You’re Having the Time of My Life

Rufus/Reno. NC-17. 4000 words.
Reno scratches at the back of his head and hisses a string of curses that’d make even his momma blush when he hits a tacky snarl of blood.

“Ow,” Reno says, “shit.” His fingers find a lump the size of Rufus’s ego on the back of his skull and he winces.

Rude rounds a stack of crates, adjusting his shades as he looms over Reno. “He got away.”

“No fuck.” Reno blows hair out of his face and sits up. The broken concrete that’d so helpfully cushioned his fall crumbles at the edges. “You going to give me a hand up or just stand there and look mean?”

Rude’s mouth quirks at the corner as he holds out a hand.

“Stupid punks,” Reno mutters. Rude hauls him roughly to his feet, sending another cascade of dirt and rubble down the old city drains. Some days, like the days he’s stuck chasing rats through the sewers, Reno gets a little twinge of nostalgia for the good old days when the rats were bigger, blonder, and didn’t look half bad in an oversized SOLDIER uniform.

Reno starts beating the dust out of his slacks. “Is it just me, or are they getting younger? Just punks, man. Should be in school or something.”

“Are you telling the boss you got your ass handed to you by a couple kids?” Rude holds out Reno’s e-mag.

Disgusted, Reno snatches it back with a grunt. “Didn’t see you chasing that little bitch with the Fire.”

“I’m not insane.”

“Heh.” Reno scratches at the back of his head and hisses a string of curses that’d make even his momma blush when he hits a tacky snarl of blood. “Fucking punks.”

“Should be in school,” Rude agrees. When Reno slings a lazy grin his way, he glances meaningfully at the half a mile or so of piping they have to crawl through to get back up to the slums.

Companionably, Reno throws an arm across Rude’s broad shoulders. “You want to say fuck the reports and swing by Tifa’s place for a beer?”

Rude hesitates by the rusted ladder. Even with those shades in the way, Reno knows he’s getting one of those looks that says he’s not playing with a full deck. “What?”

“How hard did you hit your head?”

“Shit, Rude, not that hard.” As soon as Reno says it, the throbbing gets worse just to spite him. “Why, what?”

“You dropped the Plate on it, Reno,” Rude says.

Reno rolls his eyes and sets a foot on the first rung when Rude gestures for him to go ahead. “Shit, I know that.” Just in case, though, Reno takes it easy on the climb up. “You had me going for a second there, partner.”

A couple feet below him, Rude rumbles in response.


“Seriously,” Reno says, strolling along with his e-mag bouncing on his shoulder. “You want to blow off the end of the shift, go get some beers, maybe a couple burgers?”

Rude steps over a bum sleeping off last night’s drunk on the platform steps. “The boss just got back from Junon,” he says.

“Yeah?” Reno slumps on a fizzling lamppost. It’s been a good while since he’d bothered with riding the train, which is sort of surprising. He’s always gotten a kick out of the night crowd. “What was he doing down there?”

“Do you sleep through all the boss’s briefings?” Rude asks in that tone he uses when he already knows the answer.

Screeching brakes save Rude from Reno’s answer. The doors jerk open, spilling gobs of sleepy-eyed labour drones onto the platform. The sharp, acrid stink of scorched metal stings Reno’s nose.

Hands slung in his pockets, Reno saunters through the stragglers and glances around the car. There’re only a couple people still inside: an old guy that sits like a grunt, a married couple looking a bit too harried at the edges to be slummers, and a kid clutching a knapsack in his lap.

“See?” Reno says, sprawling lazily in a seat with his legs taking over the aisle. “Smart kid. Staying in school. Bet you he does his homework, too.”

Rude makes a humming noise deep in his throat.

Reno tucks his hands behind his head. The conductor’s voice crackles unintelligibly over the worn-out speakers. Anybody who doesn’t know their stop is in tough shit, because the map screen is busted, too.

Metal groans as the train starts up again. His eyes drift shut to the rhythm of the clacking wheels.

“Reno,” Rude says, nudging him.

“I’m awake,” Reno mumbles.

“Good to know.” Rude gives him a shake this time, hard enough for Reno’s head to start pounding again.

“Fuck, ow. Ow.” Listing halfway off the seat, Reno clutches at his head and prays his eyeballs won’t fall out. “If I didn’t have a concussion before, I’ve fucking got one now,” he says.

For a split-second, Rude actually looks contrite. Reno doesn’t even bother to hide a grin.


