Jugar

  There were no females in Jugar.

    None, save the queen, Scarlet Shinra.

    But no one wanted her. Not even her husband.

    The females had all been torn from their homes several years ago when the invading nomads stormed the castle walls, decided they wanted women to tend their homes and cook their food, and somehow managed to make off with every last female in the kingdom, young or old, ugly or fair.

    Every one, that is, but the Queen.

    But no one wanted her. Not even her husband.

    Rufus Shinra, at thirty years of age, had been a tender nineteen year old King when the nomads had struck. His father had been dead and buried a year, his mother, longer. All he had in the world was his Kingdom, and his wife, Scarlet, who had been forced upon him.

    Rufus could count the number of times they had had intercourse on one hand.

    None.

    King Rufus was almost blindingly handsome. His hair shone blonde, his eyes glittered blue. He was always dressed from head to foot in the finest white garments, a cape of royal red and white draped over his broad shoulders. He was not overly clever, nor was he by any means a dunce. He just knew his priorities, and they were not always centered for the good of the kingdom.

    Rufus loved himself.

    But he hated his wife. He even hated to be in the same room with her. Scarlet was far older, being forty-three now, and was the daughter of a wealthy noble who somehow got old King Shinra to agree that their only children should be destined to marry one another.

    If he was not already deceased, Rufus would have had his father killed the moment he laid on the creature that was to be his wife, which was, conveniently enough, the day of their wedding.

    And it had been an elaborate affair, almost as expensive as his own coronation a few days earlier. Nearly the entire Kingdom had turned out to see the two wed. Rufus had been a youthful eighteen, Scarlet a comfortable thirty-one, although she attempted to try and make herself look ten years younger.

    Attempted.

    Scarlet wasn't very pretty. In fact she was fake. She put so much make-up upon her face it was a wonder among those of the court whether she had a face or not at all under it. Her hair was dyed blonde now to hide the gray, the smell of the chemicals used clung to her, mixing with her sickening floral scented perfume to create a most nauseating odor. Back when they had first married, her hair had been natural, but her perfume still stunk. The clothing she wore was so extravagant that she used millions from the royal treasury to pay for her wardrobe. The hoop of her skirts was so large that it seemed as if she were a walking tent rather then a woman. Rufus didn't care for it.

    Of course, Rufus didn't care for her as a whole.

    Or women in general for that matter.

    Speaking of Generals, it was General Sephiroth the Great that Rufus had been in bed with when he got word he had to marry.

    Needless to say the news didn't go over well, and the teenage King had to be practically dragged to the altar.

    After that, Scarlet had lain in bed, trying to look attractive. Her blonde hair tumbling over her pale shoulders, a new coat of whore red lipstick generously applied.

    "Aren't you going to make love to me?" she had asked, sounding annoyed.

    Grimacing, the reluctant groom had turned on his side, not even wanting to sleep in the same bed with her, never mind doing anything of...that sort.

    Then he found out she snored.

    After that they slept in separate bedchambers, and Rufus went out of his way to make sure he had to see her as little as possible. There was nothing at all he ever needed from her. She was only there for show, to show the world Jugar had a Queen, to show the other Kingdoms and the citizens that the King was heterosexual, and that was it.

    For matters of the military, there was General Sephiroth the Great.

    For matters of running the country, he had his trusty Aide, Vincent Q. Valentine.

    For matters of health or science, there was Doctor Alexander Hojo and his young apprentice, Reeve Leander.

    For matters of food, there was Cid Highwind, the head chef.

    For matters of entertainment, there was Heidegger, the jester.

    For matters of a personal realm, there was Tseng.

    Rufus had been lucky to come in contact with the boy four years ago, after he had been caught stealing pennies from a peasant to feed himself. The beautiful fifteen year old, with long black hair and equally dark eyes, had been orphaned when the nomads came and took his mother from him when he was only eight.

