Ab initio, FFVII (Tseng/Reeve) Title: "Ab Initio" Author/Artist:elixile Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Sex - oral, anal, hand-job. Touches of violence. Tseng is about 15 years old at the start, but that's not made terribly explicit. And uhh- confined spaces if people get squicked by such things? Word count: 2998 Prompt: Reeve/Tseng: office sex/elevator sex/confined spaces - finding private places to get it on in the Shin-ra building is not easy Summary: Reeve and Tseng make a contract, of sorts.
Reeve stepped into the newly fixed lift, and leaned against the wall with a deep breath. Something had shifted back there, in Veld’s office. The sound of Tseng’s laughter, deliriously arresting as it was coming from the other’s mouth, echoed into a hollowed and exasperated chuckle of his own. Fingers which just moments before had been brushing over a fine cut of cloth now twisted agitatedly around the rough and waxen fabric of engineering overalls. The confines of the lift parameters fitted as, for the first time in his life, Reeve felt the heated prickle of claustrophobia. Bringing the gear shaft to a grinding halt he proceeded to strip himself clear of the protective outerwear in an effort to free himself from such irrationality, leaving him stood in a rumpled moss-green suit.
Absurd how just one man’s genuine amusement could change matters. But then, Tseng was not just one man. Tseng was a Turk. A small smile in itself could spell destruction. Yet, Hellfire to damn him, Reeve could not get the look of those lips curved so generously upwards out of his mind. Ever since he had laid eyes on Tseng, he had wanted to see him smile. Really smile. Not the hot-headed jealousy or anger that was written in the eyes of a child showing surface gestures, and not the wry smirk of the young man of marble and obsidian that he was quickly becoming.
Reeve’s mouth was dry as the lift inched back into movement. Instead of carrying on in the previous direction, it reached the level where he had just left. The door slid open and with a sudden ferocity tapered fingers were at his chest pushing him back against the mirror panelled wall. Lips, now curved more covetously, more cruelly, captured his own; and in the wetness there was a taste of bitter coffee and ice cold mint. A surprised noise spilled from Reeve to Tseng, caught in a clash of teeth and sensitive flesh as the older man’s lower back was driven hard against the hand rail. Grasping for a hold, a leverage in the confines, or around the slide of leather upon his skin under his jacket and shirt, Reeve finally broke away. His breath was erratic and he held an expressive look upon his face that sought explanation.
Tseng had left the office of his mentor, uncommonly angry and seeking out something to remind himself of the man and not the Turk. Younger than he was now Tseng had fast realised such luxury of normality, of the drives and satiation of a teenage boy, would never be afforded him. Never explicitly. But there ways around such matters, and Tseng was a resourceful person. This brown-haired man, known for his smiles as much as his quiet reflections - Reeve Tuesti, architect-engineer, the ‘dreamer’, of vision and drive concealed behind a naivety perceived by those too idiotic to know better… This man offered a morsel of something Tseng would never legitimately be allowed in Shinra. In the only world he would ever know.
And this man knew Shinra tower like very few individuals could. “Blueprints of the main tower… So, you know your way around.” The Turk purred into Reeve’s ear, reiterating the words of the other from just moments before, and narrowing the gap between their bodies once more. Tseng could feel the tension in worked muscles, the hardness of the older man against his leg and smirked.
Reeve, annoyed at Tseng that no effort for explanation was being given, and annoyed at himself at the ease of his arousal snapped back “That's not the point… Why this, Tseng? I had you down as a risk taker only under exceptional circumstance.” Shifting his weight back the older man began to pivot his body away and found himself turned all too easily, slammed hard against his own reflection.
Dark eyes watched with interest from behind the wave of his brown hair which was scraped back then, nails scoring light across his scalp, in order to offer greater vantage to the man pinning him against his own mirror image. Reeve let out a low growl and met Tseng’s eyes “You know as well as I do that surveillance operates in nearly every lift in this building…”
The sentence stalled as Tseng’s tongue flickered over the shell of Reeve’s ear before the Turk responded “And you know as well as I do that this is a Turk access only elevator. Old. Built back at Shinra's inception for what purpose, who knows. That’s why it breaks down so often, and why Reno nearly got killed by a device not actually made by Scarlet’s hands.” He chuckled at that dryly and Reeve felt anger, an irresistible urge to shake the black-haired youth for such obstinacy to a lie. He had heard the other laugh more honestly.
But he was finding it difficult to move at all. He was fairly sure his legs would have gone numb in the confinement if was not for the fact that they had been kicked apart and his trousers unbuckled enough for a swiftly efficient, but not overly generous, preparation.
“I would still assume the Turks would have cameras fitted…” Reeve’s body trembled as he was entered, and the greater truth of the matter dawned upon him “I’m not yours to do with what you want just to prove a point, Tse--” The older man broke off abruptly as Tseng established a deliberately fierce rhythm. It was some time before the Turk could reply over the other man’s shoulder, but when he did so he did through shallowed breaths, his dark eyes locked in on Reeve’s hazel-coloured cynicism “…If he wants to watch… Let him fucking watch...”
