a run-in. Took care of it.”

“Elena, what happened?” Tseng exclaims.

“Just some street monsters,” she says, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, “Some sort of nasty bloodsucker. One of them blew up in front of me.”

“Are you injured?”

“Nope - unharmed,” she confirms, moving to strip out of her shirt as well. Her bra underneath is baby blue, but it too is stained, “Just messier than I wanted to be,” She moves to pull down her pants, but looks up and spots me for the first time. Her face turns bright red.

“...Oh my gods, Lane! I’m so sorry!” she cries, taking a step away from me, “Oh gods, you look terrified… Ah, I shouldn’t have… S-Sorry!”

“I-It’s okay,” I say, looking away from the bloodstains, “It just… caught me off-guard a little, that’s all.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry…” Elena bows deeply in remorse, but Tseng speaks up.

“Blood is a fact of life in our occupation,” he says dryly, “There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it, Elena, although perhaps next time you can give us a heads-up.”

“Yes, Sir,” she says meekly, bowing again out of respect.

“Get undressed for now,” Tseng says, his semi-playful tone returning, “The sooner you finish, the sooner you can get the shower started.”

Elena and I huff in unison at that thought. The blood really threw me for a loop there, I’ll admit, but knowing that it isn’t her blood (or anyone’s in particular) makes it a lot easier to stomach. In a way, it’s just filth to be washed off… And, well, I can’t say no to that, can I?

For now, I do my best to forget the bloody nature of the Turks’ jobs. I turn my eyes to Elena instead, watching her drop her pants to the floor and shed her shoes and socks. The more bloodstained clothes that she strips off, the easier things get. Her panties match her bra, baby blue and lacy, and significantly less stained. Her ass is super cute in those - perky and petite. I really want to spank it, especially as I get to watch her from the back as she pulls them down and tosses them off to the side, too. 

“Ugh,” she sighs, turning and staring Reno down. There’s a new look in her eyes now - something fiery and fierce. She stomps right up to the redhead and swings her leg over his shoulder, reaching down just as Tseng had done to me and spreading herself open.

“You want it?” she growls, an unfamiliar commanding tone in her voice. The sudden personality shift has caught me off-guard, but I am absolutely not complaining. Watching her boss Reno around is hot as all fuck. 

“Ah - yeah…” Reno moans, leaning in to lick her. She grabs his soaking hair and yanks his head away.

“I’m not making a mess of you until you make a mess of yourself,” she hisses, pulling harder on his hair and making him wince, “I know you need to go. Go ahead - I want to watch your face while you wet yourself.”

My inner sadist is a little bitch compared to hers. Her commands are electric, and her tone could cut through steel. I’m frozen as I watch, well aware of the way wetness spreads between my thighs.

Reno whimpers and whines, but eventually gasps out. It’s almost difficult to tell, but I can see subtle shimmering under his crotch as he lets his own bladder empty onto the tile. He moans with relief, sounding as if he’s just had an orgasm, and right at that point is when Elena lets herself go. She sprays him hard in the face, pulling up and down with her fingers to control the flow and soak him completely, unafraid to get closer. She stops abruptly, then pulls Reno’s face into her, silently commanding him to lick. He obeys, and I grit my teeth as I watch liquid trail down Reno’s chin - fuck, she pulled him in just to let more go. That’s devilish, and I love it.

Finally, she sighs with her own relief as she finishes and pulls away. Reno looks downright dazed, absolutely flying high with pleasure.

“Gods, you stink, Reno. You need a shower,” Elena says with a smirk, fanning her nose as she steps around the puddle of piss that the redhead is sitting in. She reaches to the shower knobs on the walls, twisting the cold tap on full-blast. Reno shrieks as frigid water douses him from above, and Elena lets him writhe for a moment before adjusting the temperature to something warmer.

I watch fixedly as she steps back out of the showers and starts to unhook her bra, but am instantly distracted when I feel Tseng’s grip on my arm tighten and push me forward. I yelp and stumble, turning around to look at him. 

“Go ahead,” he prods, reaching to smack me on the ass, “You’d better strip and get in there. Don’t keep Elena waiting.”

I yip and blush, but I can’t resist this. The water has barely started, but already I’m being pulled under, unable to fight my fixation. I start unbuttoning Rufus’s shirt, slowly.

“W-Wait,” Elena stutters, “They’re… They’re…?”

“Yes, they are,” Tseng answers her concisely, raising a brow, “Is that a problem?”

“ Nooo , no no no, not at all,” Elena shakes her head, letting her hair fall around her face like a curtain. Beneath the blonde strands, her face is bright red, and I can still see her smile. She tosses her bra aside, leaving her completely naked. There are still tiny splatters of blood on her skin, but I’m more distracted by how soft she looks. Fuck, I… I want to touch her…

I toss my own shirt off to the side and follow Elena back past the walls, avoiding the urine spread across the floor. I can’t help but stare at her, and when she turns and catches my eye, she smiles. Before I know what’s happening, I feel her grab my wrist and swing me around, pinning me against the wall. Her skin presses against mine - she smells like sweat and violets. There’s still splatters of blood on her face, but now that’s somehow sexy - far removed from what I ever thought it could be. It makes her seem dangerous - which, I guess in retrospect, she very much is. It’s intoxicating.

“Gods, you’re so hot,” Her voice is growly, and she is unafraid to run her hands up my body. They’re so warm…

“Y-You too,” I stutter. Wait - no, Lane, you dumbass, that’s a terrible response to that! Fuck, I can be a real moron when I’m out of my head... I cringe at my own stupidity.

Elena just laughs. I look for an opportunity to apologize for being awkward, but I don’t get a chance before her lips are against mine. She’s only about an inch shorter than me, and she feels so comfortable like this. I could stay here forever, but eventually she pulls away.

“I bet I could spend hours in here with you,” she grins, mirroring my own thoughts, “But I don’t think we should leave Reno hanging that much longer.”

We both turn to look at the soaked redhead on the floor. Most of the piss has been rinsed away by the shower stream now, and he’s just sitting there, still perfectly dazed. Elena steps in front of him and grabs him by the hair again.

“Strip,” she orders firmly. Immediately, Reno begins attempting to scramble out of his wet clothes. They don’t come off as easily as they did earlier, now stuck to his skin. His shirt comes off fairly fast, but his pants take a lot longer.

“No underwear? Slut,” Elena laughs and teases. Reno’s face twists up, and he points at me.

“That’s THEIR fault,” he denies.

“Sure is,” I confirm, a little bit of that inner dom springing back up, “You wanna tell everyone why you’re not wearing any underwear?”

Reno is quiet for a moment.

“‘Cuz you made me take ‘em off...” he huffs, trying to sound like he’s stating the obvious - like there’s nothing more to it. 

“Yeah, and then I had to gag you with them because you were making too much noise,” I grin, leaning over him, “You’re lucky I didn’t make you put them back on after you drooled through them.”

“Oh, you totally should have!” Elena says, “He just loves when his underwear’s wet.”

“H-Hey!” Reno whines. I laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I smile. Reno whines again, but cuts off when Elena grips his hair tighter.

“Okay piss slut, that’s enough. Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” She turns around and looks at me, “Lane, you wanna grab his body wash?”

“Huh? Oh,” I shake myself out of my own head again. I’m getting lost in the steam in here - so many possibilities, and I’m just buzzing with excitement. Well, dripping with excitement is probably more accurate… What exactly is supposed to happen now?

I step up to the wall and grab Reno’s body wash, noticing now for the first time that the other three guys are gathered around one of the openings to watch. Rude and Rufus already have their cocks in hand, stroking themselves and smirking at me as I come over. When I lock eyes with Tseng, he smiles and unzips his fly so I can watch.

Lucky me - I have an excuse to break eye contact and hide my red face. I scurry to turn back around towards Elena and Reno, stuck now in a permanent state of blush as I hand the bottle to Elena. Instead of taking it, however, she reaches past and grabs my wrist, hauling me down to the floor with them. It puts me beneath the shower stream, and I whimper at the feel of the warm water. Fuck, why does that alone turn me on so much?

“Here,” She positions me right between Reno’s legs, then kneels herself on the floor behind him. She grabs his ponytail, undoing the hair tie while she pulls him backwards until his head is rested on her thighs.

She holds her hand out to me, and I offer up the bottle.

“Just pour some in my hand,” she snickers, “You get started down there, and I’ll work on the upper half. For now.”

I don’t know if there’s any dominant energy left, or even any submissive energy - it’s all just sex as far as I’m concerned at this point. Her commands have me feeling weak, and the realization that I’m going to be washing Reno with my bare hands makes the task feel almost daunting. I uncap the bottle and overturn it, letting it hang over Elena’s palm until she begins to pull away. I let it hang a little longer, right over Reno’s chest, and finally stick my hand underneath, gathering even more into my own palm.

“Lane...” I hear Tseng behind me, his tone a warning, “Wastefulness…”

“Not being wasteful…” I reply, rubbing the body wash between both of my hands and sliding them up and down Reno’s thighs. I trail all the way up to his chest, where my hands meet Elena’s briefly as we both collect from the pool of body wash there. I look up at her and she smiles at me before returning her hands to Reno’s hair. Gods, getting double-teamed by Rufus and Tseng last night was hot as hell, but it’s something else entirely to be doing the double-teaming. Even though I’ve barely touched Elena, I feel an electrified connection between the two of us.

It occurs to me that I’ve been given the more important job here. Reno’s dick is standing at full attention, and I gingerly run my soapy hands along it. He shifts into my touch, the slickened skin of his thighs pressing on me as I scrub a little faster. He moans, and I pull back a little. I want to tease him, not make him cum just yet. Maybe Elena has plans for that a bit later…

I continue teasing along his skin, dipping my hands below him to slide suds over his ass cheeks. I notice him wince.

“Bruised?” I ask, poking him once hard on the left. He jumps and hisses through his teeth.

“Hey, that hurt!” He reaches to slap my hand away, but Elena grabs his wrist and pins it to the floor before he can get to me. Gods, this double-teaming thing… Reno’s at a marked disadvantage here. That register of power hits me again - he can’t wiggle away from both of us. He’s at our mercy.

“Don’t you dare,” Elena growls, running her hands over his chest and down to tease his dick herself. He gasps some more as she strokes him deliberately, clearly knowing exactly what he likes. I watch carefully, wanting to make sure I get it right.

I’m surprised, then, when her hand jumps from his cock to my thigh. Elena runs her soapy hand all the way up my body, stopping to cup my cheek and pull me in for another deep kiss, running her tongue over mine. I fall into it, closing my eyes. My hands have minds of their own, finding their way to her skin as well, and for a moment I’m lost in her spell, letting her touch me and leave me slippery and soaking wet as she goes.

I’m so caught up that I hardly even notice Reno slip out from under us until he’s pressed against my back. Skin on skin, slick and hot, and the feeling of four hands all over me makes me gasp and moan. Fuck, I’ve lost my grip entirely - everything shifted so suddenly. One minute Reno was at our mercy, and now they’ve got me under their command, especially when Elena kisses me again. When did I become the bottom in this pile?

