Work Text:
I wish I'd only look
And didn't have to touch
I wish I'd only smell this
And didn't have to taste
How can I ignore?
This is sex without touching
I'm going to explore
I'm only into this to
Enjoy
(from "Enjoy" by Björk)
Sniping itself was not difficult for Reno or Rude. They both had excellent aim, a calm approach to death, and the awareness of that split-second when a mark could most efficiently be picked off. It was the inhuman patience--the waiting, the watching--that made Rude the better sniper.
Rude could wait for days, crammed into a small attic or on a ledge with a gun, until the target was finally in his sights. And even though Rude was generally the hands-on type, he could take out a man like no one Reno had ever known: neat and tidy, with the remains of a few days' worth of rations and cheap junk food scattered on the floor around him, and walk away as if he'd only been standing there for five minutes.
Reno sometimes waited with him toward the end, after Rude radioed in that it was getting close.
This time, it was an attic in an abandoned house with creaky floors. Reno sat down on a nearby overturned crate, Rude's eye fixed on the doorway across the street.
"You want a pork rind?" Reno had offered, mouth crunching away, boots scuffing on the floor.
"No," Rude said. The window was streaked with a thin layer of grime; the perfect cover for someone just waiting to pick off an unsuspecting mark.
"You want a drink?" Reno asked, taking a swig of whiskey from the bottle he was holding, suit rustling a few feet away from Rude.
"Nope," Rude replied, and finally cast his ever-vigilant gaze Reno's way. "You know I don't drink on the job." He was already looking out the window again before Reno could roll his eyes.
"Like to think it makes me more focused," Reno pronounced, patting the bottle lovingly. When Rude didn't say anything, he added, "Just sayin'."
All he got for his speech was a low growl. The grin was wiped off of Reno's face as he watched Rude watching out of the window, then the fast little put of the silencer as screams erupted out in the street.
Rude calmly pulled the gun back and took his leather, fingerless gloves off.
"I'll have some of that whiskey now," he said, and Reno grinned through the dim light at him, his eyes dark. He handed the bottle over, and Rude took a draw. Reno moved forward and started disassembling the rifle.
"Don't know how you were in here for two days by yourself," he commented, slowly putting each part of the sniper rifle back into its case, a space for every piece.
"Tseng send you over?" Rude asked lightly, snorting. Reno looked at him.
"Yeah," he finally said. "He wanted to make sure you were..." He trailed off even as his hands smoothly continued with the disassembly process. "Well, he said that's why partners exist."
Rude made a hmph noise and then stood up, brushing off his pants. He had hung his jacket on a nearby nail that he shrugged back on as Reno put the last of the gun into its case.
"I'll finish those pork rinds," he said, seizing the bag from the floor where Reno had left them.
Reno just made a sound in his throat that sounded like a laugh. "Why the shit do you think I brought them? I fucking hate pork rinds," he said, snapping the case shut. "Let's get the fuck out of here. Orders are to leave the body as a warning." If Reno didn't know Rude as well as he did, he would've been confused by the ambivalent expression that crossed his partner's face; but because he did, it said: Shit, really? Well, whatever, I want a fucking shower.
Three blocks away a car was waiting for them in the dark, the green glow of Midgar falling over them; three miles away, the Shinra building and a shower were waiting.
They parted ways at the elevator, Rude to the locker room and Reno to their office. Reno generally didn't have the patience to fill out reports at all, and inevitably Rude ended up doing most of them. However, Reno also hadn't just stalked a target for two days from an abandoned building, so he decided to be nice and do the paperwork.
He was almost done by the time Rude walked in, smelling like cheap disinfectant soap and a new set of clothes.
"Report's almost done," Reno said, leaning back in the chair at their shared desk and grinning. "Thought I'd be nice. Be a good partner, partner."
"Thanks," Rude said brusquely, and took a sip out of a water bottle he was holding. Reno took one look and pulled out a flask.
"Relax, Rude," he said, holding out the silver flask. "Sit down, drink. Hell, go home. I got this."
Rude just looked at him, standing there in the doorway with his imposing presence. "I've been sitting for two days."
"So fucking stand and drink," Reno said, rolling his eyes, setting the flask on the edge of the desk and nudging it in the direction of his partner. He focused his gaze back on the computer screen, keys clicking under nimble fingers. "Go out and find some pussy or something. Just don't go home and stare at the wall."
