Farther Than Guns Will Go: 5. Obstacle 1

Rufus/Reno. NC-17. ~6000. Fearplay. Co-written with Ponderosa.
Inside, it’s nothing but brushed steel and bullet-proof glass and the stink of Hojo.

The air from the vents is ice cold and sterile. Lab #39, East Wing, has Reno on edge ten feet inside the front door. Too much white, too few people.

Rufus marches on ahead, exactly one step forward and one step left of Reno. The tails of his coat flare out behind him, also white. White shirt over high-collared black, white slacks and black gloves, pale blond hair and milkwhite skin. The only spot of colour is the glacier blue of Rufus’s eyes.

Up close, they’re flecked with snowflakes.

Nearly every other Wednesday, after business close, Rufus sends Reno home to the little apartment he keeps near Sector 2′s tower. It’s above the plate, but a place like that is close enough to the slums that it gets a little dirty.

People call the city New Midgar in hopes for the best, but even the end of the world doesn’t change some things. Reno knows that better than most.

An hour ago, when Rufus sent Tseng home instead, Reno would have put money down on his chances for a roll on the sheets. But they didn’t take a car back to Rufus’s place — Reno’s never asked Rufus to his, even though it’s been a half year or more since they started fooling around. They came here.

Outside, the building says ShinRa Laboratories. There’s a nice patch of grass, clumps of flowers lining the stone walk, even a few ornate little trees. Inside, it’s nothing but brushed steel and bullet-proof glass and the stink of Hojo.

Rufus fits a sleek key into a thin slot and, with a quiet rush of displaced air, a hidden panel in the wall opens. He waits until Reno steps in beside him before sliding the key into the second of a trio of slots. The elevator’s directory lights up, Rufus presses a button, and then they’re on their way down.

The crisp silence drives Reno insane.

“What’s security like in here, boss?” Reno asks, his voice bouncing off the polished walls like their reflections. “The whole nine yards, yeah?”

Rufus slides his hands into his pockets, and Reno’s gaze shifts to the curve of his ass. His slacks fit low on his hips, almost as low as Reno’s, like an invitation. Since Reno’s never been one to pass up an opportunity, it doesn’t take long before his fingertips trail along the waistband and slip under Rufus’s coat.

“A little bit of everything,” Rufus says. He shifts, leaning into the touch so slightly that a few weeks ago, Reno would’ve been sure he imagined it. But as hard as it still is to read Rufus, it’s getting easier.

“Audio and visual?” Reno says as his fingers drift lower. Warmth seeps through the fine cloth to make his skin tingle. “Heat, light, motion sensors?”

“Would you like to know the exact specifications?” Rufus asks, gaze sliding from the flash of numbers above the door — they’re well below sea level and going deeper, the lights flickering every other level — to glance sidelong at Reno. “Or is it enough to know that I’ve spent more money on the systems here than I have on the Turks’ combined salaries for the past three years.”

“Shit, boss. Now I’m hurt. Didn’t even give me that extra week vacation last year.”

Rufus gives him a smile that’s more like a smirk before the lights go dead.

Reno’s on him half a heartbeat later, letting loose with a vicious curse as he shoves Rufus away from the door and uses his own body as a shield. He’s got his e-mag snapped out and ready before it hits him that Rufus is moving a little too easy. Usually it’s a fight to get Rufus to ground and this time, there’s not a bit of resistance.

The lights flicker back on. The elevator continues its smooth descent.

Reno says, “What the hell.”

“Containment zone.” Rufus still has the smirk on his face.

“Son of a bitch.” Reno slaps a hand flat on the steel beside Rufus’s head, eyes narrowed. His pulse is fast, but right now, that’s got more to do with the way Rufus fits between him and the wall than an adrenaline rush. “That just ain’t playing fair.”

“When have you ever known me to play fair,” Rufus counters, clear from his tone that it’s not a question he expects Reno to answer. He licks at Reno’s cheek, a quick swipe over the edge of one tattoo, as his fingers circle Reno’s wrist just below the e-mag’s strap.

Reno gets a hand in Rufus’s hair, forces his head back and chin up at just the right angle to make the line of this throat stretch long and clean. “You were a real brat when you were a kid, weren’t you, boss?” Reno twists his hand free and grips Rufus’s instead, pinning it to the wall. Rufus still is, but that’s the sort of thing Reno keeps to himself.

