Roxx, 27 she/her. Minors DNI, Do not interact. Mainly horny talk about FF7 characters, mostly Tseng and Hojo. I only act straight for these characters. ao3:flowersandglocks. I literally talk to myself on here, so I guess this is also personal but I'm not making a separate page. Sorry ya'll have to suffer, I never expected followers.
If asked, you would say you were close to your husband. It was only when alone you would admit sadly to yourself that it wasn't as true as you wished. You told yourself varying kinds of truths to self-soothe. For example, if he wasn't fond of you, he wouldn't have married you. Being a little cold just his way. He wouldn't step closer but neither would you. Could you blame him for being distant if you did the same? Despite telling yourself this on a regular basis, being with Rufus was bittersweet. No amount of lies or rationalization could overcome the ache you had for him.
Rufus came home early from the Shinra building, and you were waiting. He told you a week ago that there was yet another event scheduled at which you had to appear by his side.
“Hi, Babe."
He replied by wearily saying your name. He then walked over, car keys jingling in his pocket and sunglasses on the top of his hair—after taking off his boots, of course—and leaned down to kiss your temple. You longed to pull him down for more affection but you didn't, and he continued towards the kitchen.
“It starts at six,” he calls from there. “Do you have an outfit picked out?”
His voice rapidly came closer, and you shifted on the sofa to see him staring at you from the doorway. You answered in the affirmative while he glanced up at the black-painted wooden clock on the wall behind you. You had plenty of time to get ready.
“Then we should try.”
That was his way of asking for sex for the purpose of getting you pregnant. This was initially decided on because You got off the sofa in lieu of an answer. He turned around to switch off the coffee maker he just turned on. You went up the stairs towards the master bedroom, wondering if you were the only one feeling the tension from knowing you weren't a normal couple and yet could be.
He watched you undress. You felt oddly embarrassed, intimacy you weren’t used to. “What position do you want?” you asked, to distract yourself.
“From behind.” He went into his closet to undress.
He seemed to like that position and asked for it a lot. You threw your clothes over the stool in front of your vanity for now and went and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the enduring tension. Sex with Rufus was admittedly awkward but you went through it because you wanted that intimacy you weren’t getting, even if it was just rubbing intimate parts together and not for very long with a particular goal in mind.
As soon as Rufus came out of the closet, you gave your attractive husband a once over with hungry eyes before getting into position in the middle of the big bed. You admitted to yourself long ago that a significant reason you were with him was because of how he looked. You thought you should be embarrassed but you liked presenting yourself for your husband. You felt Rufus get on the bed behind you, making you spread your knees wider in invitation. He seemed to be an ass man and immediately put his fingers to yours, starting out light then digging in greedily. He next dragged the head of his cock up and down along your folds, spreading the increasing wetness around.
That was it for foreplay. He pushed inside, forcing through tightness—which burned for you—while you opened your thighs even more, hoping it would ease his passage.
“Maybe we should consider lubrication next time,” he suggested.
You had your face pressed into the mattress, forcing your voice to be normal. “Yep.”
Rufus reaches his end however-many-minutes later, the silence only disturbed by heavy breathing and the occasional slap to your ass. You joined him there, only because you forced it by rubbing really hard.
Usually, the two of you would lie there silently in the afterglow. He would leave first. This time, you had a little more courage than usual. You have always wanted to cuddle. Every second that passed where he hadn't left yet, you gained a little more courage. Maybe he would be okay with it, you encouraged yourself.
You overcame the fear of rejection and rolled over, pressing yourself to his side, sweat and all. He didn't move but he didn't push you away, either. Progress? Rufus was not a warm man. The drying sweat was already cooling his skin. It still felt right.
Just as you were feeling comfortable with this new little adventure in affection, he murmured, “I'm going to shower,” and got up.
Fair enough. If you felt sweaty and gross, he probably did, too. Plus, you both had to get ready. You waited for him to shower first, in the big glass shower in the master bathroom. It gave you time to think about what kind of hairstyle you were in the mood for. Once he was finished, it was your turn while he blow dried his hair in front of the bathroom mirror.
