Farther Than Guns Will Go: 4. Stark Pretty

Rufus/Reno. NC-17. ~5500. Gunplay. Co-written with Ponderosa.
Turks stay the hell out once the boss shuts down. Casual fucks are allowed to hang around.

Reno winces as his jaw cracks on a yawn. A curse springs to the ready, but he remembers the slide of Rufus’s cock over his tongue, so he ends up grinning instead. He gives his dick a little shake and tucks it back in his borrowed pyjama pants.

Night is pitch black in the apartment. He’s never asked if Rufus prefers some little bit of light, and Rufus has never complained as he went around and clicked every last one off.

Whenever Rufus says he’s heading to bed, Reno follows. Doesn’t matter if he’s wide-awake or not. It’s tough to imagine sitting alone out there in that snow-white living room while Rufus sleeps. Even when he’s on the clock, Reno doesn’t play bodyguard if he’s staying the night. Rufus would kick him out if he tried. Turks stay the hell out once the boss shuts down. Casual fucks are allowed to hang around.

The gurgle of the toilet flushing is loud in the quiet. He fumbles for the tap and water rushes freezing cold over his hands. It isn’t until he steps from the bathroom to the bedroom that he notices the thin slice of light under the half-closed door. The bed is empty, rumpled sheets thrown back on both sides.

Reno mutters under his breath and pads into the hallway. He squints against the brightness spilling from Rufus’s office. The clack of keys and creak of leather lead Reno straight to him.

“Damn, boss,” Reno says, voice still rough and muzzy. “I just got up to piss, it’s not morning.” He digs at his eyes with the heel of his hand, gooseflesh prickling along his skin from the cool air. “Something happen?” he asks, once his brain quits sputtering and kicks into gear.

“A minor incident,” Rufus says, glancing away from his laptop. Dozens of windows pop up, one after the other, a babble of blurry text and pictures. The look on his face says heads will roll for it, the corners of his lips tight and his fingers drumming on the keyboard. Reno’s glad his ass isn’t in the sling over this one.

“You can go back to bed,” Rufus goes on, and Reno’s heart does a happy little flip. He’s got a rare two-day weekend coming up starting first thing tomorrow, and it’d just piss him off to miss a minute of it. “I just need to make a call.”

Rufus has his phone in hand before Reno can blink, so Reno just mumbles, “Right, right. G’night,” under his breath and shuffles back down the hall. The low murmur of Rufus’s voice follows him, and from the tone it’s got to be Tseng on the other end of the line.

At the bedroom door, Reno hangs back. It’s not that it’d feel weird sleeping in Rufus’s bed alone. He’s done that before, desperate to get just five more minutes of bliss — Rufus is up at the crack of dawn every damn day like clockwork. He’s not even on the job anymore. Shoulders slumping, huffing out a breath, Reno turns around and heads for the kitchen.

He fumbles around in the dark, digging out a mug and a spoon and the tea, and sags on the counter waiting for the kettle to boil. He’s awake enough now to realise he’ll be up for as long as it takes Rufus to do whatever needs doing.

When he gets back to the office, Rufus is still on the phone. Reno plops the steaming mug on the small table by him and flops on the floor, too lazy to find a chair when a patch of carpet and the desk to lean on will work just as well. It’s easier to tip his head back and watch Rufus from down there, listen to one side of the conversation and pick out what’s important from the jumble.

Rufus reaches for the mug, fingers hovering half-curled around the handle when his lips thin. He rattles off a string of general orders, then picks up the mug as his grip on the phone loosens. “Decided not to go back to bed?” he asks, blowing steam from the mug until the tea cools just enough to drink.

Reno says, “Nah, figured I’d stick around,” and trails his fingers along the outside of Rufus’s knee. “Might end up Rude’s got some heads to break or something.” Playing up the sleepy card, wondering when Rufus found the time to haul on both a robe and slippers, he adds, “Or since it’s Sat-”

“Hold that thought.” Rufus holds up a hand and Reno clamps his mouth shut, head thumping back against the desk.

