Happy Birthday was made for you

Rude doesn't tie them. Not yet. The wrap was a test for the most part, a push at the now ambiguous boundaries they're breaking. He watches with fascination as every part of Reno moves, heaves with need and anticipation- except his hands. The analytical part of him wants to experiment, to see how far Reno is willing to go in following commands like this, but Rude doubts he himself would be able to remain stoic for as long as that would take.

There can be other nights, his mind whispers and reasons. He's taken such a huge step and many at once, leaving his house alone, buying GIFTS, touching, being touched, speaking- breaking his habits and, it feels, his entire life tonight for the sake of this creature before him. There's no way in the hells of Ifrit that Rude can allow no more nights like this, not after the effort he's put forth.

He pulls Reno to sit up, a large hand spread broad at the small of his back, and pulls the tie away long enough to push the shirt down these porcelain shoulders. They're pale enough to look as if one's hand could freeze by touching them, but Reno's skin is hot, warmth creeping into Rude's fingertips like a spreading poison.

The shirt is guided and tugged away, and the habitual part of rude twitches and freezes when he reaches behind him to drop it on the coffee table instead of folding it and putting it to the laundry. Tonight is for differences. His hands rub back up Reno's bare torso, pushing him back to lie across the couch, and this time the tie is wrapped and bound in earnest, looping the thumbs together to reduce dexterity, though that part is only done out of habit from previous interrogations.

Rude stares again for a moment, unsure of what to do, before the daydreams hit him again and show him exactly where he wants to go. He bends over, still on his knees, and presses his lips to the smooth hood of skin just over the navel. A deep breath and he moves upward, sometimes giving individual kisses and sometimes dragging his lips in a clumsy rub over the planes of Reno's front.

One hand comes down, purposeful and determined and knowing it will be just as welcome as it was before, and disappears under the waistline of Reno's pants. Without Reno's fingers to protect it from full contact, it hesitates only a moment before curling around the twitching shaft and taking a slow pull up to the crown.

Rude's kisses make it to the arch of Reno's neck before they falter, before he lifts his head to gaze secretly on the face of his downfall. He hated when the women tied to kiss him- they moved their tongues in a way that reminded him of worms, and they always had to make sure they tasted like something sweet- juice, or pastries, or perfume, or wine- which only succeeded in turning his stomach.

He lowers his head, closing his eyes, and rests mouth to mouth with Reno for a moment before his jaw moves to actively seek a kiss, smelling alcohol and breath and meat. There is nothing sweet, frail, wrongly demanding about Reno.

There's nothing needlessly rough, disgustingly selfish, taking and rending about him, though some small part of rude aches for a time when Reno will be painful to him in the ways he dreams when he isn't careful. There's a reason for everything Reno is, and it always makes sense to Rude. When he can stand to break one more barrier, he lets free his tongue, pressing and demanding entry around the corner of Reno's lips, though never forcing, not until forcing is okay.


Reno moves willingly with the tug on his arms and finds his nose almost buried in Rude's shoulder. The scent of aftershave and crisp cotton hit him as the tie is slipped from around his hands like water and as he feels his shirt begin to slide from his shoulders, Reno automatically turns his head, exposing his neck to the hot breath there.

His eyes slip shut of their own accord as cool air hits fevered skin and chills race over him every place that Rude's fingers ghost across. The shirt is pulled free and Reno moves to start getting Rude's own off when he feels broad hands along the planes of his stomach that run up to his chest.

He gives to the pressure that lays him flat on his back across the couch, gasping as his skin hits the cold leather but there's momentary twitch when Rude takes his wrists again that has nothing to do with the chill. Rude is leaning over him, that ever dangerous edge trailing in the wake of all this gentleness that keeps reminding Reno how much damage his partner is capable of, and he tugs at his hands again just for the sake of that squeeze that stills him.

He can't seem to stop staring at Rude, wonder at this level of gentleness even as his hands are bound in black silk, and the nervous excitement of new experiences keeps his chest heaving and his pants a little too tight for comfort. He tugs on his binding to test the hold and finds that sexual anticipation doesn't hinder Rude's rope work in the least, leaving him little choice but to curl his fingers into fists the best he can and wait to see what his partner will do next.

Reno makes a small hungry noise when those impossibly fascinating lips connect with the sensitive skin above his navel and his hands automatically come up over his head, hooking over the arm of the couch in the fleeting sense of gripping something. He wants to touch back but his hands are all but immobile in the binding.

