Final Fantasy VII 1. Chapter 1

Whew. So, as this update shows, I am alive! (Barely!) I knew I had to update SOMETHING…so I decided on this, which was already half typed up when I came across it. And, if you read Euonym, that is next on my list! I hope (I should probably say 'I will'…) have a chapter up by Monday. I know – crazy right?!?

And no, your eyes do not deceive you. This story is not completed! I've already started on the next chapter. Not sure yet where this story is going, exactly…By the way, sorry for the crappy title!! I can't come up with anything! If you want to recommend something I would love you forever... :)

Eh. I've said enough. Read. Review. And if you want to know any more about me or future/current stories of mine, then check my profile. Luv!

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I have never been in a nightclub. Oh, I've heard about them, of course – all music and alcohol and dancing and thrashing bodies, but I've never really experience it for myself. It's not something I'm inclined to do on my afternoons off. I normally don't like things like that, with so many people crammed into such a small space. Normally I'm so involved in my work I wouldn't even consider going to sucha place.

I will admit I indulge myself in an alarming amount of work that some would call obsession, but I have nothing else. I have no wife, or children, or hobbies. Nothing can grab my attention long enough for me to become interested – except for my work. So, in a way, my work is my hobby. If you define a hobby as what you do in your spare time.

Perhaps that's why I decided to go out. I realized how little I was leaving behind. I didn't particularly want children and I didn't really want to leave a legacy. But I wanted something, or rather, some_one_, to remember me as I left this planet.

It was a cold winter night, cold enough that my breath formed ephemeral clouds in the air, I shivered, rubbing my goose-bumped arms, but I was unwilling to re-enter my apartment and hunt for my coat. So I crossed my arms across my chest and set out, no destination in mind but determined to get there.

The city was alive tonight, as it was every night, heedless of a new presence amongst its mass of party goers. It always amazes me how different the city was when the sun escaped beyond the horizon. During the day the city was a place of work, where people walked with purpose, where they hurried with their heads down and minds withdrawn and didn't truly see anything.

But at night – at night the city turned into a place of pleasure, filled with sly winks and gentle touches and flashing lights. The buildings opened their doors and allowed the music and lights and people to spill out onto the street. It was a different place, a place of people willing to wander, of people wanting to forget their troubles for a hazy night and be as free as they could in this land of tall buildings that shuttered the heart.

I didn't really prefer one stage to the other. Both appealed to me and both repulsed me in their own ways. The day life was understandable in its simplicity. People went their way and arrived at their destination and later left. They didn't interact or pause or take interest in other things. The single-mindedness is reassuring in its familiarity- I was common with it, I knew it, and I embraced it.

Then again, that same complacency could turn into boredom on particularly tedious days.

The night was an antonym to the day life. It was chaos and pleasure and indulgence and everything forbidden during the day and if you could imagine it, there was someone who could, if given the right fee, make it come true. It was when people embraced restricted thoughts and considered doing things they never dared to do during the day. There was something fundamentally different about the dusk, about the darkness that so easily harbored secrets revealed in the light. It didn't matter if you'd nevere met the person next to you or what they did during the day – all there was was the moment, the now, for now you were content in the knowledge that the person next to you had the courage and audacity to venture into the night and join you.

I nodded to those who called out, not familiar with them nor them with me, but still wanting to be polite. I wasn't walking with a particular purpose or objective in mind. I was simply walking, waiting for the night to tell me where to go for my little excursion to begin.

It wasn't long before I was drawn to one of many clubs along the way. It didn't stand out and it wasn't exceptionally noteworthy. It was just like the rest of them, with flashing lights and a song with a heavy bass beat emitting from the open doors. I entered it cautiously, unfamiliar with this place and yet strangely eager to enter.

I instantly felt out of place in my black slacks and navy blue T-shirt, but I plowed on determinedly, stepping around the thrashing bodies in a futile effort. A few hands brushed teasingly across my body, and even though I'd never been in a place like this before I felt my body heat up and begin to sway slightly with the rhythm.

Still I moved on, more at ease with this strange environment, still looking for something I could not yet identify. I knew I stood out, and my experience with my place was, at best, poor. I wanted to finish whatever business I knew I had here and leave.