Rufus’s attention is back on the call, and this time it’s boring administrative stuff. Drifting along in a hopeful, half-asleep daze, Reno’s already thinking about sex again. It’s easy to call up the memory of thick flesh hot in his hand, shoved hard inside him. Even easier to imagine slim fingers tangled in his hair, soft lips against his own, warm breaths ghosting over damp, tingling skin.

A few minutes later Rufus’s voice changes, gets the ‘this conversation is over’ tone that’s only fun when it’s directed at someone else. Reno hooks his wrist over the chair’s arm, drags himself up to his knees as Rufus flips the phone shut, shuts down the laptop and goes for the mug again.

“You were saying?” Rufus says, catching a stray lock of Reno’s hair and twining it through his fingers.

That’s Reno’s cue, the one that means if he wants to fuck now’s the time to make his move. He stretches, lazily, hands drifting up Rufus’s thighs to spread them wide. “You’re done for now, right, boss?” Reno asks, and doesn’t wait for an answer, just slides between Rufus’s legs and curls his fingers under the light robe, thumbs stroking lightly. “Got lots of time, could go roll around on the sheets a little more.”

Rufus props an elbow on the chair’s arm, cheek resting against his fist. He looks good like that, robe falling open, hair sleep-tousled and eyes slowly darkening. It’s only been a few hours since the last time but it never seems to matter. Reno’s half-hard just from thinking about it.

“We could do that,” Rufus says. It isn’t a yes, not yet. Just like the tensing of Rufus’s thighs isn’t a yes, either, or the way he traces the crisp lines of Reno’s tattoo with one perfectly manicured nail. “And then sleep in?”

“Someone’d have to drug you to get you to sleep in, boss,” Reno says. “Should’ve spiked that tea when I had a chance.” He turns to lick the pad of Rufus’s finger, leans forward to catch it between his teeth without thinking. It’s gut reaction, natural as breathing. Rufus walks into a room and Reno can’t help but watch, can’t help but follow.

Rude would call it an unhealthy fascination, if Rude were the type to butt in. But Rude isn’t, so Reno doesn’t want to waste time thinking about it.

Rufus’s eyes are heavy-lidded, lips barely curved like he’s weighing pros and cons, so Reno says, “Could suck you off right here,” and runs his tongue along the inside of Rufus’s wrist to nudge him along. From there it’s a short trip to tilt his mouth to Rufus’s, invite a slow kiss and give up a low moan as Rufus’s tongue curls against his, still hot from the tea.

It’s yes when the kiss turns hard, fingers buried in his hair, the click of teeth and the demanding thrust of Rufus’s tongue into his mouth. Reno’s starting to think this feels pretty damn good, that crawling into Rufus’s lap to find out just how many kisses it takes to make his lips tingle and his breaths short is a better idea than bothering with a bed, when Rufus pulls away with a hiss.

“Bedroom,” Rufus says, and stands up, leaving Reno mentally backtracking at his feet.

Reno drags himself up with his hands gripping Rufus’s waist, gives Rufus’s lips another teasing lick — to hell with the floor or the bed — and considers pinning him to a wall for a quick, hard fuck. He wouldn’t be tough to convince, not when Reno’s still a little loose, still a little wet.

Instead, Reno says, “Don’t let your tea get cold, boss,” and strolls into the dim hall.

After the heavy porcelain thud of Rufus setting the mug down, he expects to hear the light click off, but it doesn’t. He tugs the tie out of his hair to refasten it, and Rufus’s silhouette darkens the doorway. Reno hangs back at the end of the hall. He can’t see Rufus’s eyes but knows he’s being watched. His skin tingles under the weight of it.

It feels like there’s something illicit about it, awake and about to fuck just for the hell of it at this hour. Reno isn’t the one who juggles days where every minute down to the last is scheduled, and it’s getting easier for him to wriggle around Rufus’s hardcore work ethic. A lot easier since he found out Rufus is fucking insatiable.

Rufus takes his time walking the short distance, steps with purpose where Reno casually meandered. Just watching him sends a jolt straight to Reno’s dick. He’s got time to imagine roughly tugging Rufus close, feeling the press of that warm, perfect body against his own. When the edge of Rufus’s robe grazes his toes, it sounds like too good an idea to pass up.