He's never had a lover that spent so much time and effort on just making him feel this good with no demands forthcoming. Rude lights up his skin as if it's been numb for years and the redhead can't think of a time that he's ever been this turned on since the first time he had sex. The same nervous tension that he felt that first time makes a comeback and churns in his stomach with the remnants of dinner and far too much to drink, leaving Reno squirming on the couch as if he's trying to come straight out of his skin.

His knees fall open a bit more with each kiss that trails up his torso and he lifts his head to watch Rude's progress up. Nothing about this encounter is like anything he's known before, the rough scrape of neatly trimmed facial hair over his chest that makes his nipple ache, the rich, earthy scent of sex that begins to permeate the room and lacks all the false covering that women like to give it, the hands that are far too strong and too large to be anything but entirely male and entirely Rude.

All of it makes Reno wonder why these things turn him on more than any woman he'd ever been with. His mind settles on the lack of pretense, the straightforwardness of their desire and the fact that he's not going to have to play guessing games with his partner over what feels good.

Women tended to wrap themselves in blankets of sweet smelling things that cover and mask their natural smell but Rude isn't false, isn't trying to be something he's not, and gods does he smell good, like gun powder, leather, and scotch.

The moan that comes from Reno's lips when Rude's hand slips under the waistline of his pants would have shamed a prostitute but he's feeling too good to care about useless things like guilt right now and he presses his head back against the arm of the couch as those steel fingers wrap around his cock. "Uhh......oh...oh gods......"

His hips push up into Rude's hand in time with the stroke. The larger hand on him is so infinitely different than even his own, squeezing him with slightly more pressure than he normally would and certainly more skilled than any other lover he's ever entertained. A voice in the back of his head pipes in that if he'd known being gay would feel like this, he'd have done it a long time ago, but he shuts it up by concentrating on the lips at his throat.

The kisses stop for a moment and Reno opens his eyes, not even having realized he'd closed them, to see his partner only a few inches from his face. He stares into his own reflection, pale and ghostlike, in the shield of dark glass and just beyond it he can see the merest hint of Rude's eyes.

Reno licks at his lips again, sure they're going to be chapped tomorrow if this keeps up, and his mind shuts down entirely for a few brief seconds as he waits for Rude to kiss him.

The press of those lips against his own gets a muffled whine from Reno and he shuts his own eyes against the press. He freezes for the briefest of moments as his mind makes the desperate plea that he's kissing a guy before he shoves it aside in light of the fact that this isn't JUST a guy, it's Rude, and that makes a hell of a difference.

He feels the push of a tongue along the seam of his lips and he sucks in a few excited breaths through his nose as his lips part to allow entry. His own tongue darts out to meet the newcomer and he does what he's been wanting to since he began staring at Rude's lips earlier in the evening; he laps at Rude's top lip for a second before pushing farther to snatch at the taste of beer still lingering on Rude's tongue.

He moans quietly around the kiss and presses into it, demanding and needy but in a way that begs to give as much as it receives. It's a message as much as anything else, a neon sign that Reno wants to hand the larger man. I'm not made of glass. Don't be too gentle with me.


Rude fuels himself with these reactions. Reno's enthusiasm drives his hand to squeeze a little harder, the words huffed against his skin almost send Rude careening off the edge of his own awareness, and he has to close his eyes to keep the vision under him from taking him too far.

He makes no sound of his own, letting Reno give enough zeal for the both of them, though Rude's movements are just as purposeful and quietly needy as his partner's are nearly flamboyantly so. Reno always does move with a flair. Rude's always envied that.

He can taste the musk Reno's body is beginning to give off. Sweat, asphalt, electricity, skin, metal and cordite... none of these things are supposed to taste good, smell good. Nobody licks a road. But somehow, Reno makes it worth digging for- he makes it desirable and addictive, the way he makes everything so.

rude nearly freezes when the foreign tongue skips the niceties and makes its way to his own by itself, but he finds himself more interested than upset. It merely tastes like mouth, and for some reason, Rude finds that even more driving than food or breath mints.

Here, he can taste Reno, and only Reno. There's a faint trace of alcohol, but not nearly as much as he smelled on the way here, and it merely lends to the entity beneath him, rather than tingeing his judgment with distaste.

Rude's own blitz is starting to fade and quickly- he can never manage to stay drunk unless he's steadily drinking- but when his inhibitions are starting to wake up and stir, they merely take a look, note Reno's reaction, the fact that he's here, in Rude's house, letting Rude do this without bitching about it or freaking out, and they settle back into their sleep.

It leaves him inescapably aware, nerves singing at every point of contact, with none of the guilt or dread hanging onto his mental excuses over the months. It makes him bold- and deliberately so.

