Happy Birthday was made for you

Reno gasps and bucks one last time when Rude's hand glances off the top of his dick. His hips try to drive his straining erection back into that impossibly warm grip but it's gone in an instant, leaving Reno feeling as cold as he was outside. He stays still, waiting and wondering what's going to happen next when he hears the door open behind him.

A frown creases his brow and by the time he risks raising his head and peering over one shoulder, Rude is already out of the truck. He's given another order but the hint of danger has faded from Rude's voice a bit and Reno half wonders if he did something wrong. His natural rebellious streak is heightened by the booze in his body and Reno entertains the idea of just finishing himself before they leave.

If Rude isn't going to....He stops his hand before he can go much farther though, he's never been denied like this before and part of him is willing to obey Rude just based on that fact alone. Reno sits up and eases back in the seat, withdrawing his hand from his pants with a frustrated sigh. His dick is hurting with need but Reno drags the seatbelt across his lap with a grumble of frustration.

He looks over as Rude climbs in on his side, glaring in open frustration though he isn't sure if he's mad at Rude or the lack of release or the bar for having given him the drinks that are making it hard to keep himself in check. His eyes glance down to take in the massive erection he saw just a moment ago, determined to know that Rude is just as frustrated and wanting as he is, but he can't tell in the meager light of the parking lot and Rude has gone right back to the stoic mask that hides whatever he's thinking.


Reno growls under his breath and shifts in his seat, too uncomfortable to sit still and the seatbelt rubs against the strain in his pants with every movement. Rude sits still for just long enough to get Reno's attention again and the redhead turns his head to see what's taking his partner so long. He hears the rough voice again and the hint of something dark is still there though not as pronounced as before...until Rude adds the last threat on the end.

Reno sucks in a slow breath without knowing it and withdraws toward his own window. There's that danger there again, hard and tempting in all the wrong ways. Reno knows this is sick, knows he shouldn't want to hear that voice growling at him but gods is it keeping his dick from flagging and he can hardly stand sitting still at this point.

Reno debates for a few seconds on whether he wants to have Rude do just that....just to feel the man's hands on him properly, but he eventually pushes his hand back down into his pants and takes a grip on himself again. He tries to position his hand the way Rude said to, putting his thumb on the base of it and applying enough pressure to act as an almost makeshift cockring. It makes him moan and he rolls his head against the back of the seat, letting his eyes slip shut.

The drive takes too long and every bump in the road makes Reno whimper. He shudders and tries to alleviate some of the pressure by shifting his hand but it doesn't help much. Reno's tolerance for frustration is low on the best of days and it only gets worse when he's drunk. Throw horny into the mix and it doesn't take long for Reno to get sick of hanging onto his own dick without release.

They're only half way to Rude's before he decides that the silence is too much and he wants to hear Rude's voice again. He wants to feel Rude, needs to have something beyond his own grip and the more masochistic parts of him just HAVE to know what Rude will do so he gives himself a long hard stroke and moans into it.

Yeah, it's playing with fire and he just knows he's probably going to regret it but his whole world is dissolving into nothing but need and he's never shied form danger before.


Even before the tail end of that moan slips out of Reno's throat, a huge hand shoots out to grip his wrist and squeeze until his hand stops. Rude's eyes remain on the road ahead, and the rest of him drives steadily, but that hand trembles slightly and his mouth hangs open an almost invisible sliver of an inch, as if he's having a hard time keeping his own world of need in check.

"It was meant to keep you from getting off," he gravels out slowly, and the edges of his mind recoil from such a crude term at the same time they idle with it as if it were a piece of needing flesh in itself. "If you can't keep yourself from one simple goal... long enough to let me do it at the right time... then you shouldn't... shouldn't be let near it."

He pulls that hand away from Reno's cock and twists his own wrist to free up his last two fingers and stretch them out. Still gripping Reno's errant hand, he reaches to grab the other slender wrist with those fingers, turning them into makeshift cuffs, and brings the whole shebang over to Reno's left.

"So I won't let you near it. Work the gearshift when I need you to." And he turns his wrist again, laying one of Reno's captured palms over the knob of the shift. he shivers when struggling fingertips brush the side of his leg, and his jaw twitches, but he bites down his id before he can react any further. There WILL be a time and a place to revel in touch. This isn't it.


Reno flinches only the slightest bit when Rude grabs his wrist, tamping down on the rest of his instinct to fight, but he looks at Rude with lust hooded eyes and waits to see what will happen next. The grip around his wrist is as strong as any set of cuffs he's ever been in and he bites back a shiver as the thought runs through his head of what it would feel like to have both of his wrists pined over his head, Rude over him, kissing him, grinding....