    And oh, how he had begged to do anything rather then go back and live on poverty on the streets.

    It took Rufus all of two seconds to think up the perfect position.

    And a few more, mind you.

    And so Tseng, with the supple, sinewy body of all pale, smooth skin, was made the royal courtesan.

    He was shared, but Rufus didn't mind at first. He was foremost the King's pet, but he put the boy up to being the sex toy of whoever desired him.  However, this flexibility soon backfired, as practically every able bodied male in the Castle wanted to take advantage of what the young beauty had to offer. With the women gone, they were desperate for some kind of play things, and a pretty boy like Tseng seemed to be the perfect thing to fill the gap.

    Rufus became filled with jealousy when his pet couldn't seem to find time for him anymore, so he had made a royal decree stating that no one was to touch Tseng aside from himself, General Sephiroth the Great, Vincent Q. Valentine, Doctor Alexander Hojo, and his assistant, Reeve Leander.

    But he had yet to show any interest.

    And everything had been just fine since that day.

    For Rufus anyway.

    Jugar Castle was one of the largest in the surrounding nations. It stretched from east to west across the entire length of the central city. Jugar consisted of the walled in city and a few surrounding farms that provided food. Many of the citizens had never set foot inside the Castle itself.

    Rufus kept his bed chambers in the eastern wing, while Scarlet, "the wicked witch", as she had so been nicknamed, kept her own in the western wing. The people who were kept high in Rufus' favor; Vincent, Sephiroth, Hojo, (Reeve), and of course, Tseng, were kept in the east as well. In fact Tseng's room adjoined his own. It was almost silly though, that the now nineteen year old kept his own quarters, since he was hardly ever in them at all.

    Aside from his elaborate throne room with the hanging tapestries and lush red carpets, the King had his own office by his bed chamber in the eastern wing. He could be found in there a majority of the day, the door locked securely, doing one kind of work...or another.

    "Where is that ordinance?" muttered King Rufus, running a hand over the messy contents of his desk. "Vincent said it was here, but I don't see anything that looks important!" He stopped to admire the heavy gold and ruby ring he wore in place of his wedding band. "You don't suppose you were laying on it yesterday, do you? Did you see anything with the royal seal on it?" He looked down to where Tseng was crouched underneath the desk, positioned between his legs.

    Tseng stopped, still holding the zipper of Rufus' slacks between his fingertips. He met the eyes of the King and shook his head. "No, sir. But I wasn't able to keep such good attention at the time."

    Smiling, Rufus ran a pleased finger over the perfect high cheekbone. "Quite true, Tseng, my pet. Don't stop now."

    The courtesan only nodded, and eased his superior's pants open, leaning down to engulf the erection that was waiting for him.

    "Aah..." sighed the King, his fingers coming to tangle in Tseng's silky dark hair. "Yess..."

    There were more important things on his mind.

    Sephiroth's mother, a woman referred to as only 'Lucretia', had run away when he was no more then a few days old.

    "Your mother was flighty," Hojo used to say whenever the young child would get up the nerve to ask about his missing parent. "She never stayed in the same place for long."

    Sephiroth thought of  his father as a liar.

    But he preferred not to think of him at all.

    The young General had been away winning a victorious battle against the Kingdom of Nibeleel when the nomads attacked Jugar. The man left to protect the Kingdom in his absence, a General Scotch, failed to perform as expected, and was banished as a punishment. By the time Sephiroth had returned, another won war under his belt, it was too late to save the stolen women.

    True, he himself had little need for the fairer sex, but losing any conflict, even one he was not present for, made him feel like a loser.

    Sighing, Sephiroth slammed down his pen and shoved back stray strands of his long silver hair as he began to rub almost viciously at his temples. Another headache had come to him.  They seemed to be afflicting him more and more frequently as of late. This letter just wasn't coming as easily as the others had. He was frustrated, and he was tired. A quick visit with Tseng was usually good to relieve the tension. Best of all, the boy was quiet and discreet, and he trusted him to keep what he knew a secret.