Rufus’s hand slaps on the doorframe, mouth already on the line of Reno’s jaw, teeth nipping. Reno’s never been the type to hold back, not like Rufus, so he lets out an eager moan, hands sliding down to grab Rufus’s ass, jerk him closer and hold him there.

“Feel like sucking dick, boss?” Reno says, tilting his chin up as teeth scrape harder. His knees threaten to go to jelly as Rufus grinds against him, cock against cock, and sucks hard, wet kisses on his neck. Feverish heat seeps through the thin cloth, makes him want bare skin flush against bare skin. “A little goodnight blowjob,” he murmurs, dragging Rufus farther into the bedroom. “You suck me, I suck you, and a nap.”

Rufus shakes the robe from his shoulders, lets it fall into a puddle at their feet. “You want my mouth on your dick,” he says, making it a tease, not a question.

“Fuck, yeah,” Reno says anyway, his legs bumping the edge of the bed as Rufus’s hands fan over his hips, thumbs hooked in the waist of his pants. “You on your knees.” He fists a hand in Rufus’s hair, scrapes his teeth over damp lips, biting soft flesh just enough to make Rufus’s breath hitch.

“My tongue on your balls,” Rufus whispers, and the shiver in Reno’s stomach must be enough of an answer, because Rufus is dragging his pants down, nails scratching sharp lines of fire into his skin.

Reno kisses him again, thumb pressed to his bottom lip to hold his mouth open and tongue sliding in to lick at the edge of fine white teeth, lazily stroke wet heat before Rufus loses patience. Those teeth catch and scrape Reno’s tongue, and Rufus turns the kiss wetter, deeper.

Rufus gets a hand on his cock, squeezes to wring another low sound from Reno’s throat. The edge of a nail grazes his slit, sends sensation buzzing along his nerves. When Rufus steps back, Reno feels dizzy, lips thick and cock aching. He’s about to bitch but Rufus is licking up the precome clinging to his fingers, one hand back on Reno’s hip as he drops smoothly to his knees. That’s enough to shut Reno up.

Then it’s time slowing down, Rufus leaning closer, nothing but warm breath wafting around his dick. Reno sucks in air and holds it, losing it fast as the heat of Rufus’s mouth closes tight around the head. If that weren’t enough, Rufus gives him a moan, the sound humming through thick flesh straight to his bones.

Reno shoves his hands in Rufus’s hair, holds it out of the way. His legs spread wide, shoulders dropped back to watch his cock sink slowly deeper. Rufus moans again, tongue pressed nice and firm to the underside, and Reno figures Rufus is just trying to make him lose it fast. Reno’s the loud one, the shameless one, giving it all up for one hard look. Rufus is usually pretty damn quiet unless he’s being pounded into a wall.

“Fuck, boss,” Reno says, tugging at his balls, getting an extra little thrill as Rufus lets warm saliva trickle down to make them slick. “I ever tell you — shit.”

Reno’s fingers flex in Rufus’s hair. All he wants to do is grab tight and just start fucking, drive his dick into the tight trap of Rufus’s throat and feel him try to swallow before he gags. Rufus does it for him, though, just as soon as urge hits. Lips swollen and glistening with spit slide steadily farther along his cock, down to where neatly trimmed curls prick against them, make them flush an even darker red.

Rufus eases back to lick at the head of Reno’s cock again, one hand pressed flat to his belly to keep him from thrusting. He’s waiting for Reno to say what he was going to say, and Reno scrambles to remember what the hell that was.

The flat of Rufus’s tongue glides from root to tip, runs wet over his slit, and in a rush of breath Reno says, “You give the best goddamn head,” followed by, “No chick sucks cock like that, fuck.”

Rufus pulls back all the way, sits back on his heels like he’s admiring Reno’s dick and the way he can make it twitch just by licking his lips. “The next time I’m hanging acknowledgments up on the wall,” he says, pushing Reno’s cock up to lick at his balls, “I’ll order one for Best Cocksucker.”