The small space shuddered around the motions of Tseng’s restraint coming undone. Reeve’s voice gathered in small fractured moans as he was filled and stretched relentlessly; struggling as he was against a better judgement and the tight grip at his hips. In the Turk’s final shattered gasp he could only watch with a sick fascination as the man betrayed himself in a beautiful arch of black hair, pale skin and blood flushed lips.
Shrugging free of the looser hold, Reeve turned towards Tseng, his face pinkened with emotion and remaining desire that had not been satiated in him during that tight tete-a-tete. Tseng’s face was impassive as the other man set about redressing, noting the tender twitches of indignity Reeve could not keep clear from his features. “You didn’t orgasm” His voice was even-keeled, so much so that he could just have easily been discussing the lack of rain above plate.
Reeve shot back a derisive look, one which said can you damn well blame me given the circumstances? However, after a measured time he leaned his head to one side, face softening slightly as he spoke “I am older than you. And not so… eager.” Confusion passed briefly over Tseng’s face. Was Reeve mocking him?
“Just how old are you, Tseng?” Reeve’s intent look took in Tseng’s slightly longer length of hair, now falling to just above wider set shoulders. It had been four years since they first met, and Tseng had been just a boy then. Another unsettled look crossed the Turk’s features. Reeve had a habit of taking him by surprise with his words, and it was not something he was used to. “There is not much use to keep reference to age in this job” was Tseng’s honest reply; flat but with a tinge of emotion that the Turk ineffectually attempted to mask. His jaw twitched with annoyance at the sound.
Reeve frowned, eyes still intent upon the other “How long has it been since you celebrated your birth date?” and Tseng scoffed at the sincerity in the tone “Does that matter?” but at the earnestly nodded reply, the Turk sighed and shrugged, placing one hand on his hip “About 10 years. I don’t remember the actual day.” Reeve then checked his phs, a look of sadness in his eyes, as the younger man puzzled over his intentions.
Suddenly Tseng felt a hand, warm at his neck and the press of Reeve’s lips against his own. Fingers twined into strands of black hair at the nape of his neck and mouths parted into a slow, insistent kiss as the Turk felt a release work its way across his body quite unlike that of his climax moments before. He started to laugh gently against the unlikely behaviour. Only Reeve would dare do to something so singularly unexpected.
…Or perhaps Reno, but Tseng hazarded a guess that the red-head’s actions would be much more irritating. And perhaps, a lot less endearing.
Pulling away Tseng shook his head “I suppose you are going to wish me a Happy Birthday for all those times I’ve missed?” Reeve was wearing a broad grin on his face that was positively mischievous. Tseng saw the trait passed to Cait Sith in later days when Reeve began to smile a lot less often. “Today is the 22nd. Ten months, Tseng, and on the 22nd day, we will celebrate those years you missed!” The older man declared and received another snort of amusement from the Turk in return.
“Finding private places in the Shinra building is not easy, but... as you know, I do have access to a lot of those blueprints.” Reeve dropped the smile from his face, though a hint of playfulness in his eyes remained, it was just very pointed “…And that way at least I can assure we will be away from prying eyes. Particularly those who you wish to make an example of me too.”
Tseng raised one eyebrow “I don’t make a habit of entering into contracts with mad men” to which Reeve quickly retorted “That’s not what I would have guessed...” and received another laugh in return for his daring.
“It all depends on whether said mad man has made a compelling enough argument. If I were to be foolish beyond all reason to refuse, I would not.” The young man offered further. There was a definite bite of irony in his tone.
Reeve thought he should have congratulated himself upon having made a compelling enough argument, when, starting from the following 22nd day, Tseng actively sought the architect-engineer out. Their meetings typically followed a pattern. It was always in a confined space, as unfortunately for Reeve there actually were very few spots in Shinra Tower apparently un-watched, and Tseng stubbornly refused going elsewhere; a supply cupboard, a quiet corner between two aisles on the 62nd floor library, a changing room on the 64th…
The Turk would always initiate, and there would be no softness to his actions, even as the months went past and Tseng had brought his temper even further under control. More often than not Reeve would not climax, but remained content enough to let Tseng command this portion of their encounters. There were reasons enough for the rough edge to the sex, such things that generally resolved into the last vicious thrusts and Tseng’s nearly always silently cresting cry.
Instead Reeve would find satisfaction in the aftermath, where, to his surprise, he found Tseng was acutely responsive to touches of pampering; of massage or considered explorations of still flawless flesh, long drawn out kisses and fingers tressed through strands of hair.
Of course their time would have to end, usually finishing with a banter of talk that both found equally frustrating and enjoyable. Their stock and trades would return, and any tenderness was forgotten. Yet through their minor quips and arguments Reeve found himself getting to know more of the man and not just the Turk, whilst Tseng in return started to understand just why Veld had taken such an interest in this not so mere architect-engineer in the first place.