You exited the shower to an empty bathroom. After toweling your body off, you headed to your vanity in the master bedroom to dry and style your hair. You remember feeling more like Rufus’ wife when you first got it because he was providing for you. It was a luxury that you never had room for before you got married. It was easier to ignore the loneliness you sometimes felt when sitting here. Tonight, you decided to blow your hair straight and then flatiron it. You remember how bad you were at it at first, but it’s so easy now that you could let your mind wander as you worked, only concentrating to make sure you didn’t burn your fingers.
Just as you were finished blow-drying, Rufus emerged from his closet, wearing his outfit for the night. It’s another white suit, but this time it’s a tuxedo, and the only black is the bow tie. His habit was to head to his home office in these kinds of situations. You switched to the already-hot flatiron and finished your hair. After doing your makeup, you went and found Rufus—just as you guessed—in his home office.
Once he noticed your presence, he rose from his desk. “The car’s ready for us in the parking garage.”
You headed towards the front door, when he said, “Wait.” He turned from looking at the tall windows of the penthouse. “Let’s take a picture.”
Occasionally, he would ask for you to play happily married couple so that Shinra could release the photo. The light was soft this late in the evening. You both looked great. A real couple. He put on that confident smirk you found so attractive. You'd go so far as to admit to yourself that you loved it. You hugged him tighter and gave the camera a genuine smile.
The events after that blurred together and went quickly. You’ve done this many times: accompany Rufus to the event, pause for pictures with a smile, make an entrance, and then socialize. Well, Rufus did most of the socializing. You were friendly with a few people but you preferred to sip on a drink or take a bite from the passed hors d'oeuvres, adding to the conversation here or there when appropriate.
You only noticed a man talking to Rufus at one point because he didn't seem to leave and Rufus’ bored expression indicated he didn't want to listen. The man seemed vaguely familiar but sometimes guests at these events blur together. You grew concerned when Rufus' face indicated displeasure as the man continued, even leaning a little closer to say something quietly. Usually, no one pushed him this far. The man didn't get the message until Rufus turned this expression on him.
“Don't make me repeat myself.”
After the man left, you asked, “Who was he?”
When he turned to you, you could see he was still frustrated. His hand closes tightly around your upper arm. “I want to try.”
“Ow.”
His fingers relaxed.
“Here?” you asked.
“Yes.”
You leaned away, not from him but the suggestion. “No! Someone could see us. I’m not into that.”
He turned away with a huff, dropping his arm. “Alright.” He accepted it unhappily.
“After?”
“Alright.”
He was quieter from then on but not too grumpy. The night continued. He excused himself to the bathroom, which was just as well because you found someone you liked to chat with after he left. Your friend, not his. Partway through the chat, you saw someone walk by, wearing a dark suit. It reminded you of the Turks, which reminded you of Rufus.
The dark suit walked by a second time five minutes later, giving you an odd feeling. It was probably nothing but you still excused yourself from the conversation and called Tseng, asking for him to confirm Rufus’ exact location. He was the president, after all. Can’t be too careful.
“He’s not answering his PHS,” Tseng replied.
You knew Tseng well enough in a professional capacity that a deviation from his usual tone was concerning.
“He went to the bathroom last I spoke with him, so I’ll head in that direction,” you replied, walking quickly towards the door leading from the hall that would lead you towards the bathrooms.
You put your PHS in your clutch. Standing in the hallway, you didn’t see a white suit among the few guests lingering outside the bathroom doors. You walked closer to the bathrooms, thinking it would help somehow. It didn’t, and he didn’t magically come walking out of the men’s. You continued walking and glanced around a corner that probably led to rooms for staff, assuming that would also be fruitless.
It’s strange to see someone else wearing a white suit like that. Usually, only Rufus wears-
“Ma’am? Did you find the president?”
Rufus must have heard Tseng talking as he came around the corner to join you. He took his mouth away from the other man's neck and unwrapped his arms from the man's body. It's hard to tell exactly what was going on, but you can guess. Rufus uses the black handkerchief he usually carries with him to wipe his mouth. Then he balls it up and stuffs it back in one of his pockets.