Fuck, still… I’m lost in clouds of suds and softness, feeling Reno’s teeth graze over my neck and Elena’s nails tease my nipples. There’s no controlling my noise level at this point - self-control is a lost cause.

B-But, no… No, I can’t let them tear me down. I need to turn this around again. One last dig for top energy, and my hands snake up Elena’s arms and grab her wrists. I look her in the eyes through lowered lids and gritted teeth, letting the surprise on her face light my fire. 

“Your turn,” I growl, running my hands across her sides and up over her back, bringing her close against me.

Apparently, that worked. Elena gasps and groans, and I hear Reno snicker as he moves to her side and joins me in touching her, working all the way up and down her body. I could watch the way body wash bubbles slide down her form every day forever. If I could only ever look at one thing again, I think that might be it.

“Heheh…” I hear a low chuckle come from Reno, and before I can react, he grapples Elena and pushes her over. With lightning speed, he does the same to me, laying me flat on the tile next to her before I even realize what’s happening. 

“Well, it’s been fun…” Reno says, “But now it’s time to get the two of you really clean,” I feel his fingers slide up the length of my slit, teasing over my clit. It’s a rush for sure, but honestly, I’m a little more mad that he’s trying to turn the tables on us. I glance over at Elena and find her eyes looking back at me, the same sort of look on her face - something slightly shocked and almost offended.

A silent exchange is had.

With no warning to Reno, the two of us move in tandem, turning back to glare at him and push upwards. Our hands collide with his shoulders and knock him backwards, and we scramble to get our bodies above his, regaining our control.

“You’re not going to be cleaning anyone yet, Reno,” Elena points a finger right at his nose, “Not until you are absolutely spotless.”

“Pfft,” Reno rolls his eyes, “I’m clean enough. You just want an excuse to play with the soap some more.”

Elena smiles deviously and elbows me.

“See this, Lane? This is what happens when Reno doesn’t get milked on time - he turns into a brat ,” She punctuates her claim with a sudden grip on Reno’s dick. That, combined with her degrading mention of milking, breaks Reno right back down to whimpering again. His hips arch as she begins to pump him.

I lean in, looking for a way that I can get involved, but there just isn’t much opportunity. Not like I can get my hand on his dick while hers is already there…

“Lane,” Elena brings my attention back to her and grabs my wrist. I turn to watch, but gasp as she brings two of my fingers past her lips. They’re still covered in soapsuds, but it seems like she could care less as she runs her tongue just about everywhere it can reach, lapping away the bubbles and leaving my fingers covered in spit instead. My body jolts in response, reeling.

“Ah - hah, there - you wanna help?” she pants, “...Finger him. Milk the brat out of him.”

Reno’s loud moan drowns out my own sounds of arousal. I’m going to drip on the floor at this rate, but for now, I focus on getting those spit-lubed fingers pressed against Reno’s asshole. He tenses as Elena strokes him, but relaxes in patterned timing, letting me slip in little by little until I can feel the hard button of his prostate deep inside. As soon as my fingers roll over it, his volume explodes. His fingers claw at the tile, and his legs writhe as he tries to fight away from our touch. We’ve got his legs pinned down, though - he’s not going anywhere. 

His screams of overstimulation echo through the bathroom, but Elena and I take no mind until Reno clenches against my fingers. I feel him pulse, and Elena keeps pumping him as he orgasms, working every last drop of cum out of his cock until he has to slap her away. Spent, he falls back flat on the floor and heaves with breath.

I withdraw my fingers slowly, not wanting to cause him any more agony, and rinse the remaining spit off of them under the shower spray. In my distraction, I’m caught off-guard again by Elena moving in and suddenly dipping her hand to my clit, rubbing me now too with hardly any break. I gasp and shout, but her tongue finds its way into my mouth to silence me. It only half-works; I really just end up moaning right into her mouth, and she gasps in the rushes of air I give her.

I’m lost in her touches until I feel her abruptly stop, opening my eyes to see that Reno’s back up on his knees and has laid her prone again. I don’t get time to move before he pushes me over too, repeating the little move he pulled earlier - only this time he doesn’t give us any chances to turn the tables back over. He spreads our legs open and immediately delves his fingers into us. Or at least, I assume he does. That’s what he does to me, and judging by Elena’s cries of pleasure, he must be delivering the same treatment to both of us.

He’s really not wasting any time or energy, mumbling dirty talk that I’m not even capable of catching through the noise. Vaguely, my mind brushes past the feel of Elena’s body writhing next to mine, and of soft moans and under-breath swears coming from our audience. But for the most part, I’m too deep in my own body to worry about anything except how fucking good Reno’s fingers feel.

The next thing I do fully register is Elena’s scream. She doesn’t hold back, her back arching off the tile as she orgasms. Her hand finds my arm and squeezes like she’s going to rip it off, hard enough to make me moan and know that there will be fingertip bruises there tomorrow. Reno slows down on me for a moment, watching Elena shift and slow, working his fingers out of her before he turns back to me.

“One down…” he says, licking his smirked lips, “...One to go,” His eyes cut into mine as he begins ramming his fingers into me again, just hard enough to make me slip backward on the tile. 

With my eyes shut, I don’t notice Elena move until her fingers are on my clit.

“Come on, Lane,” she huffs, clearly still out of breath, “We want you to cum for us,” While her dominant hand strokes across my lower end, her other hand finds and toys with one of my nipples, and that little extra burst of sensation is what does it.

I cum so hard I see stars. The whole world is a whirlwind, and I have absolutely zero control as I convulse and shake and scream into the ceiling. The only solace is Reno’s mercy - he slows down just before I start to cross the line into overstim. 

I think I might pass out. Nothing seems real anymore. When am I gonna wake up?

“Hey, c’mon, kid - this ain’t a great place for a nap,” Reno’s voice and a tap on my shoulder brings me back to the overhead lights. I squint and groan, begging for sympathy and only getting laughter in return instead. Reno snorts, “Damn, guess I fucked you good, huh?”

“Ffffuck off,” I slur, finding the strength to lift myself onto my elbows. My eyes slowly readjust to the light, and I find Elena sitting next to me, slowly working her way to her feet. Time feels heavy now…

I force myself to stand and follow Reno and Elena back into the shower stream, where the three of us take turns rinsing ourselves of sweat and leftover body wash. In the rush of sensations, I’d almost forgotten that Reno’s body wash has an icy chilling sort of effect to it, and now it makes the water feel extra hot on my skin. As I slip back out of the running water, it makes me shiver.

I feel a towel wrap over my shoulders, and turn to see Tseng. He gives me a small, satisfied sort of smile before stepping over and handing towels to Reno and Elena too. It prompts me to turn and take in the scene behind us for the first time since this fiasco started. Rude looks winded, but is otherwise standing up straight and serious as usual. Rufus looks a little worse for wear - leaned against the wall, I get a better look at him as I step out of the showers. He’s got a white stain on his pant leg, and something tells me that it isn’t water or piss.

Sleep tugs on my eyelids. I usually pass out right after orgasms of that magnitude, and especially after an intensive night yesterday… I feel like I could fall asleep standing up.

“Alright,” Tseng says, his tone businesslike, “Rude, Elena - are you both still good for the second half of your shift?”

“I’ll be good after I get some coffee and fresh clothes,” Elena says as she dries off. Rude just nods in silence.

“Good. Reno, where do you plan to stay tonight?”

“I dunno. Here?” Reno shrugs noncommittally. 

“Then why don’t you come sleep in the bed with us, instead of on the office couch again?” Rufus cuts in. He slides over to me and wraps an arm over my damp shoulder, “And you, Lane - why don’t you come back upstairs too? I know it’s a little bold to ask you to stay over twice in as many nights, but it’s very late. I’d hate to see you walking the plate by yourself at this hour.”

My pride wants me to protest - to remind Rufus that I’ve been walking home after parties for years at this point, and that I don’t need to go nearly as far as usual if I go back to my new place instead of my old one (despite my earlier reluctance to sign the contract, that bed does seem way more appealing than my old floor mattress). 

But right now, Rufus’s bed sounds irresistible. Though I think I’ll have to pass on any additional sex tonight - I’ve reached my limit.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” I murmur, hardly able to speak up in my sleepiness. Rufus just grins, then leans down and kisses my forehead.

“Lovely,” he says, “You seem awfully tired. I think it’s time for us all to head our separate ways.”

“Yeah… Wait, here-” Elena trots over to me and has almost no hesitation to lean in for a kiss. It catches me by surprise and wakes me right back up for a moment.

“Tonight was so much fun, Lane,” she says when she pulls back, “I wanna do it again sometime!”

“Yeah, me too,” I say dreamily. She bounds over to Reno next and stands on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek, which he playfully scoffs at. She then gives friendly goodnights to Tseng and Rufus and heads back toward the door with Rude in tow. Before Rude can leave, however, Reno slinks over and plants a kiss on his cheek.

“See ya tomorrow, partner,” he says lowly, “Don’t have too much fun without me!”

“I should say the same to you,” Rude raises a brow at his partner and grins, but then turns toward me, “Hey, Lane - thanks for another great show,” He leaves me blushing as he leaves the room and heads back toward the offices.

Rufus puts his hand on my shoulder again and starts to lead me out the door and down the hallway - still only wrapped in the towel. Tseng follows us, and so does Reno, in a similar state of undress.

“I-isn’t anybody going to see us?” I point out. I figure we’ll have to go through the lobby like this, but Rufus pats my shoulder reassuringly. 

“Not if we use the executive elevator,” He pauses in front of another door in the hallway - not the usual elevator doors that I take on my own. He waves a keycard over a small console, and the door slides open. The positioning makes perfect sense in my head - I hadn’t realized this elevator came down so far. Regardless, we all step inside and begin the long ride up to Rufus’s suite. 

On the way there, I find myself starting to slump against the walls. Gods, I’m exhausted now… Rufus notices, and shifts to pull me in closer, encouraging me to lean on him instead. He’s a lot softer and warmer than the wall, and I put up no fuss. 

The ride is mostly quiet - I guess we’re all tired. When Rufus pulls out his phone to check it, I note that the time is about 2:30 a.m - the usual time that I get home after the parties end. Yeah, walking home at this point would’ve probably been pushing it for me, especially after all the excitement in the shower. Rufus is making a good call. 

Back in his suite, the air is a quiet kind of familiar. The lights are all off in the living room, and I rely on Reno’s red hair and the light pollution of the city streaming through the window to help me navigate to the bedroom. Rufus turns on the dimmed lights right away, and walks to the closet to grab us some pajamas. I don’t notice what colors they are, but they feel the same as what he lent me last night - a soft t-shirt and loose boxers. 

Not as soon as we’re all dressed, we begin climbing into the bed. Rufus lets me cuddle up against him on his left just like last night, and Reno sandwiches me between the two of them. Tseng’s hand finds mine and gently strokes it, laid over Rufus’s chest. I wonder for a moment if we’re all going to fit, but Reno nests his way among us effortlessly. He’s so damn skinny that it works just fine.

I’m more than ready to pass out right away, but Reno keeps me awake as he wraps his legs and arms around me, forming to my curves. I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, interrupted once by a gentle kiss. Less than thirty seconds later, he’s out cold and snoring, which almost makes me laugh. I wanted to thank him for a wonderful night, but… I’m happy to accept this, too. I can always say thank you tomorrow. 

