Chapter Text
At work, everything is professional.
During the first few years of partnership when the little traumas of their job hadn’t settled in, it was a rocky friendship. They got along but butted heads on missions enough to yell — or stare solemnly, disappointedly — at the other. Each took their issues home alone and nursed them in a bottle of booze or a pack of pills. That was back when the sight of blood still made shame and worry flood the mind.
After two or three missions where their miscommunications had ended in massive injury and fuck-ups, they let their issues with one another drain out, and a genuine bond cemented them together. You saved my life, and I saved yours was just the beginning. Reno learned a lot about Rude’s assorted silences, and Rude learned to enjoy the dry hum of Reno’s voice any time of day.
And so Reno keeps his pain and personal life away from work and, therefore, away from Rude. It isn’t a good idea to get so attached to someone who relies on you to stay alive. You can’t just tell them all your weaknesses and flaws; it plants the seed of doubt. It whittles away at the trust you’ve formed with a colleague and replaces it with worry.
So most days, Reno goes home alone. He doesn’t invite Rude out to drink. Reno has too many secrets to let one person know every one of them.
As the ghosts of Reno’s job sink further into the recesses of his mind, he returns to less self destructive hobbies. He doesn’t have to drink a bottle of bourbon to forget the three men he killed that week — at this point in his life, those were rookie numbers. Now he is free to give into the hedonistic lifestyle he’d always craved: going out, dancing, finding someone hot enough to hook up with. Midgar has a lot of clubs, though only two that cater to queer clientele.
He is there tonight at the Midgar Mineshaft. It has two levels, dim lighting and booming music. The bar is overpriced, but the visuals were always good, whether from laser shows or beautiful men. Reno’s eyes roamed the dance floor, gazing at every man, big and small. He had poured himself into his jeans earlier, so he shifted on his hip to allow his ass into a visually appealing angle. Setting out the welcome mat.
He orders a drink at the bar, and someone slides in next to him. “Add his drink to my tab.”
Reno’s eyes snap over in recognition. Rude, in a sleeveless top and bigger sunglasses than usual, has just offered to pay for his drink. Reno’s mouth hangs open as Rude reaches out to his side, pulling his face close to Reno’s ear.
“What’s about to happen, never happened,” Rude murmurs, his lips soft against the skin in front of Reno’s ear. “You feel me?”
Reno’s heart pounds in his chest. Is this happening? Is Rude really inferring that he wants to…
He tips his head back, not wanting Rude to be the one to overwhelm him. He can’t see past the lenses, can’t read his eyes. “I feel ya,” Reno says, picking up the drink with a grateful tip of his head. “But that means you got no excuse not to dance.” He slams the drink back in three gulps, watching Rude’s mouth slowly work and then close with a nod.
Damn, he really wants to, Reno thinks, a warm validation flooding his gut. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s enough to feel Rude’s bare, ungloved hand sliding over the small of his back as they make their way to the dance floor.
Rude’s hand dips over his ass and Reno wonders what the hell else Rude has hidden from him.
It’s too loud to talk, so they don’t. They don’t touch a lot at first, but it’s hard to keep himself away from Rude. Reno has never seen him in street clothes like this — if they dressed in plainclothes, he picked items from their ratty old disguise bin. This was new. Special. Something he was going to have to work hard to forget.
He presses himself up against Rude’s front, his own hands sliding up over big biceps. He knows Rude has a thing for pain, if all the tattoos and piercings weren’t clear enough, but maybe it goes beyond that. Vanity. Rude smells incredible, and Reno is worried he’ll pop a boner and rut him like an animal. The appeal of dancing is quickly dissolving at the prospect of touching more than Rude’s tattooed biceps.
Rude’s fingers squeeze each globe of his ass, and Reno’s eyes shut involuntarily. “Let’s go talk,” Reno says. His voice lost to the crowd, so he reaches over his shoulder with a thumb, directing them to get out of the throng of dancers.
Rude snatches his hand and takes charge, pulling them away with intense concentration; Reno can tell because every step Rude takes is perfectly measured, not too fast and eager, not too short to appear clumsy. They pass by a lot of high-backed rounded booths, each protected by a tacky circular curtain that floats above. It gives the illusion of privacy, though when Reno’s eyes wander, he can see flashes of silhouettes as the club’s light changes. It’s not much more quiet over here, so he can’t tell if there’s anything really going on inside.
Suddenly Rude tugs him inside one, where there’s a large booth and a large ottoman rather than a central table. Almost like a bed.
Reno pulls the curtain closed behind him. “Are you sur—”
“You wanted to talk, let’s talk,” Rude rumbles as he pushes into Reno’s personal space. The curtain offers a tiny noise buffer, enough that they can barely hear each other. “Let me talk about what I want to do to you.”
Reno’s cock presses against the fly of his too-tight jeans. Tension springs in his neck, years of physical attraction piling up in front of him he hadn’t let happen before. Rude was in a separate space at work. Rude did not know about Reno’s love of getting fucked, or his exhibitionist streak, or what kind of music Reno listened to.
At least, Reno had thought so, until Rude showed up at his favorite club and dragged him into a private place as his fighter’s fingers pushed Reno’s tight little shirt off his shoulders.