“You can go,” you said to Tseng, trying to keep the rage from being misdirected at him. This wasn't his business. It was between you and Rufus.
You stood there, staring at him in painful disbelief, barely registering the other man drunkenly shambling away. The muted clamour of the party pushed on you from behind as your thoughts raced, rapidly nailing the coffin shut on the trust you thought you shared. The reality of what you saw and the noise converged within you in an uncomfortable way. There would be no Clair de Lune playing dramatically and a neat transition to the next scene that pushes the story along. This was real life, not a movie. What he’s done is unforgivable, but what now?
You ended up just going home together like usual. You were so angry and hurt you could barely speak on the way to the car, anyway. You were stewing when he finally spoke up in the darkness of the back seat.
“Disgusted, are we? Disgusted with ‘my kind’?”
That was a low blow. You weren't aware that your anger was showing on your face. It could easily have been mistaken for disgust. About to ask yourself if what he said was true and spiral inwardly, your indignation took the wheel instead and you started yelling, not caring if the driver heard you, “You used me! You didn't even have the courage to tell me.”
“Would you have agreed to this arrangement?"
“That's not the point! You lied! By omission!” Then your anger deflated. “I thought we were both just afraid of healthy intimacy.”
“Well, now you know,” he muttered bitterly.
And that was it. The death of your marriage.
You went home with him because if you wanted to leave, you had to, to get some things. Rufus didn’t comment on your silence the entire way home and up to the penthouse. You followed him though the door and…you just couldn’t.
You ended up going to bed with your husband like usual. Tonight left you exhausted and the idea of having to go to your parents’ place and explain what happened was unappealing. In the back of your mind, you knew it was also because following the routine was comfortable. You were passing off the hard part of planning to move out to the you of tomorrow.
You shouldn’t make decisions when you’re emotional, you tell yourself.
Instead of falling asleep like you expected, you end up unable to, mentally wrestling with yourself. How can you be comfortable but also restless? Rufus must have fallen asleep. You rolled over to check on him and he was staring right back at you. You sighed, partly because you didn't want a conversation to spark. It would be easy to be drawn into one; you still love him. Also, it's not surprising to find your excessive movements kept him awake.
No, you pretend he doesn't exist and all but fling yourself out of bed, pushing the blankets aside like a nuisance. He doesn’t comment now, either, and you go to the kitchen. Unfortunately, none of the snacks appeal to you. It hurts knowing you’d normally just go to the grocery store with the money Rufus provided. Of course, he never went with you.
You closed the cupboard and turned around to go sit, and jumped. Rufus had appeared silently next to the table.
“You scared me again,” you sighed in frustration. He had done this before.
“You’re leaving,” was all he said.
“I understand that you’ll keep having…certain needs.” You hated the idea of being the reason Rufus has to hold himself back from being himself. Trying to imagine how lonely he must be made your heart ache. You leaned back against the counter, arms loosely crossed as a barrier to this situation.
“And that disgusts you, so…you’re running away. I knew you would have such a problem with what I am,” he gritted out.
“I don't. But I can't stay, now, can I?”
He sneered. “Don't lie. You can't stand what I am.”
“No!” you shouted. He sounded so disgusted with you in turn that you had to set him straight. You stood up, almost shaking with frustration. “Because I’m a woman!”
He was stunned, then the anger deflated. “What? What does that have to do with this?”
“...you’re not into women.”
“I am into women,” he replied, as if that’s obvious.
“But you were…”
“What did you think I was doing?” Then he stepped closer, using your name as a question, to urge you to expand on what you said.
“You were cheating on me.” You crossed your arms tight across your chest and pressed your lips together, finally having said it out loud.
Rufus, about to take another step, pauses with his heel on the floor. You see on his face as he works out what happened. “You didn’t see what happened, did you?”
Now he was denying reality, which pissed you off. “Don’t-”
He cut you off with your name again. He reached out as if he wanted to grab your face but then stopped himself, frustrated, and started pacing.
“Rufus?”
He stopped and squared himself with you. He was completely closed off except for an unknown emotion in his eyes. “I can tell you the truth. But then I won’t let you go.”