“Yeah, okay,” Reno breathes, not paying one bit of attention to anything except the sudden tight pressure of Rufus sucking one of his balls deep and holding it there, tongue twisting and mouth almost too full to manage it. He strokes his knuckles over Rufus’s cheek, trying to keep his hips from jerking when it gets close to too much, thin, delicate skin sucked tight to the edges of sharp teeth. “Fuck, boss, c’mon.”

Reno pushes Rufus’s head back, sucks in short, hard gulps of air. A tongue on his balls is nice and all, but already he’s aching to have his dick shoved deep again. “Open up,” he says, sliding his thumb between Rufus’s lips, using it to keep them open wide. Rufus’s tongue flicks at his knuckle, as much a tease as an invitation to go ahead, do it right.

It hangs there in the air between them, tension winding tighter until Reno can’t take it anymore. He drags Rufus forward by the hair, makes Rufus swallow his cock down and doesn’t ease up. Rufus’s knees splay wider, hands gripping the material at his knees. Reno gives him a cheeky grin when his eyes flick upwards, and draws back slow enough to make sure Rufus feels it.

“Suck it harder,” Reno says, and groans out a string of harsh curses when Rufus does.

He’s letting Reno fuck his mouth without a bit of resistance, just taking it and making these pleased little noises that Reno’s not afraid to thrust deep. Even in the dim light, Reno can see his lips are thickened, almost cherry red. He’s got that look on his face, the one he gets when he’s so far into it pretty much nothing short of a mouthful of come will jerk him back out again.

Reno presses a palm to Rufus’s cheek, fingers curved under his jaw to feel the push and shove. It’s got to be hard for Rufus to breathe, throat stuffed full and nostrils flaring on quick, harsh breaths. Orgasm hits Reno hard enough to punch the air from his lungs, and all Rufus does is moan louder, not even flinching when come shoots hard against the back of his throat. Reno keeps going because Rufus keeps sucking, swallowing down every last bit and probably hoping for more.

He has to call it quits when it dances too close to the edge of pain, cock still thick but too soon to do anything about it. He slides his dick free to smear spit and come from the corner of Rufus’s mouth up his cheek, and crouches down to casually lick it away.

“Your turn, Reno,” Rufus says, breathing the words into Reno’s mouth like a promise of good things to come. There’s a stain on the front of his pants, cloth wrinkled like he had to grab his cock to keep from losing it when Reno did. That’s as much of a turn-on as the dark, devious look in his eyes.

He gets to his feet and Reno reaches for him, but Rufus just steps away and nods at the bed. Reno’d complain but he’s still floating high, so he just kicks his pants the rest of the way off, crawls to the centre. He’s had his, made Rufus wait. Anticipation is like a good solid hit of lightning materia coiling down his spine.

“Lick your lips for me,” Rufus says, tugging the waist of his pants down and tucking the elastic snug under his balls. He plays with himself, slim fingers teasing his cock until Reno can see the way it makes his stomach tighten. “Show me that sweet tongue of yours.”

With Reno, sometimes it’s hit or miss with orders, but this one sounds good to him. He keeps his eyes on Rufus’s cock, swipes his tongue across his lips and then rolls the bottom one into his mouth. There’s a lingering taste of his own come from Rufus’s kiss, so he sucks it clean, rubs his fingertips over parted lips when he’s done.

He reaches for Rufus again, just misses catching him by the waistband. “What the hell, boss. C’mon.” The look on Rufus’s face changes to the one that says he knows something Reno doesn’t. “Get over here,” Reno tries again as Rufus reaches into the nightstand’s single drawer. “Give me your dick to suck on already. Talk more dirty shit, too, that’ll — fuck.”

The gun’s coal black matte, nothing but a shadow in Rufus’s hand. Reno’s heart skips a beat, tries to pound out through his ribs before giving up and jumping into his throat instead. There’s a quiet click before the edge touches his cheek, Rufus tracing the line of his tattoo with the sight.

