Part Five – Spilled Coffee
Reeve sighed and rubbed at his forehead with a finger, trying to quell the headache that was pulsing at his brain. He glared down at the numbers in front of him, swearing that they were purposefully miscalculating when his back was turned. Either that or he was going insane, which seemed to be happening a lot lately.
He put down his pencil with disgust, shoving the calculator to the far corner of his desk where he wouldn’t have to look at it. He leaned back in his chair, craning his neck to stretch out the kinks. He blindly groped for his coffee, taking a sip of the liquid long gone lukewarm and grimacing at the bland taste. Roxanne had forgotten the sugar again.
He closed his eyes for only a moment, wriggling his fingers about to ease the cramps as he considered the rather difficult turn his life had taken lately. The President had given him three different architecture assignments, including redesigning the training arena. The mako reactor engine core needed a reassessment, and there was something wrong with the converter at the 0 reactor, which meant that only he could fix it. He really needed an assistant, but no one seemed capable of understanding the complex machinery.
On top of his work woes, there was the stress that had recently begun to build up within his personal life. Cameron, who he seemed unable to depart from, was hinting strongly to marriage and the future, oblivious to his attempts to politely push her away. And then, there was Reno. Thanks to that boy, he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in the last week. Erotic dreams had him tossing and turning with results that he hadn’t experienced since he was just a boy himself.
The boy didn’t seem to understand the position Reeve was in or even hear anything in the negative. It didn’t matter that on some level the executive might have enjoyed what was occurring; what mattered was that he should not have. It made no sense either. He had never looked twice at men before, so why now?
Not to mention that he had been unable to get the kiss out of his mind or the taste of strawberries. And at night, he would dream of the scene on the balcony, except it would always go further. He couldn’t get images of the redhead on his knees in front of him out of his head, and they pushed at the back of his mind, no matter what he was attempting to work on. His concentration was shot, which only added to his stress level.
With a sigh, Reeve took another sip of his lukewarm coffee and set it back down on his desk, leaning forward to continue his work. He was behind enough as it was. He really couldn’t afford to rest.
Just as he was beginning to make some sense of the numbers that blurred and crossed, a subtle knocking on his door interrupted his train of thought. Exhaling sharply, he didn’t even bother to look up, assuming he already knew who it was. He had skipped lunch in favor of getting the specs and estimations completed.
“For the last time, Roxanne, I appreciate the offer, but I am still not hungry,” he informed her, pencil scratching across the surface to the same beat as the tapping of his fingers across the calculator keys. He heard the shuffling of clothing and assumed that she had left, especially when the door shut with a barely audible click.
That was until a low and definitely masculine chuckle echoed through the room. “Should I be offended?”
Reeve’s head snapped up as his pencil scratched an illegible scribble across his paper, looking directly into the same aquamarine eyes that had continuously haunted his sleep. He scowled despite himself.
“What are you doing here?” he questioned, instantly going on guard, in spite of the fluttering in his belly. He hated to think that he was actually excited to see Reno.
The Turk held up a hand. “Don’t get so pissy, yo,” he commented with a smirk, waving a sheaf of papers towards the executive. “Tseng asked me to drop these off. Ya don’t want me to get yelled at for disobeying orders, do ya?” he added as he set them down on the desk in front of Reeve.
Amber eyes only gave the documents a cursory glance before the executive sighed, attempting to pin Reno down with an even stare. “You must cease this behavior,” he reprimanded. “It is not appropriate.”
Reno ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled scarlet strands. “I ain’t just gonna sit here and ignore this.”
The executive sighed as he rose to his feet, attempting to put himself on level ground since it was hurting his neck to look upwards. His eyes darted to the door, confirming it was closed before he returned his attention to the boy in front of him.
“We have a working relationship only. That is all there is to it.” He gestured briefly towards himself. “Also, not only am I straight, but I am far too old for you. This… juvenile crush will fade.”
Something Reeve wasn’t sure how to identify flashed over Reno’s face before the smirk faded, replaced by a look of intent sincerity. Blue-green eyes darkened with emotion, and he leaned forward on Reeve’s desk, placing one palm flat as he stared the other man down.
“Tell me that you didn’t enjoy it, yo,” he demanded, his tone proving he was serious. The look aged him by at least five years, taking off the youthful immaturity he had just been displaying and replacing it with the familiar hardness of one raised in the slums.
The executive narrowed his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest. “I didn’t enjoy it,” he stated flatly, wondering if he would be able to get the boy to be more professional this time. He couldn’t continue anymore than Reno could. There were simply too many obstacles, his sexuality only one of them.
