I wasn't going to post this until I'd written a lot more of it, because I'm becoming a terribly slow updater, but it's cold outside, and there's not enough Reno/Rufus love going on out there at the moment, so here you go.

This is very AU and is a kind of Victorian soap opera. It's all just for fun - no deep themes, probably full of cliches and OOC romance, and lots of yaoi smut. (There will eventually be some het later when Tseng and Elena appear). Reno's cockney accent will become less extreme as time goes on - it's already driving me crazy.

Victorian London and Midgar do seem quite similar sometimes.

Chapter warnings - m/m, smut.

Reno of Olde Londone Towne

Being Like This

"And in the morning you'll be sixteen, and a man twice-over!" Frederick Shinra guffawed, waving a cheery goodbye with his cigar as he departed in the direction of the street where the handsome cab was waiting. His son, Rufus, watched his father leaving with an attempt at a nonchalant wave, and a look of trepidation in his blue eyes. The Hive was famous throughout London and beyond for the beauty of its girls, the luxury of its rooms and the variety of the entertainment it offered – but all Rufus felt, as the door closed behind his father, was dread.

Only heir to his father's vast railway fortune, and, thereby, one of the most eligible bachelors in England, Rufus sat uncomfortably in a shabby red velvet arm chair, drinking his glass of wine as slowly as he could while trying to hide both his nervousness and his disgust. The 'bevy of beauties' his father had leeringly described appeared to be, for the most part, at least twice his age beneath their thickly layered powder and rouge. Their gaudy, cheap and faded silk depressed him nearly as much as their vividly painted lips and bountiful bosoms repelled him. Rufus found himself torn between the desire to make his excuses and leave, and the weary certainty that Madame Abeille would give his father a detailed account of all he said and did. Perhaps it would be better, after all, simply to get the thing over with.

He scanned the group of simpering faces around him. One younger girl leaned forward, giggling, to refill his glass, affording him an unwanted view of a rosy nipple slipping, by artful accident, from a half unlaced bodice. As always he felt nothing, and knew why, and was ashamed to his core. Still – the girl was about his own age he guessed, and her face was sweetly pretty. Perhaps, if he tried hard, it would somehow be all right?

"See anything you like, lovey?" the girl asked him, pressing close.

"You can touch if you want, Sir," an older woman added. "Lucy don't mind, do ya Luce?"

Lucy shook her head, reaching for Rufus' hand. He had a moment of panic, fighting the impulse to recoil, before allowing her to guide his hand to her breast. Her flesh was warm and soft and too full – too curved. The older woman laughed at the expression of studious concentration on his face. "Bless you, Sir – ain't you never felt a tit before? If Lucy's not to your liking, I'm Rose, and I'll show you what's what. You're a 'andsome young man, an' no mistake." Rose perched on the arm of Rufus' chair and stroked his cheek in what was clearly supposed to be a winsome fashion. "Well? What do you say, Sir? What's your pleasure?"

Not this! Rufus thought. Not this! Aloud he managed, "I – uh – you're very kind – but –" He glanced rather desperately in the direction of the door as though he could escape by merely looking - and as he did so the door opened and someone entered the room.

A slight, pale creature in a plain green gown, the newcomer appeared to be little more than Rufus' age. Long hair hung around her face in loose ringlets, and it was the most extraordinary colour he'd ever seen – bright mahogany, titian – the colour of the hair in those paintings his father so disliked. Yes – Mr. Rossetti's models had hair that glorious shade.

"Who's she?" Rufus asked too loudly. All the girls in the lounge turned to stare at the red-haired beauty – for, now that he looked more closely, he saw that the girl's face was as beautiful as her hair.

To Rufus' surprise – and annoyance – several of the girls burst out laughing.

"Her?" Rose asked. "Oh – she's a rare one, she is. Our little Nancy."

"Nancy?" Rufus asked. "That's her name?"

"Tonight it is," Lucy smiled. "Do you fancy her, Sir? Some gentlemen like her well enough!"

Lucy's comments provoked more laughter. 'Nancy' said nothing – did not smile – only regarded Rufus calmly out of slightly slanted, vaguely feline eyes. There was something about her that was different from the other girls. She lacked their brash manners. There was something in the line of her neck, the relatively demure cut of her dress… Before he could consider Rufus said, "Yes. Her."