And then I saw him for the first time.

He stood alone, a miraculous occurrence in this packed club. There was a foot of space around him before the next dancers. Everyone in the surrounding circle dance facing him, as though he was the main attraction and the center of attention.

And perhaps he was. He moved and danced sinuously, with a grace and dexterity somehow lacking in those around him. He danced as though he was the best and he knew it, and everyone seemed to accept it. He changed the thrashing and rolling of hips from movement to an art, and the ease at which he did it amazed me as I paused and simply stared. He wore a skin tight belly shirt and tight black leather pants, and though his outfit showed much more skin then was strictly necessary, I couldn't help but admire the way he wore it, with comfort suggesting his subtle refinement.

Perhaps it was my staring that drew his eyes, or my outfit, or how I was simply standing in a nightclub. Or perhaps it was fate, although I've never believed in things like that before. At any rate, those piercing deep blue eyes turned their gaze upon me, and I felt my face flush slightly from the intensity of his look. He paused, flicking sandy blonde hair heavy with sweat out of his eyes, and beckoned me with a crooked finger.

It took my mind a moment to catch up to my body. This intoxicating man wanted me, inept, awkward, uncomfortable, to dance with him, competent, skilled, flawless? But my body was already moving forward, eager to meet and please this man I didn't know and yet still drew me close. As I approached he looped his arms around my neck and tugged me close, pressing our hips together. Obviously aware of my untried dancing ability, he began a simple slow sway, ignoring the furious beat of the song.

I carefully placed my hands on his hips, and he offered me a suggestive smile in return. I stiffened slightly when he pressed his lips to my neck and slid a questioning hand up my shirt. I was still confused by my surroundings and this stimulating man. Dancing was one thing, but what he was suggesting was something else entirely.

Still, part of me relished the touching. It'd been so long since another human being had touched me in such a way – too long as in never. I wasn't mean or self-absorbed, but I'd never really found anyone who I felt I could share the rest of my life with. I had never understood when someone turned their eyes to their lover and their look was filled with longing, passion, love. I didn't wish for the feeling because I'd never experienced it and thus couldn't know what I was missing. So the opportunity to experience it was almost too good to pass up.

Almost.

Sensing my hesitation, the man lifted his blue eyed gaze to look at me. I shook my head a little, unwilling to explain my thinking and unable to even if I wanted to because of all the noise. Sensing part of my dilemma, he grabbed my wrist and began pulling me through the crowd. I followed willingly.

A lot of interested looks were thrown my way as the man towed me through the crowd. There were mixes of surprise, confusion, and amusement. I didn't think it was because I was being dragged through a club by the most amazing man there; I got the feeling this was an occurrence that happened quite a lot. Rather, I got the feeling that these people were shooting me those looks because I wasn't one of his "regulars"; I didn't fit this man's usual types.

Which beget the question: why me? I wasn't special or extraordinary, at least certainly not compared to the rest of the people, I was astonishingly ordinary. Was that why he'd chosen me…?

Blinking, I realized that during my inner monologue he had dragged me into a bathroom and locked the stall door. Amazingly, even though I as locked inside an unfamiliar club with someone I didn't know, I was not afraid.

He came forward and kissed me, gently, and I sank into the touch, my senses exploding. His tongue pushed past my lips and his taste filled my mouth. I wasn't able to stop a moan from escaping and I realized this only encouraged him as he swiped his tongue across the inside of my mouth and quickly won our battle for dominance. We broke apart and I fell back against the stall, panting.

He closed the distance between us again. This time he threaded a hand through my black hair and lightly pulled my head to the side, pressing his lips to my neck and, sucking, left red marks I was sure would be evident in the morning. His right hand slid across my body and fingered my erection through the cloth of my pants, eliciting another gasp from me. Unused to the intense pleasure of another person touching my like he was, my overheated body and senses practically screamed for release, and I was loath not to give it. Still, when his fingers began working on the zipper of my pants, I turned my head and unwillingly pushed his hands away.