Not that Rude would actually go home and stare at the wall, but Reno surmised it might be something close. Rude wasn't a people person and didn't like to go places by himself; he'd rather be immersed in his job or drink with whoever was around. Rude was deceptively quiet though, and usually had a firm opinion on whatever was going on--he just didn't share unless he felt like it.
Reno sometimes wondered if that was the reason Rude had become a Turk. And he knew it was why Veld had partnered them. Rude was strong and level-headed; Reno was fast, both in speech and in body. Seemed like a damn good idea.
And in Reno's estimation, and he hoped Rude's too, it was a damn good idea. Rude sniped; Reno chased. It made sense. But as partners inevitably do, over the years they had gotten to know each other well beyond the courtship of sniping and stalking and blood.
So Rude, being himself, did the exact opposite of what Reno had suggested and moved to stand behind the faux-leather chair that Reno was sitting in. He peered at the computer screen and leaned over, his finger outstretched.
"You spelled 'perpetrator' wrong," he said tonelessly.
"Does it look like I give a fuck?" Reno asked, turning his head to the side to glare at Rude out of the corner of his eye. "Why the hell are you still here?"
"Should go home and get some sleep..." Rude observed, straightening up and blinking heavily, but he didn't move. "You almost done?"
"Yeah," Reno grumbled, tabbing into the next field.
"You want to get food?"
Reno's stomach made a noise, and Rude won the battle over going home or not.
"Whatchya got in mind?" Reno asked, his fingers suddenly tapping a little more quickly.
"Out," was all Rude replied. Reno turned to look at him.
"Oh," he said, catching on, "yeah. Uh, I guess that would be where you'd want to go."
"Yeah," Rude said, a low chuckle in his voice. "If I see another attic it'll be too soon."
"How do you do that, man?" Reno commented idly, almost a rhetorical question, as he turned back around to finish.
"What?"
"How the fuck do you just...sit there for two days, watching?" Reno asked absentmindedly, not looking at Rude, focusing on the screen with visions of beer and greasy food dancing through his mind.
"I'd rather watch than do," Rude said. That got Reno's attention. He swiveled in the chair sideways to where Rude had taken a position at the door, ready to make his escape into the land of city and people and dimly lit greasy spoons that served Turks without complaint.
"Sounds kinky, partner," Reno said, laughing under his breath.
"It can be," Rude commented, a slow smile spreading across his face when Reno did a double take. His index finger was poised in mid-air, just about to press the final return that would effectively file the report and close out the hit. It dropped heavily onto the key as Reno continued to just stare at him and the text on the computer screen disappeared. He regained his composure after a few moments.
"So you're one of those guys," he goaded, a grin blossoming, something dark in his eyes. "You gotta pay the girls extra for that?"
"Who said anything about girls?" Rude retorted, raising an eyebrow.
Rude was fucking with him and obviously enjoying himself. It was once in a blue moon that Rude messed with Reno, and Reno latched onto it like a fish on a hook.
"You gotta pay the boys extra for that?" he asked again, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Who said anything about paying?" Rude shot back. They just looked at each other.
"Wow," Reno finally said, something tingling in his body as Rude stared unabashedly at him, "you're in rare form tonight, partner." He gave a nervous little laugh.
Rude didn't answer and just gave Reno a challenging look. Reno stood up and pushed the chair in neatly, then leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Rude pulled his typical, I'm not going to say something until you do routine as they stared at each other from opposite sides of the room.
"You like to watch?" Reno finally said, relenting after a few moments of silence that seemed to stretch on forever. "What do you like to watch?" Reno's voice was hushed and his arms tightened their embrace around his own body.
"You want me to describe it?" Rude asked, another small, nearly imperceptible smile appearing on his face. Reno knew that look; it was the same look Rude wore when he was stalking a target.
Reno hesitated; he could feel Rude's words travel through his body like a violent wave. His instinctual self-preservation techniques were kicking in, which only added to the confusing anticipation. His body was saying, fight or flight, which didn't fit with the situation.
But Reno was not a cautious creature by nature, so he said what he wanted to, even though he knew he was taking a chance.
"You ever watch me, partner?" Reno's own voice sounded foreign to him, breathless and heavy and laced with something like black powder. He didn't know whether he was playing a game anymore, or simply hoping.
"Yeah," Rude said, the smile fading from his face, "I do."