Madame Abeille, who had been watching proceedings from her armchair by the fire, rose to her feet, waving her hands to dismiss the other girls, who departed in a rustle of silk and stifled giggles.

"Are you certain, Sir?" she asked Rufus. "Lucy would treat you kindly. You do know that Nancy isn't like the other girls?"

"I can see that." Rufus moved closer to Nancy, who still hadn't moved. When he met her gaze he couldn't decipher her expression exactly – something wary – something amused – and a flicker of something else. Desire? It was enough for Rufus. This mysterious girl would be his salvation! He felt himself stirring – actually interested.

Madame Abeille hesitated, uncertain. Rufus Shinra was the most important potential client she'd entertained in a long time; she feared embarrassing him. "Are you sure, Sir?" she asked. "You know that she's… different?"

"Yes," Rufus said, impatient now. "It's her I want."

Madame Abeille raised an eyebrow at Nancy, who nodded, and took Rufus' hand without a word. He followed her out of the parlour, up two flights of stairs and along a narrow hallway, trying to ignore the soft sighs and moans he could hear coming from behind not quite closed doors. The entrance to Nancy's room was as highly decorated as the parlour and the corridors were: a reddish gauzy curtain was partially drawn across the entrance, and the wooden door was painted a bronze colour that was supposed to pass as gilding. Inside, however, the room was simple and sparsely furnished: an old four-poster bed with no curtains, a washstand upon which stood a bowl and ewer in a greenish glaze, a small table, a green rug. The only light in the room came from the moonlight filtering through the four panes of the narrow window. A candle in a brass holder stood upon the table, but it was unlit.

Rufus took out his matches and bent to light the candle. Then he straightened, and held out a hand to Nancy, who took it without a word. He drew her into the flickering candlelight and said, "You are beautiful."

Nancy smiled at him, and murmured, "Thank you, Sir," her voice soft and low.

"May I touch your hair?"

Nancy laughed briefly. "Yes, Sir – what you will."

"I… hardly know. This is the first time…"

Nancy froze, her expression changing in an instant. "You're not serious!" she exclaimed, her voice suddenly different – suddenly harsh.

Rufus nodded. "Is there a difficulty?"

Nancy cocked her head on one side, frowning, one hand on her hip in a most unladylike gesture. "I should damn well think so! You do know what I am, don'tcha?"

Rufus suddenly realised – or allowed himself to realise what he'd subconsciously recognised from the start. Shame and fury burned in him. "You're a boy."

"You didn't know? You really didn't know 'til just then?" The boy's astonishment was laced with something else; pride at the success of his disguise perhaps?

"No!" cried Rufus, acting an outrage he wasn't entirely sure he felt. "No. Of course not! Or – at least –"

His almost-confession was lost in the sound of the boy's low whistle. "Fuck me!" the boy said, shaking his head. "But what was they thinkin' downstairs?" His expression changed again – this time to apprehension. "Don't 'old it against me, Sir," he said, and Rufus couldn't be sure whether or not he was imagining that brief flash of amusement in the boy's eyes – the quirk of his mouth as he registered the potential of the innuendo and dismissed it as inappropriate to the situation. "I never knew you was – uninitiated – I swear. I thought you wanted –"

"Who would want that? I'm not – not some kind of - moral degenerate!"

"Course not. But – takes all sorts – an' I see men most nights want it bad enough to pay well."

"What – they want to… to sleep with you… in a dress?"

"Some do, some don't. Some come 'ere on the days when I'm dressed in me own togs." The boy shrugged as though it were the most natural thing in on earth instead of the abomination Rufus knew it to be in the eyes of God.

Disconcerted he asked, "So – your hair… Is that a wig, then?"

The boy smiled. "No – it's all mine! You can touch it if you want – like you said…"

Rufus frowned, shocked and disturbed by the realisation that instead of his body recoiling at the idea, his cock was painfully hard.

"Look," said the boy more gently, moving a little closer to Rufus, "You can go, if you want. I'll tell 'em nothing' happened – you thought I was a girl, and got all riled, so you're comin' back for a real girl this time. Lucy or Esme'd see you right – they're good wiv first-timers."