    But that would have to wait. The boy was most likely otherwise occupied now. Heaving another exhausted sigh, he picked up the piece of paper that was only half written on, and opened the small rectangular draw to his left. It was full of similar correspondence, always addressed with the same name; a name he knew well, and a name he whispered to himself with a dreamy air when he was alone.

    There was several years worth of passionate release written on those pages, words intended for someone who had inhabited his heart and mind for onto eighteen years now.

    Sephiroth placed the letter in the draw and closed it, doing the same with his weary green eyes.

    He had never sent a single one.

    Oh, Lord, look at him. Look at him! He's like an angel from heaven! One of the beakers nearly slipped from his fingertips as his eyes were distracted, and Reeve, the twenty-one year old scientist's assistant, felt his cheeks flush as he tore his eyes away to continue on his assigned task.

    Doctor Alexander Hojo's office door was open, and Reeve, from his position in the lab could hear the conversation perfectly. Just a few minutes ago, Hojo had stepped into his office, dragging with him the most beautiful creature Reeve had ever laid eyes on. He knew what went on in there, and for a minute he had sat on the counter besides the water pump and held his head in hands in misery. Upon hearing the door open again, he went to placing the washed beakers back into the crate, trying not to be nosy, but unable to help himself.

    "Oh, Tseng, before you go I have something for you."

    "O-oh?"

    There was the sound of a drawer closing, and then Reeve heard Hojo say proudly, "Here."

    "Oh...thank you, sir." The boy seemed honestly shocked by whatever it was he had received. "T-thank you, sir."

    Reeve sighed, shaking his head slowly as he replaced the last of the equipment. Oh, Tseng, if you were mine I'd give you everything and ask nothing in return...

    "I'll see you *twice* tomorrow, Tseng. Promise." Hojo's voice was stern and harsh. Reeve was intimidated, and he wasn't even being spoken to.

    "Y-yes, sir. Thank you." His voice was soft, and clearly he was just as intimidated as Reeve himself had been.

    The assistant jumped slightly as Hojo emerged from his office. He stood still at attention, feeling a sheen of sweat creep up on the back of his neck. True, he was more then grateful to have this position, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't consistently uneasy around his boss.

    "Reeve."

    "Yes, sir." He didn't let himself make eye contact. Making eye contact would only make him tremble more.

    "Are you finished?"

    "Yes, sir."

    "Very well..." the old man's voice trailed off a moment, and Reeve didn't move. "You're done from the day. I'll see you tomorrow."

    "Yes, sir," he repeated mechanically. And to his relief, Hojo's heavy footsteps faded away, and he knew the Doctor was gone.

    With a sigh, he looked up.

    But the trembling still didn't stop.

    Because there, standing just outside of the old doctor's office was Tseng, facing to the side, his handsome face turned in the direction of Hojo's exit.

    For the span of time he could risk it, he just stared like a love sick fool. He let his eyes drift over Tseng's muscular form of absolute perfection. His open white shirt gave Reeve a perfect view of the smooth, creamy expanse of chest and stomach. His hands rested easily on his slim hips, the tight black breeches he wore showing off the tight curve of his buttocks.

    Oh, Lord, I love him. I love him! He brought an unsteady hand to his chest, holding it over his fluttering heart. Oh *God* just let him look at me and I'll be unthinkably happy...

    And just then Tseng did turn to look at him, smiling and showing off his perfect set of white teeth.

    Reeve thought he would faint.

    "Hello, Reeve." Tseng approached him, swaying his hips as he walked, something he always seemed to do. Reeve couldn't help but notice everything about him. The courtesan leaned casually on the opposite counter, his long hair falling sensuously over his shoulder. "How are you?"

    Reeve cleared his throat first, his heart pounding like a jackhammer. Every time they would talk, which wasn't as often as Reeve would have liked, he got incredibly nervous. "I'm, uh, just fine, Tseng. Uh...how are you?"