Tseng’s fingers gradually slow to a stop as well, but his hand stays warm against mine. Rufus’s breath rises and falls steadily, and I let my eyes close in rest. 

I wake up a short while later to a shifting feeling and a ringtone. On the other end of the bed, I can hear Tseng’s sleepy voice rasp out a greeting, then something else that I’m still too asleep to register. More shifting follows, and Reno groans next to me. 

“Duty call?” the redhead slurs, lifting his head from the pillow.

“Just for me,” Tseng says quietly, “Rude thinks they’ve found something relating to the gala attack rumors. You stay here and sleep. I won’t be long.”

“Mmkayy…” Reno doesn’t have to be told twice - he turns over and passes right back out. 

I listen as Tseng quietly gets dressed and slips out the door. I try to listen for the suite door closing, but it’s all just silent. I get the sense that Tseng has had some practice coming and going in the middle of the night - probably for moments just like this one. 

Right now, however, I am too sleepy to care. I readjust my position and nuzzle up against Rufus again, quickly falling back into a thick slumber. 

I have the strangest dream after that. I feel restricted by something - held tightly in place by a hot shell. It makes me sweat, and everything is a sickly yellow sort of color. Battling my discomfort, I wiggle and struggle until I begin to feel my casing give way. A tear forms a tiny hole in front of me, and I scratch at it wildly with my fingers until it’s large enough for me to crawl through. When my eyes adjust to the light, I see the ocean beneath me, as if I’m back in the helicopter to Junon. I realize suddenly that I’m flying, with no assistance - just myself and the breeze. Turning to look, I see the most beautiful wings on my back - butterfly’s wings, in a prismatic rainbow of shades.

I’ve never felt this beautiful before.

Chapter Text

The next time I awaken, it’s a natural rousing. The bed is empty, and I find myself wrapped inelegantly in the sheets and hugging a pillow. Well, that’s embarrassing…

I push myself upward and begin to register my surroundings. I’m alone in the room, but I can hear the shower running in the bathroom. There’s also a really nice smell wafting in from the kitchen, and I can hear muffled conversation being had. Gradually, I manage to pull myself away from the warm sheets and drag my feet to the kitchen door. 

“Well well, look who’s awake,” Reno croons. He’s sitting on top of the kitchen island right now, perched like a cat watching Rufus cook.

“Mm… Morning,” I say. My voice doesn’t work as well as I thought it would, and it comes out sounding grainy and groggy. Rufus turns and smiles.

“How did you sleep, Lane?” he asks.

“I slept great,” I answer, “Had a weird dream,” But before I can get to that part, Reno groans.

“Well, I’m glad you slept well,” He makes a show of rubbing at his side, “You kick in your sleep.”

“Huh? Oh, I… uh, sorry,” I stammer. I kick in my sleep? News to me. 

“Yes... I’m also happy to hear you slept soundly,” Rufus says, stretching out his own back and wincing, “You… were pretty restless last night.”

Gods dammit. Why do I feel like that has something to do with my dream? Clawing my way out of a weird casing… Maybe I was kicking and clawing at the covers and my bedmates. Oops. 

“Lane?” Rufus cuts into my thoughts.

“Hm?”

“I asked how you like your eggs,” he repeats.

“Oh… scrambled?” I feel my face grow hot as I go to take a seat at the breakfast bar. Rufus smiles gently at me, then sets down a plate full of bacon on the counter. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It wasn’t so bad. You’re at least far better than Elena - she takes over the entire bed when she stays the night. One of these days, she’ll put me in a neck brace…” Rufus groans and turns back to the stove, casting a glance back, “Reno, mind your manners. Get down - no dogs on the table.”

“Hrmph… Not a dog,” Reno hisses, sliding down into the stool next to me and reaching for a bacon strip. 

“No cats on the table, either,” Rufus smirks at him. Reno just grumbles unintelligibly in response, and I can’t hold back a little laughter.

The bacon is delicious, and I’m halfway through my third strip when Rufus sets a plate of scrambled eggs down in front of me. 

“Here you are,” he says, sounding proud of his work, “Salt or pepper?”

“Yes please - both,” I grin. If I’m being totally honest, I didn’t really think that Rufus knew how to cook. Isn’t that something his “executive food team” always does for him?

Either way, the eggs are definitely tasty. They’re nothing extraordinary - they taste like eggs, with salt and pepper. But hey, I think they’re better than what I could do. I’ll burn anything but instant noodles. 

Rufus busies himself with more cooking while Reno and I concentrate on our food. Reno likes his eggs fried, apparently, with garlic salt. They smell really good, and as I finish the last bite of my eggs, I glance over and watch him stick the last of his on a fork. To my surprise, he catches my look and pauses, then holds his fork up to me.

“You wanna try it?” he asks.

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine. You can have it,” I backpedal. In truth, I do want to try, but it’s his last bite. I don’t want him to think I was begging. 

“Nah, here,” he brushes off my denial and pokes the fork to my lips. I sigh and glare at him, but I don’t want to fight. I accept the bite of egg.

“Good, right?” Reno grins at me, reaching for another strip of bacon.

“Mmm… yeah, that is really good!” I reply as I swallow. Damn, Reno’s really onto something there, “Thanks!”

“No prob,” he turns and gives me a wink, which makes me snort. Dork. 

Rufus eventually shuts off the stove and brings two more plates of eggs over to the breakfast bar. He sets one plate down in front of the third barstool and adds a few bacon strips to it, but stays standing right where he’s at and starts picking at the plate in front of him. Isn’t he going to come over and sit down?

My question is answered when I hear the door open behind us again. Rufus looks up and smiles, and Reno turns around and whistles. I’m the last one to look, but I think my face reddens faster than anyone else’s.

Tseng walks right over to the breakfast bar to join us, clad in nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is done up in a high bun - to keep it dry while he showered, I’m sure. I quickly turn back to my bacon, but I only find Rufus and Reno’s smug grins instead.

“Are you feeling alright, Lane?” Rufus teases, “You look a little shaken.”

“I’m good,” I say in response. I do my best to sound unbothered, but at the same time I’m keenly aware of the movements in the air as Tseng sits beside me.

“You sure?” Reno pokes me in the side and makes me squeal.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” We all know that isn’t true, but I’m still not going to admit it.

Tseng is more or less silent as he picks up his fork and starts eating. After a moment, he shivers.

“I’ll be right back,” He stands and walks back toward the bedroom, “It’s awfully cold in here.”

“Why didn’t you put on a shirt in the first place?” Rufus scolds him, “You’re always saying you’re far too busy to catch a chill, and yet here you are…”

“I know,” Tseng sighs in reply. I turn just in time to see him pause in the doorway and lock eyes with me, “It was worth it just to see the look on their face.”

I burn. I whine and lay my head down on the table, pushing my plate out of the way. Rufus and Reno laugh at me, and I feel a hand muss my hair.

Nope. Not sitting back up. They don’t get the pleasure of seeing my blush now.

Even after Tseng returns, my face is still buried in my arms. I’m more than content to stay there, but a tap on my shoulder forces me to shed my hiding spot.

“Lane, come on. Sit up,” Tseng orders, “There’s no need for you to be so shy.”

“I-I know…” I say softly, attempting to rebuild my composure. Rufus has gathered up the dishes and stands at the sink washing them - once again, a task I’m surprised to see him doing. I have to remind myself not to stare at the suds in the sink. Gods, my brain really is in the gutter today, isn’t it? 

Reno leans back in his seat and turns toward Tseng, talking around me.

“How did the late-night call-in go, Chief? Any new stuff?”

Tseng looks back at Reno, giving him an expression that I’m not familiar with. It clearly conveys something without words.

“We’ll talk about that another time,” Tseng says lowly, “Our work is proprietary, remember?”

“Ah, right…” Reno lets his head loll back, seeming unsatisfied with that answer, but accepting it nonetheless. I get the jist - it’s something they don’t want me knowing about. Or maybe Rufus, although surely Reno would know well enough not to ask about that sort of thing in front of Rufus at this point. With me, it’s a bit more ambiguous right now. 

Whatever. I’m apparently not meant to know. In a way, that’s reassuring - this is business-as-usual for them, and it really is best for me to keep their work out of sight and out of mind. My memory drifts back to last night, when Elena burst in the door covered in blood - how nonchalant she’d been. Tseng’s words come back to me - “Blood is a fact of life in our occupation.” I think of Tseng’s scars, covering his body top to bottom.

...How long has he been a Turk, anyway?

“Lane?”

“Uh-what?”

“Someone’s absentminded this morning…” Tseng says, lifting a brow as he speaks “I asked you about the contract. Rufus had instructed you to bring it with you,” He gives me an expectant look, shaking me out of my daydreaming.

“Huh? Oh, right, the house contract,” I start to stand, “It’s in my camera bag. I’ll go get it.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about it. Why don’t you get it right before you leave?” Rufus suggests.

“Well, I…” 

“Lane has things they need to do today,” Tseng cuts in, “And so do the rest of us. Reno, I’m calling a department meeting today at 10. I hate to call you in on your day off, but I’d very much like to see you there. It will be very important.”

Reno sighs tiredly, but nods.

“You got it, Chief. I’ll be there.”

I peek at the clock. 9:30. They’ll need to get going soon, so I guess I should too.

“Yeah, I think I’d better head home soon,” I say, standing anyway, “It’s been really really nice to stay again, and thank you for breakfast, but I… I guess I’m moving today.”

“Woo, yeah!” Reno cheers. Tseng and Rufus just smile at me.

“I guess you are,” Rufus says, “After you give me the contract, of course. Until you do that, we can’t consider the house yours.”

“Just give me one second,” I grin, turning toward the bedroom and retrieving my camera bag from where I’d left it last night. While I’m in there, I find the pile of clothing that had been stripped off during last night’s romp and snag my pants, pulling them on over Rufus’s boxers. I grab my hat and glasses too, making sure I’ve got everything I brought that actually belongs to me. 

“Okay, here,” I step back into the kitchen and hand Rufus the contract that I’d pulled from my bag, “I, uh, don’t really have any other clothes with me, so… Is it okay if I just wear this home?”

“Don’t you have a change of clothes in your office downstairs?” Tseng asks as he sips coffee.

“Oh, don’t make them worry,” Rufus chides him, “Of course you can wear it home, Lane,” He steps around the counter and curls his arm around me, planting a kiss on my forehead, “I hope you have a wonderful weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thanks, you too!” I reply. Every time Rufus kisses me, things get a little easier - a little easier to say goodbye, knowing I’ll see him again, and a little easier to accept his affection now that I’m sure it isn’t just a fluke. 

“Please text us if you need assistance moving your things,” Tseng says, “We’ll be available all weekend to help.”

“Speak for yourself…” Reno mumbles, rubbing his side again, “I already moved half the shit up those stairs… You’ve got next shift.”

Tseng thumps Reno lightly on the back of the head, causing the redhead to groan and shut up. I suppress a laugh as I head toward the door.

“Thanks, guys,” I say, “For the offer, and… for a really, really great night.”