“Liar,” Reno intoned emphatically, beginning to edge around the side of the desk without taking his eyes off the executive. “I can see it in yer eyes. Your pupils are dilating the closer I get, yo.” He licked his lips as he rounded the desk; his movements were almost predatory, stalking his quarry and leaving Reeve pinned under his intensely bright mako stare. “You wanted more, and if we hadn’t been interrupted, you’da got it.”
Reeve scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I think you protest too much,” Reno commented, never taking his eyes off of Reeve. They were almost frighteningly intense to the executive.
Reeve jerked away, his chair skittering backwards as he attempted to stare the Turk down, restoring a sense of dignity to his position. After all, he was the elder; he was supposed to be more responsible.
“And I think you’ve lost your ability to listen. I don’t want you.”
The Turk raised a brow, taking another step closer and nearly trapping Reeve against his own desk. “I think you do,” he purred, and before the executive could even react, Reno pounced, grabbing his jacket and pulling Reeve forward. Their lips met in a hungry, demanding kiss.
This time, Reno jabbed his tongue inside Reeve’s mouth, muffling his sounds of protest as he ground their bodies together. In his mind, Reeve knew he was supposed to be fighting back. He was supposed to push Reno away or bite him or do something other than just silently submit. This time, he didn’t have the alcohol to blame it on, but the more he thought about it, the more his arguments flew out the window before he could even form them.
He brought his hands up with the intention of pushing Reno away, but the Turk chose that moment to rock their hips together, sending a fresh stab of desire rocketing through him. To his horror, a moan reverberated in his throat, a deep rumble of approval. Desire rushed through his veins and straight to his sex, which was rapidly hardening. He cursed his dreams then for painting such vivid pictures of a naked Reno in his mind night after night, giving him thoughts of sweat-slicked skin and groans of passion. He had spent far too many mornings waking up with erotic dreams haunting him.
Reno’s lips worked fervently against his, drawing in Reeve’s tongue and sucking gently on it before stroking the inside of his mouth. The hand that wasn’t wrapped in the executive’s shirt began to inch downwards, finding the bulge in Reeve’s slacks and rubbing a palm over it. The executive’s hips reacted of their own accord, straining for more of the flitting touches, seeking stimulation. He couldn’t believe how quickly he was getting worked up, so fast that he was beginning to lose sight of everything but Reno’s lips and his tongue and his hand.
Fingers curled around his hard length, still encased beneath his slacks, and Reeve groaned, grabbing onto Reno’s sleeve with one of his free hands. His reaction aroused the Turk, who growled deep in his throat before pressing even closer to Reeve, pushing him backwards against the desk and causing everything atop it to rattle dangerously. He sent the coffee cup into a messy tilt, which spilled its entire contents all over Reeve’s careful calculations.
Reeve made a muffled sound of worry for his papers, but it quickly faded when a nimble hand dipped beneath the waistband of his pants, curling agilely and adeptly around his heated flesh. His mind went completely blank, and all protest he might have been able to work up faded away to nothing. He rocked his hips forward, seeking more of that barely there touch, completely overwhelmed by the desire crashing through his body.
Pulling back only slightly, Reno nipped Reeve’s bottom lip before he began to trail his lips and teeth over Reeve’s jaw line, heading for the sensitive area behind his neck. His tongue raked a hot trail that sent curling threads of arousal straight to Reeve’s belly, and the executive gasped softly, eyes shuttering closed. He gripped the desk behind him with one hand, trying not to bend over backwards as he struggled to form a coherent thought, lost to the sensual haze that Reno was quickly weaving around him.
“You… you should stop,” Reeve managed to moan, his head falling back as he bared his neck to the wonderful feel of those lips on his flesh. They caused a longing that he never knew he could harbor to rise in him. Fingers curled around his cock, stroking him as much as he was able in the confines of his pants.
Reno’s hand chose that moment to release his shirt, hurriedly dipping between their bodies to begin yanking on his belt buckle and buttons just beneath. “You aren’t actin’ like you want me to,” the Turk muttered against his skin, raking his teeth gently over the spot where Reeve’s collarbone met his shoulder. The executive shuddered as tingles raced through his body, his sex stiffening even further in Reno’s grasp.