    The pretty boy shrugged, not seeming thrilled in either a positive or negative light. "Want to see what the Doctor gave me?"

    Only nodding, as he was at a loss for words, Reeve could feel himself break out into more of a sweat as his knee began to tremble almost spasmatically. Tseng was only a few inches from him--five at most!--as he held up his wrist, showing off a magnificent golden bracelet.

    "Wow," Reeve sighed, automatically reaching up to take his hand and further examine the piece. It was pure--he could tell it just by looking at it. Hojo must have paid a fortune for it.

    He knew that it was no token of affection. More as a token to keep the fantastic sex coming.

    Oh, love, if you were mine, I would treat you like a prince... He sighed inwardly, reveling in the clean, smooth feel of his uncallased hand before he released it. Reeve's own hand was lightly callused from the labor he did around the lab. He was hardly fit to touch such beauty, even if he was technically allowed to. He did *want* Tseng. He wanted him terribly. But only to show him how he felt, not to use him. To worship him-- and submit himself and gladly be his servant, if that was what he wished.

    Reeve had never experienced sex of any kind before. Not even something as simple as a kiss.

    "It was very expensive," he added quickly, swallowing hard. Why couldn't his heart slow down? He wouldn't be surprised if Tseng could hear it himself.

    "I know." Tseng paused a moment to gaze upon the gift. And in that moment, Reeve thought he looked almost sad. "It's nice." Then he looked up again, and Reeve almost gasped as he suddenly realized how close their faces were. Tseng didn't seem bothered by it in the least. "What have you been doing?"

    What you being doing?!!!! He's interested! Interested in *me*!  "Oh, well," Reeve rushed, reluctantly moving away from Tseng to grab a nearby stack of papers covered in scribbles and diagrams and big words. Pushing his thin rimmed glasses further up on the bridge of his nose, he said,  "We've been looking into a new cold medication. See?" He pointed at some of the words and diagrams. "We've been doing these calculations. It's long work, but it should be rewarding."

    Tseng looked it over slowly, looking blank. Then he turned and looked up at Reeve again. "You work with a lot of medications?"

    He pushed his glasses up again. "Why, yes. Why?" For a moment his heart almost managed to stop, fearing that Tseng might have some untreatable disease and was dying. He reached back and grasped the counter behind him unsteadily.

    "...Do you think you can have anything for this?" And he reached down to the buttons of his breeches.

    And Reeve stood there, never ceasing to shake as he watched Tseng drop the breeches carelessly to the floor. He didn't wear underwear, and Reeve blushed hotly as he tried not to look. He had seen Tseng naked several times, as he sometimes would walk around so, but never this close. Reeve could feel himself growing hard, and he struggled not to look, failing, as he stole several glances, trembling more as he did so.

    "See?" he pointed to a a deep cut on his right thigh that was several inches long and stretched from the inside out. "Do you have anything for it?" He asked hopefully, running his finger across it. "It...It's not healing well."

    "H-how did you get it?" Reeve asked softly, kneeling to examine it more closely. He managed to put Tseng's nakedness out of his mind for a moment, as instinct and natural concern took over. He ran a finger over it himself, and felt the younger boy wince at the touch.

    He gets fondled all day long, but when *I* touch him, he freezes? Reeve looked up. "Does this hurt you?"

    "Oh, no." His eyes were half lidded as he looked down at Reeve, still keeping stiff. "I...got it when I fell getting out of the bathtub."

    Falling getting out of the bathtub? That seemed a poor lie. Tseng was clearly trying to cover something up, but Reeve held off from prying. "Okay," he said gently, as if he was talking to a child. "Sit up on the lab table, and I'll get something for it."

