Happy Birthday was made for you

When Reno begins writhing in earnest, Rude hesitates a moment, unsure if he's helping or harming. The budding rhythm to the motion, however, quells his concern, and Rude finds that he wants more. He needs more. His brain tugs at him a moment, reminding him of the simple request, and Rude pulls away from Reno once more to navigate the buttons down his shirt.

He shrugs it away, revealing that he does not, in fact, have much if anything at all in the way of hair. To be honest, it took him a few years to grow the scruff on his face, and he refuses to get rid of it. Rude leans in again, chest to chest to absorb his partner's heat, and it seems to have an effect: a low rumble rolls up from his chest, vibrating quietly against Reno's skin, and Rude's teeth forge a new path of their own across the pale ear and throat. His hand quickens its pace, squeezing harder but in an odd rhythm that fails to cut off important vessels.

He bites his way down Reno's chest, giving a moment to the other nipple as well, before the need welling up in his mind like a bleeding wound whispers and begs him to try again- the part that recoiled from his last experience with a man wants to know if it would be different this time, different with someone who sets him on fire this way.

What does fire taste like? Rude pauses, huffing deep breaths across the heave of Reno's chest, before he swallows his fear and takes a tentative trail of nibbles down Reno's stomach. What does fire taste like underneath the smoke?

One more small pause and Rude nuzzles his way over the red nest, pulling his hand aside and down to lay a palm against the milky inner thigh as his tongue gives a tentative flick to the slicked crown. So very different from before. he takes another lick, tongue flipping to pull the flesh into his mouth at the head, and his eyes close, accompanied by a pleased grunt. Fire tastes like sin. Fire tastes like Reno.


Reno doesn't relinquish his hold around Rude's neck when the other man pulls back and as Rude pulls off his own shirt and exposes the smooth planes of well tones muscle beneath, Reno makes quick work of tugging himself up to bite and suckle at his partner's throat. His fingers flex impatiently and he tugs at the silk binding his wrists in his need to touch all that skin but the knots hold tight and so he makes do with his mouth the best he can.

Even those efforts are thwarted as he finds himself pushed back to the couch again but he can't honestly complain when Rude's weight settles more firmly on his chest and that dragon's growl thrums against his skin, possessive and hungry. Reno's open mouthed moans grow to truncated cries as Rude strokes him harder and faster than before, so tight it teeters on the edge of hurting, and he manages to twist his wrists enough to dig very short nails into Rude's back.

Reno curls into the touch, his knees coming up to let him push off from the couch easier and his head craning to give him access to Rude's ear as his throat is attacked with those burning nips to his skin. From the corner of his eye, he can make out thick dark lines that wind across his partner's back and disappear over the curve of muscle.

He'd seen hints of the tattoo through Rude's sweat slicked shirt at the bar but he couldn't make out the details and his fuzzy mind almost wishes he could see the rest of the design ( lick it from top to bottom) but he's feeling too good to let anything stop him now. The plan to trace those lines with his tongue will have to wait until his body is no longer climbing steadily toward a cliff he knows he'll topple over if Rude keeps treating him like this.

Reno lets his head fall back to the leather as Rude dips to attach himself to Reno's other nipple and he watches from lust hooded eyes as Rude progresses farther down his chest. The pauses plant a small note of concern in Reno as he looks down to see Rude obviously thinking hard about something.

The kisses that trail down his stomach are less fierce than the bites his throat received and as Rude dips lower, understanding hits the redhead. He wants to know if getting head from a guy will be as different as the hand job he's been enjoying so immensely but he also doesn't want to force something on Rude that the other man doesn't want.

The pause is misinterpreted as doubt on Rude's part and Reno can't help wondering, even through the alcohol, if his partner is having second thoughts. He casts a hesitant look in Rude's direction as the hand is removed from his dick long enough for blood to get back to his brain and he smoothes his hand over the back of Rude's head the best he can considering the tie.