Instead of being angry, as I expected, he looked amused, the feeling flickering across his face.

"What's wrong?" he inquired, taking a step forward and throwing away the space I had created between us. "I know you enjoyed it…" To emphasize his point, he grinded his hips into mine and I inhaled sharply, resisting the strong urge I had to moan. I pressed into the thin wall, ineffectually trying to widen the gap between us. His smirk proved both that he knew what I was doing and what my intake of breath meant.

"I can't do this…" I muttered more to myself then to him.

"Why not?" he asked. "It's just a night of fun."

There. That was why. I realized it instantly, and I began to regret following this man. I didn't want to be "just a night of fun", or just some plaything to be used one night and then carelessly tossed away. Besides, I was trying to find someone to share my life with, not someone to have a one night stand with. I doubted this man would ever consider that to be an option, would be willing to be tied down, to be bound by the chains of responsibility and commitment that all relationships require. And, I sensed, I didn't want to burden him with such a thing. It was part of what drew me to him, those wild eyes and carefree attitude, and I would rather die then lock that away.

And on top of that…

"You're a virgin, aren't you?"

I started at the sound of his voice, a whisper in my ear. He was pressing his entire body against mine, his face hovering next to my ear, sending shivers down my spine as his breath tickled my over-sensitive skin. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle. You can trust me."

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain my reasoning and to tell him that this would only end in disappointment for me, but he harshly cover my lips with his own and forced my words back down my throat. His hands deftly pulled down my pants and underwear, leaving me exposed.

When his hand brushed my hard shaft, I drew in a shuddering breath and closed my eyes. I knew, at that moment, that I could not resist his advances. It did not matter what crushing guilt I would experience later. The only thing I could think about was how much I wanted this man to touch me, to pleasure me. Tomorrow would be dealt with tomorrow. For now there was only the rushing heat and my need to fulfill this longing ache.

My shirt was discarded next and fell to the floor. Hand still gripping my erection, he attacked a nipple, brushing his lips against it and then letting his tongue flick out and tease it. I could only stand there, my breath coming in ragged pants, as he continued, obviously practiced in his ability and clearly amused by my own inexperience. Even though the haze of ecstasy I managed to lift my hand and tangle it in his hair. It was soft and silky, smooth between my fingers as I curled my hands, gripping this lifeline tightly.

The man paused for a moment to shed his own clothing, but was soon upon me again, pressing our flushed skin together and kissing my already swollen lips. One of his legs curled around me and yanked us together, hips pressing closer and erections brushing, and I gasped, feeling my body tense and I couldn't take it, it was too much and I -

- hissed as I felt unfamiliar fingers sliding in, probing, stretching, loosening tight muscles. He laughed, softly, even as he continued, and I wrapped my arms around him and bit my lip, knowing what was coming but not entirely sure if I was ready for it.

/Doubts will get you nowhere now,/ I reminded myself. /You already made your decision. You can't turn back, even if you wanted to./ It was much to late to start second-guessing.

"Wrap your legs around me," he whispered, and I complied, bracing myself against the flimsy plastic wall. He shifted slight, spreading hi legs to attain a firmer stance, and helped lift me up. My legs crossed behind his back and, grinning, he inquired, "Ready?"

I swallowed thickly and nodded, unable to voice my assent or even anything at all.

He took a deep breath and shoved into me, harshly, penetrating me for the first time in one deft and practiced movement. I let out a tiny scream at the pain and my head fell back, slamming against the plastic wall. The pain from my head only added to the overall intense discomfort as the man pulled out and slammed back into me. This time I let out a whimper and dug my fingers into his shoulders, wondering why on Earth anyone enjoyed this.

My question was answered with the next few thrusts. I'd never really understood the definition of a "sweet spot", but when he slammed into me once again and hit that bundle of nerves the most amazing sensation shot through my body. My eyes flew open and I gasped as the pain blossomed into something considerably better and more pleasurable. He sensed the change, the transition, and smirked, even as he continued thrusting in and out of me. Waves of pure, indefinable euphoria surged through me and I moaned, unused to the sensation but craving more of it even as I reached my peak. He buried himself in me and I climaxed, letting a scream rip from my throat and arching away from the wall as my body tensed and my seed spilled from me. He came just a few seconds after me, biting down sharply on my neck to stop his own cry. I let out a little moan as his seed filled me.