    Tseng did sit, and Reeve went into the icebox to pull out a lotion Hojo had concocted to heal cuts quickly without leaving scars. Someone must have done that to him. But who? Who could hurt him? He gripped the jar tightly, angry that anyone would ever lay a hand on Tseng to cause him pain. I would never lay an ill mannered hand on him. *Ever*. Oh, Tseng. You deserve better. Better then me, and far better then this.

    Drawing a breath he turned back and went to where Tseng was sitting. "Here." He offered him the jar stiffly, meeting his eyes.

    Tseng was staring back, a flicker of confusion in the clear black. "Can you do it for me?" He requested, opening his leg.

    Oh god... Reeve swallowed uneasily, staring at the offered skin. Oh, Tseng, I'd kiss away all your pain if I only could. "A-all right."

    At first his fingers were trembling too badly to even get the jar opened. Tseng watched, waiting patiently as Reeve struggled with it, finally getting enough of a grip that he placed the lid aside and dipped two digits into the substance. He drew a breath before reaching out and applying it, letting his slicked fingers glide quickly over the cut. Tseng sighed, nearly moaning as Reeve tended to his wound. Reeve felt his erection grow even more intense at the sound, and he was surprised he didn't lose it and come right there.

    Instead he managed to back off, covering up the jar and going to wash his hands in the water basin. Relax, he told himself, drawing yet another deep breath. Relax, oh god, he's so beautiful.

    But Reeve's feelings, unlike the others who used him, were not based on his looks.

    When he turned around again, Tseng was buttoning up the breeches. He turned to look at Reeve when he was done, a small, grateful smile on his delicate pink lips. "Thank you," he said.

    Reeve blinked. "Uh... You're welcome."

    And before he could manage to blink again, Tseng was pressing against him, a practiced hand reaching for his crotch. Reeve yelped and backed away, his heart close to bursting from the strain as his back hit the counter.

    "I could pay you back..." Tseng offered slowly, looking confused. "I wouldn't mind...."

    "No!" Reeve insisted, holding out a hand to keep the beautiful courtesan at a safe distance. "No, you don't have to."

    For a moment Tseng stood there looking rejected and a little hurt.

    Reeve's heart slowed, only to break. Oh god... Oh my lord...

    "Okay." He backed up a step. "Thank you, Reeve."

    "Anytime," he rushed, gripping the counter until he was sure any more pressure would cause his bones to rip through the skin. "If you ever, um, fall again."

    "Yeah." Tseng turned away, but just before he left he turned back again, looking at Reeve once more, lingeringly, the same sad look of almost disappointment in his large black eyes.

    Then he was gone.

    And once he was, Reeve fell to his knees, sobbing into his arms.

    He could never allow Tseng to lay a hand on him like that.

    He deserved so much better.

    Half of the papers from the desk littered the floor. The body resting on it was tense with arousal, his knees held far apart as he was thrust into hard, the groans of the two men rising and filling the room.

    "Oh!! LORD!! Harder--!!"

    General Sephiroth grunted loudly as he thrust into the willing body before him. His eyes were shut tight, and he was engulfed in the heat and feel of the man laying across his desk, writhing in pleasure. He could see it in his mind. The long dark hair, the patient crimson eyes, the perfect porcelain skin--

    "God, VINCENT!" he choked out, finishing before pulling out and collapsing to his knees, resting his flushed head against the cool wood of his desk.

    His eyes were still closed.

    "...General Sephiroth?" the boy's voice was quiet and uncertain as he sat up, shrugging his open white shirt back onto his shoulders, and pulling the tails between his legs. He peered over the edge of the desk, gazing upon where Sephiroth still sat on his knees, slumped against the desk. "Are you all right, sir?"

    The older man looked up, meeting the concerned, bring young eyes of Tseng. It never failed. Each and every time he used the boy as at outlet for his frustrations, a horrible sense of guilt came over him. What disturbed him more was that the boy didn't even seem to care.