"You do?" Reno's wit failed him and he just stared. "You ever think about..." His voice trailed off, and for once, he heeded the urge to shut up, even as his heart was pounding in his ears like a dulcimer about to snap.
"What I'd like to do to you?" Rude finished. Reno damned the other man's uncanny calm, that patience that allowed him to sit for two days straight, staring out of a window, and not go completely insane.
It would only take one word to change the conversation from a game into something very different. Reno waited and the air seemed heavier than lead.
When Rude answered, his voice was even and calm, that deep soothing baritone that Reno usually found balance in. Now, it knocked him askew and he felt like he was wriggling on that hook he'd willingly bit down on, and Rude was simply watching him fight.
"Yeah. I do."
Reno let out a heavy sigh and slumped against the wall, his arms dropping to his sides. He took a few staggered breaths that he hoped Rude didn't hear.
"So," he said, his voice quiet but characteristically challenging, even as he trembled internally, "what exactly do you want to do to me, partner?"
Rude's expression didn't change, but Reno could see him shift his stance.
"Let's start at the beginning," Rude replied. He flipped the lock to their office, and Reno's heart began to thump wildly in his chest again as Rude looked at him, leaning against the door.
"I'd take off your jacket," Rude said, low voice rife with authority and confidence, "left sleeve first." He watched as Reno's left index finger twitched.
"Slow?" Reno asked. His eyes had darkened, his face shadowed, expectant and just as predatory as Rude's smile. "Or would you just rip it off?"
Rude put his hands in his pockets, relaxing his body.
"Slow, " he replied, "then I'd leave your arms there." He could feel his heart begin to speed up. Then added, "All tangled up so you couldn't move."
Reno met his eyes purposefully as he shrugged his left arm out of the sleeve, then pushed his jacket down to his forearms and let it sit there.
"Then what?" he breathed, moving to sit on the edge of his desk with his shoulders bent back slightly where his arms were restrained.
Rude admired the tense lines that the position made in Reno's collarbones and arms, pushing him outward as if he had put his body on display.
"I'd lay you out flat on your back," he said.
Reno closed his eyes and let out a sound, letting his head drop back slightly.
"Fuck..." he groaned under his breath, slowly sinking back against the desk and closing his eyes, making a racket as papers and pencils and disassembled gun parts were knocked to the floor. Rude felt his cock stir, but he still didn't move.
"And then what?" Reno asked, his voice rough and strained.
"I'd unbutton it," Rude started, taking in a deep, silent breath, then took off his sunglasses to get a better look at Reno. His voice was ragged now, and he surreptitiously adjusted his cock.
"Slow or fast?" Reno murmured, slipping an arm agilely out of the jacket and running light fingertips down his own throat, carefully, a whisper of a touch over his jugular and then down to the first button of his shirt. He flicked it open.
"Slow," Rude replied distractedly, watching in rapt attention as Reno toyed with the second button, feigning difficulty in getting it undone, then opened his eyes to look at Rude. He exhaled and slowly undid the rest of the buttons to his shirt until it hung open, his ribs and pale skin visible, and then shrugged the jacket and shirt off the rest of the way.
Rude broke the gaze and his eyes traveled lower, down over memories on Reno's well-worn skin: the results of events he'd witnessed and endured with him--explosions, gunshots, burns. Reno's body was a living covenant to their work.
Rude paused to lean back heavily against the closed door. He could hear the vents above them blowing recycled air, could see the pencils that Reno constantly bit to pieces that were now scattered all over the floor--ordinary, every day things. And Rude didn't mind a little normalcy. The fact they even had an office lent him the opportunity to occasionally say things like, "I have an office," when people asked him what he did for a living.
But now, here was Reno on the seemingly most ordinary of nights, draped across a wood laminate desktop groping himself, panting as he waited for Rude's next command.
And Rude wasn't sure why he was still talking, but he also didn't want to stop. The simple desire reached him unexpectedly, like an underground spring that had abruptly risen to the surface.
He didn't move his gaze away from Reno, who was a little too long to fit on the desk completely, forcing him to bend his knees up and settle his heels on the top. Rude started to think about what he'd look like without pants, what would be exposed, and fought the urge to touch his own cock.
"I'd pull off your pants and make you spread your legs," he said, his entire body humming with restrained energy. "And then just look."
