Farther Than Guns Will Go: 3. Catch the Sun

Rufus/Reno. NC-17. ~6600. Fisting. Co-written with Ponderosa.
They’re an ocean away from Midgar, but Rufus has never felt farther.

The shore is a long stretch of white-gold. Rufus carries his shoes by the laces, the weight of them swinging with each step. Seawater darkens the rolled cuffs of his pants and trickles down his bare calves. He walks slowly along the dark and wet, a scattering of tiny broken shells crunching beneath his feet.

Rude follows a dozen paces above the waterline, pausing every so often to irritably shake the hems of his immaculately pressed slacks. Rufus suspects he’s less than pleased to have lost the coin toss and be stuck keeping an eye on the boss while his partner sits up on the boardwalk sipping fruity drinks through coloured straws.

Turning to walk backwards, Rufus raises a hand to shield his face from the hot blaze of the sun. From here, he can hardly see Reno, red hair virtually lost in the rainbow splash of deck canopies and sprawling clusters of bright, hillside flowers.

“Shall we turn back?” he asks, and Rude glances up from pouring a bucketful of sand out of one of his shoes.

“I think you know what I’d prefer,” Rude says.

Rufus smirks and dips his head in a faint nod. Rude would of course continue on. Even in the ranks of the Turks, very few men are as loyal to him as Rude.

The wavering thread of foaming water mesmerises Rufus. Not far beyond where he and Rude stand, there is little sign of their trespass. The shore steadily erases all witness of their passing: those footprints not washed away by lapping waves crumble in on themselves, smooth and golden.

Rufus allows himself the sin of pride at Rude’s silent and steady dedication. His father may have planted the seeds to give rise to the Turks, but Rufus made them his own. The Turks are the long, dark shadow of ShinRa, and under Tseng’s careful control strike more fear into the world’s elite than entire legions of SOLDIER.

Water rushes up to kiss Rufus’s feet. It swirls around his ankles, stealing sand from under him to drag him down by inches. The sea swallows the last, faint outlines of his footprints.

“Let’s return and get some shade,” he says, and sets off to trace his path as best he can remember it.


In the shade of a wide umbrella, a deck chair struggles to contain Reno’s boneless sprawl. A cluster of tall glasses drained to the dregs huddle around him. Rufus counts eight, nine if he includes the one in Reno’s hand.

After the heat of the sand, the worn, wooden steps of the boardwalk are soothing, and Rufus’s own drink is delivered to him before he’s gone more than a dozen steps. The smiling attendant ducks out as quickly as she’d appeared, and even though she’s curvy in all the right places, Rufus doesn’t bother to watch her go. He draws a speared row of fruit cubes out of the glass and taps off the excess liquid.

It hasn’t escaped his attention that one of the glasses on the table has lipstick on the rim, and his shadow drops dark over Reno. “I’m on vacation,” Rufus says, “you aren’t.”

Closing his teeth around a piece of pineapple, Rufus drags it off the miniature plastic sword. Juice cold enough and sweet enough to make his teeth ache spreads across his tongue.

“I’m blending in, boss,” Reno says. His bare toes flex against the smooth wood of the boardwalk, leaving little prints in the dusting of pale sand. He bites the end of his straw and grins crookedly. His gaze slides from Rufus to his partner before he blinks lazily and focuses on Rufus again. “Making nice with the natives, shooting the shit, that sorta thing.”

Eyes hidden by a pair of shades as dark as Rude’s, Rufus gives Reno’s drink an unmistakable look. The smell of alcohol isn’t coming entirely from the glass in his own hand. If anything, Reno’s grin widens when the corner of Rufus’s lips twitch, and on the sidelines Rude looks like the heat has gotten to him enough that he might actually lose his cool.

“Anyway,” Reno goes on, “I clocked out twenty minutes ago. Unless you want me on overtime, my next drink is really going to be spiked to hell.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll assume though, that your little trophy was acquired after you clocked out.”

A striped bikini top trails over the back of the chair next to Reno, the bright scrap of cloth half obscured by his abandoned jacket. Rufus picks it up by the string and lets it dangle from his fingers in mute accusation before tossing it into Reno’s lap and walking past him.