This close, the air carries the scent of the expensive soap Rufus uses. Crisp and sharp, like the smell before Reno calls lightning down. The cigarette smoke clinging to Reno’s clothes blends with it, makes it more real.

Rufus’s mouth is close, close enough that Reno breathes his breath, and Reno licks at the corner of his lips to make them part a little more. Reno barely tastes the mint lingering on Rufus’s tongue before the car begins to slow.

“Fuck,” Reno says. Rufus’s mouth is already tipped away from his. He eases off, hoping Rufus could be convinced to hit the emergency stop and give them time for at least one real kiss. The look on Rufus’s face says Reno shouldn’t waste his time.

“You’ll need to be scanned,” Rufus says, pocketing the key as the doors swish open. A pair of guards wait on the other side.

A sharp, snarky retort is on the tip of Reno’s tongue, and he’s almost proud of himself when he manages to keep his mouth shut. Despite all the stunts they’ve pulled so far, Rufus hasn’t made much noise about making the fact that they’re fucking common knowledge. Reno’s sure Tseng knows, and Rude, and the few handfuls of random employees that have seen rumpled clothes or bruised lips or the security feeds. Just like the regulars leading the way down the cool hallway, though, they all follow Reno’s lead.

Scanning turns out to be quick and relatively painless. The machine itself is built into the wall, humming to life with soft blue light. Rufus goes first, arms held loosely at his sides as the light brightens, the lines of his clothing fading to give Reno a good long look at the teasing, indistinct outline of his body.

Reno’s mouth is wet by the time it’s his turn, hands itching for the feel of Rufus’s bare skin under his palms. He holds the e-mag up to the guard at the scanner’s control panel and takes Rufus’s place after being waved through. He stuffs a hand in his pocket, hip cocked, eyes on Rufus. There’s a brief touch of heat during the scanning, barely enough to notice.

Rufus’s gaze doesn’t stray from Reno’s face. Which is more than a little disappointing after the eyefucking he gave Rufus.

Rufus exchanges a few words with the guard before sweeping down the hall. Reno falls into step beside him instead of the usual. The stunt with the elevator has his blood running hot.

“Did some guy fifty floors up just find out I’m thinking dirty thoughts, boss?” he asks. The doors lining the hallway are heavy and thick, edged with bolts about half the size of Reno’s fist. Most of the narrow reinforced windows are shut tight.

“If he’s doing his job, yes.”

Reno swings wide to peer through one of the few viewslots left ajar. He gets a small glimpse of the thing inside before it bangs viciously loud against the door. Reno flinches away with a curse.

“Careful,” Rufus says, easily sidestepping Reno’s stumble.

Reno gives the jaws snapping at the window one quick look before jogging the few steps to catch up. He’s never made much of a secret that he doesn’t like the bioengineering labs. This isn’t the first time he’s seen something aside from the SOLDIER facilities, and he doubts it’s going to do much to change his opinion.

“Yeah, now you tell me,” Reno mutters, both hands slung in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the echoing thump of that thing beating its head against the door.

Rufus’s response is that same smile, so Reno shuts up and tries to think about something other than what the creature used to be.

It doesn’t take long to reach the end of the twisting hallway. Another barred door waits at the end, and since Rufus doesn’t make an effort to hide the numbers he punches into the keypad, Reno tucks them away in a corner of his memory. Rufus’s handprint is needed to open the door, but after all this time, Reno’s figured out that there’s a way to get around everything.

And if there’s another one of those things on the other side of that door, Reno’s going to want to get the hell out.

“After you,” Rufus says.

Like hell is the first thing on the tip of Reno’s tongue. You gotta be fucking kidding me is the second. Rufus’s tone doesn’t leave much room for negotiation, but it wouldn’t be the first or the last time Reno’s blatantly disregarded an order.

One good look at Rufus’s face tells Reno he’s laughing. Not laughing in a way someone who didn’t know exactly what was in Rufus’s fancy fridge — or not in there, since Reno finished the last of Tseng’s takeout — would recognise, but he’s still laughing.

Reno heaves a sigh and swings his e-mag up to bounce it lightly on his shoulder. It’s all for show now, something to keep his mind off the feeling curling up tight in his belly.

“Do I get to know what’s up?” Reno asks. “Or is this another one of those tag along and shut up dates?