For a few moments the only sound I could hear over the loud throbbing music was my racing heart and our mingled panting. Then he slid carefully out of me, pushing my legs down, and I almost fell over as I forced my shaky legs to support my body. I watched through slotted eyes as the man quickly redressed, smoothing his hair back and shooting me a grin.

I struggled into my own clothing at a considerably slower rate. He watched, clearly entertained by my floundering actions, and when I was finished pushed open the stall door and motioned me out.

I hesitated, staring at the man, wanting to savor and memorize each curve and part of him. Finally I sighed, turning away and exiting. It did not matter how long I looked into his blue eyes or eyed his sumptuous hips – I would never forget him. This I knew with an unerring certainty, and I was both defiant and resigned to the news. I left the club and the dancing man behind and walked back to my apartment, not once glancing behind, even when my eyes smarted and I blinked furiously to clear them.

And so ended my first nigh in a nightclub.


	2. Chapter 2

I know the ending is a little abrupt – I _really_ wanted to have this chapter up and posted. So. Here it is. Thanks for sticking with me!

**Read and review!**

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I groaned, the incessant beeping of my alarm cutting through my sleep. I rolled onto my back to shut the stupid thing off and the winced, wondering why my ass felt like something hard had been shoved up it.

My eyes whipped open as last nights' events made themselves remembered.

I frowned. It felt that way because something hard _was_ shoved up my ass.

I sighed heavily, my eyes slipping close once again. The back of my eyelids offered me a perfect picture of the man who had taken me so heatedly last night, his gorgeous sandy locks, his toned chest and abs, his huge –

I forced my eyes open and told myself sternly to stop mentally undressing a stranger.

Crawling out of bed, I turned my alarm off, stumbled into the bathroom, and glanced half-heartedly at the mirror before doing a double take and staring into wide reflected eyes.

Damn it.

The hickeys the man had so thoughtfully given me last night stood out sharply against my skin, spaced around a bruise already turning yellow on my neck. Watching with slight detachment, one of my hands rose and neatly covered the marks.

Rolling my eyes, I removed my hand. Right, like I could walk around like that all day.

After a refreshing shower and an agonizing ten minutes of staring at the clothing in my dresser, I eyed myself in the mirror distastefully. Although the turtleneck effectively covered up all of the marks, it made me look…I struggled to find the proper adjective. Hideous was too strong, and ugly not strong enough. I settled for wrong. Turtlenecks definitely looked wrong on me.

I sighed, turning from the mirror and gathering up my things for work. At least it was cold enough to justify wearing the thing. I'd rather have my new boss think I was a fashion disaster then some sort of kinky player. Besides, I –

– froze, one hand on the doorknob and the other reaching into my pocket for my keys. New boss?

It all came crashing back a moment later – the promotion, the new office, the move, everything.

I groaned, wondering what supreme being had it in their mind to totally screw up my life. That's right. I was supposed to meet my new boss today and discuss a design I had made with him to see if he liked it.

I closed my eyes, knowing this day couldn't get any more unpleasant.

I was wrong.

--

"Mr. Tuesti? Mr. Shinra will see you now."

I levered myself from chair, giving a tiny sigh of relief when the pressure on my sore butt lightened. The secretary led me down a short, plushy carpeted hallway to a gleaming wood door. She grabbed the handle and opened the door, motioning me inside.

I stepped in, thanking her, and glanced up. Startled, I exclaimed, "You!"

The man from last night paused in the act of rising, a look of surprise flashing across his face, he appeared just as perfect in a suit, somehow fitting in well with the corporate scene around him. He smoothed imagined creases from his suit and raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe we have met before."

I realized I was staring at him with my mouth gaping open, and I quickly shut it. The secretary was throwing glances at the two of us, confusion evident on her features.

The man waved a careless hand, still eyeing me. "You may leave."

Clearly dismissed, the lady inclined her head and retreated, closing the door as she left.