One quick flick of his fingers signals Rude to follow, and Rufus heads straight for the stairs winding up the dunes, rattling off a series of instructions to be relayed. He’s on vacation, but his day is still plotted out in half-hour increments, itinerary adjusted to allow for sex and showering when at the top of the landing, a quick glance tells Rufus that Reno is rapidly sucking down the last of his drink as he gathers up his shit.

Rude stays by the door while Rufus heads for the deck that wraps halfway around the house. A dozen messages have stacked up in hardly more than an hour’s time, and Rufus goes through them systematically. In between a frantic message from a top investor and Tseng’s terse update on a matter in Mideel, Rufus can hear Reno going from room to room looking for him.

“Out here,” Rufus says, just loud enough for his voice to carry. He leans against the whitewashed railing, a message from some nameless, forgettable suit droning in his ear. He eyes Reno appreciatively as Reno stops to hang back at the open sliding glass doors. Reno’s shirt is almost always halfway off, but with the jacket gone and the sun bright, his muscles are outlined under the thin cotton. He’s all whipcord lean, sinew lashed to bone, and if once upon a time Rufus wouldn’t have considered Reno his type, those days are long gone. “We have about an hour. Food after?”

With the punch of a button, the droning cuts off. “Anything you’re in the mood for?” Rufus asks. Food is rarely a priority for Rufus. He’s likely to go a whole day without eating if he didn’t tend to have meetings scheduled at meals. Remembering to keep Reno fed and happy though goes a long way to remembering to feed himself. He licks at the corner of his mouth, seawater dried to salt on his skin, and his gaze lingers on the hollow of Reno’s slender throat.

“I’ll eat any of that fancy stuff that keeps showing up around here.” Reno’s gaze is no less appreciative, skimming up and down Rufus’s casual stance boldly enough that Rufus can practically feel it. “You gotta treat me to a burger or something one of these days, though, boss.”

Reno rubs his chin with the pad of his thumb, then taps his fingertips against his lip. Rufus shifts his weight from one hip to the other, amused as tumblers fall into place behind Reno’s eyes. “Or are we talking about sex?” Reno asks, strolling over. He slides an arm past Rufus to prop a hand on the railing, his voice dropping to a purr. “Say we’re talking about sex.”

He’s keeping his hands to himself remarkably well despite looking at Rufus like it’s Rufus who he wants to really sink his teeth into. The space between them heats until it rivals the fierce beat of the sun.

“You could really try more fucking, less working,” Reno murmurs. “Vacation, right?”

Rufus deletes the second to last message, enjoying keeping Reno hanging. Reno knows he’s willing but not quite ready yet, and the way it makes the air around them crackle and hum has a thin smile briefly curving his lips. “We’ll order in,” Rufus says. Voice mail cleared out, he drops the phone from his ear and punches in a quick text message for whatever it was they’d had the first night here to be delivered later.

“Would you like to know what’s on the menu?” Rufus flips the phone shut and slips it into his pants pocket. He leans more of his weight against the railing, the wood creaking and giving him a brief flash of vertigo knowing there’s nothing but sandstone shearing away behind him. Reno’s hands hover near his hips, soft cotton just barely nudged to brush against his skin. With one brow arching delicately upwards, he tips Reno’s chin up and smirks. “And, yes, now we’re talking about sex,” he says, and kisses Reno, slow and thick like the heat, waiting until those hands settle on him and squeeze before he breaks away.

“Sure thing,” Reno says. His eyes remain half-lidded and unfocused as he licks his lower lip clean. Teeth flashing as his mouth tugs into a flirty smile, his hands sneak under Rufus’s shirt. “You handle the dirty talk. I’ll work on getting you naked.”

Reno takes his time with that, his hands wandering higher under Rufus’s shirt and up along his sides. He doesn’t press his palms flat against skin until his thumbs curve just under Rufus’s arms, scant inches shy of where it would be ticklish.

Rufus keeps his own hands busy as he outlines a tentative plan that involves getting his cock in Reno’s mouth. His nails scratch light just above the low-slung waist of the pants clinging to Reno’s hips. “Sound good?” Rufus asks, as Reno deals with the row of buttons down the front of his shirt. “You’ll suck me nice and hard, use that clever tongue of yours to full effect.”