The lights click on row after row, illuminating banks of blank computers and monitoring equipment. Thick panes of shatter-proof glass reveal endless stacks of occupied tanks in the room beyond, the liquid inside shining a vibrant blue in the coloured spotlights. It’s cleaner then the core of Nibelheim’s reactor, more like a hospital than some mad doctor’s playpen. Reno’s skin crawls.

“You’ve asked before what keeps me up late in the middle of the week,” Rufus says, fingers light on Reno’s elbow to lead him to the monitors. A single keystroke has them flickering to life, a myriad of camera feeds showing close-ups of the faces belonging to the things in the tanks or quad views of isolation rooms. “Now you know.”

Reno packs down his unease as Rufus settles into a well-padded chair. The monitors flicker again as he switches from feed to feed. All Reno really wants to do is get the hell out of dodge, but he can’t quite manage to wrench his eyes away from the screens.

One of the bipeds — looking close enough to human that Reno doesn’t have to ask if it started out that way — twitches, and he feels it echo in a cold shiver ripping straight down his spine.

“I sure as hell hope I don’t wake up one morning and you’ve got one of those curled up at the foot of your bed.” Reno leans on the back of Rufus’s chair, one hand draped lazily over his collarbone, fingertips stroking at the hollow of his throat. The touch of warm skin and the steady beat of Rufus’s pulse does a good bit to keep Reno from screaming his head off. “How long you think you’ll be?”

Rufus leans back, crossing his legs, with his full attention still given to the surveillance equipment. Reno leans closer, breathes in air scented with Rufus instead of the crisp, sterile oxygen pumped in by the vents.

“Not long,” Rufus says.

Reno lets his fingers slip lower, undoing the top few buttons of Rufus’s shirt. He’d expected Rufus to put an end to the casual caress — Rufus enjoys things neat and tidy, including reminding Reno that sex happens when Rufus wants it, but lately, that’s been slipping. They both know, given the chance, Reno will push, and Rufus has been letting him push a little more every time.

“What do you think of them, Reno?” Rufus asks, and the smooth stroke of Reno’s fingertips stumbles.

Creepy is the best word Reno can come up with, followed by freaky tied with really fucking wrong. But Rufus has never been one to let things like laws or ethics or morals stand in his way, and it’s not the first time Reno’s come across something ShinRa that makes his stomach churn, or the last time he’ll keep quiet and do the job.

Reno’s not fucking Rufus for the companionship, either, so if Rufus wants to pick up where Hojo left off, it’s not really any of Reno’s business.

Reno brings his mouth close to Rufus’s ear, realising Rufus is in the mood to play with him, only not in the way he’d hoped. “Since when did you pay me to think, boss?”

Rufus’s reply is delayed a couple of seconds by Reno’s fingers pressing a little too hard at his throat. He swallows once, twice, and Reno is close to forgetting about the things in the tanks.

“I could offer you a closer look, if you’d like.”

Reno’s hand freezes. His gaze locks on the screens. The creatures inside are quiet, peaceful in their suspended sleep. Fascinating in that don’t let it fucking touch me way.

“You need to take a stroll down there, I’ll go,” he says. If one of those things so much as looks at him, he’s not going to promise he’ll stay. “But don’t feel like you have to on my account.”

Reno twists the chair halfway around, far enough to get his mouth on the skin bared above Rufus’s collar but not far enough to block the screens in case Rufus is still watching. Rufus tips his head back, lets Reno lick a slow, wet line over the steady beat of his pulse. But he’s still waiting for an answer.

“You need those things to do what you got to do,” Reno says, uncertain if he’s telling the truth of what he believes or not, “then that’s what you do. Yeah?” His teeth find the curve of Rufus’s ear, his hand slipping further beneath crisp white clothes. No matter what Reno says, or thinks, Rufus will keep marching ShinRa toward its goals.

“That guy fifty floors up is going to start questioning exactly what I do pay you for,” Rufus says. He curls an arm above his head, drags Reno down to turn the tease into a real kiss, slow and deep. “I’ll check on them personally,” he says, and Reno moans exaggeratedly against his lips. “You can stay here if you like. It’ll be quick.”

The chair slips away, Rufus getting to his feet and adjusting himself before leaning in for a closer look at one of the monitors. Reno’s head hangs.

He could take Rufus up on the offer and it won’t cost him a thing. They’re in the middle of a locked-down facility, dozens upon dozens of guards and automated security and failsafe programs standing between them and disaster. And Rufus plans to walk straight into the tanks with a shotgun and, if Reno’s lucky, a few materia up his sleeve.

