Wolf at the Door

Rude/Tseng. NC-17. ~2400 words. For Spring Kink.
Whatever it is they come looking for, they each find it easily enough spread out beneath Tseng’s hands.

Tseng is accustomed to unexpected visitors at odd times of night. Though his shifts normally fall during the day, it’s not unusual for him to see dawn from the wrong end. Most often, at hours like this, it’s Reno or Elena, seeking company or companionship or both. Other scattered times, Rufus will be waiting for him, and fewer still, he finds Rude dark and silent on the other side of his door.

Nothing seems overtly amiss, no bright splashes of blood on Rude’s clothes or telltale hitches in his gait as he crosses the threshold. Quickly scanning the hallway, Tseng steps back inside and throws the bolts.

Rude stands a handful of feet away, large, imposing, and patient as stone.

“Would you like a drink?” Tseng holds out an expectant hand for Rude’s jacket. Without prompting, Rude would most likely leave it on, just as he waits for Tseng to invite him to sit before removing his shoes and heading into the living room. “Whiskey, rum?”

“Just a beer,” Rude says.

That brings a measure of relief; whatever’s brought Rude here can’t be too serious if it doesn’t call for a hard shot of liquor. Tseng rummages through the bottles and containers in his fridge, finding a forgotten carton of takeout belonging to Reno and the stash of his favourite Kalm brew that had come with it.

“I hope this is to your liking,” Tseng says, knocking the caps off two and offering one to Rude as he rounds the couch. He takes the chair facing it, leaning forward with an elbow braced on his knee.

Rude glances at the label and makes a quiet sound. “No company?”

“Rarely.” Tseng swallows a mouthful of beer, idly surprised to find it tastes far better than he remembers. Reno’s habits becoming his own is a sobering thought. “Are you staying the night?”

Rude thumbs the rim of his bottle. Without the black sunglasses, his face seems naked, oddly vulnerable in a way that has much to do with the wary sort of want in his eyes. “You up for it?”

Before becoming a Turk, Tseng’s trysts with men were few enough to count upon one hand. He didn’t question it, discovering his preferences in a partner far easier to find in a woman than a man, and it had very little to do with a distaste for casual sex or favouring one shape over the other. Even now, if left to his own devices, he would have taken Reno, perhaps Rufus as well, at face value, passed them both by, and never known just how much he’d regret it.

Tseng sets his beer aside. “What exactly are you looking for?” Tomorrow, he has an early day but an easy one, a short trip to Junon to shadow Rufus followed by a meeting with the Department Heads. He has more than enough time if Rude wants something simple, and will see to making the time if Rude needs something more.

“Just a fuck,” Rude says. He puts his own beer on the coffee table, bottle half empty, and sits back. His posture is loose, relaxed, all the tension jammed into his eyes and the line of his jaw. Tseng doubts anyone but one of their own would notice. “You to fuck me.”

Surprise pools warm as strong whiskey in Tseng’s stomach. Rufus always wants it that way, and Reno more often than not. Elena is demanding in the bedroom like she rarely is otherwise, but still in much the same way as they are. Whatever it is they come looking for, they each find it easily enough spread out beneath Tseng’s hands and his mouth, twisting his sheets and clawing their pleasure into his skin.

The rare times Rude warms his bed are those times he’s guaranteed the weight of a muscled body stretched out over his own, the full, bone-deep ache of a cock buried inside him and come warm and heavy in his guts.

But even for that pleasure, he’s not fool enough to say no.

Tseng stands, his skin tight like it wasn’t a moment before. “Care to shower first?” he asks, as Rude follows suit.

“Already did,” Rude says, sparking electricity in Tseng’s nerves. He hadn’t expected that amount of forethought, thinking this a whim, a sudden desire. Just the mere idea of it is nearly as thrilling as the reality.

Rude follows him down the hall in a mirror image of their positions when on formal duty. Tseng thinks it should make the trip awkward yet it doesn’t, just the same as Rude’s hands on his arms feels nothing but right, adds only to the exhilarating, mounting tension.