There was the sound of a zipper being pulled down as Reeve’s pants sagged around his hips. Cool air hit his heated flesh when Reno bared him, and he had to stifle a moan of pleasure, fingers gripping even tighter to the desk. It occurred to him for the briefest of moments that he should be doing something other than allowing Reno to continue. All rational thought seemed to have left his brain, however, chased away by his raging libido, which was no longer able to distinguish between appropriate and improper.
Suddenly, Reno’s lips left his neck, and the Turk dropped, kneeling on the ground in front of Reeve. “What are you– Nngh.” His question died on his lips the moment Reno’s warm mouth descended on his cock, wrapping him in hot ecstasy. He sucked in a breath, knees weakening so that he was forced to lean backwards against the desk, lest he fall to the floor as well.
It wasn’t fair for a man to be that good; it simply wasn’t fair. Lips curled around his length, and a tongue stroke him with far too much skill. It seemed there was more of a use for his mouth than just idle chatting, and Reeve could honestly say, with the last part of his coherent brain, that it was the best he had ever had. It was amazing that rather than be disgusted, he was aroused beyond the point of lasting much longer. It definitely wasn’t helping his obsession, but by Kami, there was no way he could stop at the present moment.
A tongue teased at the slit of his sex, and he groaned, helplessly bucking forward into that heated, wet mouth as his hand fell of its own accord onto Reno’s head, tangling in red strands. Reeve panted and looked down, moaning at the sight of the Turk bobbing over his arousal, lips stretched around his length. The man was incredibly sexy; why hadn’t he paid attention to that before?
He slumped against his desk and released the edge, shoving his fist into his mouth as he tried to muffle his cries of pleasure. The smell of sex and arousal was so thick in the air, but try as he might, he could not look away. He didn’t want to. Reno was taking him deeper and deeper with each suck, and Reeve was thrusting into his mouth, overwhelmed by the desire that he felt for this man, this boy. It was crazy, and it was insane. He was surely doomed for all eternity for it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
Fingers reached up and fondled his balls, and to his astonishment, Reno began jerking himself off as he continued to orally pleasure the other man, obviously as aroused as Reeve by the situation. The executive couldn’t help but watch, the very sight even more arousing, and he felt the defining curl of approaching orgasm in his throat. Reno seemed to sense this, stepping up his actions tenfold. A tongue scraped across the underside of his flesh, a hand massaged his scrotum as Reno’s pale cheeks hollowed with suction, and it was the last that Reeve could take.
White hot fire flashed in front of his eyes as he came with a wordless cry of pleasure, stifled by the fist in his mouth. He bucked forward, shooting his cum down Reno’s throat, which he swallowed eagerly. The Turk followed him over, moaning over the sex in his mouth as he spilled into his own hand, coating the long digits in his semen.
Panting, Reeve released Reno’s hair as he slumped backwards against his deck, very nearly sitting on it and feeling the beginnings of coffee seeping into the back of his pants. His mind was spinning faster than he could gain a grip on things. He had just… had oral sex… in his office and with a man, no a boy! Reno wasn’t even eighteen yet! The tremors of orgasm hadn’t even faded before the realization struck him.
What had he done?
Unexpectedly, lips were on his once more, tasting slightly bitter from the flavor of his own release. Reno was pressed up to him just as closely as before, seemingly devouring Reeve’s mouth with his own. Despite having just come, Reeve could feel himself stirring again.
Reno pulled away from the kiss with obvious reluctance, though he kept close, their lips only a few inches apart. “At any moment, you could have punched me or shoved me away,” he said quietly, sounding strangely sober as he reached behind Reeve for a tissue to wipe his hand. “Ya wouldn’t have allowed it if some part of you didn’t want it… didn’t want me.”
Amber eyes widened, and as much as he didn’t want to believe it, Reno was right. It hadn’t really occurred to him in that moment that he had actually been encouraging the Turk’s behavior with his silent acceptance. He allowed everything because on some level he had wanted it. He didn’t dare think about what that meant about him. Perhaps on some level, he was not as straight as he cared to believe.
Reeve pursed his lips and looked away from Reno, silently and with a slight bit of embarrassment pulling up his slack pants and buttoning them with efficiency. “That is not the point,” he bit out somewhat tersely. “You should not have done that.”
The Turk raised a red eyebrow as he fixed his own clothing to its usual somewhat sloppy state, reminding Reeve just how different they were. How had he been attracted to the boy in the first place?
“Ya weren’t complainin’ earlier.”
“I am in my office, Reno,” Reeve snapped, finally managing to find all the words that escaped him the second the Turk had kissed him. His head whipped around to glare at Reno. “Anyone could have walked in. You are acting like a child after his favorite toy. You push and push until you get what you want.”
