They're outside of Midgar for the first time in years, and they get caught in the rain.
It isn't as bad as all that; the transport is half a mile up the road and the nearest town is perhaps twenty minutes away. Shelter is a viable option, but not one that Reno is prepared to indulge in.
"Look at it!" He has to shout to be heard over whipping winds as he and Rude stare down the advancing front. The clouds blow towards them, washing the world beneath them in a heavy gray haze. A few drops spatter against his jacket, harbingers of the coming downfall. "You don't see this kind of stuff in the city!"
Rude, who was born outside the city and recalls well enough the storms of his childhood, only nods and folds his arms across his chest. They are well ahead of schedule and a few moments indulging Reno's sudden fascination with meteorological phenomena is no large sacrifice. Life is infinitely more pleasant when Reno is happy.
So they stand, wind whipping out their coats. Rude's tie flips up and over his shoulder and, laughing, Reno reaches out to grasp it, holding tight to the piece of fabric as he would a dog's leash. A stab of urgent lust spears Rude and the partners share a glance, Reno showing his teeth in a sharp grin, Rude tipping his head down to look over the rimless dark glasses that cover his eyes.
A sharp jerk on his tie brings him to his knees. Road dust puffs up around him and is immediately obliterated as the rain races down to meet them.
They're drenched in seconds, battered beneath a torrential downpour. Reno tips his head back and shouts and the sound is lost in the roar of the storm. He arches his back, reaches up as though trying to catch the raindrops. Rude can see his skin, pale pink under the sodden fabric of his thin shirt. He reaches up, fingers dragging across Reno's belly, sensing the heat beneath the surface. It's oddly arousing, this touching without really feeling.
Slick fingers slip down his cheek, pressing at the hinge of his jaw. He parts his lips and cold digits press deep into his mouth. Reno's skin is cold and fresh and he sucks the water off each finger in turn, biting the pads as he pushes them out of his mouth. Reno cups his hand and he laps at the curved palm like a dog. Beneath the weight of his free hand, clasped against Reno's thigh, he can feel the growing erection, hot and eager beneath the soaked fabric that swathes it.
He pulls his glasses off and tips his head back, allowing the rain to thunder against closed eyelids. Crouched as he is in the middle of the storm, battered and deafened by endless drops of water, it is almost like being in nothing at all. The deluge ceases to register as his skin grows slowly numb. The noise becomes so regular that it fades into the background. There is cold, and there is wet.
And there is Reno.
Cool fingers find his face again, tip it back down, and he opens his eyes to see Reno fumbling with his pants, tearing them open. He leans forward slightly, wraps his lips around the head of Reno's prick. One hand rises to rest against Reno's ribcage, and he feels the moan of approval instead of hearing it. Slowly, his lips work down the shaft, tongue swirling and tasting as he draws his partner to the back of his throat.
This close, he can smell Reno's skin, warm and clean, and the thick scent of his dry-cleaned suit. His fingers spread eagerly across slender hips, holding him close, pulling him back even as he pulls away. It's a gentle tug-of-war, ebbing and flowing, and he can feel the muscles starting to twitch in Reno's belly.
His jaw aches, but beyond that time might as well be standing still. Reno pulls out, Rude presses him back in. They both moan and neither can hear one another. His hand creeps to his lap and he rubs thick fingers along the line of his own erection, a thrill shivering up his spine at the far-off sensation of pressure through the sodden chill of his soaked pants. He strokes harder and comes with a faint jerk. The warmth that blossoms against his thigh is lost in seconds, washed away by the rain.
Reno's fingers spider along his scalp to clasp the back of his head and hold him still. He twitches once, then again, and then warmth floods Rude's mouth and he swallows. Slowly, Reno relaxes against him, curling forward in an awkward sort of embrace that culminates in a laughing kiss delivered to the back of Rude's neck.
They part, rearrange themselves, and start back down the road. Aside from the high color in Reno's cheeks and the lingering taste on Rude's tongue, it's as if nothing at all happened.