Topside is cooler than below. There’s a light scattering of frost on the trash piled in the nooks and crannies along Station 5′s walkway. A handful of kids tagging the concrete wall glance their way.

“So,” Reno says. “What was the boss doing down in Junon, anyways? Not much down there worth the time.”

Rude shoots him another one of those looks as he pushes open the door.

“Rude, man, you- oh, shit.”

The dirty snow on the ground is stained red. The sky is on fire, sick, dark flames licking at the horizon. The moons are gone, blotted out by the blackness; all the stars are wrong, scattered, rearranged.

“Not that thing again,” Reno breathes.

Rude’s brow creases. “The boss went down for the Sister Ray,” he says.

“I know.” Reno licks at his dry lips. The pounding in his head has gotten worse, creeping down the back of his neck to make his spine ache. His stomach churns. He might actually throw up. “Fuck.”

Rude’s hand catches him under the armpit before he can kiss dirt.


“…7th Heaven,” Rude rumbles quietly.

Reno scrunches up his face. His mouth tastes like he blew half the SOLDIER corps. A cool hand rests lightly his forehead as he blinks the grit out of his eyes.

“Reno?” Tseng says.

“Right here,” Reno says, tilting his head back so Tseng’s hand slips down his cheek. “Damn.”

“There’s a reason you’re provided with a stock of healing materia and potions,” Tseng says. Cotton rustles and his touch slides away. “You’re hardly saving the Company funds by not utilising them.”

“Yeah, but it’s so hard to sneak when you clink,” Reno says. Careful to keep his head as still as possible, Reno sits up and slowly swings his legs off the couch and onto the floor. Mercifully, the room stays put.

Tseng’s office is dark, the privacy screens drawn tight against the nastiness of the sky outside. A steaming cup of tea sits on the corner of his neat desk. The cell next to it lights up with a quiet ring, and Reno rubs at the back of his neck as he glances up at Rude.

“Raincheck?” Reno says.

Rude nods.

“They’re finished,” Tseng says. Reno slowly turns to face him again. It doesn’t hurt much now, but Reno’s not stupid enough to take chances like that. “Rufus will be here momentarily.”

“Scarlett’s a crazy bitch,” Reno mutters.

Tseng smiles tightly. “Logically speaking, it should work.”

“That shit out there isn’t logical.” Reno jabs at the window and ignores the twinge at the base of his neck.

“If you have a better idea, I would like to hear it,” Rufus says, the doors whisking shut behind him. His gaze lingers on Reno for less than a heartbeat before he turns to Tseng. “Does he require further treatment?”

“No, sir,” Tseng says. “Minor bruising and a mild concussion, both of which are healed.”

Rufus nods sharply. “Reno,” he says. “With me.”

Reno drags himself to his feet with an exaggerated sigh. He gives Rude a commiserating look and gets blank eyes in return. Before he can figure that one out, Rufus snaps his name, already waiting by the door.

“Boss,” Reno says, double-timing it down the hallway to keep up with Rufus’s long, irritated stride.

“You’re slipping,” Rufus says. He stabs a finger at the elevator call button and visibly draws a breath before facing Reno. “You’re on bodyguard duty for the next two weeks.”

“Two weeks,” Reno says, instantly regretting it when his brain throbs. “Boss, come on.”

Rufus’s brow wings up into a delicate arch. “You’re complaining?”

“Well, yeah,” Reno says, absently rubbing at the lump on his skull. “So I got sloppy. You don’t want to be cooped up with me for two whole weeks, boss.”

The elevator chimes. “On the contrary,” Rufus murmurs, stepping inside.


The car is sleek, black, and oozes money. Reno trails in Rufus’s wake to where a stone-faced driver stands with the backdoor held open. Tiny red lights blink in every corner of the garage.

Reno props his hands on the frame as the driver rounds the car in one last sweep. Rufus slides onto the butter-soft leather, his phone in hand, and shoots Reno an annoyed glance.

“Get in,” he says.


“I said, get in,” Rufus says, the irritation in his voice rising steadily.

“Right, right.” Before he loses his head entirely, Reno plops himself down on the seat across from Rufus. He slams the door, cutting off even the hush of the garage, and scrubs his palm dry on his slacks. “You going to scream at me about nearly getting myself killed?”

“No,” Rufus says, but the look in his eyes says differently. He lifts his phone to his ear. “Sit there and be quiet.”