Reno kicked his boots off; they fell to the floor with a defining, dull thud. He unzipped his pants and pushed them down over his hips, shucked them off onto the floor where they joined the other remnants of normal life. He bent his legs back up, spread them wider, and Rude breathed in sharply.
"Do you like it when I look at you?" Rude asked, his eyes fixed between Reno's legs.
"Yes," Reno gasped, settling his hand on his cock. Tremors ran through his body; his forehead was creased and his mouth was set into a tense line. He had his eyes closed again, centered in his own world that was composed solely of Rude's voice and whatever was running through his head.
"I'd come up next to you," his voice was low, almost quiet, "and touch your hip, start to jerk you off."
"Oh god," Reno's voice barely touched his breath. He fastened his hand around his cock in a firmer grip and started to give short, hard jerks that looked almost painful.
"How does my hand feel on your cock?"
"Feels fucking good, Rude," he shuddered, arching his back.
The sound of his own name threw Rude off for a minute--too personal. Although he wasn't sure what else anything between he and Reno could be except personal. They had been past "personal" after the first job, the first shared kill.
But sex was never personal for Rude, not anymore; had stopped being personal after Chelsea. It was always too complicated, and even though years had passed since then, he'd continued to keep his dick very separate from things that mattered to him.
But now they were colliding, and when Reno moaned his name again, more raggedly, more desperate, and asked him what next, he couldn't stop talking.
"I'd get my dick out," he said, hushed, and pushed his hand into his own pants. "Get close to you, feel your asshole. Lube up, push in, and then fuck you from the side."
Rude was not known as a talker; he didn't extrapolate, didn't explain himself. But Reno had never needed words to understand him, and suddenly they had switched places. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but all he could feel right then was the imminent orgasm that was rushing through his body, ready to overtake him.
Reno leaned to the side and fumbled as he reached for the drawer in the desk that belonged to him and wrenched it open. His eyes were dazed and half-lidded now as he searched and then pulled out lube.
Leave it to Reno to have lube in his drawer. Had Rude been able to form a coherent thought, he would have been amused, and Reno would have made a joke.
But no one was joking now as Reno practically dropped the tube, but managed to get it open and slick some onto his fingers, then laid back down and spread his legs again. He pushed his hand down, teasing at his ass, and then slowly pushed one in.
"I feel your cock," he finally choked out, then added a second one, maybe a little too fast from the way he hissed, but he didn't seem to care. "I can feel you fucking me."
He thrust his fingers in and out of himself faster where his legs were bent and splayed apart, then flipped onto his side to change position, pulled his knees up to his chest and reached around to shove them back in. Every time he pushed into himself, he let out short bursts of sound, breathless and uncontrolled.
"Reno," Rude groaned, "how does it feel?"
"I want it harder," he said through clenched teeth, gave himself a few more good hard thrusts with his own fingers; then he was coming, and his entire body shuddered.
Rude doubled over as he dropped his pants, outright stroking himself, his cock wet and hard, breathing heavily. He could feel Reno's eyes settle on him.
"That's so fucking hot," Reno breathed, staring. "Rude..."
He came when he heard Reno's voice, and finally let loose a loud sound caught between a name and a cry. His body spasmed and then he slumped forward, catching his breath.
He stayed doubled over there, eyes on the floor, felt the sweat on his face and his own sticky fluids on his hand, and he tried to breathe as his body hummed with electric aftershocks. He could hear Reno breathing heavily too, and then the creak of the desk as his partner sat up. He still didn't look at him; made a move to pull his pants up. He heard the thump as Reno hit the floor and then he could see his partner's feet, just standing in front of him, could smell the sweat on Reno's skin. Then a callused hand pushed Rude's fingers away from the zipper of his pants, and finally Rude looked at him.
The office smelled like sex and sweat, like him and Reno.
"Rude," Reno said, naked. "Shit..." And then he seemed at a loss for words.
Rude straightened and looked down at the floor again, at the industrial carpeting, his come spilled over it, a few pencils that had been scattered in the fray with bite marks from Reno's teeth. Those teeth that were on his neck now, nipping, a warm body unexpectedly pressed against his.
"Don't," he said, drawing away. Reno's mouth retreated.
"You fuckin' serious?" came the immediate response, the drawl emerging that Rude only heard when Reno was pissed off.
"Yes," he replied tonelessly.
And Reno ignored him.