His shirt is pushed off his shoulders, and he shakes it free of his arms. It catches on the railing and flutters as the breeze kicks up. “We’ll head inside,” Rufus continues, and Reno’s fingers walk up his chest before they pluck the sunglasses off his nose. Reno folds them to tuck them into his pocket next to his own, and as soon as they’re safe, Rufus has a hold on Reno’s belt to pull him close until they’re fit together in a long line. His mouth brushes Reno’s, tongue flicking out for just a quick taste before he goes on, “I’ll get you out of those pants and then we’re going to continue what we were doing the last time.

“Which was, if I recall correctly, seeing just how many fingers I could stuff up inside you.” Rufus watches Reno’s eyes carefully, measuring his reaction, and there isn’t a hint of hesitation in them. Even if there was, Rufus could push and Reno would cave, crumble before the razor thrill of doing something he’s not sure he likes and ending up hard enough to ache for it. The thought alone is enough to have Rufus’s cock swelling rapidly.

“Yeah, I remember,” is about all Reno manages before Rufus claims his mouth again.

However Reno got his little bikini trophy, he didn’t go down on the girl. There’s no trace of her in Reno’s mouth, just a hint of alcohol from his last drink and a whole lot of hunger. She might have made Reno’s afternoon a bit more interesting, but with the way Reno was rubbing up against him, the most she did was take the edge off.

“That shit really gets you off,” Reno says, his head dipping down, tongue sliding out to lick just under the edge of Rufus’s jaw.

Rufus props his hands on the railing on either side of him and says, “Yes, it does.” He lets Reno set the pace, murmuring appreciatively as Reno starts making his way downward. Reno’s mouth closes over his nipple, envelops it in a wet kiss before sucking a mark to the surface of his skin at the base of his ribs.

“You end up fucking me like you did last time, though, and I’ll need a day off, boss.”

By now, Rufus’s cock is a hard outline in his loose-fitting pants. He only gets harder as a flash of lust burns wildfire fast through his belly; Reno’s ass had been gaping open, leaking come onto pure white sheets. He remembers the exhausted fling of Reno’s arms, how fucking gorgeous Reno was when he’d needed to catch his breath before words came easily to him again. “This is my vacation, remember. Not yours,” Rufus says, and Reno’s teeth close on the catch of his pants to tug them open.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Rufus draws in a deep breath, his gaze skipping away from where Reno’s busy mouthing the trapped length of his dick. The sea and sky are two brilliant shades of blue that meet and mix on a wavering horizon, and his lungs fill with clean air. Rufus savours the moment, the crisp smell of the sea that’s free of the chemical stink that lingers around Midgar.

“There are always alternatives,” Rufus says. “If you don’t think you’re up to it.”

Reno’s fingers make quick work of button and zip, and Rufus widens his stance, letting his pants catch at his thighs instead of puddle around his ankles. Wood digs into Rufus’s palms as Reno plays the tease, nipping lightly here and there and giving long, dragging licks to everywhere but his cock. Reno’s nails scratch at his skin, but the most attention his dick gets is the light brush of wind-blown strands of flame red hair.

“Okay,” Reno says, his mouth hovering torturously close to the flushed head of Rufus’s cock, “let’s talk alternatives.” He rocks back on his heels, slinging a cocky grin. “Say you owe me for stuffing me full of those fucking beads.”

Owe you….” Rufus’s eyes narrow dangerously. He’s about to repeat himself, sharpen his tongue and cut Reno down a notch, but then Reno’s on his feet again, body pressed close, hard and wanting.

“Yeah,” Reno says, and jerks Rufus forward by the hips, fingers digging deep as he grinds their dicks together. “Like maybe we ought to see just how many fingers I can cram up your pretty ass.”

Rufus jerks his chin up, gaze fixing sharply on Reno. Once Reno realised that he could, on occasion, get away with it, he’s never made it a secret that he likes shoving Rufus around. Rufus might keep a warning in his eyes, but with his body staying loose and pliant, it’s as much of an invitation as anything.

Reno takes it, fox-quick, spinning Rufus around and pushing him into the rail. Pinned by Reno’s weight, his bones ache as they grind against the sharp edge of the wood. His lungs struggle to fill.