Reno's death grip on the door handle tightens and he can feel the obliging pulse of blood in his dick. Rude leans across him and grabs his other hand before Reno can move it out of the way. His reflexes are dulled from the drinks and Rude is sober enough to have an edge over his normally faster partner.

Reno growls in the back of his throat when he finds both hands pinned and as he's pulled and twisted toward Rude's side of the truck, his mind switches gears from fucking to fighting. Reno pulls at the hand holding his own enough to let his displeasure be known and while he's sure he can wriggle one hand free, the one being held by two fingers, he's not too sure about the other.

Still, he tugs at his makeshift binding until his hands are on the gearshaft. Having something in his hand again calms the savage beast and Reno's mind happily flops right back to it's earlier pursuit now that he has something to hang on to. It's not what he wants but it gives him some small measure of purchase regardless and the grip around his wrists feels far too exciting in the most screwed up way for Reno to pull hard enough to get free.

His body is aching for some kind of touch and Reno waits for a few more moments before it becomes apparent that Rude isn't going to do anything else, just hold him there and not let him touch himself. That simply isn't going to fly for Reno. He needs to see a crack in that perfect facade of Rude's, needs to hear him moan, needs to know he's having as much of an affect on his partner as the large Turk is having on him.

Reno shifts up in his seat until he's on one knee and leans across the cabin of the truck to place his lips close to Rude's ear. He's wanted to taste these since they were in the bar and with Rude's hands otherwise occupied, the crafty redhead knows there's not a lot Rude can do to stop him. Of course, if Rude pulls over somewhere, then Reno could be in for a world of hurt.

The thought does little to slow him. Reno is in full swing at this point, the last of his control has been pushed to the wayside with all his inhibitions and as he traces breath over the shell of mocha studded in silver, Reno couldn't give a flying fuck less if he were gay.

His tongue reaches out and laps at one shining hoop, taking it into his mouth. The tang of metal hits his tongue first, salted over with sweat from the pool game earlier and Reno laps at it, flicking the ring with his tongue to get every last hint of the flavor off. There's an earthy scent to Rude that Reno can't place which rides an undercurrent below his aftershave.

Reno knows which brand it is because he remembers hunting through the grocery stores and malls around his apartment searching for that smell in it's bottle form. He'd told himself at the time that he was looking for a gift for Rude should he ever need to buy one but in hindsight, he knows damn well it was just because he wanted to smell it again. Reno traces every inch of Rude's ear that his tongue can reach, running feather light moist touches over the skin with a deftness that shouldn't be possible in anyone's mouth.

The grip only tightens when Reno struggles and pulls, though still with enough lethal finesse not to grind bones. Rude's jaw sets itself into a ridiculous exaggerated squareness as he bites his tongue to keep from pulling over and giving in. The growls his partner emits crawl under his thick skin, stinging and prickling like acid, as intoxicating as the song of any fey siren.

The muscles in his arm tense and bunch when Reno finally quiets down and shifts, and a quick sideward glance confirms that at least he isn't looking for a way to get his hands back anymore. Rude eyes the road again before he can run them off the edge from distraction, content that at least Reno will leave that little bit for Rude to give.

Proximity. Breath. Rude's driving hand tightens on the wheel, the leather of his glove creaking quietly in a telltale flag of the reaction. Only a few more miles- he can even see the tree from his backyard in the distance, over a multitude of rooftops. if he can withstand the breathing for just a few more miles (this is the same breath that was on his ear when Reno was teaching him to play) then everything will be okay (and the same breath he saw in the air when Reno called his name)...

His driving arm jerks with surprise when the tongue assaults him, and the invasion is rewarded at first with a grunt. The truck swerves on the road, and Rude's vision shudders in his sockets. The tongue is electric and willful and hot, finding every single nerve ending under the skin of his ear and setting it aflame.

"Reno..." he snarls warningly, but it doesn't let up. It sucks an earring into the depths of its lair instead, and the heated tug in his flesh pulls a strangled huff out of him. A distant ache begins to throb in the pit of his pelvis, at the root of his taint, that Rude has never felt before. It doesn't HURT, per se, but it drives him insane, and he finds it damn near impossible to concentrate properly on the road.

The truck weaves in its lane as Reno continues to ambush the armored cup, and the next time Rude speaks, his voice trembles as badly as his hand, though it remains as deep as ever, and his capturing hand remains rigid. "R-Reno... let... let me drive, or I... I swear..." Another tug breaks his resolve like so much tinkling glass, finally draws out a low and heavy groan from somewhere under his throat, and the truck begins to drift toward the shoulder of the road.