It was one of the first times Reno had ever flat out ignored Rude. His partner was the only person that Reno consistently listened to; it was another reason why Veld had partnered them all those years before. Reno was a precise killer, but he did his job with a certain flair that left other people with an uncanny feeling. The manic edge that seemed to surround him like a halo when he electrocuted or maimed or destroyed things was delicate and all encompassing. Rude was the only one who was immune to it.
But now, Reno ignored him; pressed against him again, wondering whether or not Rude would just slug him in the face. But he was past caring, because he wanted this so badly right then that he'd take Rude's fist...Rude's large, strong, solid fist...in his face to get one more touch, one more taste. Just one taste at all.
"I've thought about it," he said unexpectedly, low, into Rude's ear. "About you, and this." Late at night in the dark, hand on cock, needing something in that empty quiet place. Something bright, hot, loud, deafening.
When Rude moved to draw away again, Reno growled. "What was this then?" he asked, drawing away first and shifting his weight from one leg to the other, crossing his arms and looking perturbed. "When you said you wanted to fuck me?"
He didn't even seem to notice his own nakedness, and neither did Rude for a few moments with the way his partner's eyes were taking him apart, piece by piece, figuring it out before Rude could even answer. Reno did that to him; always had.
"And what if I don't fuck you," Rude finally asked, calming himself down, schooling his face into neutrality. "What then?"
Reno's seriousness and anger instantly melted away into his typical, easy expression; Rude gave him a hard look. He wasn't going to buy the bullshit. But Reno didn't give it up, and just continued to look at him the same way as he replied, "No hard feelings, partner. We both got a good wank in." He grinned a little.
"What if I said yes?"
The grin disappeared, and Reno stilled for a moment like a frightened deer amongst a thicket of trees, eyeing him, that restrained quality that Rude knew was there shining through in his expression. He was evaluating; Reno evaluated more often than most people gave him credit for.
"What if I said right now?" Reno said finally, raising an eyebrow.
"What if I said get on the fucking desk?" Rude retorted.
"I'd get on the fucking desk," Reno's breath had quickened, and he watched Rude carefully, his gaze flicking over his partner's body and then back up.
"Get on the fucking desk," Rude growled.
He let his pants drop back down, shucked them off, and pushed his body against Reno's. There were two sharp breaths, skin to skin, both of them damp and breathing hard. Rude slipped his hands under the backs of Reno's thighs and lifted him to sit on the edge of the desk.
Reno let out a low moan and wrapped his legs around Rude's waist as the other man leaned forward and bit at Reno's neck. Rude made a noise, a deep rumble in his throat, as Reno's hand snaked between them to squeeze at Rude's cock.
"What are you going to do?" he whispered, tipping his head back and pushing his hips forward against Rude's, using one arm to balance himself as the other hand wound in his own hair and pulled hard, as if the pressure would somehow provide relief from the intense need that was etched across his face.
Rude watched Reno's bared throat, pale, vulnerable. He wound his own hand in Reno's hair and jerked his head back to bite at his exposed throat. Rude could feel the vibrations of Reno's voice as he moaned; he ran his tongue along a collarbone and then back up, could feel the gentle ridges of Reno's jugular.
"Let go," he rumbled softly against Reno's neck. Reno's fist loosened from his hair and landed back on the desk with a smack to balance himself. Rude pushed his hand against the back of Reno's head and angled his face up; they looked at each other for a moment, and Reno's breath caught.
"What am I going to do?" Rude said, repeating the question, his breath hot against Reno's cheek where he pressed his face, whispering into his ear, "I'm going to lie you out flat on your back." He pushed Reno to lie down and nudged his legs further apart, pushed his knees up to his chest. "And I'm going to look."
He looked down at Reno, completely open, his cock hard again, wet, and Rude ran his thumb over the tip. Reno was more sensitive than Rude had expected, and he jerked at the touch. Rude let out a low moan and ran fingertips up the delicate skin of Reno's inner thigh, just to see the shiver that ran through his partner's body.
"How do I look?" Reno whispered, barely managing to form the words, his legs quivering where Rude held them in place.
Rude didn't answer, just slid his fingers down and back to brush Reno's entrance. Reno gasped. Rude grabbed the lube one-handed, used a forearm to hold Reno's legs where they were, and slicked some onto his fingers. The edge of the desk bit into his thighs were he was standing.
He took control right out of Reno's hands, right out of his body, pushing one finger in slowly, carefully, watching Reno's face. Everything Reno understood Rude to be was held in his body, in the way that he touched.