Rufus’s legs quiver as fingers push crudely between the cheeks of his ass. Reno strokes lightly, then forces a fingertip in to make muscle twitch and tighten. His mouth goes near Rufus’s ear, breath stirring softly curling strands of hair. “Would you let me finger you dry? Just one, maybe two,” Reno says, practically purring. “I could shove my tongue in after, get you nice and wet once you’re good and loose. Do it by a mirror and let you watch. I know you like to watch.”

“You think you can manage?” Rufus asks. He forces himself back, makes Reno’s finger sink in deeper, and a breath hisses out between his teeth as he gets a glimpse of Reno’s expression out of the corner of his eye. It’s hard to tell how far Reno will go, how badly he wants Rufus at the mercy of his fingers and his tongue. He’ll take his liberties, but there’s always a point when he backs down, waits for the go ahead. “Could you shove your fingers in me and give it to me good without whipping your dick out to finish the job?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I could do it.” Reno’s voice is as dark and thick as good honey. He steps back, finger dragging free, and plants both hands on Rufus’s ass, palms high and fingers splayed wide before squeezing hard.

The rail is no longer tight against his stomach, but Rufus’s breath refuses to come evenly. Reno’s body moulds to his side, and a lick wets the line of his jaw as fingers flirt at his hole again. “For a chance to get you panting and moaning, boss?” Reno says, “I’ll fuck you any way I can.”


Trousers left abandoned on the deck along with his shirt, Rufus heads straight for the master bath, his steps appearing steadier than they feel. The echoes of Reno’s touch linger on his skin, invisible handprints that keep his cock thick.

He runs his hands through his hair before ducking his head under the tap. Repeating the motion to slick the short length of it away from his face, he wets his lips. Usually by now they would be swollen thick from the violent crush of mouth on mouth or the pound of Reno’s dick. Perhaps a testament to the opposing factors in their personalities – or, more likely, the similarities where Rufus could push and Reno would push back just as hard – but things have rarely stayed slow and sweet between them.

Rufus tongues the line of his teeth and grabs a towel off the rack, dragging it with him in loosely curled fingers like a child might carry a favourite toy. He flicks it onto the bed and tells Reno there’s a bottle in the nightstand. They’d need it later. Even if he’s willing to give Reno another chance to get dry fingers into him, friction alone won’t get him off.

Reno finds it quickly and waits nonchalantly by the bedside. He blatantly appraises Rufus’s nakedness while lightly tossing the bottle back and forth between his hands.

“Remember, just your fingers,” Rufus says, dropping down to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“No worries, boss, I got it.”

The sliding doors of the closet are two tall mirrors that reflect everything in the expansive room, and Rufus spreads his knees wide as Reno crawls up on the bed behind him. He gives his dick a few lazy tugs, thinks about saying to hell with a fingering and getting Reno to straddle his lap and sit right down on his cock, but Reno’s arm snakes around him and slim fingers catch firm around his wrist.

“That’s cheating,” Reno says, holding Rufus’s gaze in the mirror. With a lazy smile he dips his head down to lick up a droplet of water shivering beneath Rufus’s ear.

Rules aren’t something Reno pays a lot of attention to, but Rufus doesn’t point that out; he merely breathes a laugh and says: “All successful men cheat if they can get away with it.”

The mattress is firm beneath his elbow as he sinks back. Reno’s really aiming to make this work; he shoves a pair of feather pillows at the low of Rufus’s back. “Ready for a good look, aren’t you, boss?” Reno says, anticipation making his words hardly more than a rough whisper. He slides to sit beside Rufus and his hand goes to Rufus’s thigh, stroking light and urging him to spread his legs apart until he’s laid bare. The mirror reflects it all: the curl of Rufus’s thickened cock, the darker flush of his balls shaven smooth, and the barest hint of pink flesh as Reno’s questing fingers rub beneath them. They move lower to push on either side, and spread to a V to expose the taut clench of his asshole.

Rufus’s hands flex against the bedding. He’s accustomed to controlling the action, and it takes effort not to guide and touch, to keep from simply ordering Reno to give him something to bear down on instead of just the tease of pressure or the fleeting dip of a fingertip.