    To try and amend his conscience, Sephiroth showered the courtesan with gifts, thankful for all he put up with--

    --thankful for the silence mostly. It was important that no one knew. No one.

    Even though he wished it didn't have to come to this...

    "I'm all right," he assured the young man, slightly touched at the concern shown. For all the boy was fawned over and marveled at for his beauty, he did not let vanity inflate his ego. "Thank you, Tseng." You remind me so much of him...

    "Anytime, sir." Tseng got off the desk then, stretching a little before he picked up his quickly discarded breeches, located just within the confines of the locked office door, and slid them on quickly. The boy seemed tired, and it was quite understandably so. Sephiroth wondered how many sexual favors the boy had performed today.

    "Tseng, wait," he called, stopping the boy before he reached the door. Tseng turned back, raising a single eyebrow in question. The General smiled reflectively a little, reaching into a drawer of his desk to retrieve a wrapped package. Vincent had a habit of giving him the same look. "I have this for you." He offered out the package.

    "Oh, thank you, sir," he whispered, taking the package almost shyly. Gracious, as always.

    Sephiroth watched emotionlessly as he opened it, feeling part of his guilt melt away as the courtesan's face lit up.

    "It's beautiful," he sighed in awe, slipping the platinum bracelet onto his wrist. "Extraordinary. You shouldn't have." He looked up, blushing prettily.

    "I did, and you're most certainly welcome." As the most respected General in the kingdom, he was swimming in money he had no need of. "I just..." Sephiroth trailed off a moment, pausing. Rarely he would ask a question concerning *he* whose name slipped his lips at every sexual encounter. "Have you...with him...recently?"

    "Yesterday," the boy admitted casually, as if he had just been asked if he had bathed recently instead of engaged in sex with a man more then twice his age. "And again tomorrow." There was a long pause, and then Tseng ventured, "Are you quite sure does not feel the same for you?"

    Waving a hand in dismissal, Sephiroth sat, staring at his messy desk in dismay. He hadn't even bothered to clear it this time. As soon as the boy had stepped within the office walls he had grabbed him around the waist, pausing only to shut out the world beyond before stripping him below the waist and taking him upon the desk to fuck the life out of him. "He has shown no signs of being so." Then, looking up, he let a spark of hope enter his usually emotionless gaze. "Unless..."

    But Tseng silently shook his head no.

    Sephiroth's  hopes were smashed upon the rocks of misery once again.

    And Tseng said good-bye then, leaving the office after only being in it for less then twenty minutes.

    The young General barely heard him. He sat stiffly at his desk, unfocused eyes still remaining on the familiar wood of his desk as his weary mind wondered why he had to fall hopelessly in head over heels in unrequited love with the man who had practically raised him.

    "No."

    Vincent Q. Valentine calmly clasped his hands before him and gazed steadily at the King, who sat with his feet up on the desk before him. Other then that, the desk was clear. He had been faithfully serving the Kingdom of Jugar since he was a boy at eighteen, serving first as a page, then as a scribe before his quiet genius was discovered and he was promoted to the position as an aide of the King. It was a post he had served, and served well, for the past twenty years. Vincent had shared in many of the ups and downs of Jugar's recent history, including, most notably, the abduction of the women.

    *That* was what the ordinance had been about.

    Persuading women from other towns to come and marry the eligible bachelors and  put an end to the restlessness  and draining population.

    It had never been one of Rufus' priorities.

    "You are *certain*, sir?"

    "I am, of course!" The king swung his feet down, coming to sit up straight as he looked upon the trusted man before him. "Vincent, my dear friend, right now we have more important things to concentrate on. Such as that food shortage, and the upcoming Olympiad. Sex can wait."

    Just hearing the word 'Olympiad' made a twitch come to Vincent's face. That was an event not too anticipated in Jugar the past twenty years. That's because they kept losing.

    "I don't particularly care for the way my hair is parted today..." mumbled the King, staring at himself in the mirror now. He was fooling with his blonde locks carefully, moving it from one side to another piece by piece.