Aquamarine eyes narrowed slightly, but the somewhat playful look didn’t fade. “When’re you gonna admit you’re just scared? Ya don’t know what this is, so you’re runnin’ away from it because it’s different.”
Reeve took a deep breath, chewing his bottom lip and turning away, back towards his coffee-covered desk and paperwork. “Get out,” he said quietly. “I have work to do… as I am sure you do.”
If he had been actually looking at the Turk, he would have seen the look on his face. Something flashed in his bright eyes, and Reno surged forward, gripping him by the shoulders and quickly whirling him around. Reeve’s own eyes widened in shock as lips covered his again, a possessive, hungry kiss that completely overwhelmed his senses. A tongue jabbed into his mouth, hands gripping onto his shoulders as Reno pressed every inch of their bodies together, licking and nipping with abandon.
He couldn’t think when Reno kissed him like that. He didn’t want him to stop, even though he knew he shouldn’t. As if Reno was some sort of drug that he was addicted to even for the short time that he had known the boy. Scarcely a month from the beginning.
Suddenly, Reno ended the kiss, a strange emotion gleaming in his bright eyes. “Keep telling yourself you didn’t like that,” he commented darkly. “Maybe if you lie enough it will eventually come true. At least, I have the balls to try for something I want.”
Reeve couldn’t even respond, his jaw working soundlessly as he stared with surprise at the younger man. Reno said nothing more, however, as he turned and stalked around the edge of the desk, heading immediately for the door. He threw the lock and opened it with one jerky, obviously irritated motion. Reeve followed his movement with his eyes, finding Roxanne standing on the other side of his office door, surprised to see Reno there.
“Oh! Reno? You’re back?” she questioned sweetly, stepping back to allow him to pass her.
He nodded briefly, flashing her one of his award-winning smiles. Reeve was certain that Reno had said something to her, but at the moment, he wasn’t even listening. The Turk’s words were reverberating in his head.
He sunk down in his chair, not even noticing that he was still damp from the coffee spill.
“Mr. Tuesti? Are you all right? You look a little pale,” Roxanne chirped, easing into the room.
He looked up, hearing the faint sound of the outer door shutting, but it sounded so far away, almost in the distance. How had Reno turned it around on him? Just when he had thought he had regained some of his own ground…
He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m fine, Roxanne. Could you get started on the plans for the training arena, please?” he requested, hoping that burying himself in his work was enough to bring some semblance of order back to his life. Sure as hell, he seemed to have lost all control.
She nodded in understanding before her gaze flickered to his paperwork, raising a brow at the stain. “Why is there coffee all over your desk?”
Reeve groaned and had to resist the urge to bang his head on his desk. After all, it was counter-productive.
* * *
He had been there for awhile; Reeve just wasn’t quite sure how long. Too long. Long enough. Hell, he couldn’t tell the difference.
He was sure he had lost the ability for conscious thought about two Wutaiian Iced Teas ago. Or was it after the scotch? Or the brandy?
He really, really wasn’t sure, no matter how much he furrowed his brow and concentrated. Luckily, the bartender didn’t seem to give a shit and kept the alcohol coming, even if his tongue slurred every word with obvious signs of drunkenness.
As he sat hunched over in the stool that was a bit too tall for his inebriated state, inside a bar with a polished oaken bar top and dim lighting, he mused incoherently and loudly about what brought him to such a state. Thank goodness, there was only one other just as sloshed patron in the rather small and intimate place. Otherwise, he would be dying of embarrassment as every one of his secrets poured from his loquacious lips.
“Ya see,” he began, pointing a wobbly finger towards the very amused bartender. “He’s stubborn. He d… doesn’t get what the deal is. He just corners me and kisses me, and I don’t do anythin’ but take it.” He waved his hand for emphasis as he downed his shot of something in a single gulp, unable to remember what it was. He grimaced briefly at the slight burn as it went down. The glass clonked to the bar top.
The bartender, who Reeve decided looked like a Jimmy so he was going to call him that, raised a brow but reached for the alcohol anyways, pouring the amber liquid into the shot glass. He didn’t really care. After all, Reeve had thrown down a few hundred gil when he walked in earlier. Even then, he had plans to get so drunk that he wouldn’t remember anything, especially what had happened that day or, more precisely, that afternoon in his office.
“He’s right, you know. If I was really… if I didn’t really like it, I would have punched him or somethin’,” Reeve grumbled, sliding his shot glasses between his two hands and watching the liquor slosh around inside. “So why didn’t I, hmm? I mean, I don’t like men. Never looked at them before in my life. Not really into the dick… well, not one that isn’t mine.”