"Rude...ya don' have ta, man.....I ain't gonna be AAAHHHH....oh...oh f-fuck...." Reno's train of thought is derailed at ninety miles an hour as soon as Rude closes his lips over the crown of his cock. The heat is all consuming and it's a struggle at best to keep from slamming his hips up, Reno doesn't want to force his shaft down Rude's throat, so he settles for twitching and tensing every muscle in his body into almost total stillness in his efforts to keep from bucking his hips.

Bound hands tremble against Rude's shoulder and each breath Reno takes is heaved as he struggles with his own need for release. A thin sheen of sweat begins to form across arms and pecs pulled taught with effort.


For the first time in his years of practice, Rude's self control falters the slightest bit. He didn't answer when Reno attempted to offer an egress from what he was about to do. He didn't flinch when Reno attacked his throat, ear, chest, and he doesn't react to the shiver of the hands next to his head but for the ways Reno can't see. When he sees the streetlight reflecting off Reno's body in a brighter sheen than before, however, he sucks in a shuddering breath and braces himself on one arm.
He swallows slowly, familiarizing himself with the shape and weight on his tongue and, beneath his notice, his free hand creeps over the edge of the couch and down his own belly, hovering against his pants to squeeze himself into behaving. Rude has never needed to reel himself back in this way in front of anyone before- nobody's ever interested him to the point of noticing before. Except Reno.
But Rude was able to keep that under wraps until now, where he can't ignore it or talk it down or reason it into shame. He wants it touched, tamed, without the techniques he uses to restrain or restrict it, but for now, his own body is the least of his concerns and warrants nothing more than a sneaking hand.
The taste on his tongue is odd. Bitter, salty of sweat, clean skin- and he can feel the pulse of the vessels against the roof of his mouth as well, bringing into sharp relief the unspoken need- the whispered 'please' that he suddenly wants to hear from Reno someday. His imagination supplies the tone and warmth against his ear, and he swallows again, this time attempting to sustain it into a sucking pressure, though he's not familiar with how to do it.

The squeeze on himself gentles into a rub, and Rude's mouth follows suit. Rude's other hand dips from the one pleasant memory of before, hooking over the open fly and pulling Reno's slacks lower to bare more of him. That hand skates back up to where it was, flesh to flesh now, and the pad of a thumb- the same pad that's hooked into noses to snap necks, pried out eyeballs, dug into muscles to snap bones out of their joints, slides tentatively down the soft skin of Reno's sack to prod anything but demandingly at the taint above the cleft.

He remembers this spot, and he remembers one inside, marking the two places that DIDN'T hurt or feel neglected. But he knows it's not a place to barge into, either- in hindsight, it's probably even more of a temple than a woman's, far too easy to mistreat without knowing. It was the one part of himself he couldn't learn to control save to leave it alone and forget it exists. But here, tonight, it's so easy to remember, and so very easy to imagine Reno being subjected to.

Reno doesn't notice the hand that Rude uses to control his own need, too caught up in the roll of a tongue over the underside of his shaft but he does note the change of pace, far too aware of every scrape of teeth over his skin, every swallow that constricts Rude's mouth and tightens around him and it drives the noises that he can't seem to stop making.

His body stays tensed against pushing too far, afraid of putting his partner off from doing all the wonderful things his body is feeling, and his mouth is drying out with each huff of breath. A small warning light goes off in Reno's head, blurry at best, as Rude pulls his pants down further and he twitches when the larger thumb makes its way to the sensitive and overlooked skin below his sac.

No one has ever bothered to touch him there before, no woman thinking beyond the idea that his pleasure should come only from penetrating her body, and the touch both startles and pleases. He finds the strange press against that spot does little at first until he lets himself relax slightly.

From there, the tingle it produces grows in tandem with the pleasure from Rude's mouth, multiplying and amplifying each other until it builds into a crazy pulse that leaves everything between his knees and his navel feeling better than anything he even thought possible.

The feeling coming from that spot still feels muted somehow and Reno has to wonder if it could be rubbed more directly, anything to push aside the muffled sensation and throw it into a stark clarity he's sure will blow his mind if he can just get to it. His bound hands scramble over Rude's shoulder, desperate for something to cling to as he spirals up on waves of sensation.