"Fuck that's good," Reno finally breathed out harshly, rolling his hips, encouraging Rude to go deeper. He was still opened up from before, but he could feel the edge of pain that tinged Rude's touch. He lost himself in it, hoisting himself up onto his elbows as far as he could to watch as Rude fucked him.
"Harder," was all he said, then bucked his hips.
Before he could say anything else, the words were stolen away as Rude jammed two fingers into him, pulled out and slammed back in. Reno's entire body jerked with each movement, reveling in the feeling of being fucked by the same hands that Rude used to fight.
"Hold your legs there," Rude said, brushing his lips against Reno's inner thigh again, pushing his fingers in and out of his body in a brutal rhythm that Reno moaned with. Reno grasped his own legs, holding them there, open and spread for Rude to look and touch.
Everything was gone except for Rude and the thrust of his fingers, Reno's body moving without his consent. Reno just floated there, letting Rude take him wherever he wanted. He closed his eyes and fell back onto the desk, listening to the strange, desperate noises that were coming out of his own mouth.
"Tell me what you thought about."
Rude's voice broke through the white noise made of pressure and friction and rough motion, and Reno's eyes flew open.
Rude didn't miss a beat and scissored his fingers, rubbed the thumb of his now free hand over the tip of Reno's cock, then closed into a fist and began stroking slowly. Reno let out a keening sound and gritted his teeth. Rude could see Reno's grip tighten where he was holding his own legs in place, the skin going white as he dug his fingers in.
"You said you thought about this," Rude repeated, his voice rough. "Tell me what you thought about."
"I thought of your hand on my cock," Reno gasped, thrusting into Rude's hand, the touch too light to be satisfying.
"Just like this?" he asked, his voice smoothing slightly as Reno writhed. "With my fingers in your ass?"
"Yeah," Reno tried to take a breath and choked.
"Did you fuck yourself when you thought of me?" Rude asked, then jabbed at Reno's prostate.
Reno wailed and spit out a quick, hard, "yes" as he arched his back, hips desperately pumping, then let out a ragged cry as Rude suddenly pulled away.
"Oh fuck," he moaned, his entire body pulsing with his own heartbeat that was humming need. "Where the fuck are you--"
And then he was being flipped onto his side on the desk; Reno pulled his legs up to his chest instinctively, holding them there, knowing what was coming. When he didn't feel anything after a moment though, Reno looked over his shoulder and saw Rude standing there staring at him, hesitating, a sheen of sweat making his well-muscled body seem even more pronounced, the defined collarbones, wide shoulders, and cock standing out, painfully erect, because, Reno realized, of him, of his own body.
"Fuck me," he groaned, looking straight at Rude, meeting his eyes.
"You sure?" Rude replied. It wasn't indecision so much as Rude's type of question; the type where the answer given was accepted at face value, and considered final.
"Fuck me," Reno repeated. There was the subtle click of a tube, Rude slicking himself up, a hard, slippery cock at his entrance; and then it was happening. He was fucking his partner--being fucked by his partner--as Rude slowly pushed into him, one strong hand grasping Reno's hip and the other flattened against his side. Rude let out a long, low moan that dragged out as he slowly buried himself in Reno's body, and Reno felt his own cock throb.
"Good?" Rude asked breathily when he was finally all the way in, his grip tightening on Reno's hip.
"Yeah," Reno hissed. "Yeah, it--" His voice caught in his throat as Rude slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, harder this time. Reno shifted slightly, and when Rude's cock hit him at the perfect angle he cried out sharply.
Rude started to pump his hips more steadily, and Reno could feel his partner letting himself go, letting out the strength that he usually held back, so much restrained force that as Rude released it, Reno could feel it even in his fingers.
Being fucked by Rude was like being tied to a barn in the middle of a tornado, hard and rough and perfect, almost too much strength, almost too much sound. It was like fighting, Rude's fisted hands, the noises; Reno could feel himself coming apart. Everything was coming apart, until he could only let out small, simple syllables--ah, ah--fragments of curses--fu--ah--ck-- as Rude buried his cock over and over, faster, harder, jerky and frenetic.
Reno felt like every single part of him was filled with his partner; he closed his eyes and stayed there, wanting Rude in him. Wanting that filament that provided the light, heat, sparks, presence. Someone there, something with him, inside the quietness that drove him to tears.