Two occasions fell outside of their usual patterns. The first, Tseng had followed Reeve into the air vent system under the apparent guise that the etiology of the malfunction the engineer had been given to fix was an escaped specimen from Hojo’s laboratory. Which somewhat conveniently the Turk had already apparently efficiently dispatched. A highly improbable and certainly impractical hand job later and Reeve was biting back a moan upon Tseng’s fingers that were currently not ministrating between his legs as the board room meeting of Executives below them drew to its own, less quietly frenzied, conclusion.
“Fascinating...” was all the Turk whispered as Reeve glared ahead and kicked back behind him, connecting satisfactorily with some part of Tseng‘s anatomy. If they had been caught that would have been the chance of Reeve’s career, his chance to make a difference, well and true finished with. Needless to say when he next saw Tseng in the corridor the following day their usual polite exchanges turned a little more barbed.
The second anomaly to routine occurred on their final scheduled 22nd day and the day which so happened to be Reeve’s inauguration into the upper echelons of Shinra. The soon to be Head of Urban Development found himself sitting in the cooled confines of the 62nd floor toilets, all thoughts of his speech, which was to be spectacularly well-received despite everything, kept on being interrupted by contemplations on the bizarre contract he had entered into with one particularly intense and beautifully intoxicating Turk. In addition, Reeve could not help but think of the Turk Commander from whom he had been given the green suit he was sitting in, many years before.
The door opened and Reeve heard steady, rhythmic footfalls as the last round of his speech practise “Colleagues of Shinra…” died quietly into the silence. Tseng opened the cubicle door with a mild look of scorn on his face and said with as much dryness as could be mustered, for the other man looked distinctly uncomfortable; unshaved in addition to dishevelled “Well, at least it’s actually clean.”
That was all the Turk could manage in any humour. Reeve found himself quite unable to look up, away from the stare he had fixed the papers in his hands and said in a low tone “I don’t have time for this, Tseng. Go away.”
Tseng glared down at Reeve in disbelief. There was no way that the meek mannered Reeve, no matter how talented he was with hidden politics, could honestly back out on this… their contract… his own declaration to give him back something which otherwise would be irrevocably lost. Ab initio. Snarling the words slightly he demanded “Look at me when you say that.”
When no response was given to his command, the Turk, feeling as much of an angry and confused teenager than he had ever felt, snatched Reeve’s work and backhanded the other as firmly as possible without leaving a mark. The bastard looked like shit enough anyway, there really was no need to compound it. Particularly when he was about to face hundreds of people, including the Shinra elite, as Tseng really did not need questions being raised.
Reeve recoiled and righted himself, eyes blazing with emotion. Standing sharply so that he was facing his concerns, the man he could now possibly call lover, head on, Tseng noticed his eyes blinking against tears. After some time Reeve slowly unravelled the tie that sat at his neck and began to unbutton his shirt. “Sit down, Tseng.” His voice was soft, almost inaudible bar for the resounding silence. The Turk to the nearly Executive gritted his teeth and obeyed, pushing past the other man rigidly and sitting down.
Tensed, Tseng finally drew blood at the others' shoulders as Reeve took him deep into his mouth and concentrated all effort upon getting the younger male to climax as quickly as possible. Swallowing as much as the bitterness as he could manage, Reeve drew himself away as he heard Tseng's voice purring sarcastically “Who would thought I might receive such an... inviting conclusion from you... Sir.” and with a feeling of disgust he wiped a hand across his mouth, noting that, despite every effort, things had spilled out of his control.
“You can be a real idiot sometimes, Tseng.” Reeve whispered as he made his way from the cubicle leaving the Turk staring after him, ruffled and annoyed. “Where are you going?” Reeve didn't look back “I'm going to change. It's soiled and the cut of this suit does not fit me any longer.” The last words of their so-called contract was Tseng telling him to have a shave, but Reeve ignored him. He had other things to concentrate on. Besides, he was starting to like the feel of a beard.
Two months later Executive Tuesti scheduled a meeting with Verdot and took the secondary access elevator to the Turk floor. For the second time in his life, Reeve began to prickle with claustrophobia. He had work to do now, but it was the 22nd of the 10th month. Exactly one year to the day. It felt necessary. More often than not Reeve was a man of his words.
As he reached the correct level the door slid open and Tseng stepped in, casting a detached look in the Executive's direction. Eventually the Turk spoke in a cool tone, which was now practically trademarked “...Blue really doesn't suit you, and neither does the beard.” Reeve walked to the side of the Turk and looked over at the subtle differences. It had only been two months and yet Tseng looked even more an impressive cut of a man; he looked more like a Turk built for purpose. Smiling but with a bruised look behind his eyes, Reeve leaned over and kissed Tseng gently on the lips “Happy Birthday” he said in his own sonorous baritone, before carrying on to his work.