Rufus/Reno. NC-17. ~600 words.
He licked his lips, anticipation coiling tight along his nerves.

The drawn shades rustled in the ocean breeze. Late afternoon sunlight crept through and speckled the room. Teeth grazed his skin, short, heavy breaths ruffling his hair. His own breath stumbled in his throat, caught and held, as the slippery head of Reno’s dick rubbed along the cleft of his ass.

A shot of lust ripped through Rufus’s belly. He bowed his head as the fan creaked, restarted its circuit and sent cool air trickling down his spine. His hair shivered against his arm. He licked his lips, anticipation coiling tight along his nerves. Reno groaned and tightened his grip, long fingers digging into flesh, promising bruises.

Reno’s knee nudged his further apart. Sensation narrowed down to tight, thick heat. He felt fingertips circling his hole, spread him wide, felt the slick, hard stretch. His teeth scraped his lip, already red and swollen. A moan built in his chest, aching pressure made his thighs tremble.

Muscle clenched and he sucked in a sharp breath. Reno’s palm pressed to the small of his back, slid up between his shoulder blades. One hand clutched the pillow pinned under his elbows and he let Reno push him down, felt the slow, sweet friction as Reno drew back.

Fingers flexed on his hips, jerked his ass higher. Reno slammed into him, didn’t wait for him to catch his breath and did it again. Another quiet creak, another gust of cool air, flesh slapped hard against flesh. Eyes clenched and mouth open on short, gasping breaths, Rufus tasted the salt of sweat on his lip.

Reno bent low over his back, bit the nape of his neck, hissed curses and dirty epithets in his ear: Fucking tight, moaning for a dick up your ass. You want it shoved down your throat next time? Jerk yourself off while you’re sucking my cock.

A hand wrapped around his dick, grip strong and firm, strokes quick and jagged like Reno’s thrusts. Rufus’s fingers twisted the pillowcase. Nestled in the rumpled sheets, Rufus’s phone let out one long, insistent ring.

Rufus almost ignored it. Orgasm teased him, glowed perfect and tempting just out of his reach. He sucked in an irritated breath and snatched the phone, flipping it open with one easy flick.


“Sir,” came Tseng’s smooth voice. “It appears that Sephiroth has infiltrated ShinRa HQ. The President is dead as of 3:47 AM Midgar time. We have established his point of entry and are currently tracking his movements, but have yet to engage. Orders?”

Adrenaline flooded Rufus’s veins. Behind him, still seated deep in his body, Reno trembled with the effort of remaining still.

“Continue tracking,” Rufus replied. He struggled to breathe, to keep his voice steady and free of the thrill coursing though him to the bone. “Inform the Division Heads. Good work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tseng said, still as cool and detached as always, unconcerned with his role in the successful orchestration of the ShinRa President’s murder.

Rufus snapped the phone shut, clenched it tight in his fist. Heaving Reno off, he rolled onto his back, fisted his dick in his other hand and quickly jerked himself off. He took several measured breaths to enjoy it, then wiped his hand on the sheets and left it for the maids to deal with.

“Finish and get dressed,” Rufus said, tone clipped, already on his feet. “I want a helicopter prepped and in the air in five minutes. We’re going to Midgar.”


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