“Are we in a hurry?” Tseng asks, hardly expecting much of an answer when he finds Rude’s hand buried in his hair tilting his face up for a kiss that’s less than gentle. He sees no real reason to object to it, or the tightening grip on his hair as Rude backs him toward the bed, or the sudden, hard pressure of Rude’s large hand covering his cock.

Tseng tugs at the buttons and zip of his slacks, breaking from the kiss with a breathless noise. “I want you to suck me wet,” he says, trailing off into a whisper as Rude drops to the carpet and pulls his cock free. Between one breath and the next, Rude’s mouth is full, and Tseng is left praying to forgotten gods the sight alone doesn’t finish him.

Rude’s scalp is soft and smooth under his palm, a sharp contrast to the occasional scratch of goatee on his thighs. Breath stops in his throat, held in anticipation for the shock of it. Warm, wet, Rude’s tongue curls beneath his balls, and Tseng can’t help but laugh at himself as his legs tremble.

Rude feels it, and instead of pushing, proving he can tear Tseng’s control to paper shreds, he pulls back. “Been awhile?”

“No,” Tseng says, pushing strands of hair from his face. “It felt too good.”

It’s subtle, barely-there, but something changes in Rude’s manner. He rises, wiping the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and brings it to Tseng’s lips, rubbing the bit of dampness into them. As Tseng’s lips part, the look in Rude’s eyes is steadier, dark with the sort of confidence that comes from knowing how to dizzy someone with pleasure.

“Do you have a preference?” Tseng licks his lips, tasting the salt from Rude’s skin, the hint of beer clinging to it. Underneath, mild and vague, is the taste of his own precome.

Rude shrugs out of his clothes, settles naked and shadowed in the middle of the bed. He drags a few pillows close and says, “You on top.”

Tseng blinks against the daze the play of hard muscle under smooth, dark skin plunged him into. “I gathered as much already,” he says wryly, plucking a small tube from the chaos in his nightstand’s single drawer. The small array of tubes and bottles and containers in there has reached impressive proportions thanks to Rufus’s contributions; Tseng’s certain he hasn’t had the chance to try most of them. “Face to face, on your knees?”

Rude crosses his legs at the ankle and tucks his hands behind his head.

“…spooning?” Tseng adds, somewhat lamely, honestly curious if this is the state Reno stumbles about in. It would go quite a long way in explaining his perpetually absent attention span.

Face to face, Tseng is about to say, but it dies on his tongue. “On your knees, if you like,” he says instead, his half-formed image of it instantly dissolving when Rude makes an agreeable noise and rolls over.

Muscles ripple in a dance of light and shadow, Rude’s broad, strong back tapering only slightly into his hips and the firm curve of his ass. Unashamed, proud, Rude spreads his knees wide, his cock hanging thick and full between his thighs.

“You know you’re killing me,” Tseng says, mildly though his mouth is dry, “and you’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

Rude tenses, relaxing again on a slow breath as Tseng’s slippery fingers stroke between the cheeks of his ass, finally settling against the tight ridge of muscle. His voice is less than steady when he says, “Yeah.”

Tseng has always liked to watch, no more or less, he thought, than anyone else. Rude stretched out like this for him, though, makes him think of reconsidering that idea—he’s hard-pressed to recall a single moment when just the sight of his fingers poised to push inside his lover’s body made him this flush with excitement.

Sensations blur, each melting into the next, and Tseng fights to hold onto the ones that manage to make their way through to his fevered brain: how Rude is tight, doesn’t open easily to the slow thrust of his fingers but arches into it just the same, skin brushing skin as he crawls closer, asking for Rude to reach back, slick him wet again now instead of making him wait.

Rude does, his hand covering nearly the whole length of Tseng, and for a moment all Tseng can do is thrust into it, moaning and grinding like an impatient teenager into the tight tunnel of Rude’s fist.

“Ready for it,” Rude groans, twisting to glance at Tseng when he licks away the tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip.

“You’re sure?” Tseng asks, privately—gratefully—relieved when Rude grunts a soft yes.

Brushing a kiss to the back of Rude’s neck, Tseng levers himself up, hand braced on one strong shoulder. If Rude can tell Tseng is deliberately drawing the moment out, he has no complaints, letting out a quiet sound of encouragement as Tseng rubs the head of his cock against slick flesh.