Jimmy seemed particularly amused by this. He chuckled as he began to wipe down the bar top with a well-used rag. The bell on the door chose to jangle loudly then, pounding against Reeve’s skull. Someone else entered, bringing with him or her a wash of cold air that hit the back of Reeve’s neck and causing his over-heated body to shiver. Other than that, he didn’t pay much attention, not even when said newcomer pulled up a stool right next to him with a defining screech, and Reeve winced.
“Vodka double-shot,” ordered the smooth tone, one that Reeve thought he recognized… if he squinted and pondered carefully.
As Jimmy moved to fill the newcomer’s order, Reeve turned bleary eyes to his right. It was Tseng, just like he had thought.
“But what was Tseng doing here?” It wasn’t until the Wutaiian’s eyebrow twitched that Reeve even realized he had said that last part aloud.
Tseng sighed, pulling off his leather gloves and laying them on the counter, displaying elegant and somewhat pale fingers that were slightly calloused from a constant grip of a handgun. “You could have chosen a less conspicuous place to drown your sorrows, Reeve. The ShinRa company bar is not exactly discreet.” When the executive only blinked at him in confusion, he sighed again. “Nevermind. How long have you been here?” He frowned, amending the question, “And how many have you had?”
Reeve held up two fingers, mouth stretched wide in a sloppy grin. “N’more than five,” he answered as Tseng’s own drink came sliding towards the Wutaiian.
“Shots?” the Turk questioned disbelievingly.
“Hours,” Reeve corrected, shaking his head as his gaze wandered down to his yet untouched shot of something, idly wondering what it was.
Silver eyes darted towards Jimmy, clearly not expecting a truthful and coherent answer from the executive. “Came in at six,” the bartender explained. “And been tossing down about one or two, depends on the liquor, since then.”
Tseng groaned when his gaze flickered to the clock. It was one in the morning. It wouldn’t be long before Reeve started vomiting. His tolerance level was about that of a child, and the Wutaiian grimaced, hoping he could get executive home before he would need any dry-cleaning.
A hand clapped down on Tseng’s shoulder, instantly grabbing his attention as it sloppily pawed at him. “Let me tell you somethin’,” Reeve slurred as soon as his friend turned towards him. “I’m not gay, not at all. Never have been.” Tseng nodded, a non-committal sound in his throat and unintentionally urging the drunken executive to continue.
Reeve, unfortunately, was not only garrulous when drunk but also very telling. No secret was safe; thus why he didn’t drink that often.
The executive nodded to himself, his hand sliding down from Tseng’s shoulder as he turned towards his drink, gulping down half of it before continuing. “Yeah. M’not gay, but you know, I let him kiss me anyway. I even let him suck me off, and you know what? I liked it.”
The Turk winced. Yes, Reeve didn’t understand discretion when he was inebriated. He silently wondered how long he should let it go on before carting Reeve home as he had been called to do. The bartender was not a stupid man. He knew who Reeve was and knew who to call. After all, not only was he an ex-Turk, he had also dealt with Reeve on a few other occasions.
“Let’s get you home, Reeve,” Tseng said as he moved to slip from his seat, already reaching for his discarded gloves.
But the executive shook his head stubbornly. “Lemme finish telling the story,” he demanded crossly. He huffed and downed the rest of his shot, face twisted in a vague mockery of irritation, which actually came out rather goofy. “Now, where was I?”
Tseng put a hand to his temples, rubbing at a migraine he was certain would come eventually. He quickly downed the rest of his drink, the only one he allowed himself as tonight he couldn’t engage in his own vice. They all worked for ShinRa, which managed to fuck anyone up. Also, Reeve was projecting in waves, which made it difficult for the Turk to concentrate. Every fear and concern, fractured memory, and scattered thought was pulsing in his mind, and Reeve needed no encouragement.
“Yeah, I let him suck me off, and it was good. Best I ever had. I liked it, but I’m not supposed to because I’m not gay. And mebbe he was right. That I’m scared, but that’s not the point.” He crinkled his nose in an attempt to concentrate, definitely beginning to waver on his stool. “I mean, I like women. Lots of women. With breasts.” He gestured towards his own chest with both hands, waving his empty shot glass, which he had forgotten he still held, and outlining a pair of breasts in front of himself. “Big breasts, too. With nipples… lots of nipples.”