“Thank you ,” Reno returns with a wink, “Lookin’ forward to next time!”

I let the door close softly behind me, and I smile into the empty hallway as I walk. 

Me too.

Chapter Text

Over the course of Saturday, I make a grand total of nine train trips back and forth between my old apartment and my new one. I get pretty much everything packed up by 2 in the afternoon, and I spend the evening riding back and forth to deliver it all. It’s awkward - people stare as I walk by, toting a suitcase in one hand and a box under my arm - but I get the work done all the same. It could’ve been worse, after all.

Before saying goodbye to the old place in totality, I make the executive decision to dye my hair there one last time before leaving the keys. The only silver lining to that busted hot water tank was that the cold water was good for dye days, and it’ll be a good final use of my ratty towels. I have to tote the shampoo from my new place back to my old to achieve the goal, though - my other shampoo is still in the Turks’ locker room. I suppose I should bring that home now that I have a functional shower that doesn’t feel like a polar ocean…

...Or maybe I’ll just leave it there anyway. Just in case. I have a sneaking suspicion that I haven’t made my last visit to those showers.

The day’s tedious trips are remedied, in part, by Rufus. He takes the liberty of starting off a private chat chain - just the two of us.

“Rufus: Hi Lane, just checking to see that you made it home alright.”

“Lane: Yeah, I did. Just finished packing, and I’m gonna start moving everything over now! Hopefully I’ll be done by the end of the day.”

“Rufus: Excellent - I’ll have a word with your landlord about buying out your old contract. Please let me know when you’re finished.”

“Lane: Sure thing”

“Rufus: And please let me know if you need any help as well.”

“Lane: Yeah, thanks, but I think I’ve got it handled. I’ve got a citizen train pass, so I don’t have to pay the fares for all the trips lol.”

“Rufus: Glad to hear it. Let us know if anything changes.”

“Lane: You got it, boss! Lol”

That last message is maybe a little bold - perhaps a poorly-advised attempt at humor. It’s at that point that I put the phone down and start gathering my first load of stuff before I embarrass myself further.

Rufus keeps messaging me between the trips, perfectly patient with the fact that I don’t answer right away each time. He seems to be pretty happy today, tossing jokes back at me every once in a while.

By 8 p.m, I’ve returned to my new doorstep for the last time today. I drag my sore feet up the stairs and collapse onto the couch, pulling out my phone to answer Rufus’s last round of messages. He asks me about potential boudoir shoot ideas for the future, and we chat for a while about that. I end up telling him about my idea for a body-painting shoot, and he enthusiastically agrees - that’s definitely one to keep in mind. 

Slowly, our conversation starts to taper. I’ve run out of shoot ideas, and so Rufus tactfully changes the topic. 

“Rufus: When you have a chance tonight, I’ve been meaning to ask for your opinion on a few photos I took this afternoon. I’d like to know if the composition is any good.”

“Lane: Oh, of course! I’m finished moving now, so I’d love to take a look!”

Huh, neat. When did Rufus take up photography? I settle in, happily braced for whatever he sends me.

Or, maybe not - I wasn’t braced for the dick pics that suddenly appear on my screen. I nearly drop my phone in surprise, and feel my face heat up as I turn away. Woah, okay - not the kind of photos I’d been expecting. What had I been expecting? Whatever, doesn’t matter - all that matters now is how I’m going to respond. Gingerly, I turn the phone over and take another peek. 

The first photo is taken from Rufus’s point of view, his hand on his hard cock, holding it straight. He’s got such a nice dick, honestly… It’s at least seven inches long, large (but proportional) and just barely curved to the right. He must be sitting in front of a window, because there’s a soft natural light illuminating everything. 

The second photo was taken from a lower angle. The bottom half of his face is visible, lip bitten in a sexy smirk. He’s fully nude as far as I can see, and the way his abs fold on themselves make me wanna lick them. (Lick them…? Lane, are you okay? Where the hell did that come from?)

The third photo makes me bite my lip. Rufus must’ve set a timer on his phone camera - he’s sprawled across his bed, hands relaxed and free. He’s fully visible from the knees up, his entire face smoldering and sultry and staring into my eyes. 

I have to take a moment to process things and let my blush start to dissipate a little before I can even think about a reply. Now I have to wonder if his inquiry about photo composition was serious, or if it was just an excuse to send me these pictures. I hesitate, trying to decide what to write.

“Lane: ...Wow 0////0 Okay, gotta admit I wasn’t really expecting that. Your composition is fantastic, btw”

“Rufus: I didn’t push it too far, did I? I suppose I shouldn’t have sprung that on you - I apologize.”

“Lane: Oh no, nononono, you’re definitely fine. It was… a really good kind of unexpected!”

“Rufus: Oh, well, I’m certainly glad to hear that. Perhaps you’d like another?”

I squeak loudly. Thank the gods no one is here right now - I’m free to be as outwardly flustered as I feel inside without worrying about anyone laughing at me. I squirm as I find the gall to reply.

“Lane: I’d like that very much…”

“Rufus: Now, is that any way to answer me? Why don’t you try ‘Yes, Sir’ if you really want to see it?”

“Lane: ...Yes, Sir, I’d very much like to see”

“Lane: Please.”

I burn with anticipation as I sit, tacking on the “please” as a second thought. That seems to do the trick - nearly as soon as I’ve sent it, Rufus sends another photo, and I nearly burst a blood vessel. He’s sitting in his bathtub, waist-deep in the water. From the angle, I can only barely make out the line of his cock, but his strong chest and handsome face are on full display.

But, you know, the fact that he’s currently in the bath takes up most of my attention in the moment. 

He chases the photo with another message:

“Rufus: My tub feels awfully empty tonight. It must just be that I’m already missing you.”

Something about the way that’s worded makes my heart swell in my chest.

“Lane: I mean, did you want me to come join you? Because I’m very much not opposed…”

“Rufus: As much as I would genuinely love that, I think it’s best for you to focus on getting settled in. It’s going to be your first night in your new place, isn’t it?”

“Lane: Yeah, I guess it is. Feels a lot emptier than my old place, though. Probably for the same reason…”

“Rufus: If you’re really feeling lonely, perhaps you should go run a bath of your own. Maybe you could try out some of the treats I left you in your bathroom cabinet.”

“Lane: ...Actually, a bath does sound pretty nice right now. My feet are super sore, lol”

“Rufus: Haha, I could imagine.”

It’s strange - even though I’m alone and I’ve definitely done this hundreds of times throughout my life, I still get butterflies in my stomach as I climb the stairs and step into the bathroom. It’s relatively small, the walls bare and white, but the tub feels large and almost fancy. I’d say it’s big enough to comfortably fit two - and I bet it’s part of the reason that they picked this place in particular for me. 

I begin to peek through the cabinets, extracting a towel and a washcloth and a bottle of bubble bath from Rufus’s gift basket, checking my phone again as I start to run the water.

“Rufus: This might be a bit forward of me, but I suppose I may as well admit that I’ll never say no if you should decide to send me personal photos of your own - like the ones I sent you earlier. In fact, I’d very much enjoy it, if you ever find yourself willing.”

I feel heat start to rise up again, and hastily start typing a response.

“Lane: Oh gods, I don’t know about that. I don’t really ever take pictures of myself.”

“Rufus: No worries - there’s no obligation. I just thought it might be wise to clearly outline that boundary.”

“Lane: Yeah, it’s all good. That’s got nothing to do with you, I just don’t do well on camera.”

“Rufus: You really never take photos of yourself?”

“Lane: Nah, not really. I will if I have to, but I usually try to avoid it.”

“Rufus: How about letting someone else photograph you? Do you ever pose for boudoir?”

“Lane: Never tried. I’d get too camera shy.”

“Rufus: That’s such a shame, honestly. You’re lovely - you deserve to be photographed.”

His claim jars me. I don’t know what to say to that, and instead force myself to put my phone down and shed my clothes before lowering myself into the hot, bubble-covered water. It’s intimately familiar, and I can’t help but sigh in pleasure at the feeling. Fuck, aside from the one I took with Rufus and Tseng, I really have not had a bath in years now. I’ve so missed this, and the realization that now I can do it whenever the hell I want draws a smile to my face.

My phone buzzes again. I pick it back up.

“Rufus: I have to admit I find it strange that a photographer would dislike being photographed so much.”

“Lane: Actually, it’s a lot more common than you’d think. A lot of us fall into the hobby because it’s the only way to stay out of group photos lol”

“Rufus: I suppose that makes sense. But you know that won’t work with me, right?”

“Lane: ??”

“Rufus: You won’t be getting out of group pictures from now on. Cameras have timers - you can always be present with the rest.”

“Lane: ...Ugh. Rain check?”

“Rufus: Absolutely not. I’ll be searching for ways now to get you on the other side of the camera, you know.”

“Lane: Why?? I just told you that I don’t like it.”

“Rufus: Why don’t you like it?”

I really hate answering this question. There’s nothing that I can say now that’s going to spare me some kind of trouble.

“Lane: ...Because I don’t.”

“Rufus: Bad answer. If you can give me a legitimate reason for not wanting to be on camera, I will take it into consideration. But I have a feeling that all your reasons are either biased or false.”

“Lane: What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rufus: You don’t like being on camera because you don’t think you’re worthy of it. Is that it?”

His callout annoys me. Mostly because he’s... really not wrong. I’ve spent such a long time photographing beautiful models, people with gorgeous smiles and perfect faces, that I can’t help but know that I don’t measure up. And, for fuck’s sake, Rufus Shinra is telling me this? He’s the epitome of photogenic. He’s really the one trying to convince me that I’m on that same level?

“Lane: Why don’t YOU like being photographed? What reason do you have?”

I see the “typing” text bubble appear and disappear a few times. He’s quiet, figuring out a way to defend himself. Good - I tripped him up. Maybe now he’ll drop it. 

“Rufus: The only reason I dislike being photographed is because most photographers treat me poorly. You do not. If I actually hated being in pictures, I wouldn’t have hired a personal photographer. I love being photographed - on my own terms.”

...Oh. His logic tracks - I’m embarrassed I didn’t put that one together sooner. Of course he likes having his picture taken - he hired me . Duh. 

“Rufus: Furthermore, you should know as well as anyone that you don’t need to be beautiful or be a model to stand in front of a camera. Not that that matters, because you -are- beautiful.”

I sink to my nose in the bubbles, hoping to dissolve.

"Rufus: So, unless you have any objections to those claims, it’s settled. We’ll start finding ways to get you desensitized.”

I don’t have any objections. He’s right - I can’t debate him without undermining my own argument somehow. What can I do? His commanding tone makes me feel small, like a little kid getting bossed around… I feel like the only option I have now is to play along, more or less. Maybe there’s a way I can tease him without taking things too far...

Slowly, I navigate to the phone’s camera. Hiding every visible bit of skin beneath the water, I snap a single picture of the bubble bath from my perspective. I even check the reflections in the hardware - nothing’s visible. I send it off to Rufus.

“Lane: I guess you’re right. So how’s this for a starting point then? Lol”

I wait anxiously for Rufus to stop typing and hit send.

“Rufus: An interesting choice of starting point - you realize I’m going to be measuring our success then by how much skin you show over time?”