Reno drops to the floor, proof that Rufus isn’t the only one to likes to have a good view. “Hottest fucking ass,” he says, words muffled as his teeth graze Rufus’s thigh. His finger inches in, careful not to go too fast when there’s only the faint linger of sweat to ease the push. He doesn’t seem to know where to look, and the truth is, Rufus doesn’t either.

The way Reno’s eyes narrow, the perpetual grin hovering at the corners of his mouth as he fucks a finger into Rufus dry makes Rufus consider inviting pain just to get more from him.

“You wanted it stretched wide, didn’t you, boss? Want me to open your ass up good.” His gaze flickers up, and that grin vanishes, mouth slackening into a rough mirror of the look on Rufus’s face. He licks his lips, pitch of his voice dropping and taking the harsher edges of the words with it. “Cram my fingers in you and make you moan like a bitch.”

When Reno’s finger curves inside him, Rufus nearly does give up a moan. The sound catches in his throat, comes out as a heavy breath when Reno pulls his hand away.

“How about we make another deal?” Reno licks his finger and touches it to Rufus again, damp pad of a fingertip moving in a tight circle.

“I’m listening,” Rufus says, calm as ice despite the tumbling thrill low in his guts.

“You give me two hours to fuck around with you…” Reno says, and Rufus can’t say when Reno got the lube open but a gleaming trickle of it turns the sudden thrust of Reno’s finger slippery. “I’ll give you as much as you can take.”

“An hour and a half,” Rufus counters. The words feel sluggish, syrup thick and distant when nearly all his attention is focused on watching Reno work a second finger up into him. His thighs shudder and shake, calves bunching and toes curling into the deep pile of the carpet as he struggles to keep from fucking himself on Reno’s fingers.

“An hour and a half, and no negotiating,” Rufus repeats, pushing the hair out of his face before dropping his hand to squeeze at his balls. It’s a faint relief, sensation sharp in comparison to the slow slide of slippery fingertips as Reno alternates pushing one finger than the next into him. “You’ll be surprised at how much I can take.”

“Yeah?” Reno says. “An hour and a half starting now, then.” He grabs Rufus’s wrist, jerks it to the side and pins it to the bed. His grin turns feral and he goes straight from teasing with two fingers to trying to give Rufus a cluster of three.

Rufus lifts his hips, instinct warring with desire until he’s shoving himself back down again, welcoming the stretch. He gives Reno a sharp look when Reno pulls his hand away, wet fingers sliding down Rufus’s leg to where a faint crust of sand and salt clings to his skin.

“On your knees, boss.”


There’s no room for Rufus to wish he could see Reno’s hand now. He’s face down, ass high, teeth clenched on a pillow to muffle the sounds he’s not ready to give up.

Lust runs in a hot current along his spine, the fingers drilling into him thrusting hard enough that his body rocks with the impact. Reno’s mouth is running on, a constant stream of encouragement, curses, and a sort of play-by-play that only makes Rufus want more.

“Look so fucking good,” he says, wrist twisting as his fingers go deep. “Yeah, clench up nice and tight. Fucking feel like you’ve never had a dick up your ass.”

Rufus pushes himself up onto his elbow, mouth freed to open on a heavy breath and bark a short laugh when Reno says something about knowing that ain’t true and about just how loose he can get.

“Give me another finger, then,” he says, drawing in a deep breath and willing his body to ease up instead of stay tight.

The mattress dips as Reno sits up on his knees, and the cool rush of another spill of lube runs wet over Rufus’s skin to drip down onto his balls. “Don’t know what sounds better, boss,” Reno says, shaking his hand out before he’s got the bunch of three fingers pushing for entrance, “jerking off on your face, or jerking off on your ass when you’re fucking gaping.”

His hand presses to the base of Rufus’s back, but the stretch never comes, it’s just the easy push of a single finger, like Reno’s enjoying how effortless the feel of it is. It’s good enough that Rufus doesn’t demand more, and lets Reno take his time. He’s rocking back against the rhythm of that sweet glide when one turns straight to three, and Rufus is split open and gasping as the hand on his back pins him down. Reno holds him there as his body spasms to accommodate, pulse throbbing in his skull and dick and around the intrusive knot of Reno’s fingers.