Rude smiles into the kiss, letting Reno's noises and movements raise the hairs on his arms. He pulls his hand out to make short work of the button and zipper holding his hand too close to move freely. When he lays bare the erection Reno is forbidden from touching, he twists his wrist to bring a thumb around to the base of Reno's cock, pressing gently to stave it the way he's done to himself in even more urgent moments in the past.

His words are outright hypocritical in light of what he's been saying to Reno, and to everyone else, for the past year, though still giving the twist of his own control to their meaning, as far as the restraint is concerned. "Touch me any way you can," he whispers down the side of Reno's face when he pulls his mouth away, kissing up the chiseled jaw and down the neck.

He hopes he'll do this correctly. He hopes it will be something close to what Reno makes no secret of needing, because he finds it difficult to push himself far enough to meet the pleas he sees in those eyes. He lets his own bulk slide a little to the side, giving Reno space to pull his bound wrists down if he wants to, and attaches himself to Reno's chest, licking tentatively before closing his teeth over one flushed nipple.

It's skin, it's nothing to be intimidated by; it tastes like skin (it tastes like Reno) and there's no unwieldy weight behind it to pay attention to the way there is on a woman. His hand begins stroking again, thumb riding the vein up the underside of the shaft as if milking the thing, and his whole body twitches when it feels the slick drops of prejack being smeared over the base of his palm from the friction.

Ugly memories well up from his streaming conscious, but the things that made them ugly slough away in old scabs when he replaces the man that haunts them with Reno. The differences are amazing to him.


There's a disappointed and almost desperate sound when Rude takes his hand away but Reno quiets back down when he feels the tug at his zipper. The warmth of his own erection presses up to his lower abs and soon enough Rude's hand is back, squeezing, rubbing, and teasing every bit of pleasure out of him that no other lover has ever come close to.

Women tended to handle his dick like it was either a fucking gear shift in a car or like it didn't exist until it was in them. They pulled too hard, rubbed him like they were greasing down a cucumber, or just bent over and acted like he should be happy they were letting him have the pleasure of their bodies.

Reno had never complained before, he knew he was a damned good lover regardless of the talents of his female partners, and he had always enjoyed the encounters none the less but after tonight, Reno is sure he may never look at sex the same again. Rude's touch is so shockingly different than anything he'd ever had, so much more talented, and the thick fingers that rub do so with a purpose more than just getting him hard for Rude's own pleasure.

He can feel the pulse of blood as Rude presses down with his thumb, forcing the blood that is flowing into his cock to take more time leaving and it only makes every touch all the more intense. He stretches as far as he can to maintain the kiss before Rude breaks away and begins a trek down the side of his face, low rumbled whispers and hot kisses across his skin. Reno can feel every catch of his stubble on Rude's goatee and that impossibly deep voice leaves him turning his head to catch more of it against his ear.

Rude asks and commands all at the same time and Reno brings his arms down to obey, unsure if he's doing it because Rude asked for it, wants it, or if he's doing it because Rude commanded him to in that perfect baritone that makes his eyes roll back. He decides in the end that it's for both reasons and more; he's doing it also because he wants to, needs to hear Rude making even half the noises that his partner is pulling from him with such ease.

He brings his bound wrists down to hook them behind Rude's head, sliding the sensitive skin of his wrists over the smooth mocha skin to rest behind thick corded neck muscles. Rude's earrings press against the inside of Reno's arms and he runs his bound hands as far down Rude's back as he can. "Take...fuck...tha's good.......nngghh......take yer shirt off....wanna touch ya..."

Reno follows the progress of Rude's mouth over his chest, unsure if he wants to concentrate more on the constant pressure being applied to his dick or the moist trail of kisses across his torso that leave chilled spots in their wake but his mind is shut down for a few moments as Rude's teeth close over one nipple.

His back arches almost off the couch, pressing up to meet Rude's mouth and his head slams back against the arm of the couch. His legs shift restlessly against the leather leaving his whole body writhing in the larger man's grip as his senses are assaulted on multiple levels. The attention to his nipple only heightens his awareness of the hand on his dick as Rude works him better than anything Reno's ever known before.

Moans roll up from his lips, throaty and rough from the drink he's had so far. He can feel the head of his cock slicking down with prejack and the fact that he's being stroked by the same hands that he's watched beat men half to death only gets him all the more excited. Reno pushes up into Rude's hand sure that if he can just get a little more friction, just a little more speed, he'll be well on his way to cumming.