The blush returns full-force.

“Lane: Jackass >o<”

“Rufus: You’ve only got yourself to blame for that one!”

“Rufus: Besides, I’m certainly not complaining. The idea of seeing lewd pictures of you is already wonderful, but bath or shower photos from you would be particularly special to me.”

“Lane: What??? Why??”

“Rufus: Because I would be absolutely certain that you were enjoying yourself when you took them.”

I whimper and squirm hard enough to agitate the water - it nearly splashes over the side of the tub, and I’m forced to get a grip before I make a mess of the floor. I have no idea how to reply to that - I resort to the only thing I know how to do when I’m this flustered.

“Lane: hgjkdlshkjlds”

I regret that almost as soon as I hit send. Gods, what the hell… That probably just looked stupid to him. I dread the next buzz of my phone.

“Rufus: lmao, you’re adorable, really. Which bubble bath did you use tonight?”

“Lane: Shut up. I used the sweet pea scented one.”

“Rufus: Ah, sweet pea is one of my favorite scents. I hope it’s treating you well.”

“Lane: Definitely - thank you so much for the gift basket! Even though it -wasn’t necessary-, it was really lovely and I appreciate it.”

“Rufus: You’d better watch your tone - I thought we already had a nice long discussion yesterday morning about rejecting others’ generosities.”

“Lane: You’re spoiling me.”

“Rufus: Hardly.”

“Lane: You are!! None of this is necessary!”

“Rufus: Perhaps not, but come on, let’s be honest…”

A new picture appears on my screen. Another high-angle selfie from Rufus’s bathtub, but this time the water is covered in a thick layer of bubbles, obscuring anything below his waist. I can see agitation from his tub jets on the water’s surface - did he add bubble bath after the fact just to tease me?

“Rufus: ...Is it really a bath without bubbles?”

I whine in frustration.

Rufus proceeds to spend the rest of my bath (our baths?) teasing me over text, sending a few more photos over the next half an hour. Most of them are just him goofing off, since I know he can tell that even those images fluster me - my personal favorite is of him with bubbles on his chin and cheeks, giving the appearance of a beard. I’m surprised to see him send that one on to the private group chat too, with the caption, “Look, I’m Heidegger lol.” I don’t know who that is, but the Turks all find it funny.

Dumbass, making me wish I could be there to kiss him…

He does eventually excuse himself, putting down his phone so he can wash up properly and get out, and I follow suit. I don’t want to touch my hair since I just dyed it earlier, but I give the rest of myself a quick workover with the washcloth before standing up and toweling dry. Once I’m sprawled out on my bed, I pick my phone back up.

“Rufus: This has been such a treat. I loved talking to you this evening. Thank you for entertaining my conversations.”

“Lane: Anytime! It was definitely fun lol, I’d love to do this again sometime!”

“Rufus: As would I, but for now, I need to get some rest. It’s a bit early for bedtime, but I have several meetings tomorrow in Junon, so I’ll need to sign off now or I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Lane: Of course, I understand. Thanks for chatting!”

“Rufus: Thank you, Lane. I hope you have a good night, restful sleep, and dreams that are just as lovely as you are.”

I blush down at my screen. The rush of hormones draws a tear to the corner of my eye, and I will it down.

“Lane: ...Yeah >///< Goodnight to you too - sweet dreams.”

I’m not even dressed yet - still laying on my new bed wrapped in my towel. Everything feels so soft and fresh and new, and it all smells like sweet pea. 

I don’t know how many more of these compliments I can take. Pretty soon, I might just start believing them, gods forbid.

Chapter Text

Holy fuck, this bed is COMFORTABLE. I might never leave it again.

I spend most of my Sunday morning lounging in my covers, playing my favorite games on my phone. It’s not productive in the slightest, but hey - it’s my day off. Who said I had to be productive?

Rufus doesn’t send me any messages - to be expected, I suppose, when he said he had meetings in Junon all day today. Though I know that there’s a good reason for it, everything still feels awfully quiet. 

When I do eventually peel myself out of bed, I decide to start with a walk to my bedroom balcony. I work out how to open the door and step out into the cool morning breeze. Sitting in the chair, I take in the city - the sourish tang of mako that always floats through the air, and pigeons that flutter by on the wind. The only thing visible from my balcony is the backs of other houses on the opposite side of the street - all just identical rows as far as I can see, broken up only by each home’s unique patio decor. Some folks have potted plants. Some have tables and chairs. A few have padded porch swings, which look very comfy. Now that I no longer have to invest for a house or a new camera, I suppose I can consider diverting my paycheck to other things…

I look up and down the rows too, wondering about what Reno said the other night - about us being neighbors now. That’s both a little weird and… very comforting. If something were to happen to me, then Reno and Rude are probably just steps away. Guess if I ever need a neighborhood escort, I know who to ask. 

It’s pretty chilly for a summer morning, so I eventually head back inside and slip down the stairs. I open the pantry and retrieve a packet of oatmeal, then pull a brand-new dish from one of the cabinets and a shiny spoon from a drawer. Gods, I almost don’t want to use any of these new things… I want them to stay this way forever.

But I also hate doing dishes, so I guess I have no choice. Oh well.

I eat, get dressed, and spend my day taking an extended tour of my new house - opening every door and cupboard, turning every light on and off at least half a dozen times, and taking my new camera for its first spin in the photo studio (as is tradition with my cameras, I make my very first shot a timer-guided selfie. Rufus doesn’t need to know about that tradition just yet). I end up making a run to the supermarket, trying to get a feel for my new neighborhood as I replenish on all the perishable foods. The only things that weren’t supplied for me were food and clothes. I’d brought what I had from my old place, but in the case of food, it wasn’t a lot. I still need perishables and pantry staples, and a grocery trip remedies that.

And the whole time I’m awake - all day - I think. 

Today was supposed to be the official last day of my internship. 

But now, not only am I not panicking about how I’ll pay my rent next month, but I’m living in a brand-new, beautiful townhouse with no rent at all. I’m still technically single, but that’s rapidly changing - I have crushes on five absolutely amazing, incredible people all at the same time. My job is stable, and I’m really set for life at this point.

I… don’t have to climb anymore. For the first time in my life, I can stop and breathe. 

But, of course, by the end of the day, I’ve had enough downtime. I take a walk downstairs to the photo studio again and the nearby bathroom - which I now understand is totally meant to be a dressing room for my clients - and start making plans. I now have the space to really ramp up my business operations - my paycheck can go toward new backdrops or props, and maybe expendable supplies like discs for photo storage and sharing. I could get a nicer new computer for home and finally get some really professional-grade software for editing… By the end of the night, I’ve come up with a game plan for furthering this. Being Rufus’s principle photographer is a fantastic day job - seriously, I’m a lucky bastard and I know it - but I’m really looking forward to the boudoir shoots I can do on the side too. It’s time for an Aperture Photography rebrand. Bigger and better things await. 

I take another hot bath that night, thoroughly enjoying myself as I lay in the hot water and relax completely. For the last few years, there’s always been some sort of weight in the back of my mind - an uncertain future ahead - but now, it’s all gone, and I feel light as a floating feather. I’m pleased and more quiet-minded than ever as I towel off, pull on my pj’s, and slip under the covers. Right before I fall asleep, I make sure to set my alarm. Tomorrow is a new day.

New day, indeed - the next thing I know, I’m waking up bright and early. The coming week holds promise - maybe a photo shoot or two? The sun streams in from the windowed balcony doors, and it makes it far easier to get out of bed. I’m excited for work, to the point that I nearly bounce down the stairs, pulling on my cap and grabbing my new keys before I step out the door and lock it behind me. 

The train ride is only five minutes shorter than it was before, which honestly makes me really happy. I live just a little further from a train station now, but I don’t mind an extra five minutes of walking - it works out perfectly for my schedule; no need to adjust my wake-up times. I can’t stop smiling while I’m on the train, and find myself dreaming of what the week ahead will hold. I think back to my conversation with Rufus this weekend, about potential shoot ideas. We came up with several good ones, plus we’d talked about some important things like some professional portraits of Rufus with D - maybe he’ll want to schedule one of the shoots we talked about. I really hope he does. 

I feel like a ray of sunshine walking into the Shinra building, riding my way up the elevator and happily stepping into my office. Opening my laptop, I am excited to see an email from Rufus - hell yes, here we go.

“Lane - 

Good morning. I hope you had a good weekend off, and I hope you’re prepared for a busy week. In a miraculous turn of fate, I don’t have any meetings scheduled for this week right now, so I’m looking to fill my schedule with you before anything else comes up. That said, this is subject to change, if something urgent should arise. Though we’ll hope for the best.

I’m looking to schedule three shoots this week. 

Monday evening, around 5 pm, I’d be very interested in the paint shoot as we had discussed. Don’t worry about props and supplies - I’ve already taken care of it. All you would need is your camera and lighting.

Tuesday is entirely open for me, and I’ve managed to persuade Tseng to cooperate for some individual portraits of each of the Turks. It would be an all-day affair, if you’re willing.

Finally, I think we can round out the week on Wednesday afternoon with some professional portraits of myself and D. That will leave you the week’s end to edit and flex your hours for this evening’s shoot.

I know that’s a lot, so let me know what you think. I can be flexible this time.

Rufus”

I can’t contain my smile. This is a ton of work, yes, but it sounds like SO much fun! The paint shoot, oh my gods - tonight? When did Rufus get supplies for that? Did he really like it that much? Oh gosh, the thought makes me blush - still, I’m overjoyed. I’ve always wanted to do this, and now I’m getting a chance! I wonder where we’ll pull it off though - he’s always welcome to visit my house, but I feel like if he tries to leave the Shinra building he’ll get swamped with paparazzi. But surely he won’t want to do it in his suite, right? The bathroom is a little too small for a canvas, and those beige carpets… That’s a dangerous game. We definitely can’t do that in the studio either - there’s no way for him to clean up afterwards without having to walk through the offices, and I can’t get things cleared after hours. Hm.

Well, I know we’ll use the studio for the shoots with D, and probably for the Turks’ shoots too. I go ahead and reserve those on the schedule to make sure no one else can grab them up first. Now to email Rufus back and start gathering details…

I type a confirmation out and send it happily, pleased to see another swift reply from him giving me exact times and locations. Yep, we’ll do the paint shoot in his suite tonight… I hope that works out. I guess Rufus could afford to have the carpet replaced whenever, if he really wanted to - but I do let him know that a tarp might be a wise idea, anyway. 

I’m in the middle of working through the schedule when there’s a knock on my door. I make my last clicks, then stand and rush to unlock it.

Tseng is standing there. And he doesn’t look happy.

“Lane,” he says, his voice marred with seriousness, “Are you available?”

“Uh… yeah? What’s up?” I ask nervously, well aware of the department coworkers who are staring at the Turk I’m talking to. 

“You’ve been called for a meeting,” he says, seeming almost grim. It gives me a bad feeling.

“A meeting? With who?”

Tseng hesitates.

“...With the President,” he replies softly. I hear a few soft gasps go through the bullpen, and my stomach drops.

