Dark Reflection: Chapter Four
By S.J. Kohl

A/N: Written for my good friend LiamJohansen on DeviantArt, for her birthday. Look her up sometime!

Tseng took a deep breath as he watched Rufus turn around and study the mirror. It had been a risk, but it was well worth it, whatever happened. He was fairly certain Rufus hadn't gotten laid—to use the term Reno had lately insisted he adopt—since before the explosion, and he was even more certain Rufus had never allowed anyone to take him. It was always about power and being in control. But it was good to learn you didn't always have to be in control, especially when something like the Geostigma was involved. Not even Rufus could control the Geostigma.

But perhaps it would better if he didn't allow Rufus too much time to think or consider. He wasn't allowing himself to ask the questions circling around in his mind after all—why his name, for starters…why him?—so why should Rufus be offered the luxury of reflection? Besides, he'd always found it was never good to think too much about sex. It was what it was, and what it was not was an area in which control was celebrated or prized. So Tseng stood and moved close behind Rufus, wrapping one arm around his waist and splaying the fingers of his other hand out across one of Rufus's sharp hipbones. He leaned forward over Rufus's shoulder and met a pair of cold blue eyes in the mirror.

Rufus's breath hitched and he shivered against the warmth of Tseng's skin. "What are you doing?"

"This is how you see me, isn't it?" Tseng cocked his head at an angle, his eyes scanning the length of the mirror and the forms reflected within it. "This is what you see in the mirror at night."

"Not exactly."

"No," Tseng whispered, and his fingers danced their way over the buttons of Rufus's shirt, unfastening them to reveal pale, chilled skin. Only one layer of clothing today, though, despite the chill Rufus obviously felt. The fabric must be too heavy or too coarse, must aggravate the Stigma. Something would have to be done about that, but not now. Tseng smiled and ran his hands over muscle and bone, across one nipple—dark, he was pleased to see, much darker than the near-white skin around it—and over one prominent collarbone before drifting back down to deal with zippers and buttons and slip his hand inside the customary white trousers. "But this, I gather, is something closer to the fantasy."

Rufus clenched his teeth. "Tseng, I swear to you…"

"What? You'll gut me?" Tseng shrugged and curled his fingers around Rufus's hardening cock, reveling in the heat beginning to pulse beneath the surface. "Go ahead. You know where I keep my knife."

Rufus hissed and closed his eyes, refusing to look, refusing to see. But unwilling to pull away either. It felt good, far, far too good. "Tseng."

"Not quite how you were saying it before, but perhaps we'll get there yet. Just give me a moment." Tseng stepped back then, sliding Rufus's shirt off his shoulders and kneeling to unlace the brown leather shoes one at a time. He smiled, amused, as Rufus lifted first one foot and then the other to allow him to remove the shoes, and then the slacks, and he couldn't help but admire the image Rufus presented in the mirror. Eyes closed and head tilted back, blond hair impeccably brushed back as usual, skin flushed and tight, the muscles of his stomach tense and quivering. Tseng trailed his arms along the outsides of Rufus's thighs and hips as he rose to his feet again, once more taking up the position of leaning over Rufus's right shoulder, his lips pressed practically against Rufus's ear. "So…does the fantasy have me naked or fully clothed?"

Rufus pressed his lips together and didn't answer.

"Left up to my own imagination then," Tseng nodded, pulling a small tube of lubrication from his pocket—he had made some preparations for Rufus's arrival, after all—and popping the cap open. Normally he wouldn't cut straight to the point; like Rufus, he preferred subtlety and patience—but he felt that direct action was more what Rufus needed at the moment. So he rubbed the gel between his fingers to warm it and then slipped them down between Rufus's legs, circling and pressing just the slightest bit. "Your fantasies, I gather, were more rough than gentle. But I'm in the mood for something different tonight, so this will have to suffice."

Rufus snarled and almost snapped his teeth at the arm Tseng had wrapped around his shoulders to hold him steady. Who was Tseng to tell him what would "have to suffice"? But those fingers…they weren't like anything he'd ever felt before. The skin was sensitive, of course, but the way they pressed and touched, it was almost reverent. It felt good. The fabric of Tseng's suit, though, was too coarse. It scraped and burned and he hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes flying wide as he growled and almost shoved Tseng back away from him. "Clothes," he ground out. "Off."