Something about the way he said that makes you suddenly feel like prey standing in front of a predator. That maybe you didn’t know Rufus, this powerful man, at all. What would happen if you agreed to hear his words? This is much different from living in limbo fantasy land where you believed he ‘probably’ loved you.
“You’ll understand when I tell you,” he added.
You only took a moment before you sighed. “Okay. Tell me.”
After a short pause, he said, “I’m a vampire.”
His confession was met with silence. You heard the words but you didn't believe it. He took a step closer.
“I’m a vampire,” he repeated, as if that would be enough for you to absorb it.
“I don’t understand. Are you joking?”
“Do I ever joke?”
He was right. He hasn't. The idea that he was telling the truth was overwhelming. Because if he was telling the truth, then vampires would have to exist, and you don't know how long he's been one, plus how did he become one…? Too many questions.
Rufus said your name softly, like he was hesitant to interrupt your reverie. He was unsure, which rarely happened. So he’s serious, you conclude. Was he telling the truth? If so, what actually happened in that hallway? If he wasn’t kissing that man’s neck, then…
An idea strikes you. “Rufus. Your handkerchief.” You don't wait for him to reply and go over to where he left his suit jacket from the event thrown over the sofa in the living room.
“What are you doing?” he asks. His tone is curious, yet a touch weary.
You don't answer. After pulling out the wrinkled handkerchief, you go into the kitchen, flicking the light switch on as you go. You rinse the black square in the sink.
The water runs red.
You didn’t want to believe him; you already started distancing yourself emotionally when you saw him in the hallway earlier that night. But now that you've seen some evidence, you were wondering if what he was doing was still cheating. Rufus had followed you into the kitchen with a somber expression like he was waiting for a verdict to be passed down. You're not sure if the best choice is to stay—regardless of what your heart wants—so you turn to him to ask some questions.
He explains that Tseng knows, which doesn't surprise you. Part of his job was to pretend otherwise in front of everyone else. Knowing he helped you look for Rufus as if he didn't know what was going on stung a little. Rufus goes on to explain that he had fed on that man before. He had an arrangement with Rufus where he would feed on the man in exchange for a better business deal with his small company.
The problem was, someone had recently made a passing comment about the favour Rufus was showing that man, and in response, Rufus was distancing himself, hoping to find someone else with which to sate his need. The man tried to corner Rufus about a recent revision in a contract, and the frustration weakened Rufus' resolve. He thought taking out his frustration on you, quickly and out of sight, would help.
You didn't feel guilty about saying no back then. You were upset now because he never told you and wanted to press him further. “How come you didn't just feed on Tseng?”
“Even after drinking a potion, the other person is sick for several days as if they have a cold or flu. I can't afford for him to take that many sick days.”
You took a step closer. “What about me?” It's a little twisted, maybe even selfish, but it pained you that he hadn't even tried to share his burden in that way.
He raised his hand and you thought he’d reach for you, but he quietly curled his fingers into a fist, instead. “I can't. I can't feed on you when you might be pregnant. What if you are and we don't know yet? It could be dangerous.”
You sighed forcefully and turned away, upset that he had a point. There was the time between trying and when the pregnancy test worked. “Still, I’m your wife. You should have told me.” You said this even though you don’t feel it’s true. Despite the legal marriage and living together, keeping secrets from each other would be unsurprising to an outsider looking in. You knew he’d push back on this.
“You wouldn’t have accepted me.”
He stood there with his back straight, chin level, and a straight face, which angered as much as it hurt you.
“You didn’t give me the option!”
It’s not often that you could get surprise to show on his face; it usually meant you said something he didn’t expect. The times when he didn’t have a smooth reply or decision ready and turned over what you said in his mind. You felt a little more like an equal in those times. Right now, you just felt hurt and disappointed and also, despite getting an important detail wrong, like your marriage was still on shaky ground.
Again, he straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “Will you accept me now?”
You were hesitant but in his defence, he did make an effort to keep you safe. If you didn’t take a risk on him, you couldn’t expect him to do the same for you in the future if you needed it. But…it was difficult to admit. Rufus’ default might be cold and distant but you’re used to it, now, too. You can’t help but hope that with this revelation, he might agree to let you get closer. Hesitantly, you nodded.