"Right," said Rufus, wishing he felt more relieved at the offer of this easy escape route. "I will then."

"But – it won't work. Take it from me."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I saw how you looked at me downstairs."

"Yes!" exclaimed Rufus. "When I thought you were a girl!"

"Yeah. Exactly," the boy said. "An' now you know I ain't, you're lookin' at me hotter 'n that."

"I most certainly am not!"

"'S all right. I'm lookin' right back." The boy was gazing at Rufus intently now, no longer smiling. Rufus felt heat engulfing his body, rising into his face until his cheeks were burning.

"What do you mean?" he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry.

The boy smiled then. "You are, without a shadder of a doubt, the most 'andsome man what's ever graced these premises."

Rufus stared at him – at his sharply attractive, fine-featured face, those exotically feline eyes. "I have to go," he said.

The boy only stared back, a half smile still playing over his lovely, up-curved lips. "Shame," he said. "You are what you are. Don't see the 'arm, meself."

"Damn you!" Rufus cried, almost convinced of his own fury. "Damn this whole place to Hell! Have you no shame at all? I'm going to tell them exactly what I think of this establishment downstairs –"

"All right," the boy said, calmly. "I'm not stoppin' you, if you wanna go..."

I am going!" Rufus declared, half turning towards the door, hesitating.

"Looks like it." The boy was smiling broadly again now.

Rufus turned back to him, scowling. "Now look here – I don't like your attitude –"

"What attitude?"

"That one!" Rufus stepped towards him and the boy's chin lifted defiantly so that Rufus couldn't believe he'd ever mistaken him for a girl. Feeling a sudden, helpless fury, Rufus raised his arm to strike the boy, and found his wrist seized in a powerful grip. For all his fragile appearance, the boy seemed to be amazingly strong.

"Don't," the boy said, his voice low – dangerous. "Not the way. You ain't angry at me – you're angry at bein' like this."

"I'm not 'like this'!"

Rufus tried to pull away, and the red-haired boy leaned forward and kissed him.

Frozen for an instant, Rufus felt himself poised on the edge of something and knew, in a moment of simple clarity, that he had to choose, now, whether to fling himself back, or to leap forward. He hesitated for a second, and then gave himself to the kiss completely. It was right – it was what he wanted – what he had always wanted. The boy was pulling him back towards the bed, mouth crushed against Rufus', fingers in Rufus' hair. Rufus' hands tore at the laces of the stupid dress that hadn't ever been a real disguise, pulling and shoving material away until the boy was revealed beneath him – naked, and wonderful, and male.

Rufus kissed one of the boy's small, hard nipples; licked and sucked at it, revelling in the texture of firm, erect flesh. The boy gasped beneath him, arching back on the bed, and Rufus somehow knew that his responses were more than a whore's act. He looked up at the boy's flushed face and saw that he'd closed his eyes, dark lashes individually visible against pale skin, lips parted. Rufus moved up to kiss his perfect mouth, and the boy's eyes fluttered open.

"So – so – beautiful," murmured Rufus, between hard, longing kisses.

"You – too!" panted the boy, thrusting his pelvis urgently against Rufus', his fingers working to remove Rufus' jacket, cravat, silk waistcoat, shirt.

"Fuck!" the boy swore. "Too many clothes!"

"Far too many," Rufus agreed, helping to undress himself with one hand, keeping himself balanced over the boy with the other. When, at last, Rufus was free of his clothes, he lay on top of the boy, skin warm against skin for the first time in his life, their cocks hard against each other – heat, and intense pleasure. "What's your real name?" Rufus asked, gazing into the boy's eyes.

"Reno," the boy replied.

"Reno?"

"Yeah. It's an Irish name – sort of. I'll tell you, sometime. What's yours?"

"Rufus." Rank – titles – suddenly seemed irrelevant.

Reno reached up and brushed feathery blond hair out of Rufus' eyes. He smiled in a way that sent a pulse of urgent lust coursing through Rufus' body, and murmured, "Fuck me, Rufus."