To Rude, there was nothing else right then except Reno: his voice and body, hot and tight and willing to accept whatever violence Rude had to give, wanting it, welcoming it.
"You like my cock up your ass?" Rude whispered, his voice dark and heavy with arousal. As he spoke, Reno catalogued the sound of it for later, just like the bruises along his hipbones that he knew were forming, marks that he would undoubtedly press his own fingers against in order to remember.
"Yeah," he groaned, shoving his hips backwards. "Feels so good...ah, fuck..." he gasped as he felt Rude's cock hit that place inside of him again, then over and over, until every time Rude drove his hips forward, Reno felt as though his body were made of pure electricity, bursting with light and heat.
"Come for me, Reno," said the deep voice, and then a hand was on Reno's cock, stroking. His entire body tensed and he came so hard he couldn't see, could only feel skin and desk. He let himself go and screamed.
And then Rude was coming too, deep inside of him, hot and as liquid as Reno's body felt. Rude let out a long sigh and then slowly relaxed, running his fingers gently over Reno's hip, the first touch that Reno suddenly didn't know how to receive. He regained his bearings and felt the cool recycled air again, could feel a stray pencil jamming into his back; he opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. So he just laid there on the desk, unmoving, until Rude finally pulled out of him and stepped back.
And then those strong hands were gone, and there was nothing on his skin except sticky come and fake wood and his own sweat, and he just stared at the wall. He tried to breathe. He tried to settle his hands somewhere calmly, somewhere that made sense, but the rawness was still vibrating through his body, the orgasm doing nothing to calm him.
He could sense Rude looking at him, and he finally rolled onto his back, wincing as his muscles protested, and turned his head to the side to face his partner.
"So am I a good fuck?" he smiled self-deprecatingly. His lips had gone dry and he could feel them about to crack. He ran a hand through his hair and pushed it out of his face.
"Yes," Rude replied bluntly, still breathing hard. He was standing a few feet away; Reno felt like a science experiment about to be dissected spread out across the desk.
And then there were hands helping him to sit up, straightening his hair, getting his pants. No words. Just Rude's hands, telling him something he didn't want to hear. Something distant, something that he thought said: now put your damn clothes back on so we can get out of here. Not necessarily a bad idea, and probably what Reno would normally do, but now, it didn't seem to make sense. Not with Rude.
"What the fuck, Rude?" Reno stood up, ignoring the twinge in his legs and his ass, and crossed his arms. "You just fucked me. Fucking deal with it." He wanted a response, that unyielding strength he had just felt in Rude's hands, a punch in the face or another hard fuck or for Rude to yell back at him.
But there was no response, and then Rude had him ensnared before Reno could even think, pushing him up against the wall so that their faces were inches apart. No sunglasses, no clothes, no reservations.
"I know," he growled, and pushed his hand around to the small of Reno's back. "And I want to do it again." Then there was that gentler touch again, somehow more raw than even the strength that Rude had unleashed; but this--Rude's fingers stroking his skin--was essentially different, and unsettlingly earnest.
Reno just took a sharp breath in, opened his mouth and then shut it. His emotions were there, bobbing like a buoy.
When Rude kissed him, he wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to draw away; hell, he wanted to fucking slug him in the face. He wanted Rude to slug him in the face. He wanted violence, cock, heat, loud noises. Not Rude's lips, that were violent in their own right, but private, only for him, in their small sphere of the closed office door and the come spattered floor and...them. Just them. It was always just them, when they were together. And fucking had nothing to do with it.
Reno kissed him back after a moment; he felt Rude's other hand come around his shoulders and pull him closer. They rubbed up against each other and when Rude moaned, Reno felt his entire body tremble. It was like an electric charge in the air, and he pressed his hips forward.
"Shit," Reno exhaled, as Rude finally drew back. He was panting; they were both panting.
"Did you want it?" Rude asked, in that way that brokered no room for ambiguity.
Reno just looked at him, his lips curling into a tight smile.
"Fuck off," he finally replied, because it wasn't really a question that required an answer.
"You would've slugged me," Rude whispered into his ear, "if you didn't." Then he kissed him again, and Reno's smile disappeared, and he let Rude's hands take control, hold him, stroke his back, actions that only happened between them.
"Yeah," he finally breathed, "you're right."
Rude bit at his neck, then his ear, and said, "I know."