You watched him process how surprisingly easy that was.
That he could have confessed a long time ago and saved you both grief.
“This is the sort of situation where an apology is necessary…isn’t it?” he asked stiffly, crossing his wrists behind his back.
He was obviously uncomfortable but he deserved it. You nodded.
He cleared his throat, but you didn’t call him out on procrastinating. Then he put his hand to his chest and bowed slightly. “I’m sorry.”
It’s clear he’s mimicking Tseng. Has he never had to genuinely apologize?! “Rufus, I’m your wife. Not your boss.”
You get treated to a second surprised Rufus in one night. “Right, right.”
He stepped close enough to hold you by your upper arms and gave you a more genuine apology. It’s not exactly what you had in mind but you won’t complain for now. You’re tired of being angry and hurt. But also, curious now. After some reluctance, he agreed to show you his fangs. All he had to do was close his mouth and open it again and there they were.
You hummed thoughtfully, immediately reaching into his mouth. “They’re shorter than I expected.” You pressed on one tooth from behind to test how solid they were, careful not to prick yourself on the point. You touched the other one. They felt the same as regular teeth, just longer and sharper. It was fascinating. “Do you cut your tongue…?”
Grabbing your hands, he spoke your name. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
“You would have hurt me by now if you wanted to.”
Still holding your hands, he asked, “Is that all?” He watched, or searched, your face for something.
You frowned, confused. It was the first answer that came to mind. And it was true.
Quickly, he kissed your temple and pressed his cheek to it, his hands coming up to hold your head still so you couldn’t turn and see his face. The closeness sped up your heartbeat. “I was hoping you would say you cared about me,” he said quietly.
You were stunned, not answering initially. “But I do.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
You detected a faint precious hope in the last word of his question. “Yes. I thought you were a smart man,” you added.
Your hands had found their way into his clothes at some point, holding the white fabric. He growled at your joke but still, brought his arms down around you, arms and all, and held tight. Again, it felt right to be so close to Rufus. He let go but you immediately pulled him back.
“I need more. You don't hold me long enough.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “If you're wondering why I never did, it's because you always looked like you were…delicious,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. “And I didn’t want to hurt you, in case I lost control.”
You took his answer in silently. Then you asked, “What about that guy earlier?”
“He’s bland,” he sighed. He tucked your head under his chin with a hand to the back of it. “I didn’t realize you liked this.”
“Of course I do,” you murmured. It felt right again, but this time without the bit of anxiety in the back of your mind that he might just be tolerating you. Also, your mind naturally drifted, wondering if there were signs that Rufus was different that you missed. Suddenly, you gasped and leaned back. “That's why you tell everyone you're allergic to garlic! I thought you were just a weirdo that hated the taste.”
He raised an eyebrow at the mild insult. “Yes. It's more that it's a poison for me. Which is a shame because I like the smell as much as anyone.”
Next you grabbed his arm to pull up his sleeve. “That's why you have a cheaper stainless steel watch instead of silver.”
“I helped design this,” he said defensively.
“A watch doesn't make or break a man,” you pointed out. Then you yawned and yawned big.
“It's late.”
You agreed and the two of you went upstairs to get ready for bed. You continued to pester him about details that might have pointed to what he was during your marriage. Standing next to him while brushing your teeth, you asked if the other Turks knew. No, and they knew better than to pry. Next, was this the reason he leaves early for work and comes home late, when it's dark? Yes and no, because there is just that much work to do as president.
Lying next to him, in the dark and still yawning, you asked, “Do you need to sleep?”
“No.” He came closer to kiss your temple. “I usually wait until you fall asleep and sneak down to my home office.”
“Okay.” You accepted his answer. But then you said how you really felt. “I wish you'd stay.”
You didn't hear if he replied because you fell asleep.
The next morning, you woke up stiff, with tension from yesterday’s stress. You barely move before you hear, “Good morning,” murmured behind you. You roll over, pleasantly surprised to see Rufus sitting there with an elevated tray over his lap, piled with reports along with a computer pad on the bed nearby. He spares you a glance before flipping a page over to read the next one.