The room was deathly silent for a few moments. Then the man smiled slyly and whatever doubts that had begun to surface instantly vanished.

"It _is_ you!"

"Do be quiet. My secretary knows nothing of my little indulgences." He studied me with renewed interest.

I felt my temper flare. So I was "little indulgence", was I? My face flushed, and I opened my mouth to tell this man just what I thought of him, completely forgetting the position he was in.

But before I could get a single word out, he said, "You know, you really don't look good in that sweater."

The total randomness of the comment and the absurdity of the situation made me slowly close my mouth and simply stare.

He strode out from behind the desk, a slight spring in his step the only thing suggesting his hidden talent. He stepped up to me, too close for comfort, and I took a step back, suddenly weary. That sly smile twitched at the edges of his lips as his hand came forward and pulled down the high collar of my sweater, revealing the pink marks and bruise on my skin. Even this light touch sent sparks racing through me, and I cursed my own weakness even as I longed to be nearer to this man.

He closed the distance between us again, and this time when I tried to step back my foot hit the door. He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me up against the wood, pinning me, and my resistance crumbled as I gazed into those blue eyes.

I knew so little about this man. It was only our second meeting. Yet already he had me under whatever spell he was weaving. I had been tangled in his web and there was no escaping. Normally I was the one who wanted to be in control, and hated to be over-powered.

Still, here I was, being forced against a wall. And even as his lips descended on my neck, I knew I would not want it any other way. Though I had come to this conclusion mere seconds ago, it seemed somehow inevitable, like it had always been the truth and the only thing that had changed was that I now realized and accepted it.

I closed my eyes and tipped my head to allow him better access. His kiss was gentler then I expected, a brushing across my skin. A trickle of sweat made its way down my neck.

He pulled back slightly and opened his eyes to watch me. He was looking thoughtful and a touch confused, lips pursed together and brows furrowed. When he noticed me watching, however, he smoothed the expression from his face and gave me one of his trademark smirks.

"While Reno is certainly entertaining," he murmured, "there's something about you…" He left the sentence hanging.

"Reeve Tuesti…the name somehow suits you."

My eyes widened slightly as he said my name. It sounded different on his tongue. I couldn't say how or why, but coming from him my name was just different.

"Gentle and dark and innocent. Reeve." He tried my name out again.

"You are mine, Reeve," he whispered fiercely, his eyes turning flinty.

I met his gaze without surprise. I had already known that.

"Rufus Shinra," I heard myself say softly. "Nice to meet you," I added almost absentmindedly. Belatedly I realized that it was kind of a stupid thing to say, while being molested in a corporate office, but Rufus – I marveled at how I could put a name to his face now – ignored it. His lips collided with mine and I moaned unintentionally. This only served to encourage him as he ground our hips together and forced his tongue in my moth with a practiced air. I could feel my body heat up from the contact, felt the flush rise to my cheeks and the blood course through my body. As he ravished my neck once again with his lips, I silently marveled at how much my life had changed in the past twenty-four hours.

At that moment, a knock reverberated on the door behind me.

We both froze, my eyes snapping open to stare dazedly at the far wall above Rufus's head. Rufus pulled away slightly and said, his warm breath pooling against my neck, "Yes?"

"Can I come in, yo?" a voice asked from outside the door.

The strange affectation to this new man's sentence puzzled me, but Rufus gave a little resigned sigh and straightened. Stepping back, he replied, "Come in, then."

I stepped hastily away door as it swung open, revealing a brilliantly red-headed man who looked like he had slept in his clothes.

He stared openly at me and I met his gaze squarely. Suddenly he grinned and turned to Rufus.

"This your new sex toy, boss? Now what I would've expected from you."

I blushed deeply and glanced away, lowering my eyes to the floor.

I noticed Rufus looking at me as I averted my gaze and, if it was possible, my face turned an even darker shade of red.

"He is my employee," Rufus finally replied, eyes still lingering on me.

"So you can screw him anytime you want to, huh?"

My eyes widened slightly as I realized the truth of that statement. I wondered if I should feel nervous or excited.

"Do you have something relevant to say to me, Reno?"