"Oh fuck...Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.......R-Rude......"

His name. Rude never knew his own name could be such a dangerous drug to him until now. He mumbles something unintelligible around the fare in his mouth, the muscles of his throat unwittingly working in an odd sensation against the tip of Reno's dick. He pulls away for a short moment, sucking in a deep breath. The air feels cold against the flesh of his mouth, almost cold enough to burn.

He dips his head further, roughing his tongue boldly along the skin seam between the balls and letting a thick string of saliva stretch from his tongue to connect with it. His finger darts up to scoop the strand and his mouth is over the cock again, sucking like a baby at a bottle.

The finger glosses its way over the stretch of skin before finding its goal, rubbing diligently at the sealed hole beneath his chin. He can feel the pulse of Reno's heartbeat in this patch of skin, feels the heave of every breath and the heat- the searing needing heat- and he wants more.

Rude finds himself wanting like a spoiled child when he has Reno this way. His first moan slips out after a minute or so of stroking that pucker, though low enough to be mistaken, and finally he slowly edges the tip of his finger inside. His other hand creeps to his fly, pulling the zipper open and digging past the fabric beneath it to pull himself out and idle almost curiously with his own problem.

He hasn't masturbated in the relieving sense of the word in almost a decade, and were it not for the tint to his skin, his embarrassment would be a slap of a bright red flag across his face.


The motion of Rude's mouth as he tries to mumble something around Reno's dick only serves to apply pressure in the strangest of ways to the crown and Reno gasps for another breath of air. The blast of cold that hits him when Rude pulls away draws an impatient noise that dies on his lips when his sac is lapped at. Women only rarely ever did anything with men's balls and when they did, it was usually with no understanding of what they felt like.

They squeeze too hard or get bored quickly but the single lick he gets from Rude holds more tangible understanding than any amount of touching he's had before to that area and Reno lets his eyes shut against the feeling. It's all too good, too talented, too absorbing and he lets himself relax against it until the finger brushes over his hole. Reno's body goes stiff against Rude's touch and his eyes snap open with more awareness than he's had for the past week in light of all his drinking.

The true reality of what he's doing is placed in front of him with one touch and the buzz of warm static in his head clears for just long enough to cause a second of doubt but Rude is his partner and would never hurt him, a fact which saves Rude from being punched in the head. Reno squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to relax, telling himself that nothing has changed between this moment and five minutes ago save that he's never felt this vulnerable before.

It's Rude though and that makes all the difference. Rude won't hurt him. Rude's got his back. Reno's mind screams the entirely unhelpful reminder that at the moment, Rude's got his ass too, but Reno shoves it aside and concentrates on just paying attention to the pleasure of a hot mouth around his cock and the smell of Rude's body. After that first minute of discomfort, the feeling fades into something more pleasant and Reno's body relaxes back into the couch enough to allow even allow himself to enjoy it.

The moan it gets from Rude helps take the feeling from something Reno doesn't mind to one that he is willing to actively seek out. The sound Rude makes vibrates across the tongue pressed to Reno's shaft and he sucks in a few shaky breaths before matching it with one of his own. The entry is a little less easy to get used to and his heart speeds up with the gentle push inside.

He grunts in discomfort but doesn't say anything, trusting in Rude that there's a reason for this. Gay sex can't be this uncomfortable the whole time or no one would do it, he reminds himself and after a few hesitant seconds where his muscles clamp down on the invasive finger and try to push it back out, Reno forces himself to relax enough for Rude to move again. Every push gets a muted grunt from him but the pleasure coming from the head he's getting is enough to cancel out that initial uncertainty.

A soft musky smell wafts up to Reno, the scent he'd smelled earlier in a lesser degree on Rude's shoulder, and Reno takes it in with deep breaths. He knows it's the smell of Rude's own arousal, heady and earthen in a way that he enjoys more than he should, and Reno wonders what it would be like to go down on his partner, returning the favor he's being given now. Maybe he'll take Rude up on that Birthday offer.