Rufus hesitated. "I – I don't –"

"Oh yeah – I was forgettin'. You kiss so good." Reno rolled Rufus underneath him, and reached down between them to stroke his shaft gently. "God, I love your prick!" he said. "So hard!" He kissed his way down Rufus' body, all that beautiful red hair falling over Rufus' chest, abdomen, hips - until Reno's mouth closed hot over Rufus' cock. Reno licked him slowly, enough to make him wet, but he could already feel the tension in the hot thickness of flesh beneath his tongue, and was careful not to suck too hard. Still, Rufus groaned in torment when Reno let his aching cock slip from his mouth and moved away. "Please!" Rufus begged, "Don't stop!"

"Here," Reno said, pulling Rufus on top of him and drawing him down into another deep kiss. Reaching between them, Reno gently positioned the head of Rufus' hard, wet cock. Looking into Rufus' eyes, Reno said, "All right. Fuck me."

Rufus thrust slowly into Reno, repeating, "Oh God! Oh God!" as he pushed in as deep as he could get.

"Yes – that's it," Reno gasped, trembling with the effort of holding still. He bit his lip to prevent himself moaning and stammered, "R- Rufus! Yes - do it!"

Rufus' instinct took over, and he discovered that he did know what to do after all – thrusting into Reno hard and deep, panting with exertion and pleasure. Reno tried not to move too much. For perhaps the first time in his life, he didn't want it over quickly, but he knew that such intense pleasure was unlikely to last long with a virgin like Rufus. Reno slid a hand between them, stroking his own erection, and moaned aloud when Rufus' hand closed over his, giving pleasure as well as receiving it. The sound of Reno's unfeigned lust was all it took to bring Rufus to his climax, crying out, "Reno!" and, to his own surprise, Reno followed him almost at once, his come pulsing hot between them.

Rufus lay heavily on Reno, breathing deeply, his head resting on Reno's shoulder. Reno let him lie there, stroking his soft, blond hair with one hand, the other resting very lightly on the small of Rufus' back. Reno couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more than the most fleeting desire for a customer before tonight. Sometimes, when someone was slamming into him from behind and he didn't have to look, he found himself aroused by the physical sensation of the act, but this was different entirely. He wanted to hold Rufus against him – badly wanted to go back to kissing him. But that wasn't how it worked – Rufus had done what he'd come to do – what he was paying for.

Rufus didn't seem to understand how the transaction was supposed to go. He rolled off Reno and lay beside him, propped on one elbow. He ran his fingers through Reno's red hair, looked into his eyes, and declared, "I love you!"

Ah, thought Reno, you had to go an' say it, didn't you? But he only smiled, pulled Rufus down onto his shoulder, and carried on stroking his hair. "Jus' now, I think you do," he said softly. "But then - maybe, jus' now, I love you too."

Rufus' hand strayed to Reno's hip, pulling him close. "I'll take you away from here!" Rufus exclaimed, passionate, and, at that moment, meaning every word. "I'll find somewhere we can be together – like this…"

"Nice dream," murmured Reno, for whom Rufus was the third trick of the night. One of the others – a fifty year old banker named Freeman – had been swearing undying love to Reno as 'Nancy' twice a week for over a year now, muttering my precious girl while fucking him and pawing at his cock - promising him the world once his invalid wife was dead.

But for once Reno was in no hurry to get his client out of his bed. He lay with Rufus, feeling comfortable and almost happy. Eventually Rufus' breathing deepened and became slow and even. Reno opened his eyes, and looked at Rufus' face as he slept.

The only difference, he told himself firmly, is that this one's young, an' a looker. Christ, is he ever! But that don't mean anything he says is true. What bloke don't love me - for the minute after he gets off inside me? And what punter ever kept one of his sugar promises in the mornin'? No, Reno, don't go fallin' for a pretty trick now. He's shit scared of himself anyhow. Won't see him here again unless it's to force himself to go with one of the girls.

Reno stretched, smiling to himself. It had been the best fuck, though! Such a change to feel soft, firm skin against his own – youth with youth – stripped of clothes and rank – just two lithe, strong, beautiful bodies moving together.

Yeah, Reno thought, would be much too easy to fall for you, Rufus. Have to watch that! But when Rufus' arm reached around his waist and drew him close again, Reno didn't resist.