Reno…I felt like I'd heard that name before. It did seem like the kind of name I'd remember.

Reno blinked, then looked puzzled, like he couldn't remember why he was there.

Rufus sighed, massaging his temples. "Why don't you go back, find Elena, and send her up?"

"She said she was busy, yo!" Reno protested.

Elena…Reno…it clicked. That's right. They were part of Rufus's security, also commonly called "the Turks" (although I couldn't figure out why).

So this red head was a part of the infamous protection around Rufus Shinra? It was hard to believe.

"I remembered! They said to tell you that they think there's been a leak."

In a very controlled voice, which I already knew meant Rufus was barely containing his anger, he said, "You didn't think that was important enough to remember?"

Reno looked alarmed, a sentiment I was beginning to share. "I'm just gonna go, boss." And he fled.

I also consider leaving, but my curiosity outweighed my fear, a situation that had (in hindsight) never really ended well.

I actually took a step forward. Rufus's eyes snapped up to mine. I think he believed I had left with Reno. I probably should have, honestly.

"What could have leaked?" I asked, my mind already working.

Although I'd worked for Shinra for quite a few years, it was my first time in this new office building, meaning I knew next to nothing about the employees in this building. Knowing it was impossible for me to figure out who exactly had released information (for now, anyway), I moved on to figuring out what had been leaked.

As far as I knew, Shinra wasn't doing anything illegal – that was blatantly obvious, I corrected (every company had a few black marks). But there were still things that would pose serious problems if they were leaked – personal information on the employees, upcoming projects, and certain blueprints, just to name a few.

I glanced up, still engrossed in my thoughts and realized Rufus's eyes were still boring into mine.

"What?" I said, a little defensively, as another of his trademark smirks spread across his face.

"You," he replied. "So analytical. I can see your mind working though this problem already. But yet so emotional, sensitive to others around you…or on top of you."

I blushed slightly at that comment, but continued to meet his gaze.

"How do you balance the two sides?"

I was a bit taken aback by the question. "I don't think they need to balance. I do whatever needs to be done, as long as it feels right."

"It is really so black and white?"

I was beginning to get a little suspicious about this moral debate. "Shouldn't we be talking about the leak?"

"But you're so much more interesting," he informed me, coming forward and gripping my arms tightly.

"I don't think this is the time – " I protested, but I was silenced as Rufus pressed his lips to mine, he released my arms but I didn't move, couldn't move – the feel of his lips against mine was too pleasant to surrender.

Unexpectedly, he dipped his hand into my pants and unceremoniously groped my butt. I gasped, automatically arching away from the touch and pressing my body closer to his. He forced his tongue into my mouth while simultaneously slipping his other hand up my shirt, the actions seemingly natural and easy for him. The skin-on-skin contact on my flesh (which, I was beginning to realize, really was sensitive) made my body heat up and the blood rush to places I'd really rather it didn't.

When Rufus broke away to latch his hands to my sweater, I tried again. "Do you really think we should be – "

"For being so beautiful, you really do talk too much," he grumbled, pulling my sweatshirt and undershirt off in one swift pull.

"I don't – "

I was silenced – again – by his fierce kiss. His hands roamed across my bare chest, tweaking my nipples and (unfortunately) arousing me. I was partly ashamed that his simple touch could arouse me so easily, but mostly I let that burning, rushing feeling flow through me, the heady foreign intoxication filling my senses and making me numb to everything but my aching need and his hot breath and warm hands.

He shifted back slightly, watching me. My breath was coming uncomfortably short little gasps, unused as I was to sexual arousal. My knees buckled as he pressed his fingers to the bulge in my pants, and only his arm kept me from falling to the ground. I felt weak and inexperience compared to him, but I suppose that was only expected, because I _was_ weak and inexperienced compared to him.

He guided me over to the desk, pushing me against it and resting his body against my back as I used the wooden structure to keep me upright. His breath was hot against my neck, his hand warm against my stomach, and I could feel his cock pressing into my leg. I couldn't suppress a shiver as he ran a teasing hand up and down my clothed arousal, and I tried my best to suppress a groan, very aware of the women just twenty feet away.