“The President? President Shinra?!” I whisper, trying not to panic, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Tseng breaks eye contact for a second and tugs at his tie, “But it’s important that we don’t keep him waiting. Grab your keys - and you may want to leave your hat here. It should be taken off in his office anyway.”

I can’t respond - I just obey, turning my ass around to fish my keys from my desk drawer and deposit my cap on my desk. Without it, I feel strangely exposed. 

“Does… my hair look okay?” I ask, fidgeting with it. Tseng reaches over and fixes my bangs, then turns and starts to march back toward the elevators. I have to jog to keep up. Once we’re inside with the doors closed, Tseng leans down and begins adjusting my outfit and hair in greater detail.

“Alright, listen,” he says, commanding my attention, “I don’t know why he’s called you up there, but I’m sure he’s going to have plenty of questions to ask you. Lane, look at me - it’s absolutely crucial that you don’t give him anything he doesn’t ask for. Do not volunteer any information - keep your answers as concise as possible. Understood?”

We’re at ground level now, and together we step out and walk to the executive elevator. It might as well be a one-way ticket to hell, sealing my fate.

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, waiting for the doors to close. Once they do, Tseng continues.

“And one more very important thing - you need to be agreeable. Anything he asks of you, you will agree - whether you plan to keep your word or not. We will sort things out later.”

“Okay, I-I got it,” Fuck, my voice is shaking.

“I won’t be allowed to go in with you, so I’ll be waiting right outside. We won’t speak again until we’re back in your office. Just remember - concise and agreeable. And try to look pleasant, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply almost automatically, falling into the commanding tone of his voice. 

The rest of the long ride up is silent. Cold sweat drips down my back, and yet I feel like I’m burning up. I nearly want to cry - what the fuck could the President ever want with me ?

Finally, the bell dings. My feet feel like cinder blocks, but I still manage to drag myself into the hallway behind Tseng, all the way down to the tall, ornate door at the end. This must be his office. Tseng looks at me and nods, and I nod back, straightening up as he reaches for the door handle and pulls.

“Mr. President,” Tseng says, voice monotone, “Lane Elliott - the VP’s principle photographer, Sir, as you requested.”

“Thank you, Director. You’re dismissed,” I hear him say. Slowly, I step around Tseng through the opening in the massive door, finding myself stood on a red length of carpet that leads straight toward his ginormous desk. There are no chairs in the path for me to sit in or hide behind. Everything smells like thick tobacco smoke. 

President Shinra sits before me, eyeing me down and looking almost bored.

“Come on, then - step up,” he commands, beckoning me closer. He’s much shorter than I thought he’d be, and his rust-colored suit clashes with the merlot red tones of the room. I’ll admit, I see a lot of Rufus in his face, and my brain remakes the connection that I’m talking now to the father of the man I was sexting and fucking just days ago. My anxiety spikes, and I approach him. Standing still, stiff as a board, I wait for him to speak.

“So you’re the Vice President’s principle photographer?” he begins gruffly.

“Yes, Sir.” 

“You know, he’s always hated photographers… Ever since he was little.” 

“Oh, yes Sir... so I’ve heard,” I smile - trying to look pleasant, like Tseng said.

“Oh, you have?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He pauses, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a fat cigar, “So I’m wondering, then, what makes you so different.” 

I freeze as he lights up the end of the stogie. I wait in anticipation for his next thought. 

“Well?” He pushes rudely, “What makes you so special?” 

Oh fuck, he was waiting for an answer. 

“Oh... I... I don’t really know, Sir.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“...No, Sir.” 

“He hasn’t given you any reason to think that you might be better than other photographers?” I hate the air of doubt he’s casting over my skill. 

“No, Sir... He said.... I... don’t know,” I almost volunteer information, just as Tseng told me not to do, but I retract it at the last second. 

“Told you what?” Apparently I wasn’t fast enough, “Do you know, or not?” 

I gulp. 

“He told me that... my professionalism is refreshing,” I recite what Rufus had told his colleague in Junon. 

The President frowns. He looks me up and down, analyzing every move I make. 

“He didn’t give you any other explanations?” 

To take boudoir photos for him , I think to myself. But I silence that end of my mind - Rufus’s dad doesn’t need to know that. 

“No, Sir,” I shrug slightly, and ramble a little in my nerves, “I’m just as confused as you are, honestly....” 

He stares at me for a minute, holding my gaze. I must look like a scared deer in headlights. I feel like one. Finally, he shifts, his face relaxing from its suspicious expression into something more... casual. 

“How did the two of you meet?” 

“I took his headshots recently - the other photographers were out, so I covered.” 

“You weren’t even the lead photographer?” 

“No, Sir... I was an intern.” 

“An intern?” He sounds somewhat surprised, “And he hired you? Just like that?”

“...Yes, Sir.” 

That... does seem pretty suspicious on the surface, now that I think about it. President Shinra pauses again. He takes a long drag of his cigar and sighs out the smoke, renewing the cloud in here. 

“How long have you been working here... Lane?” He clarifies my name. I nod. 

“Three months from the start of the internship, Sir,” I say obediently, happy for the subject change. 

“And do you like your job, Lane?” 

“Oh yes, Sir,” I nod enthusiastically, “It’s my dream job.” 

Shinra Sr. grins at me.

“Then I’m guessing you’d very much like to keep it.” 

My blood ices over. I can barely manage a nod. 

“Yes, Sir” I say in a whisper. He turns his chair toward the wall, smoking down the cigar as he thinks in silence. Not a muscle in my body moves as I wait for a bomb to drop. 

“I’ve worked very hard all my life to build this company from the ground up,” (This feels like a monologue coming on), “And the last thing I would want is for something to tear it down. Imagine how many people would be without work, Lane - yourself included.” 

He pauses and looks for me to nod. 

“Well, in order to keep this company safe, I need the help of every employee. And that includes you.” 

I’m... confused. What does this have to do with anything? 

“I want to make you a deal, Lane. If you’re interested.” 

Tseng’s voice rings in my head - agree to anything . 

“Yes, Sir,” I nod, and try to put on an interested face. 

“I don’t think it’s much of a secret that Rufus and I... Well, we have our disagreements every now and again regarding management styles,” (That’s an understatement and a half), “And that’s perfectly fine, of course - we can always agree to disagree. But while you’re working with Rufus and his subordinates, if you should ever happen to overhear anything that you might consider... extreme, or even insurgent ... I’d like for you to report it to me straight away. And if you can do that, Lane, then I will personally ensure your continued employment with this company... by making you my personal photographer.” 

I... don’t think that’s as persuasive as he thinks it is. He must be functioning on the assumption that I’m in this for the power.  

“Can you do that for me, Lane?” He says lowly. 

Agreeable, Lane. Agreeable.  

“Yes, Sir.” 

He smiles. 

“This company will thrive on your loyalty. You have my gratitude,” he turns his chair away from me again, and waves his hand at me nonchalantly, “You’re dismissed.” 

“Thank you, Mr. President,” I nearly whisper before getting out of that room as soon as I can. The smoke makes me feel like I’m suffocating.

Just beyond the heavy door, Tseng meets my eyes. We exchange silent nods, and head back toward the elevator, ready for the long trip down. I recall Tseng saying he wouldn’t speak to me again until we get back to my office, which leaves me a moment to process in the quiet. 

Why would he ask me to do that? To look for… insurgency? What does that even mean?

My mind flashes to last week - reading those news articles about Rufus’s sudden disappearance, the claims about a tiff with his father. An uprising among upper management… Pieces fall into place. Gods, I wish I’d studied politics more… Now I feel lost. It seems to me that there are two different sides of an ongoing war here, but… which side am I supposed to be on?

I take a breath and try to look at the bigger picture. Stepping back, I find my mind drifting to my interactions with my own parents, before I’d run off to Midgar… The way they’d tried to force me to take the farm so they could retire. How they tried to fit me into a box of their own design.

It makes me realize that Rufus and I really aren’t all that different after all. That’s exactly what his father is doing to him - trying to make him fit this box, leaving no room for change or new ideas.

I know what that feels like. I guess my parents would probably call me “insurgent” for what I did.

But it was still the right thing. 

I know now that I’m on Rufus’s side. Really, truly - I’m in this for good.

Tseng and I step in unison out from the executive elevator and back to the standard shafts, riding up to floor 16 to disembark and speed back to my office. I get the door unlocked and ignore the silent stares of my coworkers as we both step inside. Tseng locks the door behind us.

“Did he give you anything?” Tseng asks quietly, “Anything to wear or take?”

“No,” I reply. Tseng still steps over to me, his eyes narrowed.

“Arms up,” he replies, then proceeds to essentially frisk me down. Once he’s decided that I am indeed telling the truth, he steps back. I give him a weird look in reply.

“Apologies,” he says, shifting, “Just checking for any stowaway recording devices.”

“Oh,” I guess that makes sense… But what kind of tech would that be? Clearly Tseng knows some things that I don’t. 

“What did he want?” Tseng asks.

“He… He wanted me to keep an eye open for ‘insurgent behaviors,’” I reply, “And to report anything to him.”

Tseng sighs heavily.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” he says, “Frankly, that’s the best-case scenario. What did you tell him?”

“I… agreed. Like you told me to. I said I’d keep an eye out.”

“He didn’t try to arrange further meetings or check-ins?”

“Nope. Just the one request. I… I think he threatened my job somewhere in there.”

“He can’t fire you. You’re not under his jurisdiction - only Rufus could fire you, and he certainly won’t,” Tseng reassures me, “Well, that makes our course of action simple, then. How do you feel about his request?”

“I feel… weird,” I respond, picking through my many thoughts, “But I… I don’t think I like it. I don’t want to spy on anybody… I don’t even know what to look for, honestly.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Tseng nods, “For now then, I should let you get back to work. It sounds to me like this is nothing to worry about. Rufus and I will discuss it in greater detail with you tonight - perhaps before your photo shoot.”

“Okay,” I nod, my confidence beginning to regrow. Tseng is right - all I need to do is not snitch. Even if I do notice something, I’ll just pretend that everything’s fine, and no one will ever be the wiser. This is easy stuff.

“Alright - I’ll see you later then,” Tseng says, stepping out the door, “Go ahead and get back to work.”

“Yeah - thanks,” I say, letting him close the door.

Slowly, I slump down and rest my head on my desk.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

That little event saps my energy for the rest of the morning. I barely manage to finish getting the week’s shoot scheduled, then spend the rest of my morning playing mobile games. Once lunch comes and goes though, the energy slowly begins to return. I have a very fun evening to look forward to again, don’t I? I start thinking up outlines for how this shoot could go - I’ve spent a lot of time in the past fantasizing about it, but now I have to pick just one route and stick to it. That might be the hardest part, honestly. Really, it all depends on exactly what kinds of supplies Rufus picked up - I guess I’ll have to wait and see.

The afternoon ticks by way too slowly, but finally, the time rolls around for me to start gathering lights and setting my camera up. I’m a lot more confident this time around, striding down to the elevators and then down to the first floor, up the executive elevator and back to Rufus’s suite by five. This route is starting to get comfortable - and I don’t mind that one bit.

I knock on the door, and am surprised to see Tseng answer it. Ah, right - he mentioned wanting to discuss my meeting with the President today in greater detail. My heart sinks rudely back down into my stomach as I start to recall my tumultuous morning. 