“I want to ride this ass hard,” Rude says, and Reno makes the kind of noise he’ll pretend he didn’t later.
“Please,” Reno gasps.
Rude presses their lips together and Reno’s breath freezes in his chest. Rude’s tongue is in his mouth, Rude’s fingers are opening the fly to his jeans. “You like big cock, pretty boy?”
Reno’s head spins. He nods sluggishly. “Show me.”
Rude pushes Reno back onto the ottoman so that he can focus on his belt and slacks, and Reno’s mouth waters. He’d have been happy to just suck his cock and leave, but Rude wants to fuck him. It’s Reno’s lucky goddamn day. His eyes zero in on Rude’s hands as he pushes his pants down and pulls out his cock.
It’s big, getting bigger he strokes it. “I do,” Reno finally says, his mouth falling open wider than usual. “I do like big cock. Bring it here.”
Reno struggles to kick his pants off. He needs to keep track of them for the inevitable search for them, yet all he can think about is touching Rude’s skin. He still can’t believe this is happening.
(Because it’s not, he said. Even if Rude is here, in front of him. Touching him…)
“Rude?” Reno asks, suddenly not sure if it’s even okay for him to know Rude’s name.
But Rude pulls his sunglasses off and puts his hand around the back of Reno’s neck, bringing their lips together again.
He doesn’t get chastised. Rude just murmurs, “Yeah?”
“You gonna fuck me here?” Reno’s cheeks turn pink.
Rude’s eyes smolder and Reno finds it very hard to breathe when Rude just grunts an affirmation.
He wants to remember every sound, every touch, every detail, but his brain is unravelling. He’s not sure if Rude fingers him, or where the lube came from. He’s barely even present for the best part, the initial stretch. Suddenly he’s only conscious of Rude behind him, pounding him. Reno doesn’t even know if he has a condom on. Reno comes so hard he doesn’t make a sound.
Rude pushes him down into the ottoman into his mess and fucks him faster. “Want to leave you filthy,” he hisses, fingers wrapping in Reno’s ponytail like a leash. “Feels so fucking good.”
Reno snakes a hand under himself and touches his cock, still semi-hard, and strokes it frantically. It’s slicked up from his own cum. He wants to take part in dirty talk, but he can’t. All he can say is, “Fuck me,” and touch his cock and hope that he can get a better orgasm than the one that had taken him by surprise.
“I thought you’d be louder,” Rude says and pulls out of him. Reno’s eyes snap open in surprise but then Rude is yanking him over onto his back by that hair leash, staring up at Rude and really, actually seeing him up above as he presses his cock back into Reno’s soft hole.
“You broke me,” Reno admits, dick pulsing and coming back to life at the sight of Rude’s ripped, raw body above him. “I’ll try and… ah, fuck me.”
Rude’s thrusts are enough to drive Reno to distraction again, and it’s made worse when he can see Rude smirk at him. Rude is smug about how quiet Reno is, and that’s no fair.
Rude presses his nose and lips against Reno’s cheek. “How will anyone know who I’m fucking?”
Reno’s eyes snap to the curtains. The passing shapes of silhouettes. Men walking by. Men paused to gaze at the shape of them behind the curtain. Showing off for them.
Reno stops touching himself. He can’t risk coming instantly again. “You want them to know?”
“Don’t you want to make them hard?” Rude’s lips travel to his ear. “Only I get to see you like this, but I could share you audibly. Let them imagine what it sounds like fucking someone so sexy.” Rude’s tongue slides over his neck. “So mouthy.”
Thank god he stopped touching himself. “Harder, then.”
This time, Rude’s thrusts do not make him quiet. Reno gasps with pleasure at every thrust. He wraps his hand around himself again, but he’s already on a hair trigger. The noise encourages Rude, who fucks him even faster.
“Gonna come,” Rude growls, and Reno’s toes curl, his cock stiffening fast.
Rude pulls out and tosses the condom away so that he can stroke his fat dick above Reno’s. Reno tries very hard to last, but the sight and sound has him coming, crying out in desperation as he fucks up into his fist.
Rude is real quiet when he comes, but there’s a ton of it all over Reno’s hand and cock and belly and thighs. Reno’s entire pelvis aches with pleasure.
Unfortunately, Rude’s bedside manner isn’t as romantic as Reno imagined it would be. Rude wipes his hand off on a clean patch of Reno’s skin and then eases back. He throws a rag at Reno to clean himself off with, at least.
Reno’s brain is still one fluffy cloud. He doesn’t know to give him shit about how rude and quiet he’s being. He just got some of the best dick he’s had in—a really long time. He simply cannot be pissy.
Rude is back in his clothes quickly, sliding one palm over Reno’s calf. “When this inevitably happens again, it won’t have, either.”
Then he slides out of the curtains and Reno’s fluffy clouds turn to storms and rain in an instant. Alone, he’s now aware he’s just a cum-covered slut in a public booth at the Mineshaft. He quickly redresses, only noticing the ‘rag’ he’d used to wipe all the cum off was his shirt. He sighs, rolling it up and stuffing it into his jacket, and slithers out of the club with what little decency he has left, but can’t help the skip in his step once he’s out in the open air.
He does like being the cum-covered slut at the Mineshaft.
When this inevitably happens again… That’s the only part Reno cares about, anyway.