“Fuck,” Reno says again, shuddering and licking at dry lips. He knows it’s loaded because he checked it himself before Rufus went to sleep, knows there’s a live bullet in the chamber because he put it there. Still, he tilts his head back, lets Rufus run the muzzle down the line of his throat and asks, “Is it loaded?”

If it wouldn’t bring the boys bursting into the room, he thinks Rufus might fire a round to prove it was. But Rufus just says, “Of course,” and runs it over his cheek again, heading for his mouth. “It wouldn’t be any fun if it weren’t.”

It’s stuff like this that makes Reno’s head spin, the way Rufus doesn’t just push at boundaries but crushes them to dust in his fist. The gun catches on Reno’s lips, drags the bottom one down, and he knows what Rufus is going to do before Rufus says, “Open up,” in a mocking echo of Reno’s earlier order and the taste of cool metal floods his mouth.

The barrel clacks against his teeth before he can cover them, eyelashes fluttering and a groan sliding straight back down his throat to choke him when he realises Rufus has a finger on the trigger.

“So fucking pretty,” Rufus murmurs, fucking his mouth with the gun, twisting it to make it push cold and cruel against the soft flesh of his cheeks. “Your mouth was built for this,” he says, cupping Reno’s face, pressing tight to feel the slide of metal on the other side. “Fucking built for it.”

Fingers twisting in the sheets, Reno hears himself panting like a slut for it, but he doesn’t much care. Rufus’s eyes are fucking glittering in the dark, watching him. He tips his head back when Rufus pulls the gun away, flattens his tongue against the barrel and curls the tip at the last second to lick it like it’s a dick in his mouth.

He can’t stop the quivering in his muscles, isn’t sure he’d want to try. Rufus is a drug, shoving him over the edge to dangle there with adrenaline pouring through his veins. Rufus could do it. One squeeze, and that would be it. There’s no one capable of touching him, no one who’d even think about trying.

Reno’s head dips down, really starting to suck so Rufus can feel his jaw working, tongue stroking over slowly warming metal. The gun tastes sharp, deadly acidic. He’s riding high on chemicals, pleasure and fake fear, shoved farther than Rufus has ever had him yet. The mattress dips and he clutches at Rufus’s thigh, a noise too high and strained to be a real moan echoing in his ears.

It just gets louder, harsher as Rufus pushes at him with a hand in his hair and the gun in his mouth, keeps going until he’s jack-knifed backwards. Rufus slides the gun free, brings it down to trace the line of his collarbone. Saliva glistens at the tip, a wet trail of it left cooling on his skin.

Rufus climbs fully onto the bed beside him, bends down to catch his mouth. The gun scrapes the edge of his ribs and the heat of Rufus’s tongue sears into his, hot as fire after the pitiless metal. Reno kisses him like an addict, needle-sharp desperation, begging for just one more hit before it’s all over.

Rufus puts a hand to his forehead, holding him down, bringing the gun back to his lips to coax his tongue out. Reno claws at the base of Rufus’s spine, licks at the barrel like they both want him to. His mouth feels sore, fucked raw, but it doesn’t matter. Not now, not when Rufus sits up and fists his dick, rubs the wet head of it against Reno’s cheek.

Shuddering with something like relief, Reno goes straight for Rufus’s cock. But it’s not the slick heat he gets, just the brutal edge of metal digging against his lips. He opens his mouth wide to take it, turns his head to try and suck it hard.

Rufus tilts it up instead, forcing his mouth open wider and pinning his tongue. It rips a hungry, frantic groan from the pit of Reno’s stomach. Another one follows when Rufus dips a finger in beside it, strokes the barrel and then the trembling length of his tongue.

The scrape of his teeth on metal makes him jerk and adds to the buzzing in his head. White noise from nowhere drowns out Rufus’s heavy breaths and his own pounding heartbeat, the gurgling, gasping sounds he makes attempting to swallow. Reno groans to urge Rufus on, tries to tell him to just do it, but Rufus’s hand is already on his cock, the head hovering just above Reno’s mouth. The thick fluid stringing from the tip is close, so fucking close, to dripping straight into his mouth.