    Vincent took this as his cue of being needed no longer. "We will speak tomorrow, sir." And he bowed in response to Rufus' dismissive wave before turning to go.

    As he closed the door behind him and he continued down the hallway to his own quarters, giving up on the ordinance for the time being. He suggested the idea every several months or so, but the idea always seemed to get lost in the jumble. After eleven years, women were no longer a priority. No one in the castle seemed to miss women in the least, and there were enough men in the Kingdom that it would a long time before they were killed off completely.

    Although Vincent had his suspicions that it was the lack of women that contributed to the perpetual loss of the Olympiad.

    Morale was very low.

    But it hardly seemed to be of much importance to Vincent.

    As he headed back to his bedchamber to reflect in his diary and read as he did every other evening, he reached to put his hands into his pockets, frowning as he encountered a folded piece of paper. Pausing, he retrieved it, rereading the words.

    A tight frown came to his lips, and the paper was crushed under his fist. Vincent shoved the garbage back into his pocket to be tossed out later.

    He continued walking.

    Maybe it had been the touch.

    Reeve often thought about Tseng. But he had never dared to be seen knocking on the door to his room. All day he had been kicking himself for his earlier actions. He had owed it to the boy to explain himself, but he just could not find the courage to do so.

    His love was so strong that it choked him if he taught about the young man for too long a time.

    Taking a deep breath, his hand shook as he knocked. He considered turning and running in the direction of his own room, abandoning the whole ridiculous plan and spending the remainder of the night sitting in bed and drawing sketches of his love.

    But before his fear could win him over, the door opened.

    Tseng stood before him, leaning on the door a little, his wet hair dripping down his back.

    He was nude.

    Reeve swallowed hard, his eyes coming to rest on the impressive package dangling before his eyes.

    Then he realized what he was doing.

    "Oh!" he exclaimed, blushing hotly as he felt the horror sweep over him. His eyes relocated to Tseng's face. The younger man was smiling. "Hello, uh, Tseng."

    "I was just finished bathing," the boy answered, making no move whatsoever to cover himself. "I'm glad to see you, Reeve."

    Is he really?!?!?! Inwardly, Reeve rejoiced, and he couldn't prevent the joyful grin that popped up on his face. "I, um, I'm glad to, uh... I came to check your cut."

    "Oh." Stepping aside, he outstretched a welcoming arm and gestured into the room. "Come in."

    Reeve did, slowly, taking a good look at his surroundings, as he had never been inside Tseng's room before. It was lavishly decorated, as everything was done in dark woods with gold accents. Reeve suspected it was all real. A dresser was off against the wall to the right, displaying a large, oval mirror. There were two sets of drawers fit against the walls, and a private bath in the next room to the left. There were many extravagant and expensive trinkets scattered about. In the center was the bed, covered in white silk and black satin pillows. It was king sized, and it looked extremely comfortable.

    What a change it was from Reeve's own quarters.

    He was jerked back to life as he heard the door shut, and Tseng was smiling at him as he came up to his side, surveying the room proudly.

    "It's quite nice, isn't it?"

    "Huh?" Reeve turned to look at him, sighing inwardly at being so close to such beauty. "Oh, yes. It is."

    "My cut looks a little better, I think," he said, walking towards the bed, which he promptly laid upon, letting his leg fall to one side.

    First Reeve froze, then he shook. Then he wanted to cry.

    Then he was surprised he could even stand up, as the pressure in his groin grew and the feeling in his head grew light. He looked so amazingly perfect, so mind numbingly sexy that for what had to be a full moment, he couldn't move.

    "Um...Reeve?" Tseng said after all, sitting up on his elbows a bit.

    "Oh! Yes!" And he finally managed to come over, trying to ignore the beautiful naked man in front of him.

    It was impossible.