Rufus is sitting on the sofa, his hands folded under his chin. At first glance, he looks angry, but the more I stare, the more I think that he really just looks deep in thought. He doesn’t look up at me when I enter - instead, Tseng beckons me over to the couch. I sit down next to Rufus, and Tseng stands just behind the coffee table, overlooking us both. 

“I heard my father spoke with you today,” Rufus finally says. He doesn’t sound happy in the slightest, and it further drags down my mood.

“Yeah, he did,” I say softly, “He called me to a meeting in his office.”

“What did he want?” Rufus honestly just sounds tired, as if this is a conversation he’s had dozens of times already. Though I don’t see how that’s possible.

“He asked me to… keep an eye out for extreme behaviors,” I admit, striving to be honest, “He wants me to report you to him if I think you’re doing anything wrong.”

To my surprise, Rufus laughs absurdly.

“Of course,” He throws his hands up, “Of course he tries to make a mole out of you. How utterly typical…” Rufus stands and paces back and forth, continuing, rambling as if to himself, “This is why it’s impossible for me to maintain relationships - he always does this. Begs me to find someone, and then tries to sabotage me, manipulating-”

“Sir,” Tseng cuts him off, a stern tone in his voice. It forces Rufus to pause and take a deep breath, deescalating his anger. 

“I despise that man,” Rufus hisses through clenched teeth and clenched fists, “I…”

Rufus suddenly turns back to look at me, his eyes intense and deep in thought.

“What did you say? When he asked you to report me?” he says lowly.

“Well, I… I said yes, but I…” I fumble my words, “I didn’t really mean it.”

Rufus doesn’t answer - just keeps that intense gaze locked on me. It shakes me to continue - I begin to ramble.

“I don’t really know what he even wants me to look for, honestly - I just… I like working for you, Rufus. I-I really like you, and I just want you to know that... that I’m on your side. No matter what.”

At that, Rufus’s gaze softens, his eyes widening. He looks almost surprised, or - no, he looks genuinely touched at my words. 

“Do you know what I’ve done, Lane?”

He seems almost pained to ask that question. I look down at my lap, trying to decide how to answer.

“Did you… Did you try to overthrow him?” I say, hardly higher than a whisper. All the rumors swirl in my head - are they true?

Rufus slips back down into the couch, sighing deeply and resting his chin on his hands again.

“Yes,” he says, plain and simple.

“And… then you…”

“He had me arrested,” Rufus says bluntly, “I was promoted to throw the media off our tails, then placed under house arrest - in the care of the Turks.”

I look up at Tseng, who just gazes back down at us, face as stoic as ever. I’m slowly getting better at reading his subtle emotions, but I don’t recognize this one.

I know these guys probably have a very complicated history, but I hadn’t expected it to run this deep. I try to figure out what to say next.

“I’m sorry,” I start with, “I… I could tell that he…”

I trail off and sigh, not sure how to word what I’m trying to say. It’s hard enough for me to talk about this as is. Rufus turns to face me, listening.

“My parents never got off my back until the day I ran away,” I say, “I hate that I had to do something that drastic, but they just… They never even gave me a chance. It was their way or the highway, and… Well, I guess it’s obvious what I chose,” I try to inject a little humor into this, “So I guess I know how you feel, in a way.”

Rufus’s eyes look at me softly - almost pitifully. He’s thinking about something, but I can’t read it on his face.

“Thank you, Lane,” he finally says, then goes quiet again, letting us all marinate in the silence. Tseng is the one who breaks it.

“Lane also said that he threatened their position in the company.”

Rufus huffs, his anger flaring back up. I try to cool him off.

“Well, okay, he mostly just said that if I didn’t help him, lots of people would lose their jobs, including me,” I define a little more honestly, “And… he told me that if I did rat you out, then he would hire me as his personal photographer.”

Tseng makes a face at that, something almost disgusted. That, combined with the absolute wildness of that fact in retrospect, makes me snort with laughter.

“What’s so funny about that?” Rufus asks. I get myself under control.

“Just… It’s hard to believe that he thought that would actually be convincing ,” I giggle again. Rufus looks confused.

“It wasn’t?” He sounds surprised, “He has far more power than me, Lane.”

“I don’t care about the power,” I grin, “I like you too much to ever wanna leave. Plus, I think if your dad ever asked me to shoot boudoir photos of him, I’d throw up,” I tumble into laughter again, unable to keep it tame now. Why am I having a giggle fit? I guess the stress was really getting to me.

It must be getting to Rufus too, because after a few seconds, he joins me in my laughter. Tseng keeps his composure about him, but I do notice him crack a smile. Within a moment, we all cool down.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Rufus chuckles, bringing me back to the present, “But for the record, he does not have the jurisdiction to fire you. Don’t let him intimidate you like that again.”

“Yeah, Tseng said that,” I recall, “Though that… seems kinda weird. Isn’t the President technically your boss, too? I thought he had, like, total control over everything and was just too busy to really care.”

Rufus shifts, looking up at Tseng as if begging him for assistance in answering. Tseng just breaks his line of sight and sighs - a wordless communication that (to me) says “ You’re on your own with this one .”

Rufus huffs and turns to me.

“My father and I reached an agreement upon my promotion,” Rufus states, “That, provided that good behavior is maintained, I could assume control of the Administrative Research department from Director Heidegger.”

“Oh… hm?” I cock my head. So, Administrative Research - that’s the Turks. That makes a lot of sense, all things considered.

“But… I’m not a Turk,” I point out. Rufus averts his gaze.

“No, you’re not,” he says slowly, choosing his words carefully, “But… technically, you were hired to the Administrative Research department.”

“...I’m not in PR?” I ask, processing.

“Not on paper,” Rufus says, “But, in practice, yes, you’re still in PR. We just took the liberty of switching your departments as a sort of… insurance.”

“Insurance against what?”

“Situations like this one,” Tseng cuts in, “It keeps you safe, and also acts as a safety measure in case you decide to leak any of the photos you take.”

“...Oh,” I lower my chin again. Damn glad I didn’t choose to do that - I wouldn’t have been answering to the President. I would’ve had to answer to the Turks. And frankly, that’s far scarier. 

I feel Rufus’s arm slide over my shoulders.

“Tseng, don’t scare them like that,” he says chidingly, “Lane has given us every reason to trust them - particularly through their actions today. The worst I’d ever want to see you give them is a spanking.”

Oh, that makes me blush, catching me right off-guard. Tseng grins.

“You’re right, Sir. My apologies - I didn’t mean to frighten you, Lane. I suppose that detail wasn’t necessary,” Tseng says, shaking his head. He glances down at his watch, and looks back up, “Hm - I should be getting back to the office soon. Before I go, do you need any help getting set up for your photo shoot?”

“We’ll handle it,” Rufus says, the happy tone finally returning to his voice, “You’d better get back before your subordinates rip the place to shreds.”

“You give them far too much credit,” Tseng sighs with a smile, “They’re not coordinated enough to do that without me.”

Rufus and I both laugh at that one. Before Tseng leaves, he steps over and gives us both a kiss on the forehead (which gives me butterflies). As soon as the door is closed, Rufus stands, pulling me up with him.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about this shoot idea, Lane,” he tells me happily, dragging me back behind the couch. For the first time, I notice what’s been set up this whole time. A colorless tarp covers the floor, with a huge white square of canvas fabric in the center. Tubes of paints in a rainbow of shades rest nearby, along with some wide paint brushes.

“I know you’d suggested just a large painting canvas,” Rufus says, grabbing the light bags, “But I figured that having the extra space would allow us to carry this shoot on for quite some time. If there are any sections that we really love, then we can always get them cut out and mounted later.”

“That’s genius,” I say in awe. My original idea had been exactly that - a large painter’s canvas, just big enough for Rufus to sit on. He would paint his ass, legs, and hands and then sit to create an enticingly suggestive print. But this? This enables us to do that dozens of times. It’s delicious.

My energy returns rapidly. I can’t wait to get started, and neither can Rufus, so we get the lights and camera set up in no time flat. Rufus makes a playful show of stripping out of his clothes, posing nude with the painting supplies for several shots before finally breaking them open.

“What do you think, Lane - which color should I start with?”

“Depends on what you want to end up mixing together,” I point out, “Unless you plan to shower after every color.”

“That’s a good point,” Rufus says, thinking. I see a lightbulb go off in his eyes, and he gathers up all of the colors. He picks up the pink paint first and kneels, turning his pale ass toward my camera as he loads the paint onto the brush. He looks over his shoulder, giving my lens a playful gaze as he paints a broad stroke onto his butt. I bite my lip as I shoot - fuck, he’s gotten good at this. The more boudoir shoots we do, the more playful and open he becomes, and frankly, I’m living for this energy. I’ve never had a client quite so fun to shoot as him - hands down.

Rufus works his way down his form, laying and rolling around on the canvas, spreading and spilling paint as he tries to reach all the spots on the back of his legs with different colors, creating a rainbow patchwork effect. When he goes for the inside of his knees, he struggles to find a good position.

“Lane - a little help?” he asks, turning his gaze up toward me. I jolt a bit, but don’t have any hesitation to get over there and take the brush in my own hands. The handle immediately gets my hand dirty for all the paint on it, but I don’t mind - I’m too busy running the brush over Rufus’s body. At the tickling bristles’ touch, he squirms and groans, filling the room with glorious sounds. It gets me all hot and bothered, and before long, my shirt is unbuttoned. Rufus can’t keep his hands off of me, grabbing my wrists and kissing me everywhere that I’m exposed. I can feel paint getting on my nose, my arms, my hands, in my hair and on my clothes, but I sincerely don’t care. 

I’m barely able to pull myself away, but I do finally manage. My pants are covered in paint now anyway, so I fearlessly wipe my hands on them before picking my camera back up. I’m glad I brought the old camera today - I’d hate to get paint on my nice new one. I get some more shots of Rufus totally covered in paint, and direct him to move to a fresh spot on the canvas to do some proper prints with his gorgeous form. 

And oh, they turn out great - the first one especially. The colors have mixed a bit, but not so much that they appear muddied. His hands and feet are clearly visible, and the shape of his ass and legs can be easily made out. That’s the one, I know - I get a few shots of just the print from above before I think to have Rufus sign his name with the brush nearby. That’s the best shot of the entire session - Rufus lounged next to his lovely print, cheek in hand while the other hand holds the paintbrush, his name scrawled in an elegant winding signature next to him and his body art. It’s gorgeous, and I know that’s the one I’m going to choose to frame for my growing collection of shoot photos. 

We try a few more prints, but none of them turn out quite as well, even with fresh coats of paint - the colors have all muddied too much now. Instead, Rufus turns his attention to handprints, signatures, and fingerpainting, which is still equally as sexy with his paint-covered body visible in the pictures. My favorite detail is his very colorful ass, playfully peeking into the frame in just about every shot. The splashes of color on his dick are beautiful as well, his decorated member hardened just enough to look tall and proud. It’s a model just as much as he is, honestly. 

We last for close to an hour and a half, but finally, Rufus and I are out of steam. He lays panting on the mat, looking relaxed and utterly pleased. 