Reno slumps in the seat, drumming his fingers on the centre console until Rufus’s gaze slices him to the bone. Slowly, deliberately, Reno lifts his hand away and drops it into his lap.

Several long, agonising minutes later, he has his lighter in hand, snapping it open and shut, and Rufus says, “Reno.”

“Fuck, boss, you’re killing me here,” Reno says. He jams the lighter back into his pocket and ruffles a hand through his hair. “Where’re we going?”

The car begins to slow, the noise of the tires shifting as pavement slides away into something smoother.

“Home,” Rufus says. He tucks his phone away and slides towards the door as the driver pulls it open.

Rufus doesn’t wait for him outside the car, marching purposefully towards the bank of locked-down elevators. Reno’s gaze darts between the expensive cars lining the walls. He’d almost like to know how many the boss owns, except he has a feeling he already does.


Reno fiddles with a bit on lint in his pocket as Rufus keys open the penthouse. There’s a tight knot of tingling anticipation at the base of his spine and he’s not sure why. He knows the layout of Rufus’s place well enough, never really comfortable with all the stark white no matter how many times he sees it.

“Inside,” Rufus says when Reno doesn’t move right away.

“Sure, boss,” Reno says, mostly to just have something to say. He gropes along the wall for the lightswitches, nailing the hallway dimmer first, the kitchen spotlight second, and Rufus’s fingers tighten around his wrist like a vise.

The door slams shut and Reno’s back hits it a heartbeat later. Rufus slams his wrist up beside his head, grabbing at the other and pinning it by his hip. Mint is cool on Rufus’s breath, a little sharp, a little sweet, and then the taste of it is flooding over Reno’s tongue as Rufus’s pushes into his mouth.

Reno’s eyes snap wide open. Rufus is a blur in front of him, the grip on his wrists loosening the longer the kiss goes on until Reno could easily jerk away if he wanted. Instead, he leans into it, and nearly fucking dies when Rufus moans and melts against him.

“You idiot,” Rufus says, the edge of his teeth scraping Reno’s lips as he slides away to bite at Reno’s jaw. Reno swallows and tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, and doesn’t even try to hold back a sound when Rufus’s tongue presses into the hollow of his throat. “Don’t you ever fucking do that again.”


This high up with the screens drawn, Midgar’s noise is about as far away as Wutai. Reno stumbles on the wide steps leading to the actual section of Rufus’s oversized bedroom where the bed is. Back on his, Rufus’s lips spread into a tight grin.

“Was Tseng wrong about the extent of your injuries?” Rufus asks. His voice holds its usual jibe about Reno’s sloppiness, but the note of concern under it is new.

Reno’s pulse pounds in his head. “Nope,” he lies, because like he’s going to fuck this chance up. “Everything’s working just fine.”

Rufus’s body language shifts, his expression slipping into something full of promises, eyes heavy and lips soft. When Rufus pushes him to the bed, he goes, gaze caught by the dark, glittering glacial blue of Rufus’s.

“Boss,” Reno says, inching back on his elbows. His stomach hollows when Rufus pushes a hand up his shirt, fingers splayed easy and familiar. “You know- fuck.”

Rufus sets one knee to the bed, then the other, straddling Reno’s thighs as he tugs at the few buttons Reno bothered to do up. “I know?” he prompts.

Reno swallows and tries to think past the hard knot of lust in his gut. Rufus’s eyes flicker up to his, smile smug and fucking mischievous as he crawls further up to scrape his teeth on the sharp angle of Reno’s collarbone. Reno forgets about the nagging throb in the back of his skull; it’s nothing compared to the solid ache of his cock.

It takes him a couple tries, but when Reno gets out the, “You’re so fucking hot,” that’s stuck on the tip of his tongue, Rufus chuckles, low and quiet, and the sound of it plucks at Reno’s nerves, sets them to humming.

“So you’ve said before,” Rufus says, his breath a warm tease on Reno’s lips. “Usually when you have your dick up my ass.”

“Shit,” Reno says. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Rufus laughs again, that exact same sound that goes straight to Reno’s cock, and drags a hand up the inside of Reno’s thigh. Easy as breathing, Reno spreads his legs wider, bottom lip caught between his teeth when Rufus slows down. “I’ve been gone less than a week,” Rufus says, fingers stroking sensitive skin through Reno’s slacks so fucking close to his cock.