Rufus straightens up, stares down at him, jerks off slow and even like he’s dragging it out. Reno’s mouth feels too full, like he’s going to choke on his own spit if Rufus doesn’t let him swallow soon. The first spatter of come hits the gun, slips down to cover his tongue. Rufus doesn’t let him have it all, just that one taste, the rest spilling down his cheek as Rufus fucks the mess of it into his skin.

It’s another groan, ragged and loud, when Rufus finally pulls the gun away and replaces it with his dick. Reno twists eagerly, tongue surging against hot flesh to suck Rufus off properly. He’s hardly had to time enjoy it when Rufus hisses, “Enough, fuck,” and presses the muzzle to his forehead, shoving him back to the sheets.

Reno stays down for less than a minute before he’s up again, propped up on his elbows. He sucks in short, hard breaths, chest heaving and slicked with sweat. The taste of metal and come is still strong in his mouth, lips and tongue feeling hot, swollen thick. He jerks his chin up, making the gun slip down to the side, resting high on the swell of his cheekbone just below his eye.

A cocky smile curves his lips, tongue tracing them slow and deliberate. Rufus’s eyes are like a sharp-edged mirror of his own, bright with a reckless kind of confidence that matches the endorphin high still riding Reno hard.

He shakes the gun away, leans close again, puts his mouth one hard, dirty thought away from Rufus’s dick. Warm breath washes back into his face, smelling of sex and sweat and cock. He counts one and a half slowing beats of his heart before the muzzle presses to his temple. Another beat and Reno lets out a long, shuddering breath, slumping halfway across Rufus’s lap.

Rufus clicks the safety on and tosses the gun up by the pillows. The mattress shifts again as he settles back on his heels and lets Reno drape properly over his thighs. Reno figures he’s got about ten seconds to get ahold of himself, but then Rufus’s fingers are tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear, tracing the line of his jaw before wiping away the come cooling on his cheek.

“You’re not going to be up before noon, are you,” Rufus says. His fingers drift down Reno’s neck in a light caress that could be fond or possessive or both. “Make that three.”

Reno’s still thinking about answering, but the moment stretches too long for Rufus, since he shifts again, jostling Reno out of the beginnings of a good snooze. Reno scrubs a hand over his face, skin feeling tacky and tight. Usually, it’s his jaw that aches, but this time, his mouth feels abused. Still, he’s more satisfied than sore.

“Sleep long as you’ll let me, boss,” he mumbles, and hauls himself up with a grunt. Scooting to the edge of the bed, he thinks Rufus maybe might’ve had about three hours sleep before the shit hit the fan. “You manage to make it to noon, I’ll shave my head bald as Rude’s.”

Rufus smirks, stretches his legs out, says, “If I didn’t like you so much with a built-in leash,” and lets it hang there.

“Yeah, yeah.” Reno toes the pants crumpled on the floor and wonders if he can get away with stealing another pair. “You want the bathroom first?”

“You can have it.” Rufus drags the coverlet off, leaving it in a pile at the foot of the bed. Reno’s sure there’s not a damn stain on it, but Rufus is fussy like that, just like he’s fussy enough to straighten the sheets even though they’re going to be messed up again in another few minutes.

Reno pads off to the bathroom and says, “Shave me bald and I bet you I’d look like an ass.” Rufus’s answer is a quiet huff of breath, agreement and amusement all rolled into one.

It doesn’t take long to clean up enough that Rufus won’t kick him out for getting a mess on the sheets. He stands in the doorway, water trickling down his neck as he watches Rufus pull on a clean pair of pyjama bottoms before tossing some his way.

They’re cool to the touch, soft and flowing and settling low on his hips the way Rufus likes. The light clothes feel a lot like being dumped into a tub of whipped cream. He’d like to get a look in a mirror to see what they look like, but Rufus is waiting for him to quit fooling around.

“Should clean that, but it’ll keep,” Reno says, glancing at the gun on his way to the closet. Careful not to wrinkle the line of pressed suits, he roots around, pulling out one of the backups. He shakes out the magazine to check the count, flicks one into the chamber and makes sure the safety is on before tossing it to Rufus.