“Fuck,” he snarls, the word failing to be gunshot harsh when Reno draws his hand back and then shoves a moan straight out of him.

“What you wanted, ain’t it boss? Like being filled up more than you like to watch.”

Rufus can practically feel the smugness dripping off Reno’s smile. He doesn’t reply, just releases a slow breath, knuckles curling tight in the sheets. There’s less depth being fucked like this, but Reno’s right, and the stretch of his body to take something the width of a nice cock is better than just having his ass played with. His knees skid wider apart, each exhale beginning to carry sound, but it’s when Reno’s fingers pull away again that he really reacts, frees a moan and tells Reno not to stop.

“Not gonna stop,” Reno assures him, “just wanna see how loose you look.”

Thumbs press to either side of Rufus’s asshole, too slippery to catch against skin and pull him wide, but it’s enough to get a loud, shameless groan out of Reno.

“Wish you could see this,” Reno moans. He enjoys the sight long enough that Rufus is about to tell him to quit fucking around when Reno spits straight onto flexing muscle to push his thumb in. He works in the other, then pulls to spread Rufus wide that way. “Fucking hottest little hole. Dying to just sink my dick right into you, shoot a nice load and get all that pink iced white.”

Reno hisses, draws his thumbs free and pushes Rufus’s cheeks apart with his palms. “You want more, boss? Think you could take four?”

Head dizzied with the desire to just tell Reno to forget the deal and just fuck him, plough him right into the fucking mattress, Rufus tries to arrange a suitable answer.

“Give it to me,” he says, finally, and the world tilts further on its axis when Reno does.


Rufus moans low and long, the sound seeping into the rumpled bedding. His skin is sticky with sweat, tight with anticipation. Reno’s fingers saw in and out of him with purpose, the cluster of digits back down to three, but each thrust carries real weight behind it, knuckles smacking against him with bruising force.

“Yeah, c’mon, make some noise for me. Fucking hot as hell when you don’t keep quiet.”

Air kisses cold against a streak left along his spine by Reno’s quick tongue. A heartbeat later, lips crush against his shoulder, and the trapped length of Reno’s dick rubs against his thigh.

“You want me fucking noisy, you fucking give me more,” Rufus gasps out in broken, breathy words.

“Aw, but I like giving it to you hard, boss,” Reno says, punctuating his reply with several brutal thrusts that force Rufus to inch back or risk losing his grip and being fucked straight off the mattress.

“More than you like seeing how much I can take?” he asks, arching his back. His hands flex as Reno slows, withdraws and presses the heel of his hand to Rufus’s hole as it tightens up. With the back of his arm, Rufus shoves his hair away from his damp forehead as he catches his breath.

“Greedy bastard,” Reno says, daring to deliver a harsh smack to Rufus’s ass. “You want four again, I’ll give you four again.”

He shakes his hand out again, wrist cracking. “Gonna go nice and easy this time, ain’t it?” he says, and Rufus struggles to breathe evenly as those long fingers of Reno’s settle back into place and push.

“Fuck, just look at that,” Reno says, fingertips easing in and splaying wide until Rufus’s body forces them together again. “Opening up for me-ahh-all nice and sweet. Hell, boss, right now you’d take Rude’s dick like it was nothing.”

It’s difficult for Rufus to think when he’s being stretched like this, worse when it’s slow, no hard rush of adrenaline to overwhelm the ache. The pressure never seems to diminish, but the slick push heads towards effortless, well-loosened muscle just taking the intrusion, nerves stroked to thrumming. He’s about to lose another moan when Reno’s knotted fingers shove deep and hold there. Rufus tenses up for the first time in minutes, just shy of bearing down, and Reno doesn’t do a damn thing but twist his wrist and breathe out a shaky curse.

Rufus curses too.

“More,” he says, when Reno crouches low behind him and delivers a sharp bite to his flank.

“Fuck, boss,” Reno’s voice grinds out, thick in his throat, “I already got four in you, there isn’t anything else to give.”

“You have a thumb.”

“Shit, you aren’t serio-”

“Do it. I can take it.”