“You know me, boss,” Reno says. His hands feel clumsy, fumbling at the catches on Rufus’s clothes, light and hesitant on bare skin when Rufus knows just how to touch him to make his thoughts scatter.

Rufus catches his hands, pushes them down to the bed with their fingers threaded. Reno’s stomach flips. “Are you lying to me?”

Licking his lips, Reno says, “About what?” even though he’s pretty sure what the boss is talking about.

“Reno.” Rufus’s thumb curls in against his palm, nail grazing skin.

“Fuck, boss, don’t get me all worked up and leave me hanging.”

Rufus watches his face a moment longer. “Not tonight,” he promises, and muffles Reno’s relieved moan with another kiss.


Clothes, stark black and harsh white, are scattered across the bed, dripping down onto the floor. Reno’s hand twists in the sheets, the sleeve of Rufus’s shirt caught between his fingers. His eyes are wide watching the flutter of Rufus’s eyelashes, the deep hollow of flushed cheeks and the dark, swollen red lips clamped tight near the base of his dick.

Rufus’s hands clutch at his hips, urge him to change the shallow rock of his hips to deeper thrusts, and moans eagerly when he does. And moans again, louder, longer, as Reno’s hand curves over the back of his head, as if all he needs is the hard shove of Reno’s cock down his throat to get him off.

“So fucking pretty,” Reno says, rewarded with another flickering glance and Rufus’s throat closing tight over the head of his dick. His vision blurs as the pressure eases and Rufus’s hand drifts down, fingers sliding into the wet heat of his own mouth along with the length of Reno’s cock.

Reno’s chest tightens, every last bit of air in his lungs squeezed out on a hard groan. The pounding in his skull grows worse, beating harder and faster until Reno’s sure his heart is going to break through his ribs.

Rufus’s hand slides away again, disappears between his legs, and Reno knows the exact moment he shoves those slim, spit-slick fingers up his ass just from the look on Rufus’s face.

Rufus drags himself off Reno’s cock, his mouth tugging into an unsteady smile as Reno moans. “Do you want me tight?” he asks, his free hand braced on Reno’s chest to help him crawl up the few inches to get his cock rubbing against Reno’s. “It’s been long enough, should be just like the first time.”

“Son of a fucking bitch.”

Rufus’s smile sharpens. “I thought so.” He brings his mouth down on Reno’s again, no teeth this time, just the heat of blowjob lips and the slickness of his tongue licking at Reno’s.

Reno’s hands go to Rufus’s ass, cup the cheeks to spread them wide as Rufus’s hand wraps tight around his cock again. Eyes on Reno’s face, Rufus shifts his hips forward, rubs the head of Reno’s dick slow and deliberate against the twitching muscle of his asshole.

“Boss, fuck, come on,” Reno pants. He strains for it, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Rufus’s ass so hard that it must hurt, but all Rufus does is moan and drop his shoulders back, his cock dragging wet on Reno’s stomach, leaving a thick smear of precome burning like a brand on Reno’s overheated skin. “You’re fucking killing me, Rufus, just do it, fuck.”

Rufus’s stomach tightens. His tongue flashes over his lips, his mouth falling open and his head dropping forward as he lowers himself down on Reno’s cock. Reno holds his breath, waiting for the tight pressure to ease, for Rufus to pull back and work himself open with Reno’s cock. Above him, Rufus trembles, clutches at his shoulder, fills the heavy air between them with noises too high and strained to be moans, but doesn’t fucking stop until Reno’s buried to the balls and can feel Rufus shaking from the inside out.

It’s so good, so much fucking better than he imagined, that Reno forgets how to start breathing again.


The clock reads 7:12 A.M.

The room is pitch black, the pure silence that money can buy white noise in Reno’s ears behind the steady rhythm of Rufus’s deep breaths.

Rufus is sprawled halfway on top of him, arm flung across his chest and their legs twined together. The smell of sex is still thick in the air, but Rufus smells clean, fresh and soft from the shower Reno barely remembers taking.

Reno’s hand drifts near the scar DIAMOND left slashing across the smooth expanse of Rufus’s back and doesn’t understand why his fingertips can’t find it.

Sighing quietly, Rufus nuzzles his face closer to the crook of Reno’s neck. Heat prickles over Reno’s skin, the beginnings of panic tainting the feeling of contentment nestled close and soft as feathers.

Reno flings the covers aside, startling Rufus into waking. He runs his hands down Rufus’s chest, over his stomach. Nothing but unmarred skin meets his touch.