Rufus catches it and does his own check, every movement smooth and easy and making little tendrils of lust curl teasingly through Reno’s stomach. His mouth feels wet by the time Rufus is done, tucking the gun within easy reach. Rufus gives him a look when he doesn’t move, so Reno just grins, tugging down the sheets to slide in.

This time, Rufus lingers, eyes running down the line of Reno’s body as he stretches. Reno figures he’s thinking about earlier, when it started a little slower. Him laid out just like this with Rufus crawling over him to gather up his wrists, lick down the underside of his arm.

Rufus smiles, a little quirk of his lips, and Reno knows he’s right. Reno gives him a few seconds to settle in, one arm tucked under his head and the other loose on his stomach, before rolling over, one knee nudging under Rufus’s leg.

Reno drags his knuckles slowly up Rufus’s side, ending with his fingers splayed lightly over the steady rise and fall of Rufus’s chest. “No chance in hell you’re gonna let me sleep till three, is there, boss?”

Eyes drifting shut, Rufus shifts again. Sleeping with Rufus is a lot like fucking him: everything hovers between fuck yes and hell no. It’s the kind of endless anticipation that would drive a sane man screaming right over the edge. Reno guesses that’s one of the best parts.

But Rufus doesn’t push him away, just gets comfortable with Reno practically flopped on top of him. So Reno lets his hand drift farther up, traces the line of Rufus’s collarbone over and over again.

“You’ll be lucky if you make it to ten,” Rufus says, long after Reno thought he wouldn’t get an answer. Rufus’s voice drags like it’s almost too much work to bother speaking. “It’s the risk you run choosing to stay the night here.”

If Tseng manages to stomp down that urge he always has to call Rufus up every half hour to keep him appraised, they might catch a few solid hours of sleep. Usually around this time, they’d be done talking – pillow talk isn’t something that Rufus does, and Reno sure as hell doesn’t want to have to deal with him if he’s cranky from lack of sleep – but keeping quiet when his ass isn’t on the line isn’t one of Reno’s strong points.

“Figured,” he mutters. Rufus drags in a deep breath, maybe to say shut up and sleep, but all he does is turn his head towards Reno and let it back out again.

“If I need you in an official capacity, you’ll get double-time,” Rufus murmurs, making Reno’s eyelashes flutter as every other word sends ticklish puffs of air ghosting over his skin.

Rufus’s breaths deepen, even out slowly. Fingers stroking the side of his neck, Reno just looks at him, noticing how every hard, perfect feature seems softer in the dark, lips parted to invite sleepy kisses.

“Hey,” Reno says. Rufus grunts, barely moves. “You should think about offering double-time and a half,” Reno goes on, inching closer, his own breaths warm and not as steady against Rufus’s bare shoulder. “Great incentive. Think weekends.”

When Rufus answers, “Be glad I’ve offered anything,” it’s hardly more than a mumble. “Don’t make me grab my gun.”

Reno can count on one hand the number of people Rufus has ever let close enough to see him like this, half-asleep with his guard down. It seems more like Rufus’s idea of trust than just putting his life in Reno’s hands day after day.

“Where are you going to stick it this time?” Reno asks.

Rufus doesn’t make a sound — there’s not even so much as a twitch of his lips — but Reno can feel the gentle rumble of a laugh under his palm.

“You’re a prick, boss,” he says, pushing up on his elbow, fingers hovering above Rufus’s mouth. “Fucking hot as hell, but a prick.” Before Rufus can answer, or tell him to fuck off, Reno slips his tongue between parted lips, keeps the kiss as slow and lazy as Rufus sounds. If Rufus is going to haul his ass out of bed before noon after all this, then Rufus owes him one.

Rufus doesn’t bother to open his eyes, just lifts his head and lets Reno kiss him, and says, “Duly noted,” when Reno’s done.

Reno’s about to say goodnight, only realising then that he’s never said it like this before – there’s usually no time for it, just sex and exhausted sleep – but Rufus surprises him by sharing one last kiss. No tongue, just the sticky catch and drag of their lips, and a slow, satisfied breath as Reno’s head drops onto his chest.


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