Tseng’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. He couldn’t help himself when a small chuckle escaped his mouth. Even the bartender had to stifle his laughter, turning away to hide his mirth.
Lots of nipples?
Reeve was never going to hear the end of it. And right now, the executive was still gesturing to himself, mumbling incoherently and staring blankly at his hands.
Which meant it was time to go.
Sliding down from his stool and grabbing his gloves, resituating them over his fingers, Tseng moved to Reeve’s side. “Come on, Reeve. It’s time to go home,” he urged, practically dragging the wobbly man off the stool.
Reeve sighed, joviality replaced with sudden melancholy. “Home,” he repeated as if he had forgotten the connotation of the word.
A smile tugged at the corner of the Turk’s mouth. “Yes,” he insisted, quite proud of himself for his patience. After all, he had dealt with Reeve like this twice before. First, when the plate had been finished… and after the executive had informed his parents of his promotion.
Reeve nodded numbly before a sudden thought occurred to him. “Just lemme give Jimmy a tip.” His hands dug into his pockets as he wavered on his feet with Tseng quickly steadying him. He seemed to have forgotten he had already paid ten times over for his drinks earlier.
“His name’s Laris, Reeve.”
“Looks like a Jimmy,” the executive mumbled, blinking too rapidly for it to be normal as he tossed a few crumpled bills to the bartender. “See you later, Jimmy.”
The bartender grinned, already reaching for their glasses. “Goodnight, Mr. Tuesti.” He chuckled and shook his head as he watched the two leave, the executive stumbling from too much alcohol. He had probably learned more about the man that night than he had ever wanted to know, but such was the fate of a barkeep. They learned all the dirty little secrets without ever having to ask.
Tseng hauled his friend out of the bar, heading towards the parking garage on the other side where his car was parked. Inwardly and silently, he begged that Reeve would keep his eventual nausea to himself until he got the man home. He didn’t want to have Reeve pay for his car cleaning again. It was embarrassing enough last time.
As he belted Reeve into the front seat, the executive, who had been silent, began to mumble again. He fumbled with helping Tseng until the Wutaiian batted his hands away, head finally lolling against the headrest. His eyes were unfocused as he tried to look at his friend, but the misery and confusion were quite evident.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Tseng,” the executive murmured, hands grasping for his knees and squeezing as if he needed something to hold on to.
The Wutaiian sighed, feeling marginally guilty for being part of the reason Reeve was confused. “I know,” he answered, gently closing the door on him before moving around to the driver’s side, sliding into his seat with practiced grace. The car started with a quiet purring rumble as he clicked his own seat belt into place.
“I don’t usually allow things like this to affect me, but I just…” he trailed off, letting out a growl of frustration at being unable to vocalize his emotions. His fingers curled against his knee as he closed his eyes tiredly, leaning back against the head rest. “I want, but I don’t. I can’t, but I want. I shouldn’t, but I have.”
Tseng listened in silence, slowly backing the car out into the main road and heading for Reeve’s apartment as quickly as was safe. When Reeve’s gregariousness turned to melancholy, that meant he was getting close to the state where all the alcohol would make a reappearance. He really shouldn’t be drinking, but the Turk understood the occasional need.
“I’m confused, Tseng. I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s so stubborn, and… he’s right ya know?” Reeve questioned rhetorically, opening his eyes to turn his gaze on his friend. “If I didn’t want it… I would have punched him, right? So that means I do, or something? But I’m not supposed to. It’s just when he touches me, all thoughts of saying no go out the window.” Reeve’s head tilted towards his own window, blearily watching the buildings as they passed. The streets were so empty. “He doesn’t understand why I can’t, even if I wanted to.”
The Wutaiian swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “Do you?” he questioned, gaze flickering to the executive briefly catching Reeve’s confused expression in the reflection of the window before he returned his attentions to the road in front of him.
Reeve shook his head. “I don’t know. Honestly, I think I do, but… it can’t work out.” He sighed. “Even if I wanted it to, we are too different, and it is too dangerous. He needs to see that.”
Tseng frowned. “Hmm,” he commented noncommittally, again feeling a surge of guilt for his own part in it. But he couldn’t exactly tell Reeve what to do either. The best he could do was make sure that the executive got home safely and offer up a non-judging ear.
“Tseng?” Reeve turned his head so that he was looking at his friend.
The Wutaiian nodded. “Yes.”
“…I don’t feel so good.”
Tseng groaned, eyes flickering to the faint greenish tinge to Reeve’s complexion. “Not in the car!”