“Okay,” I move, “This has turned out amazing. Though the canvas is… kind of a mess,” I chuckle, looking at the unappealing streaks of brown that fill most of the space. We did manage to spare that lovely first print, though, and I think it’s very worth cutting out and framing up. 

“Yes, you’re right,” Rufus laughs back, making his way to standing, “I suppose now we’d better figure out how to get this cleaned up.”

“We should probably leave the canvas out to dry first,” I suggest, “Then we can move it later. Looks like the tarp kept the paint off the carpet though - that’s good.”

“It is,” Rufus says, turning his gaze on me, “But I wasn’t talking about the floor. I was talking about you and I.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realize his implications. Fuck, I’d lost sight of why I liked this shoot concept in the first place - it’s a one-way ticket to a shower. 

“Oh… yeah,” I start seeking my camera bag, looking for a distraction, “Right…”

“Wait…” Rufus says slowly, looking down at the floor, “...How am I going to get to the bathroom from here?”

I look down too. Fuck, he’s right - the tarp stops short right at the couch, and there’s at least twenty feet of carpet between the tarp edge and the bathroom.

“Oh, shit…” I bite my lip, trying to think of a solution. I’m not anywhere near strong enough to carry him, so that’s out…

“I think Tseng said there was some leftover tarp roll,” Rufus says, “Check in the kitchen.”

I peek around the counters.

“Got it!” Sure enough, there’s a roll of unused tarp there on the floor. It’s only about three feet wide, but fuck it, that’ll do the trick. I bring it over to the tarp edge, set it down, and begin unrolling it across the carpet, navigating it around the curves of the couch and straight toward the bathroom door. Rufus follows me along, and we open the door and step into the bathroom. I continue the roll straight up to the tub, and Rufus steps right inside. A quick glance behind me reveals success - I can’t see a single drop of paint on the carpet.

The sound of water running behind me jars me back to reality. Rufus turns on the bath faucet and lets it run for a moment, warming it up before he pulls the faucet pin that turns on the waterfall shower overhead. He winces as the first splash of water hits him, unable to hold back a little shout.

“Fuck, cold!” He grits his teeth, giving it a few seconds before he relaxes into the water that’s surely warming up. He runs his hands through his hair, and I watch the paint run down his body in streaks, washing down the drain.

“Well?” He breaks through my hypnosis, “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“J-Join?” I ask, my voice already shaking.

“Of course. Just look at you - you’re nearly as much of a mess as I am,” he teases with a smirk. The embarrassment makes me pout.

“It’s all just on my clothes,” I whine, “It’ll be gone when I take them off.”

“Take them off then,” Rufus purrs, leaning into me and grabbing my paint-covered wrist, “And we’ll see just how true that little claim is.”

“Hrmph… Fuck you,” I grumble, pulling my wrist back and taking my shirt off the rest of the way, then working my way out of my pants, socks and underwear. Once I’m naked, I look down at my body, shocked to see that the paint soaked through my clothes in places, leaving me still very colorful.

“Well, would you look at that,” Rufus jeers, grabbing my left hand and holding it up, “Looks like I just caught you in a lie...” He turns my hand around so I can see the red paint on it, “...Red-handed.”

“Oh my gods,” I sigh in exasperation at his shitty pun. He just laughs and pulls, guiding me over the tub edge and into the warm water with him. There might as well be magnets in our bodies - we’re pulled together like magic, skin on skin as much as we possibly can be. My hands slide down his back, over his hips, down his butt, watching the paint melt away under my touch. He does the same to me, running his hands over my face and through my hair, slicking it back. The blue of my freshly-dyed hair blends into the paint tones and all ends up going down the drain, sweeping past my toes as we stand in the column of warmth.

However, I’m largely distracted by the feeling of Rufus’s hard cock pressing against my stomach. We’re a little uneven, since he’s so much taller than me, but I hardly mind, and I don’t think he does either - I can tell that he’s grinding against me now. 

“Can’t forget to wash this…” I smile, falling down to my knees and taking him in my hand. I make sure to get all the little specks of paint washed away first, giving him lots of slow, special attention, then surprise him as I take him into my mouth.

“Mn - Fuck!” I hear him gasp, throwing his head back as I seal my lips around him. It’s been a while since I’ve given a focused blowjob like this, but it isn’t about to stop me - I give it my all, taking him as deep as I can without gagging and making good use of my tongue over his slit every time I pull back. It rapidly breaks him down to moaning, and it doesn’t take long before his hips stutter toward me. The salty taste of precum gives way to the bitter salt of the real deal, and I wince as I let it slip down my throat. It’s not totally pleasant, but I find it easier to swallow right away than to hold it all in my mouth until I can spit. This way I taste it less, honestly.

Rufus pulls out of my mouth and lowers himself down, having a seat on the tub edge as he tries to catch his breath.

“Gods, you’re good at that…” he pants, smiling down at me. I make a playful show of wiping my chin, even though all the water from the shower would’ve washed it away already, anyway.

With that finished, I start to stand back up. Rufus reaches out to me.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” he asks, a sensual edge to his voice. It catches me off-guard and I bite my lip.

“O-Only if you want to,” I reply. Rufus shakes his head.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t offer,” he says, “With you, Lane, I’m sure I’ll always want to. It’s too much fun to watch you squirm.”

That makes me whimper, and Rufus is quick to penetrate my weakened resolve. He pulls me back down to the floor and teases at my slit with his fingers, gently working his way inside of me and beginning to stroke against my g-spot. That alone is enough to make me gasp, but when he leans all the way down and starts tonguing my clit in conjunction, it drives me absolutely wild. His pace is perfectly constant - I’m sure he can tell from the noises I’m making that he’ll get me to cum if he just keeps on going that same way. And surely enough, in less than five minutes, I start to claw wildly at the tub’s edges and cry out, my pussy pulsing waves of pleasure through my body as Rufus continues to stroke me down. I have to push him away and beg him to stop to get him to back off, and he comes up with a wide smile on his face. Before I can catch my breath, he leans in and kisses me, long and deep. I can taste my pussy on his lips, and the smell of sex just serves to make me moan again. 

When he pulls back, he keeps his gaze locked on my eyes. I feel his hand run through my hair again, pushing it out of my face.

“You look so beautiful when you cum,” he purrs.

“Noooo…” I groan, hiding my face behind my hands. Rufus laughs, and I feel his hands on my wrists, pulling to expose my blush again. I begin to wriggle, turning my face away so he can’t see. He just holds me there, writhing and giggling in his grip. 

“And now you just look adorable,” he teases. I squeak, much to my own detriment. I gotta find a way to quit making such cute noises…

Not long after, Rufus turns off the shower, and steps out to track down some towels. We get dried off in our own time.

“Tseng should be here soon,” Rufus says, “He was going to join us for dinner. Will you stay?”

“Yeah,” I reply with a smile, “I’d love to!”

“Good,” Rufus grins, “Perhaps a movie while we wait, then?”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Still clad in our towels (intent on getting revenge on Tseng for stepping out in just a towel and flustering everyone on Saturday morning), we start making our way to the couch. Before we can get there, however, the door clicks open. 

“Rufus? Lane?” Tseng steps inside, right into our path. He closes the door, spots us, and freezes. We freeze too, and watch as Tseng’s eyes scan the room. Boo, he hardly reacted to our towel-clad states. So much for that attempt. 

“Gods, what a mess…” Tseng comments, his gaze trailing the paint-footprinted tarp roll that leads right to the bathroom. He turns back and nods when he sees the canvas, “Though that certainly came out well. I’ll bet you got some great shots.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Rufus smiles widely, “I can’t wait to see what Lane does with them.”

“Hm,” Tseng says. His expression shifts subtly, and he steps right over to the two of us. Without fanfare, he grabs Rufus by the chin and tilts his head back and forth - then does the same to me. 

“Have you two showered already?” he asks. Rufus and I both nod, to which Tseng frowns.

“You didn’t do a very good job,” he comments, “Rufus, I can still see spots of paint on your face. And Lane - did you even wash your hair? You look like you have pink streaks dyed into it.”

“Uh… I guess we forgot,” I admit, unable to resist the urge to scratch at my neck in my nerves. 

“Oh, absolutely not,” Tseng shakes his head and breezes past us, “You two need a real bath. Let me guess - you both got a bit ‘distracted’ in the shower?”

“Really, Tseng?” Rufus folds his arms, “I’m sure we’re fine for now. I can always get the rest of it before bed. We haven’t had dinner yet.”

“It’s going to dry on and stain,” Tseng claims, “You can’t have it visible in your professional portraits on Wednesday. Come on - we can make this quick.”

“And who gave you the deciding power here?” Rufus asks pointedly.

“This is not up for discussion,” Tseng says lowly, turning on the water again, “Come here. Now.”

Both of us reluctantly step into the bathroom, watching as Tseng plugs the drain and adds a heavy serving of bubble bath to the flowing water. The sight of it causes a rush to flow through me almost instantly, and yet… something new is stirring among it. Something… rebellious.

Tseng stands back up and takes the towels from us, lamenting the fact that they now have tiny paint stains and will need to be specially laundered. Rufus rolls his eyes behind Tseng’s back and makes a face, causing me to laugh.

“Let’s not waste any time then, since you’re both so eager to be done,” Tseng sighs. As he speaks, he sheds away his suit jacket and gloves, leaving him in his white dress shirt, and begins to roll up the sleeves.

“What - you’re going to bathe us?” Rufus asks incredulously, “We’re not children, Tseng.”

“You’re not acting the part of an adult right now, either,” Tseng replies, tossing a smirk and a raised brow toward Rufus. He gets a scowl in return, but I have a feeling that it’s all just playful in nature. 

“Fine,” Rufus finally growls out, stepping into the sudsy water, “But I expect a five-star spa treatment, then.”

“Any more of that attitude, and you can expect a spanking,” Tseng warns him. The thought sends lightning through me.

Tseng turns to me next.

“Come on, Lane - get in.”

I feel something burst within me. Something deep and primal - an itch I don’t think I’ve ever actually scratched.

Something bratty takes hold. 

“No.” 

Tseng stops to look at me, his face mostly neutral, but I detect a hint of surprise. 

“What was that?” 

“I said no. Fuck you.” 

That’ll do it - no doubt. I can see flames flicker in his eyes. 

“‘No’ is not a safeword,” he reminds me. I nod - I’m well aware. I have no intention of stopping. 

Once he gets that confirmation, Tseng straightens up and folds his hands behind his back. He steps up to me, getting right in my space. I don’t back down - I’m determined to find out how far I can bend this before it breaks. Gods know why - this will probably end in tears. 

“Then you understand that if you don’t follow my directions, you’ll be punished.” 

“If you can catch me.” 

What the fuck just came out of my mouth? This guy is literally a trained assassin, and I just challenged him to a race? I’m doomed. 

Tseng raises his eyebrows at this claim. Rufus snickers. 

“You realize that I won’t be nice to you. If you ask me for a punishment , then a punishment is exactly what you’ll get. I’ll push your limits, Lane, and you won’t like it.” 

Me, not enjoy a forced bath and whatever other punishments he can drum up? Not likely.