Tseng nodded and stripped without a word, laying his clothes out neatly on the bed behind him before returning to the lube and Rufus's body. He held the man in place, slid two fingers inside and reveling in the hiss that slipped from between Rufus's lips. There had been a lot of those tonight—perhaps Rufus had more in common with Dark Nation than they'd guessed? But Rufus didn't protest, so Tseng moved, sliding them in further and then out again and pressing himself close against Rufus's back, skin to skin, sucking the chill from Rufus's flesh. Another finger and Rufus was leaning forward, one hand on the mirror and his eyes incontrovertibly open as he met Tseng's stare in the mirror, flushed but still impassive.

Tseng smiled a small, tight smile and pulled back, squirting more lube into the palm of his hand and picking up the toy from where it lay on the bed. He wrapped his arms around Rufus's waist and held the dildo at about hip height, lubing it up lazily as he pressed a firm kiss to the join of neck and shoulder, scraping his teeth across the skin he found there and watching as Rufus's gaze flicked down the mirror to watch his hand stroking along the length of plastic. Then, keeping one hand on Rufus's hip to hold him in place, Tseng moved, pressing the tip of the dildo against Rufus's entrance and pushing—not quite hard, but not gently either. There was no reason not to give Rufus some of the force he'd become accustomed to over the past weeks.

Rufus gasped and closed his eyes tightly. What the fuck was he still doing in this room? Standing here, like this… His legs were shaking, shaking damn it, and he was just standing there while Tseng… He bit down on his lip as the toy was pulled out and shoved back in again.

Pull, shove.

And Rufus might have whimpered. There was burning, pain—how could there not be?—but it was minimal, easily discounted. More than that, far more than that, there was a sense of fullness and movement that scraped against the inside of his body, slicing at his nerves and causing a shivering tension in muscles he hadn't really known he had. Holy Shiva… Rufus opened his eyes again, and there was that face, pale skin and dark eyes shrouded in a black curtain of hair that fell across his back and brushed against too sensitive skin. Fingers tight against his hip and a thrusting that…

Disappeared.

And Rufus did whimper this time but Tseng soothed and petted, dropping the dildo to the ground and leaning in close and closer until Rufus could feel it. Hot flesh instead of cold plastic and it pushed in easily, small, tight little thrusts that sang in Rufus's blood until he wasn't quite sure whether how he was still standing. But Tseng was holding him close and now he knew why he hadn't left the room and why was it, exactly, that he hadn't done this sooner?

Something about weakness, he knew, but he couldn't quite remember at the moment, not when Tseng's hand was trailing across his skin to wrap around his cock and his own hand was splayed against the mirror, reflected in the glass as he struggled to keep from breaking apart.

Another thrust and he stopped struggling, just let himself shatter because Tseng hit…something... "Oh, fuck," Rufus whispered, pushing back a little, just a little.

Tseng laughed and thrust again. "That's not what you're supposed to say."

But the words faded in and out with the thrusting and Rufus didn't give a fuck what Tseng wanted him to say. All he cared about was the thrusting and Tseng's hand between his thighs. If the bastard stopped, Rufus really would gut him. He couldn't close his eyes though. The image—so much darker and deeper in reality than it had ever been in fantasy—held him captivated, and he wasn't quite expecting it, wasn't quite ready for it when the slow, tantalizing thrusts became sharp and demanding. Rufus sucked in a breath and shivered, collapsing into Tseng's grip and just trusting Tseng to hold him up. "Tseng…"

"Better," Tseng smiled and bit down, hard, on Rufus's shoulder.

Harder now, almost ragged, and Tseng's breaths were need and ache and fuck and his eyes were black and endless and Rufus got sucked into them, wondering how all that fire had remained hidden beneath the surface for so long. And then Tseng was shuddering and coming and collapsing against him and they were sliding down the glass to the floor, Rufus on his knees with Tseng bent over him, hand tight and moving on his cock until the world came to an end. Rufus closed his eyes then—he couldn't help it. The heat and the light and the fucking pleasure wouldn't let him keep them open, but he felt it as Tseng dragged his hand up his chest, smearing the fucking mess against his skin, and he suddenly realized that he didn't care. He could take a shower later. Right now…

Rufus sighed and relaxed. Tseng was probably right about that. He did need to relax.

Tseng relaxed as well, pulling Rufus back with him until he was leaning against the bed and Rufus was leaning against him and they were both staring into the mirror. He cleared his throat. "You aren't going to die, you know."

Rufus cocked an eyebrow. "I have Geostigma."

"I saw," Tseng murmured.

"There is no cure."

Tseng shrugged. "You still aren't going to die."

Rufus shook his head and laughed, his first real laugh in…years, maybe. "Whatever you say, Tseng. I can't really confess to caring at the moment."