“Alright, alright, c’mon,” Reno says, scrubbing at the side of his neck. “Let’s go. But we’re picking up burgers on the way back. Your treat.”

“Burgers,” Rufus repeats, gaze on the viewing window sharp as broken glass. “We can do that.” He glances at Reno, eyes mako-bright, and heads toward a door set beside the windows. A swipe of his card unlocks it with a soft hiss and the click-snap of disengaging mechanisms. He takes the sturdy metal stairs down two at a time.

“No eating in bed,” he says, winding around a long stainless steel table laid with gleaming surgical instruments and heavy bolted-down restraints. “No matter how many times you ask.”

“Sure thing,” Reno says, trotting along behind him, skin already starting to crawl right off his bones. He hates the feel of hospitals and laboratories, too clean for the pain and death they house. Deep in his gut, he’s always felt the surface should be as filthy as the core.

Rufus pauses by another larger door, this one clearly meant to allow passage for things that aren’t human. “As I said, it’ll be quick,” Rufus says, and leads him straight into the stacks, past the rows of containment suits and the bright yellow sign indicating entry without one is not permitted.

Reno twists and turns, attempting vainly to see everything at once. The light becomes a soothing ocean blue, tropical green, the low hum of machinery a lullaby for the creatures in the tanks. He expected the atmosphere to reek of death, stink like the inside of Hojo’s reactors. Instead, the air is heavy with sleep, the potential for action lurking just beneath the surface.

The glass separating them from the monsters is inches thick, bullet-proof and shatter resistant like the viewing window above them. Most likely, the tank itself is rigged to kill the thing inside if its biorhythms spike beyond a set limit.

Reno’s grip on his e-mag is tight, dry. For once, there’s a gun under his jacket.

None of that helps to slow the pound of his heart.

“You take longer than ten minutes, boss, and you’ll have to hold my hand,” he says. “These things are fucking freaky.”

Rufus makes a non-committal noise and his steps quicken, bringing him straight to tank C-35. Unlike the rest of the creatures, this one lifts its head, its lipless mouth close to human in shape and filled with double rows of tiny, pointed teeth.

“Boss, fuck,” Reno hisses, snagging Rufus around the waist and hauling him back half a dozen steps before he can set a hand to the glass.

Rufus doesn’t fight, doesn’t shake Reno off when Reno sets his chin to Rufus’s shoulder, but his muscles are tight, breaths gone shallow, short. Reno isn’t certain he wants to know if Rufus is pissed at him, or if it’s from seeing that thing move.

“Yeah, okay. So it’s in a tank,” Reno says. The warm, familiar scent of Rufus’s skin clashes with the heavy mako smell seeping into the air. “And it’s probably high on fuck knows what. But you give me one good reason why you need to get that close.”

What used to be a hand slaps flat to the glass, the creature rearing back with a silent, vicious snarl. Sweat prickles along Reno’s spine. Any moment now, he’s sure, his heart is going to crack through his ribs and spit out the front of his chest.

Rufus’s head falls back on his shoulder, a shuddering breath rippling through Reno’s hair. “You’re sexy when you’re scared,” Rufus says, voice gone dark like in the moments before he takes Reno’s dick in his mouth. “I’d fuck you right here, if you’d let me.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Rufus pulls him into a sloppy, sideways kiss, the lash of his tongue against Reno’s making it clear he’s not. Reno swallows his heart and kisses back, the terror that’d be clawing at the pit of his stomach — that safe sort of fear, when what you’re really afraid of is the distant possibility of what might happen than what probably will — curls in on itself.

“What’re you gonna do?” Reno asks. Rufus twists free, fingers sliding into Reno’s hair at the nape of his neck. “Bend me over one of those tables?” he says, and imagining it, the chilled steel under his bare belly and the way Rufus will watch him sends a shiver echoing through to his bones. “Go at it right here on the floor?”

“Tempting,” Rufus says, mouth on Reno’s throat, hungry, hot like Rufus hardly ever is this quickly. “But, what I wonder is…” he begins pushing Reno back with small, scuffling steps, “how much would you tremble if I pushed you up against the glass?” he breathes, and Reno glances back to see the thing in the tank gone still, staring at them.