Rufus’s cheek is flat to the bed, fingers curled tight in the softness of the pillow. Reno’s thumb nudges at his hole, and as loose as is he, it’s a seemingly impossible mass, too big, too thick, too fucking wide to fit in him past the knuckles. But it’s deep breaths-one after the other-turning ragged with moans, that ease the way.

Rufus can feel Reno holding back, giving him shallow thrusts that have the widest flare of bones never quite forcing protesting muscle to give.

“Harder,” Rufus growls, or tries to, the order sounding more like a plea to his ears. Reno’s hand burns as it settles on his hip. Nails dig into his flesh.

He waits, hangs there, and the push doesn’t come.

“Harder, Reno. Push harder.” This time it is a plea, and Rufus’s limbs tremble with the effort of waiting for the bliss of being filled so completely.

“You’re gonna split in two if I do.”

“Get your hand slicked up a little, ah fuck, a little more and I promise I won’t.” Rufus can’t trap the sound that escapes his throat when the pressure is gone, nothing but fingertips left in him until liquid pours cold onto heated flesh. Enough of it spills out that he can hear it spattering on the bed, but there’s no time to care about the mess when it starts: the pressure swelling and the need to give himself over entirely and relax-trust-enough to not balk at the flare where the heel of Reno’s thumb pushes and his body screams that it’s almost to its limit.

“Fuck, boss. Fuck. Never seen anything like this before.” Reno’s paused again, widest part of his hand holding Rufus open. His hand peels away from Rufus’s hip, and fingertips trace the edge of distended, delicate flesh, the light touch sending a legion of tiny, pincered insects to crawl across Rufus’s skin.

Reno makes a noise like he’s got something else to say, but his words are lost entirely when the slight rock of Rufus’s body has his hand sinking in entirely. Muscle constricts to clench tight around his wrist.

Fuck,” Reno says again, the word laced with enough reverence to make it sound pious instead of profane.

A hissing breath slices into the air, and Rufus can’t tell if it’s his or Reno’s. The sensation is as wrong and beautiful as ever, pressed in strange places, overwhelming and more when the fingers inside him shift.

“You want a fist, boss?” Reno asks. “Or this not deep enough for you?”

Rufus can’t even begin to answer. He’s dizzied, thoughts scrambled, nerves short-circuited and sparking all the way to his extremities. The weight of Reno’s hand sends him drifting, and yet it’s the only thing anchoring him. He moans, not holding back anything now. There’s no reason to. He knows, fucking knows, that there’s no way he’d get free of this unless Reno lets him. His cock throbs, fluid dripping out to catch and cling in wet strings to his thighs.

Behind his eyelids, patterns shift and swirl, and whatever else it is that Reno says as his fingers start to curl shatters across Rufus’s back and melts straight into his fevered skin.

Reno can’t stop touching him. His hand rubs across Rufus’s back, once, twice, down to his thighs and back, slick trails left from sweeping fingers. Rufus shudders under the assault, each brush of skin on skin leaving an echo that layers over on itself until it feels like there are a dozen hands on his body. But none of that compares to the pressure, solid and constant, of the fist buried in the vulnerable softness of his guts.

Whispers penetrate the haze, a quivering viciousness clinging to them.

Gonna fuck you, just like this. Fuck you deep with my goddamn fist and show you just how wide that tight little hole of yours can go.

Reno’s hand claws at the cheek of Rufus’s ass, braced there to keep him still as his fist draws back. Light explodes behind Rufus’s eyes and he gasps desperately for breath. His legs start to shake, violent spasms that send his knees skidding apart. The pressure is two steps from pain, and those whispers he isn’t sure were real float through his skull again.

“You’re a fucking slut for it, boss,” Reno says, when Rufus can’t stop moaning.

Relief flows with the endorphins when Reno stops pulling and starts pushing, fist going deeper and deeper until it seems like his arm must be in to the elbow. Rufus rubs his chin against the bed, licks the sweat off his lip, wipes his mouth dry on his outstretched arm and does it all over again. Reno’s fingers begin to uncurl, push deeper still, turning at weird angles to explore the yielding warmth of Rufus’s innards. Rufus’s face is flush and hot, teeth itching, jaw tingling, and the fluttering wings brushing the inside of his ribs coalesce into a writhing mass.