You wiggle closer. “Is it time to go to work?”
He leans over to plant a kiss on your hair, then returns to the report again. “I was about to leave.”
He won’t get away this time. You pull him back down by the arm to give a smooch on the cheek, and say, “Can you leave a little later?”
He sighs thoughtfully, then agrees to stay. You curl up close to him while he continues to read reports, types on the computer pad, and makes the occasional call to Tseng.
Some time passes and you're so comfortable and relaxed that you nearly fall back asleep. Instead, you interrupt his work and pull him down for another kiss. He could have scolded you for keeping him from his work—you’ve never tried to do this before so you don't know what he would usually do. He didn't; he hummed in appreciation. You kept going, kissing him over and over until the look on his face told you he forgot the reports existed at all. He pushed the tray away to get into a more comfortable position.
In the process of kissing more and more, like you’re making up for lost time, he ended up on top of you. When you needed to come up for air, he frowned mildly, just taking in the sight of you beneath him instead of your usual position. You've never seen him hesitant like this before. It was disconcerting in a way you didn't expect. This must be the small price to pay for no longer letting him just lead you from a distance. It’s awkward.
Until he glances down.
“You would look better without this,” he says, referring to what you wear to bed, already smirking at the thought of you being naked.
You know that look. The look all men get when they’re eager for their women to get naked. You’re surprised for a second to see it on him, then you remember he admitted to holding back in the past. If he’s being more honest then that deserves a reward.
He helped you pull your clothes off, then he started kissing your chest. Soft kisses, glancing up at you with a hungry look in his eyes. His kisses wandered down your body, while you fought the urge to say, “No, you don't have to!” Despite being embarrassed, you did want this. It naturally led to his head being between your open thighs.
Rufus had never been down there with his mouth, so you were sensitive. You put your hands to his hair, clutching his head as if he might change his mind any second and stop. You thought you'd be uncomfortable with this and have the urge to retreat back to the distance you were both used to. Instead, your fingers dug into his scalp as he continued. He didn't seem to need to come up for air or rest his jaw and your orgasm surprised you a little when it hit.
He crawled up your body and kissed you again, like before. You paused for a moment to recognize your scent on his breath.
There are certainly worse things to experience.
“My turn?” he asked, when he lifted his head.
“Sure.”
“Then let's try,” he murmured, gliding a hand down your front.
It was different this time when you spread your legs for him, more intimate. There wasn't any pain this time, just a little bit of momentary soreness as you got used to his size. Since you were already quite wet, he began moving immediately. He leaned over you, watching your face.
“You're blushing,” he said.
Mortified, you slapped your hands over your face, peeking through your fingers—maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as you thought. He didn't tease you further, merely kissing your hairline.
He slowed his thrusts into something more sensual while his lips found yours again. You gladly slid your tongue into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Then…you felt a pinch-like sensation on your tongue, making you flinch back.
“Ow, Rufus!”
He, of course, paused to check with a concerned expression. You didn't miss the slight widen of his eyes, nor that his fangs were out.
“Your tongue is bleeding…” He zeroed in on it, lifting a hand to pry your mouth open farther with a thumb inside. He leaned closer and…it was somewhat like tongue-kissing but without lips. He swiped his tongue, tasting the blood. Then he pinned you with a narrowed gaze, glancing down towards your neck.
You weren't afraid of him but just in case things did go too far, you nudged him verbally. “Rufus, you should finish.”
He shook his head, his eyes clearing. “You're right.”
From then on, he occupied his time with closed mouth kisses. You didn't concern yourself with coming a second time. The intimacy of that moment was a lot. But it was what you'd been craving for a long time. He gradually sped up until he came with a stuttering groan, fangs peeking from beneath his upper lip, and his hips continuing to move slowly.
“You…feel…so…good…”
He pulled out and flopped onto his back beside you, his chest rising and falling as he returned to earth.
“That's good feedback,” you teased, because you were mind was more clear than this.
He huffed gently through his nose, but smiled faintly. “That's not fair. I wasn't in the right mind when I said that.”
He was still recovering while you stared at him, realizing that for once this wasn't just about trying to conceive.
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