“Fuck.” Reno throws a hand out behind him, stumbling, his back thumping against the thick glass with a full-body jolt. “Fuck,” he says again. Rufus presses tight against his chest, body moulded to his in one long, lean line, eyes glittering with something Reno wishes he didn’t understand. “Just don’t-” he says, the thing hitting the tank as Rufus kicks his legs apart, hand sliding up the inside of his thigh. “Do me like this. Don’t make me fucking look at it.”

“They’ll make ShinRa powerful again,” Rufus breathes, lust heavy in his voice, teeth sharp on Reno’s neck. He bites, hard, and Reno almost expects the sting to become a burn, feel blood flow hot down his skin.

Reno grits his teeth as another jarring thud echoes through the glass deep into his chest. It might not matter what Rufus does or doesn’t do; Reno can feel the swish of thick fluid as the thing twists in the tank, feel its agitation, its acid hate and fear of Rufus.

Rufus’s hand touches cool to Reno’s face, turns him back for another edgy kiss. His cock is hard against Reno’s hip, grinding into him, more than enough for Reno to respond to the rhythm and lose breath as Rufus’s hands slide down, cup cock and balls and palm him roughly through his clothes.

Sudden heat presses against Reno’s back. The mako-gel muffles the screech of claws dragging down the glass, the creature tracing the curve of Reno’s spine as if it’s trying to touch him.

“Hurry up, hurry up, c’mon, c’mon,” Reno says in a rush. He rips at Rufus’s belt, tearing it free to get at buttons and zip and Rufus’s cock.

Rufus catches his hands, forces Reno to let go and steps back. Reno slumps against the tank and instantly jerks away again once he’s realised what he’s done.

“Get a leg free, Reno,” Rufus says, tugging his pants back up and refastening the button. “Or I’ll have no choice but to turn you around.” His cock looks flushed even darker next to the stark white of his clothes.

Reno’s heart stumbles, trips over itself like his fingers fumbling to get his pants down as Rufus shakes out his long coat and tosses it over a cart stacked with logbooks. Rufus’s gaze flickers to Reno’s face and then to the tank before dropping to his knees and sucking Reno’s cock straight into his mouth.

Rufus’s hands go to his hips again, push him back against the chilly glass. He forgets about the creature behind him for one blissful moment until it hits the side of the tank again. His fingers tighten in Rufus’s hair, the irrational greasy-black fear surging back.

“Don’t scream,” Rufus says.

Reno’s eyes fly open in time to see Rufus’s fingers, slicked with shiny blue-green fluid, slide between his legs and push up inside him.

“What the fuck,” Reno breathes. The look in Rufus’s eyes is smug, sadistic, and at the clink and grind of a valve resealing, Reno’s gaze jumps down to see the same fluid creeping into an overflow trench ringing the tank.

“No,” Reno says. “Oh fuck, no.” It tingles where the gel is smeared on his skin, hums with energy, life. The longer it stays on him, the stronger it gets, turning into an electric sizzle as Rufus’s fingers push deeper to stretch him out. It’s like the buzz of first touching materia, but worse, better, a concentrated hit of a dozen or more all at once.

Rufus stands, his cock slicked with the stuff. Reno shudders, chokes on a sound he’s not certain is a moan.

“Use your fingers,” Rufus says, picking up Reno’s knee to force him fully against the tank. Reno jerks away from shock of cold glass into the burn of Rufus’s hands, the fluid making Rufus’s grip slide and smear more of the stuff on him. “Guide me in.”

Reno sucks air through clenched teeth, jaw hardly softening for Rufus to kiss him when teeth scrape his lips. His fingers touch the fluid clinging to his hole and he just can’t. His hand slams wetly to the glass where he can feel the heat from the thing behind him pressed to it. His chest swells tight.

“Easy,” Rufus says, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Reno’s eyes roll back, breath shunted out in muffled bursts over the back of Rufus’s hand. He nearly does scream, thinking the slickness on Rufus’s palm is the gel, the heat of it eating at his flesh. But it’s just sweat, salty and warm on his lips.

“Calm down,” Rufus says, easing up until just his thumb brushes softly over Reno’s lips. His voice drops into something low and soothing, something Reno’s never heard from him before, and he guides Reno’s hand back, telling him to try again, to imagine what it’ll feel like.

“Fuck you,” Reno chokes out, but he does it the same as he always does when it’s him and Rufus and something he’s not sure he wants. His fingers slip, fumble, but the first bit of stretch, the frictionless pressure, the glitter of Rufus’s gaze locked on his face, could be worth it.