“This where you tell me you can take more?’ Reno asks, and the sound of him clawing at his zip is firecracker loud.

There’s no holding back. Tenuous control unravels. Ribbons of come erupt from Rufus’s dick, turn the sheets slick as his body contracts weakly around the thickness of Reno’s forearm.

Reno holds silent and still until the shudders have ceased coursing down Rufus’s back. Then the breath he’s holding is freed like it’s punched out of him and the wet head of his dick is shoved up against Rufus’s leg.

Rufus claws at his own arm as Reno starts reclaiming his. His thumb is the first to pull free, curving to rub the edge of Rufus’s hole before the rest of his fingers follow. Rufus doesn’t have time to feel empty; Reno sinks fingers and thumb right back into him.

“Wonder what it’d be like to fuck you now,” he hears Reno say. “Could shove my hand in you. Fuck my own damn fist inside you.”

His nerves are alive, and he jerks when Reno’s dick slaps against the cheek of his ass. The fingers still inside him spread wide, and something-fingers, cock, tongue?-traces the stretched edge of his hole. For an anxious, eager moment, he thinks Reno is actually going to do it. Plans to wedge him open wide, fuck him swollen with fist and dick.

Instead he gets the brush of knuckles, and short, growling groans barely muffled by the roaring in his ears when Reno’s come spits hot against his hole and drips straight into him.


The sun is slipping away over the horizon when Rufus wakes. He comes to slowly, and his surroundings filter in: the murmuring crash of low waves, shorebirds calling as they feed, the tick of the bedside clock, the mix of sharp and deep tones of his Turks joking with one another somewhere else in the house.

He slides his legs out of the bed, catching the edge of the sheet to wipe away any lingering stickiness. He finds nothing remaining on his skin. Even standing and reaching far between his legs he’s clean; there’s no trace of lube or come, just the dull ache of flesh fucked to tenderness.

“Have a nice nap, boss?”

Reno has swung halfway into the room, landing a hand on the wall above the lightswitch. His fingers drum silently.

Rufus stares at them. His skin tightens and he runs a hand up his arm, nails raking back down towards his elbow. “What time is it?” he asks, dry throat making his voice faint.

“Eight,” Reno says, pulling away from the wall to saunter towards him. He plucks at the t-shirt clinging to the lean angles of his chest. “Shift change.”

“Did you eat?” Rufus feels sluggish, like a hit of Slow is wound through his limbs, keeping them heavy with lassitude.

“Was waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

Reno shrugs.

It must only be a moment, but it feels to Rufus like time hangs, cradles him in fragile crystalline arms. Out the window, a needle-thin line of gold shimmers and fades.

His lungs are tight as he draws in a breath. They’re an ocean away from Midgar, but Rufus has never felt farther.

A breeze cuts through the room, sends gauzy curtains flaring, and Reno chooses that moment to sling his arms loose around Rufus’s neck.

“You were out like a light, boss. Figured you needed the rest,” he says, and plants a sucking kiss on Rufus’s jaw. He gets a few more lining up towards Rufus’s ear, then pulls back to flash a grin. “Gonna need a shower though. Wiped you up pretty good, but you stink like seawater.”

Bit by bit, Rufus finds his centre, mind clicking back to wakefulness between nipping kisses.

“Starving now,” Reno mumbles, and drags himself out of reach. He licks his lips and rubs at the back of his neck, looking like he’s keeping his hands busy just so he won’t give in and draw close again. Or, maybe, Rufus considers, Reno’s not sure how to feel about the way Rufus’s gaze tracks them now.

“Then let’s get ready to eat,” Rufus says. He tears his gaze away from Reno’s slender hands to where a few bold stars push through the colour painting the darkening sky.

“I’ll go nuke the grub,” Reno says, turning on his heel. He frees his hair only to smooth it all and have it retied in a blink. “You go ahead and turn that water on hot as you want and boil a few layers of skin off.”

“I’ll do that,” Rufus replies. His gaze drops from the horizon to the floor as he nods his assent. Reno’s shadow slips from the room, and Rufus pauses, his head cocking to the side.

Everywhere in the room, in the pile of the plush carpet, Reno’s footprints tangle with his own.

Mouth tugging into a smirk, he traces them as best he can.


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