Rufus rapidly discarded the rest of my clothing, his fingers working nimbly, unlatching my belt and pushing down my pants and underwear. He didn't leave my body unattended for long, however. His hand gripped my shaft and began a steady, smooth pumping motion. The action made my breath catch and I couldn't help but arch into the touch, my eyelids fluttering and my grip on the desk tightening. I heard his low laugh in my ear as he continued his seemingly simple motion.

I reached my limit rapidly, and after not too long I hit my climax. Rufus's hand clamped down over my mouth just moments before, the moan I couldn't stop from escaping effectively muffled. I arched backwards, pressing my head into the crook of his neck as I peaked. After the indescribable rush was over I practically collapsed on the desk, breathing heavily, blinking rapidly as white spots swam into my vision.

Suddenly Rufus forced his fingers into my mouth. I swallowed reflexively and realized they were coated with my own semen, the taste strange and bitter.

"Get these wet for me, won't you?" he whispered, low and silky, into my ear.

I could do nothing but comply, letting my tongue glide over the digits as he slid them up to the knuckles down my throat. I made a soft noise of protest as my gag reflex hit, which came out sounding barely audible. He shushed me, but pulled his fingers out, a string of saliva connecting us for a moment and then breaking.

My body felt exhausted and unresponsive, yet I clearly felt his first finger probe my entrance and then slide neatly in. His other hand rubbed the particularly sensitive skin on my inner thigh, tracing small circles with surprising gentleness. I made a small murmur, feeling my body respond automatically to his touch and not the least bit shocked to realize I was beginning to get hard again. When he put in his second finger he slid in deeper, and my breath caught. He twisted and probed, adding the third finger effortlessly, and I moved, pressing back against those fingers and biting down on my lip to stop the noises that wanted to break out so desperately.

Too soon and not yet soon enough he was shedding his own clothing, placing his hands on my hips, the tip of his cock lightly prodding my entrance. I slid my eyes close to stop the tears I felt close to shedding as he entered me, the sensation still unfamiliar and aching. He paused for a moment, whether letting me adjust or adjusting himself I wasn't sure. He pulled out and pressed back, starting a smooth, leisurely rhythm that was much more tender then last night.

It didn't even cross my mind how ridiculous this scene might have looked had someone walked in on us, the director of an esteemed company ramming into his own employee who was bent over a desk. My thoughts were nothing, lost to the pleasure, especially when Rufus hit that spot again, that indescribable spot in my body which, until yesterday, I hadn't even known existed, and I couldn't stop my arms from shaking due to the bliss. I don't know if he felt my trembles or if he just grew impatient, but his thrusting became quicker, the breath in my ear growing heavier. His hand snaked forward and gripped my shaft, pumping it in time with his own pace, but at this point it was just another sensation added atop an overwhelming amount of them.

It became too much for me all too swiftly, this overpowering feeling of pleasure coursing through my body. My toes curled and I pushed my body back into one of his last thrusts as I came. Once again Rufus shoved his fingers into my mouth, and the scream I had been unable to stop came out as a garbled mumble.

As he slammed into me for the final time, his own seed filling me, I collapsed weakly on top of the desk, coughing as Rufus removed his fingers. I felt him draw away from me and heard wood sliding on wood as he open a drawer and the rustle of cloth as he removed something from said drawer. I was astonished to feel the rough a texture thrown over me a few seconds later.

I grabbed the towel in my hands and somehow managed to stand up without falling over, staring at the white cloth in puzzlement.

Rufus chuckled amusedly at my expression.

"Clean yourself up," he explained. "You are capable of that, no?" He, of course, had already erased any evidence of our little involvement on himself, put on his clothes, and was now moving to his desk with a similar towel, which (I blushed upon noticing) covered with the sticky white evidence of my climax.

Wordlessly, I took the cloth and half-heartedly wiped myself off. Sighing, I draped the towel around my midsection and closed my eyes, worn out. Maybe Rufus, with his apparently never-ending sex drive, could keep such an active sex life, but for me it was simply…

Simply…tiring…

And the world faded away.


End file.