    "Oh god..." He mumbled, kneeling before him. It would be so easy to just lean in and nuzzle the inviting flesh before him. He had a longing to press kisses to his skin, crawl over him, press their bodies together and become part of him.

    Instead he shook his head clear, looking over the cut. It did look slightly better, and he was glad. "It does look better." Reeve then forced himself to back off, standing up and averting his eyes it was only focused on Tseng's face. The other boy looked back at him with no identifiable expression. "I'm glad it looks better."

    Tseng sat up, his black, mysterious eyes not leaving Reeve's. The older man felt his skin tingle, the pressure in his groin increasing steadily until he thought he would surely explode! Here, before his eyes, was this beautiful courtesan who had been made in the image of some magnificent ancient god. How was he restraining himself???

    Ohgodohgodohgodohgod... He thought frantically, his hand flexing nervously at his side. The way Tseng was looking at him was so intensely seductive that nothing could have dragged his eyes away. Oh god, I love him. I love him so much.

    Tseng moved his arms a little, and Reeve caught the glitter of something shining new on his wrist. *Another* bracelet? Seeing him look, Tseng pointed to it briefly. "A gift from General Sephiroth." Then he stood, his eyes meeting Reeve's again. That same unwavering erotic stare came into his eyes as he kept coming towards Reeve.

    Reeve couldn't move.

    And then Tseng came within inches of him, his eyes gliding quickly over Reeve's form before he let their eyes meet yet again. Reeve was stuck, his muscles locked in place and absolutely refusing to move as he stared back, his breathing so heavy he thought his lungs would give way.

    "Touch me," Tseng requested, his voice dripping with sensual energy as he snatched Reeve by the wrists and pressed the older man's hands against his smooth, slightly damp chest.

    Everything seemed to erupt within Reeve's body at that touch. At those words... His knees seemed to turn to water and he almost fell.

    Instead he ripped his hands away as if he had been burned. "No! Uh..." he backed away, almost falling over his own feet as he did so. "No... No, no, no! Uh... I can't."

    Tseng looked entirely confused. He also looked a bit hurt as he gazed upon Reeve, his expression becoming more like a disappointed child's then a sexy siren's. "You don't want me?" He asked in a small voice.

    Oh god, Oh god, tell him. Tell him *something*-- "Uh... Tseng... I..."

    "You don't like men?"

    "Yes! Yes! Of course I do," he rushed. Everyone around his age liked men. They had been so young at the time the women were abducted that they barely even remembered there was another sex.

    "Y-you don't think I'm beautiful?" His voice sounded so pathetic. It seemed as though he would fall to pieces at any moment.

    "No! I mean yes! Yes! YES! Gods!"

    "Then..." The younger boy trailed off a moment, seeming still confused. "...What's the matter? Didn't you come in here to have sex?"

    "No!!!" he exclaimed. "I came in here to check your cut!"

    His brow furrowed. "...You don't want me?"

    I don't know how I am not jumping you right now, my beautiful, beautiful man. But Tseng's inability to understand frustrated Reeve. He was a courtesan--a whore--who didn't understand his *real* situation. He was so *naive*, still so young! "Tseng-- you're a---you're a whore! You don't mean anything to them! They only want sex from you! They may show you affection, and shower you with gifts, and they made even like you as much as they can--but you're just a whore to them! They give you expensive things so you'll stay well in their favor and keep gladly coming back to give them a good fuck! Where will you be a few years from now when they find someone younger? They don't love you, Tseng. Not everyone is like them."

    Tseng stared at him, slowly moving a trembling hand to clutch at his bare chest. He said nothing, and made no other movement, but Reeve caught the glistening of tears in his eyes.

    Oh god, what have I done? Told him the truth--whether it upsets him or not... I had to do it.

    And now he had to get out of there.

    Reeve left quickly, hearing Tseng begin to sob as the door slammed in his wake.

    And the young assistant was still trembling, but for a different reason.

    He went back to his own chamber to cry himself.