He slings an arm around Rufus’s neck to pull himself closer, and Rufus leans in, makes sure he stays pinned. The push of Rufus’s cock inside him is nothing he’s ever felt before, too slick and wet to feel like being fucked up the ass. The weird, tingling thrill of the tank fluid runs like a low current straight into his guts.

The edgy pleasure barely manages to keep Reno grounded, but it’s enough. Rufus’s hands on him, Rufus’s teeth on the stretch of his throat, it’s all enough until the thing in the tank screams, the sound slamming into Reno’s skull. It strikes the glass and screams again and doesn’t stop, and Reno twists in Rufus’s grip, fingers clawing bruises into Rufus through the thin cotton of his shirt.

All at once, Rufus drops his leg and steps back, leaves Reno hanging lost in the eye of a storm. The creature stills suddenly, the tank fluid swirling to a halt. He can feel it hanging over him, waiting.

“Do I need to take you out of here?” Rufus asks. He scoops a bit of fluid from the front of his pants and shakes it to the floor with a wet splat. The sound makes Reno cringe.

Reno stays slumped where he is this time, cheek pressed to glass steamed up with his heavy, panting breaths. He waits for the swish of fluid, for the thing to scream or for Rufus to take the choice away. A fresh shot of adrenaline burns through his veins.


Reno decided a long time ago that he’d never understand why he does half the things he does, the same as he’s sure he’ll never understand Rufus’s particular brand of sadism, but he turns back to face Rufus. His eyes slide down to the thick, jutting length of Rufus’s cock, not softened in the least by the idea that this could be too much for Reno to handle.

“Fuck you,” Reno says, and Rufus only smiles tightly, allowing Reno to drag him close. He pushes Rufus’s cock between his legs again, hips tilted and leg up high, pressed tight to Rufus’s hip, as it slides slick with gel over his balls and eases back inside him.

Rufus’s breath washes hot over his ear, one hand back to clutching at Reno’s thigh and forearm flush against the tank, feet shifting apart to let him fuck Reno long and slow and deep. “Louder,” he says, quickly letting himself sink into Reno in faster, shallower, rutting thrusts that break Reno’s moans to pieces. “Louder, Reno,” he says again, and Reno groans, caught between the pleasure and the creature beginning to stir again. “Tell me how badly you want it.”

Reno curses, shifting to nose aside Rufus’s collar and get his mouth on skin instead of simply riding it out, let Rufus getting off on this do it for him, too. “Don’t do that, boss,” he says, and sucks harder at the spot on Rufus’s throat when Rufus hisses into his hair. “Give me what you got.” He hears the shakiness in his own voice and ignores it, clawing at the back of Rufus’s shirt searching for more flesh to mark.

Rufus slows, his thrusts still shallow. “Tell me.”

Reno groans miserably. He needs it harder, rougher, his stomach clenching tight on each thrust but never tight enough. Rufus is being cautious, probably can’t tell if a fresh surge of fear will break him. Without that slicing edge, cold dread punched hard into his gut, being here is barely tolerable and not even close to enough to get him off.

“Fuck, alright,” Reno says. It doesn’t seem like the words are actually coming out of his mouth. “Up against the glass.”

“You are up against the glass,” Rufus says, his cock sliding free.

Reno’s throat works. It takes him two tries to say, “Face-first.”

Rufus’s grin cuts through the haze in Reno’s head, and he barely has time to suck in a breath before Rufus drops his leg and flips him around. Reno’s eyes snap tight, hands pressed white-knuckled on the tank as Rufus gathers up the fluid dripping down his thighs and rewets his hole with it. Rufus’s cock slides even easier into his ass this time, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

Hands tight on his hips pull him back onto the peak of each thrust, holding him there as Rufus grinds into him. Reno’s forehead is pressed to the tank, his mouth open on short, rushed breaths. The creature shifts fitfully, brief moments of warmth seeping through the glass when it pauses only inches away.

Rufus’s fingers press to the stretch of his hole. Reno swears he can hear the thing breathing.

“C’mon,” Reno groans, “fingers too, do it,” and the creature lets out a low, rumbling growl. He opens his eyes only long enough to catch a glimpse of its face, something too close to human pressed near his and watching him with intelligent eyes. “Son of a bitch,” he hisses, tugging roughly at his dick. “Harder.”