“Slow?” Tseng asks.

“That how you like it?”

Tseng’s reply, a low, ragged, “Yes,” melts into a wordless groan. Rude rocks forward, then back, his hole glistening with lube but still impossibly tight. Tseng hesitates, just long enough for Rude to tell him not to; he tugs on his cock, lining up again and pushing without pause the second time.

Rude lets out a shuddering moan, his body not opening up to it so much as Tseng forces him to take it. The edges of Tseng’s vision speckles like a broken television and he snaps his eyes shut, dragging in several quick, panting breaths with every torturously sweet inch gained. It seems to take forever and then it’s over too fast, his balls pressed snug to Rude’s ass and muscle soft and warm clutching at his cock.

“Don’t move,” Tseng says, swallowing thickly. “I’ll embarrass myself.”

Rude answers with a heavy groan.

Tseng traces the dips and curves down Rude’s chest to the thin, coarse trail of hair on his belly, and wraps a hand firmly around as much of him as will fit. He’d softened in the last few moments but swells hard again with that one touch, free with another throaty sound of pleasure as Tseng tugs.

Rude’s quiet but not silent, rocking into the peak of each slow thrust. Rough sounds made deep in his throat and the harder, firmer roll of his hips demand more.

Tseng leans forward, Rude’s back warm against his chest, and switches his grip on Rude’s cock from slow, steady strokes to something quicker. “Going to come for me?”

“Yeah,” Rude says, “yeah, got no problem going first.”

“Good,” Tseng says, and hopes Rude means it—he’s not inexperienced, far from hard up for it, but Tseng doubts he’ll last long past Rude’s release. It’ll be slightly short of miraculous if he manages until Rude reaches it in the first place.

Twisting, Rude gives him a careless sort of kiss that lands mostly on the side of his mouth. Tseng pushes back, his lungs aching for more than the few shallow breaths he manages to gulp down. Enough breath to be comfortable hardly seems important when Rude groans, stretches low to the sheets so the tip of his cock catches on the soft cotton.

Tseng swears, a reverent sort of curse that’s lost most of its meaning but still means enough, any sort of rhythm melting into the quick jerk of his hips and his hand flying over the thick length of Rude’s cock. Rude moans into the wet sounds of it, pulling an echoing nose from Tseng’s mouth, and then Tseng’s breath stops, his heart thundering against his ribs, as Rude’s voice dies. Tseng feels Rude come from the inside first, muscle flexing, squeezing at his cock, and the pulse of Rude’s in his hand as come spills warm and thick between his fingers.

Everything turns hazy, frenzied; his hand, slippery with come, slips off Rude’s hip, his other, fingers splayed, presses to the centre of Rude’s back. He fucks Rude with a criminal desperation, a jumbled rush of words spilling free that do little to make up for the slap of flesh and the hard slam of his cock. Rude drowns him out, urges him on, tells him to hurry up and give it up, it’s what Rude came here for.

Pleasure surges, Rude’s rumbling voice muffled into the pillows tipping Tseng straight over the edge. It’s a breath-stealing, body-wracking sort of orgasm, more like something to end hours of taunting foreplay than the dozens of minutes they’ve been together. Tseng’s certain he blanks out, even if only for a heartbeat, coming back floating on a warm glow, exhausted and sprawled in an ungainly heap on Rude’s back.

Rude’s heart beats strong and loud in Tseng’s ear. “You’ll stay the night, then,” Tseng says, damp wisps of his hair swaying in the puff of his breath.

Slumping onto his side, Rude twists to pull Tseng down with him. Between his legs is a mess, come smeared over his groin, mixing with lube further back, but he hardly seems to notice. “Sharing your bed with your shower?”

“Of course.” It’s warm and sticky, though still not unpleasant even with the sheets clinging to Tseng’s skin. “I may even be inclined to offer you coffee for breakfast.”

Rude makes a noise as if the decision isn’t already made and requires serious consideration. “Good deal.”

“Yes,” Tseng says, kicking his discarded shirt to the floor. “I thought so.”


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