“What is it?” Rufus asks, voice rough from sleep and sex, hushed by the dark.

“That thing nearly killed you,” Reno rasps.

“What?” Rufus sits up, sheets rustling as he reaches for the lamp. “Reno, what the fuck is the matter with you?”

Light flares bright, stabbing into Reno’s brain just like the shots of pure energy spearing through ShinRa Tower.


“The lights!” Rufus snaps, loud enough to be heard over the panicked scramble of feet, the shrill beeping of half a dozen machines. “Turn the fucking lights off!”

Cold rushes through Reno’s veins. The mad beating of his heart slows, takes the thick, meaty fists pounding inside his skull with it. His eyes are open but all he can see is black flares of stars dying.

“I don’t care if it might poison him,” Rufus snarls over the frantic babbling of some voice Reno doesn’t recognise. “I want the dosage level maintained for the next 24 hours, on the hour, do you understand me?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” someone else says. “Understood.”

“Good,” Rufus says like an icicle cracking. “Leave.”

Since he can’t see anything anyway, Reno closes his eyes and lifts a hand to his face. Panic starts to seep into the false calm of the drugs he can feel in his blood when his arm won’t move.

“You’re strapped down,” Rufus says. Air currents tickle Reno’s skin, and a cool, damp cloth touches his face. “You’re responding to the mako much like a SOLDIER candidate, though some here are too young and stupid to recognise it,” he adds.

Reno licks dry, cracked lips and tastes fresh blood. “Mako,” he croaks.

He feels Rufus’s nod.


Water sloshes, drips as Rufus wrings up the cloth and presses it to his mouth. His lips tingle as the potion mixed with it seeps into open wounds.

“As much of an annoyance as you can be, Reno,” Rufus says, “it would set me back quite a bit to lose you.”

Reno laughs and chokes on it. Rufus’s hand never leaves his face. When he’s recovered enough, Reno says, “We going to kiss and make up?”

The silence stretches long. Reno blinks his eyes open, squinting against the rays of sunlight making it through the cracks in the blinds. Everything is hazy at the edges, the colours too bright, like a television set about to blow.

The metal frame creaks as Rufus leans over the bed, one hand carefully propped on the pillows between the mess of wires and the tangle of Reno’s hair. “Would you like to get a taste of my pretty mouth, Reno?” he asks, low and quiet, something like dangerous.

“You’re real,” Reno says. Disappointment mixes bitterly with relief and the smell of Rufus’s hospital-sanitised skin. Under it is the proof Rufus is never as cold as he pretends, worry-sweat and bad coffee gulped from disposable cups. For a moment, it doesn’t matter that Reno’s never seen Rufus’s eyes go blurry and dark, never seen the hard lines of his face go slack with pleasure.

For just a moment, until Rufus says, “I’m real,” and whatever they’ve pumped into Reno’s veins feels warm by comparison. The mattress shifts as he pulls away. “I’m told you’ll suffer mako-dreams for the next 48 hours or so.” His steps are slow, measured, tightly controlled as he lifts a chair closer to the bedside.

Reno lets his eyes slide shut after Rufus settles down, legs crossed and chin propped on his knuckles. “What’re you hanging around for?” Reno says, and licks his lips. Instead of blood, he tastes mint. The drugs in his system, or the mako, he doesn’t know which.

“Your next dose,” Rufus replies, his voice unchanged but soft to Reno’s ears. “I’ll be waiting to hear where they’ve taken you when you wake again.”

Though it takes more effort than it’s worth, Reno opens his eyes. Rufus is close, close enough to touch if Reno’s arms weren’t cuffed to the bed or if he could even move them then. His fingers twitch and Rufus’s gaze slides down, lingers. His hand curls into a fist and Reno remembers, imagines, the feel of Rufus’s fingers laced with his.

“Figures,” Reno says, and lets the drugs drag him under.


One Response to “You’re Having the Time of My Life”

  1. Jemma Says:

    I like this – I like how the reader knows something’s wrong, knows Reno’s hurt worse than he’s letting on, but can only pick up the hints about things not being quite right until the scar is missing, then has to reconstruct what actually happened in the whole previous story.

    One minor note – you might want to erase the editor’s notes near the end, since they’re a little distracting. There are two notes after ///s, and there’s one stray / left farther back in the story, which confused me.

    The sex is tasty.

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