“Faster?” Rufus asks, moulding his body to Reno’s back, hand trapped between them with another finger poised to force its way inside. “More?” he says, and pain flares as he shoves, instantly fades and dies as he finally stops making Reno wait.

Reno moans for it, nearly drowned out by the slap of flesh as Rufus slams deep and stays there. The creature snarls, echoes the noise Rufus makes as he comes, and Reno’s guts twist.

“Don’t stop,” Reno says, and Rufus shudders, hand flexing on Reno’s sides as he pulls back and thrusts again. Rufus’s fingers slide free, a warm rush of come and gel following. Fingers glide through it, gather it back up. Reno’s hand curls into a fist as Rufus pushes it back inside him, fingers crooked a moment later to pull his hole wide and fuck it free again.

Reno loses it to the wet slap of Rufus’s hand on his ass and Rufus’s low threat to keep him right where he is until Rufus can fuck him again. Pleasure like a knife to the throat buckles Reno’s knees, Rufus’s arm clamping tight around his waist the only thing keeping him on his feet.

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” Reno gasps.

“Haven’t had enough?” Rufus asks, surprise creeping into his smug tone. He pulls out and plugs Reno up with the tight knot of three fingers, cock dragging over Reno’s thigh, leaving a slick trail behind.

Reno sucks in air, the hard press of Rufus’s fingers forcing him flush against the tank. He lets out a strangled shout, not sure if it’s for Rufus’s fingers twisting, the added pressure of a fourth finger flirting close to his hole, or because the tank isn’t cold this time, a solid line of heat along the front of his body that he knows, knows, is the creature.

“Alright, boss, alright,” he gasps. Rufus fingers dig in harder. Reno goes up to his toes, his cock twitching, the thick drop of come clinging to his slit smeared onto the glass. “Alright, enough!”

Rufus steps back, lets him go completely, and Reno sinks to the concrete panting for breath and his body still thrumming. The gel on his skin remains wet, thick between the cheeks of his ass. He scrubs a hand over his face and leans against the solid warmth of Rufus’s legs.

The sound of Rufus zipping up is loud over the quiet hum of the tanks. Rufus drops a hand to the top of his head, smoothing hair back from his face, lifting the heavy tail of it so cool air reaches the back of his neck. Reno breathes a sigh of relief, counting down the seconds he has to pull himself back together before Rufus goes back to being all business.

It takes longer than Reno bet himself for Rufus to say, “On your feet,” and shake a handkerchief out of his pocket to offer Reno. “You do remember how to walk, don’t you?”

Reno takes too long to move and Rufus nudges him with a knee. Sighing, Reno gets to his knees and takes the piece of cloth, twisting around and cursing when there’s more fluid between his legs than he thought.

“I say no, you gonna carry me?” he asks, gritting his teeth and swiping as much of the mess off himself as he can with his hand, using the handkerchief to clean it off his fingers and then finish between his legs.

“I could call for someone to do so,” Rufus says, shrugging his coat back on and buttoning it, hiding every last one of the stains on his slacks.

Reno holds out the soiled hankie, grinning at Rufus’s raised eyebrow and tossing it to the floor instead. He holds out his hand again, and Rufus takes it, hauling him to his feet. A wave of dizziness almost sends Reno back to his knees.

“Shit,” he says as Rufus’s arm snaps around his waist again. He sags into Rufus more heavily than he’d like and shakes it off, but leaves his arm around Rufus’s shoulders.

“Hungry?” Rufus asks, as much as a concession and an apology as he’s ever offered.

“Can I-”

“No,” Rufus says. “No matter how many times you ask.”


They wind their way slowly through the tanks. Reno’s too exhausted to care anymore. Climbing the stairs is slow and awkward, the heaviness in Reno’s limbs more annoying than the way his heart still jitters in his chest.

He pulls away first when they reach the door. His pride can’t handle shuffling back to the guards looking like Rufus wiped the floor with him.

Rufus casts him one curious glance before shaking his coat back into place so it falls in a perfect straight line. He doesn’t ask if Reno is alright, physically or otherwise.

Some things change, but others never will.


One Response to “Farther Than Guns Will Go: 5. Obstacle 1”

  1. Fred Says:

    Man, I think I’ve read this about a dozen times over the years. I never thought of myself as having a fear kink, but you write it so well. It’s definitely my favorite in this series.

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